Audrey (cow)

by Dan Bar-el; illustrated by Tatjana Mai-Wyss

  Later, I made my way to Viewing Hill on my own. You can do your best thinking on Viewing Hill. I should have been distraught, but I kept hearing Eddie’s voice in my head. “We’ll figure something out, Audrey.” And I was thinking of Mother telling me the stories of Yvonne of Bavaria, and April and May on the highway. And then I remembered one other thing Mother said to me, something I didn’t think was important at the time because Mother often said things like that. It was when we were returning from the grove, and I suppose I was impatient to find Eddie and tell him everything I had just learned. Mother said, “Audrey, I’m not as fast or agile as I used to be. Why don’t you run up ahead?” I was hesitant, because I thought it would be rude to leave Mother. But then she laughed and added, “There are lots of pleasures in this world, my dear daughter, but nothing gives me more joy than watching you rushing off, all full of life and free as a bird.”

  Then it dawned on me. Mother hadn’t been telling me what she intended to do; she was telling me what I should do. Be free. Be free as a bird. Stay alive, Audrey, I could hear her voice saying in my head. Stay alive. Be free. Escape.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  She, who was dear

  She, who gave light

  Suddenly gone

  I’m left with just night

  But days never stop

  And still I grow older

  One day, I pray

  Let me grow bolder

  Time flies. It did for me, anyway. In the blink of an eye, a couple of months had passed. But even still, a lot happened. I didn’t forget about Mother, whom I continued to miss and think of every single day. And I didn’t ever forget what Madge had told me, not for a second.

  When I look back at that period, it makes me smile, because I really hadn’t understood how the world worked yet. Eddie and I truly thought that the truck could come for me at any moment and that my plan for escape had to happen as soon as possible. I was a desperate cow. We searched the farm’s border fences looking for any weaknesses, gaps or loose posts that might give way to a shove. The only one worth trying to knock over ended up giving me a painful sliver, and poor Eddie was required to pull it out with his teeth. It was not pleasant. Eddie was what you might call a jumpy surgeon.

  Then I suddenly remembered an important detail from the Yvonne of Bavaria story that I had overlooked. Before slipping into the forest, Yvonne needed to jump over a fence. I relayed this detail to Eddie, suggesting that perhaps I should concentrate on learning how to fling myself over an obstacle, rather than through it or under it. Eddie didn’t share my optimism, and I admit that I am not the most athletic of animals, being more graceful with a turn of phrase than a turn of body. However, when you take into account our long friendship and Eddie’s gentle soul, I really didn’t expect him to fall on his back laughing at my idea for quite so long a time.

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  Aw, I confess, it wasn’t very swell of me. But Audrey is a cow, and cows are … well, jeepers, cows are big! When she was a calf, Audrey could move a bit, and we would even chase each other for short spurts. But I’ve never seen one of the adult cows hold a leg up without wondering if they would topple over the next moment. Trying to picture Audrey flying through the air like Middle Boy Lester on his outdoor trampoline was too funny. Audrey doing belly flops and back flips, munching on clover between bounces? No, I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did. The situation was serious. Maybe that’s why I laughed—to get rid of all the nervousness and fear I had scampering around inside me.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Ridiculous or not, I had to try. And truthfully, it wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t a young calf anymore, and trying to push off with my back legs required more physical effort than I was used to, not to mention my natural lack of coordination. Seen from Eddie’s perspective, I’d probably be laughing too. So, far from any prying eyes, I practiced and practiced for days and eventually could manage a leap over a fallen log. Perhaps leap is too dramatic a word, but I did get over it, and even Eddie was impressed. But we both realized that a log was nothing like a border fence, and I was no closer to escaping Abbot’s War with this newly acquired ability.

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  Then I had an inspiration! I said to Audrey, “If jumping over a fence is out of the question, then how about walking over it?” She didn’t understand, so I had to demonstrate. See, Middle Boy Lester had been teaching me what he called “circus tricks.” Back behind Farmer’s house, he would place a wooden plank between two ladders. I would climb up the rungs of one ladder, balance my way across the plank, and go down the other ladder. Gosh, what I’ll do for a treat sometimes—it’s embarrassing! But anyway, I dragged a plank out into the field to show Audrey what I was thinking. I put one end of it on top of the log that she was learning to jump over, see, to create a sloped walkway. Then I simply made my way up the plank to the top and jumped down the other side. Ta-da!

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Eddie thought that if we could find a plank big and strong enough to hold my weight, we could lean it against the top of the border fence, and I could do basically that same “trick.” Instead of learning to jump higher, I’d need to practice maintaining my poise on an incline, which still wasn’t easy, and still required much practice, but in the balance, so to speak, seemed more doable. Oh, how I practiced, practiced and failed, failed and practiced, over and over. And that was not even putting the wood at an angle yet! Just walking across it flat on the ground was challenge enough. Then we tried spanning it over a gap so I’d get over any fear of heights. That was Eddie’s concern, which was never my concern until he put that fear into my head, and even now, to this day, I still have a fear of heights.

