CRIKEY! Bovines and Ants

Feb 15th
A sunny day! I woke up to blue skies and predictions of temperatures up to 90 degrees F. I woke Susan up and had to tell her what color the sky was. “That’s nice,” she mumbled, turning over to go back to sleep. Well, I guess they do have as many clear days here as Seattle has rain, so it isn’t such a novelty for her. But for me, I could not contain my energy, especially given that it was about noon in Washington by my biological clock, so I got up to watch the parrots in our bird feeder.

The rain had finally abated and we decided to try and drive out of the valley to do some shopping and get out of here for awhile. The water level was low enough to drive over the bridges, even though there was still water flowing over the top. We ended up driving to the beach and watched the massive surf (the result of two low pressure systems and a recent full moon) at Cabarita Beach, which is the closest beach to our house, about a 35-minute drive away.

Geez, the day was interesting, to say the least! As we were driving back inland from the ocean, we spied some Aussie blokes dragging a live cow along the side of the road, with one end of a rope tied around the cow’s neck and the other attached to their truck. Vegetarian me and animal-lover Susan, HAD to stop. As I got out of the car onto the grass, I must have stepped onto an ant nest. Green ants, Susan informed me, judging by the agony I was in. Green ants are known for very painful bites, which they had quickly delivered to my feet and legs. I began slapping my legs in hopes of killing the offending little bastards. Now, I know you have heard the term “crikey” from the crocodile hunter, and I have to tell you that this is the most appropriate term I could think of at the time -- CRIKEY!!!!!! I had been feeding the local leeches, mosquitos and now the ants. Fresh foreign blood, I guess.

Now all of this was happening as we witnessed the oldest bloke kick the poor, miserable and very pregnant cow that was lying beside the road panting uncontrollably. We finally killed all the green ants and approached the blokes who were now tying one of the poor cow’s hind legs to one of her front legs up so she could not get up. We were not impressed, but thought we needed to hang around to witness what was going on. Susan was about to call the cops but then the blokes started to relax and treat the animal more humanely.

According to the blokes, the story was that the cow had bolted when they tried to load her into a truck and take her to market. She had run 15 km down a long, winding road until she hit the main road, which is when we came along. Now the poor thing was in a state of absolute fear and panic, trembling, bug eyed and roasting in the 100-degree heat. I tried to give her water to drink, and I stood to shade her face from the sun. Eventually, the farm sent two other blokes with a tractor. They rolled her over and roughly hauled her into an attached scoop, still tied up, and drove her home.

The blokes reassured us they would put her under a shady tree and untie her legs and see if she would survive. Susan made them promise to take good care of her.