When my eldest son finished High School a few years ago he wanted to taste a bit of country life so I arranged for both of us to spend two weeks on a cousin’s dairy farm down in Victoria – milking 90 odd cows twice a day in addition to baling & stacking hay in the shed plus dispatching numerous pesky rabbits up in the hills with my trusty old Model 2 Brno.

We soon discovered that a young bull took it upon himself to join the milking line up in the yards – he had no doubt somehow learnt about the free tucker dished up in the feed troughs for the cows as they were being milked. Try as we did to cut him out of the herd the cunning bugger almost always managed to jostle himself into the stalls where he then appeared to have a mischievous look on his face - knowing he lacked the body parts for the job at hand.

It’s been said that horses have a “malevolent intent that will kill you the very first chance it gets.” I can also apply a scaled down version of this to dairy cows. Namely, you’re in a most vulnerable position when in the process of attaching the suction cups – the optimum time I noted for several ‘unladylike’ cows to lash out with one of their hind legs, pee like there’s no tomorrow or let loose with a bucket load of hot steamy goo. The cousin knew each cow by name and readily identified those who frequently practiced this malicious behaviour.

Hosing down the milking shed and concrete holding yards was a fun job after each session – all the muck eventually angled off down an open concrete drain before ‘disappearing’ somewhere down one side of the milking shed. Well, on the second day of our visit my son and I were later out having a chat in a nearby holding yard and I happened to notice an odd bit of old farm machinery laying next the shed. Being intrigued with mechanical things I decided to check it out. However, in order to do so I had to climb over a fence and then walk across a vacant flat cleared bit of land.

In theory, not a problem. Two steps out from the other side of the fence I suddenly sank through what I had thought was ‘solid ground.’ In reality, it was a thin dry crusty layer of cow poo which deceitfully covered a seepage pit full of the muck hosed out from the yards. Steadily sinking, I had a flash back to the scene in “Lawrence of Arabia” when one of the young Arab boys slowly disappeared into some quicksand. Here I was, in the process of drowning in a ‘hidden’ pool of liquefied gooey cow dung.

Not a chance. I was up to my hips by the time I desperately threw my upper body towards the fence line and, feeling solid ground, dug my fingers in and started pulling myself ashore. My son saw my plight and hastily came over to give me a helping hand and, with a lot of effort, he finally managed to haul me out. Well, talk about laugh. The cousin just about wet herself when she saw me waddle somewhat bow legged back into the shed half covered with gooey dung. ‘Oh what a feeling !’

You can say that again mate......talk about an unforgettable experience !

Rugerman, it's amazing how skilled cows are at allowing a long stream of crap to run down their tail and to then ever so deftly flick it at you. No wonder they end up as 'Big Macs' !

Green hill, better still, I'll get someone else to lead the way !

thanks for sharing mate. 

seen the dog do that a time or two flat out after a bird then sink through crust into mud....just aswell you had acess to a big hose to clean off..that fermenting cow crap sure does have an aroma all of its own.

I am always in the s**t its just the depth that varies.