  I don’t know if the plan would have worked. Everything felt so urgent, and there were so many uncertainties. How would we get a plank long enough to reach the top of the fence at an angle I could manage? Who would help us lift it? Where would we put it so no one could see? But it was the best plan we had at the time, so I kept at it, trying to stay positive, trying to get better, practicing from sunrise to sundown. And then Eddie’s dad changed everything.

  MAX

  (dog)

  Right, you’re here about that Audrey story. Fine. One minute, understood? I’ll give your question one minute and we’re through. Have I made myself clear? (hmph) So … I put in a solid day’s work, and when I’m done, I expect to be done. The last thing I want, once I finish getting the sheep to where they’re supposed to be, is to have Farmer tell me to run off to the far end of the farm to fetch a wayward cow. This was going on day after day with Audrey. I wasn’t sure why at first, but then I saw Audrey doing stuff that a cow shouldn’t be doing, and risking a broken leg by doing it. I could see where it was all heading, and I knew that Farmer would not be pleased. I suspected Eddie might have had something to do with it too, because he and Audrey had been close since birth. (hmph!) Children. They can be so darn … childish. This girl really hadn’t a clue.

  When I’d finally had enough of her nonsense, the day that I caught her balancing along some board across an irrigation ditch, I said to her, “You’re not fat enough.” I remember that she looked at me with her head slightly tilted and replied, “Excuse me?” I repeated myself. “I said that you’re not fat enough to worry about being taken to Abbot’s War. I know for a fact that every cow that’s gone there has been older than you and fatter than you.”

  I’ll give Audrey her due. She didn’t waste time pretending that she wasn’t up to some sneaky business. She didn’t claim that she had no idea what I was talking about, in some la-di-da voice like Norma or Greta would use. No, not her. You could see her brain whirling, taking in the information and figuring out her next move. Without skipping a beat, she asks me, “How much time do you figure I have?” “A year,” I said. She nodded. Then she asked, “And weight? How much heavier would I have to get?” “I’d say two hundred pounds, at least.” And that was that. Ok
ay, we’re done.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Max’s information was invaluable. I felt as if I had been granted a temporary pardon; as if I had been sentenced to hang, and at the last moment it was put on hold. I still had the noose around my neck, but now it was looser, and I could breathe more easily. I had time on my hooves. Of course, I couldn’t do anything about getting older, but I did have some say in how much bigger I would get.

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  “Change in plan,” she said. “I’m going on a diet.” Uh-huh. You want to run that by me again, Audrey? Once she explained, I could see her point. It made sense, right? But jeepers creepers, for a cow that’s easier said than done. Audrey loved to eat. All cows love to eat! But Audrey, she really enjoyed every bit. Gosh, dieting took a whole lot of self-control on her part. Sometimes I’d see her hesitate next to a patch of clover. She’d stare at it forever, smelling it and licking it a bit. Hard? Darn tootin’ it was hard! You could see the pain in her eyes. This went on for a while. At first no one noticed, but then it must have been brought to Farmer’s attention, because suddenly Audrey was being weighed every week, and after that, the vet was called in.

  ELSPETH

  (human)

  I told Daddy. I said, “Audrey isn’t feeling good.” Daddy saw that I was right … but he didn’t understand.

  DOC

  (human)

  Yes, I was called down to Bittersweet Farm to check on their Charolais. There was some concern about whether this young cow had a stomach ailment that was preventing her from eating properly and gaining the weight appropriate for her age. I found nothing wrong with her physically; no worms or infections—a bit of a mystery.

  ELSPETH

  (human)

  They didn’t understand. Audrey was sad because her mommy was gone away. I would be sad too.

  DOC

  (human)

  Hmm? Well, yes, Glenn did mention that this cow’s mother had been sent to the abattoir about four months earlier. There is evidence that animals can suffer from grief upon the loss of a family member. I could only speculate whether that was the case with this particular Charolais.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  As hard as it was to resist indulging in the sweet, sweet flavors of grass and flower, my plan was working; attention was now drawn to how drawn I looked. To add to my image as a wan and withered cow barely worth the gas money to drive to Abbot’s War, I would suck in my four stomachs whenever Farmer was nearby. I daresay I looked haggard and hardly appetizing. My performance was convincing to the point that a certain cow, namely Greta, took it as a challenge to her reputation.

  GRETA

  (cow)

  Who did she think she vas, ya? Vat did she know of life’s slings and arrows? Does a bit of skinniness compare to how I have suffered in this cruel vorld? I try to be brave, ya, and strong, ya, not for myself, but for all animals on this farm, yet no vun could see my sacrifice anymore! It hurts to remember such a difficult time.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  There is such a thing as too good a performance, I learned. I was drawing the wrong kind of attention from Farmer. One evening, Roy approached me. He said, “L’il Audrey, you’d best be strappin’ on the feedbag. There’s been talk around the dinner table that if you don’t improve your weight soon, they will be forced to consider drastic measures.” I didn’t need to ask Roy to clarify what he meant by “drastic measures” because the tone in his voice said it all. Too fat or too skinny, the truck to Abbot’s War had my name on it.

