Chapter 16
Warwickshire - the foul escape

Cows, as you may have realised from my previous comments, are contrary creatures. This is illustrated especially by the times they choose to escape and go on the rampage. They delight to do so when their human keepers are away for the day, at meal times or in the middle of the night.

This latter predilection enabled me to develop and exercise my night sight. In fact I preferred to walk round last thing at night without using the torch that I had adapted to give a quarter mile beam. Somehow the isolation of the Downs seemed less without a beam of light stabbing the cosiness of the dark. On very dark nights it was useful, letting me see both stock and fences from a distance, but when close to them I preferred to use the available natural light. Once somebody had turned on an electric light in a house or farm building it dazzled me to the extent that I could not see the stock properly. I often turned off the lights in the cow yard as I left work, only to find that someone had turned them on after I had left. People were concerned that the cattle would bruise themselves as they stumbled about and bumped into things, But my observations are that they can sense objects as slim as electric fence wire without assistance. It is we humans who have lost our sensitivity in this respect.

That is not to say that I didn't use my torch. It was very useful when I had to administer life-saving calcium or magnesium injections into the cows' veins; it let me check that the needle was seated in the body of the vein rather than its thick walls; it revealed the bubbles rising in the bottle that told me that the dose was flowing along the metre length of tubing that joined bottle to needle.

Sue and I had moved to the farm in Warwickshire in 1971 and it was while we lived there that our daughter attended her first school. She also had her tonsils removed. Our bungalow was about a mile from the farm buildings where I was responsible for building up the herd from ninety to one hundred and eighty cows. The assistant herdsman lived in a similar bungalow situated at the foot of the lane that led from the road to the dairy some hundred yards away. On a dark, cold winter's night he heard shuffling round his garden, and on looking out of his bedroom window he saw the cows had escaped from their kennels and were on the point of spreading both ways along the road. He went out in his night attire and managed to stop them in time. Meanwhile his wife phoned me up for assistance. I dressed quickly and leapt into our car - a Renault 4 that was ideally suited to the country lanes, with its high ground clearance and softish suspension to soak up the bumps. As I reached the foot of the lane I could see Lewis running round the cows and managing to restrict them. I went to him and gave him a respite during which time he was able to go indoors and change into more suitable clothing to protect himself against the chill of the night.

When he returned we were able to return the escapees slowly to their quarters. At first they willingly walked through the twelve-foot wide gate, but once the dominant ones were through, they insisted that the lesser ones should leave them in peace. They therefore turned to block the entry of the others who milled round aimlessly before running between the two humans and retracing their tracks. We in turn ran hither and thither to restrain them.

There was a wonderfully smelly, filthy ditch that guided the slurry from the kennels to the lagoon from where it could be loaded into spreaders and returned to the land from whence the sweet grass grew that fed the cows. Well aware that this was there we carefully ran to its extremities and thence round to the other side, while the cows, for all their apparent awkwardness, were well able to leap its width. When they returned via the same short cut we were able to take advantage of the lie of the land to do the same. For some time we continued this to and froing. With only two cows left outside they proved more demanding than all the others put together. When one leapt over the ditch while the other stood still, I was so relieved that they were tiring that my mind flipped and I tried to walk across as if on water. The slurry engulfed my boots and legs, retarding their progress while the rest of me continued at the same pace. The result of this was that I was stretched out horizontally in the morass. My resolve was firmed by this and the last two miscreants were returned at record speed.

I placed sacks on the car seat and drove home. Once in the safety of the garden I called Sue for a bucket of water and started to strip. Fortunately it was past midnight and true to rural tradition our neighbours were all tucked up in bed fast asleep. I poured several buckets of water over myself before being able to dry myself with a towel and entering the kitchen. I still had to pour a few more gallons of water onto my clothes. Next morning I saw the tide mark where all this water had dispersed the slurry over the path but for now I was able to have a quick bath and thence to bed to sleep the sleep of the over-exhausted.

Next day when I was discussing the events of the previous night with the farm manager he commented that this had happened several times before we had moved to the farm. On stormy nights the force of the wind on the corrugated iron bolted to the gate bowed it. This shortened it and the bolt slipped from its hole. I was very pleased to learn this - explaining in my worst agricultural language what I thought of anybody who accepted the same thing happening more than once. For this and other events I was relieved when he was given notice some time afterwards. Needless to say I immediately bolted a chain round the gate and its shutting post so that the same mishap should not recur.