  So I took Roy’s advice. I started to eat with gusto. Not too challenging a task, as you can imagine. And I suppose that the routine of eating, and the pleasure of it, made the worry of being sent to Abbot’s War lessen. It’s hard to stay anxious about something, day after day, even something horrible, when it’s so far away in the future. When the world continues to be filled with splendor? When beauty is splashed across the landscape or detailed on the feathers of a perched flicker? I couldn’t help but be lulled into a sense of wonder and joy, for wasn’t that what I feared losing in the first place?

  Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Life went on, as they say. It wasn’t as if Max’s warning had been completely forgotten. The words “fatter” and “older” continued to hover around my head like bothersome mosquitos. I just grew better and better at ignoring them.

  Mother was never too far from my heart. I spoke to her in whispers when among others. But when I was alone on Viewing Hill, I talked to her out loud, making note of the changes in season that she herself would have pointed out for my benefit. I cherished those times to be close, even though there was a lump of sorrow stuck in my throat. “Mother,” I’d say, “the leaves are turning. See? There are some streaks of yellow and orange on the slopes behind Sky View Farms.” I felt extra joy sharing these observations with her. “Snowflakes, Mother! Look, I can catch them on my tongue!” Seasons passed in bliss. And then one day, Roy came by while I was communing with Mother. “It’s time,” he said.

  ROY

  (horse)

  I heard it at Farmer family’s chow-down the evenin’ before. Farmer’s announcement didn’t go well. Little Girl Elspeth done had herself a tantrum and was sent up to her room without dessert. But the decision still stuck. Audrey was going. By rights, I should have talked to Audrey straightaway, as is my custom. But I dilly-dallied because … well, because I did not trust that I could keep my emotions close to my chest. By golly, I was the farm newspaper, and I had an obligation to give the news steady and without feeling. If I peppered it with fear and sadness, then how was a young cow like Audrey to accept it? So I waited until the next day. When I saw her up on Viewing Hill all by her lonesome, I figured now would be the opportune moment. “It’s time, Audrey,” I said. “They’ve made the arrangements.”

  Shoot. Never had I felt so guilty about bein’ the messenger as I did at that moment. I could see the shock in her sweet face. She fought like a polecat to keep herself from unraveling, forcing herself not to shy away. “When?” she asked. “Three days from now,” I told her. “Truck’s expected at noon.” Her legs were tremblin’, but she held her ground, Audrey did. Her eyes did not break contact with mine, and in the long seconds that passed, I watched them change like the weather, from moist and sorrowful to steely hard like ice on Artificial Lake. “I’m not going gently, Roy,” she said. “You hear me?” She had spunk, that Audrey, there was no denying it. I certainly was not going to tell her to do otherwise. I gave her a respectful nod before leaving. “You do what you need to, Miss Audrey. And if help is required, I hope you will not hesitate to call upon old Roy.”

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  I was coming back to the barns with Dad and the sheep when we saw Roy heading up Viewing Hill. I already knew that Audrey was there. I’d caught her scent downwind an hour earlier. I always left Audrey alone when she was on Viewing Hill, because that was her private time with her memories of her mom. But jeepers, seeing Roy going up to meet her made my heart skip a beat! We all stopped; sheep and cows, even Dad, yes sirree. Audrey and Roy were squared off, two figures alone on the hill. No one could hear what they were saying, but we all knew just the same. When Roy turned away, I turned to Dad. He gave me a nod and I left him with the sheep, running as fast as my four legs could take me. See, I hadn’t forgotten about Abbot’s War, and I’d been doing some pretty serious thinking. Aw, heck, I didn’t have a plan or nothing. But I did have a plan about getting a plan!

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  I don’t know if you have been as fortunate in your life to have as good a friend as I’ve had in Eddie. Mother said that Eddie and I used to cozy up to each other for afternoon naps soon after I came into the world. Eddie never really had a chance to get to know his mother because he was brought to the farm as a little pup. Mother said Eddie was there when I was born, fascinated with the whole birthing process and wide-eyed in surprise at se
eing how tall I was when I finally stood up. Eddie swears he can still remember snuggling up with me against Mother’s flank, content in the envelope of warmth but always a bit wary that I might crush him one day. Dear Eddie, how I miss you. What is a good friend? A good friend is one that takes the lead to help you, even when they know that by helping you, they will lose you. That’s a good friend. That was Eddie.

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  Gosh, I stood across from Audrey at the exact same spot where Roy had just been. And at first, we didn’t say a thing! I swear I had a million yaps inside me wanting to come out, but nothing did; we just stood silent. I don’t know why. Maybe ’cause there was too much to say and we didn’t know where to start.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Maybe it was the knowing that things would never be the same again, that Eddie and I had reached a turning point, chosen not by us but dictated by circumstances out of our control. Suddenly, we seemed older, not children anymore. Just like that. It was what Mother might call a solemn moment. So we gave it the respect it rightly deserved. Those moments are like the dog-eared creases that Middle Boy Lester bends into the top corners of the pages of his favorite books. They are the bookmarks of all the significant bits in the stories of our lives. But when the urgency of the situation demanded our full focus, Eddie said—