Five Deacons and a Cow on the Fourth of July

From Stories from Jones Farm
Copyright July 1993

[Part 3]

“Do you think it’s okay if we pray for the cow?” Erin asked, looking up at me.

“As hard as those men are working,” I said, “I bet they’re already praying for the cow.  You know, Dad is a deacon, and Ed and Bobby are deacons at Dad’s church, too.  I guess they’re used to praying over just about everything they do.”  Together we were deep in thought as we walked from the gate to the house. 

“Come to think about it, Erin,” I said, “Doug is a deacon at his church in Greeneville.”

“And Daddy’s a deacon, too, at our church,” Erin added quickly.  “He helped with the phone calls.”

“It’s sort of funny,” I said.

“What is?”  Erin looked at me quizzically.

“Well, some people celebrate the Fourth of July with alcohol and wild parties, but just look at how five deacons spend the Fourth in Baileyton.”

“Rescuing one of God’s creatures…,” Erin said wistfully.

The cow had to rest unmoved for the remainder of the day, and the air cooled toward dusk so that the poor old dear began to swallow water from the fire hose more easily.  The next morning Dad drove over with his modified, red, H-Farmall on which he’d attached a front loader.  He and Ed managed to fasten a couple of girths around the cow’s belly, and Dad hoisted her up off the ground a foot or so to ride in the front loader. The spot where the cow had lain left a nearly bare patch of crispy grass, and the fur was scorched off her on the side that had made contact with the ground.  Very, very slowly, they made their way across the two fields to the barn behind Mom and Dad’s house.  It was lucky that the creek was dried up, and didn’t present the usual obstacle.  In the barn they unfastened her, and gave her freshly mown hay and lots, and lots, of water.   

Later we named the cow “Betsy,” after Betsy Ross, to sound patriotic, and when her calf was born in September, we named him “Firecracker.”  Betsy later had three other healthy calves in subsequent years, and was only a “dizzy dame” in rare moments.  Mostly, she was a sweet and gentle cow who seemed to remember the kindnesses shown to her.

As for Max, we found out on Monday morning that he had crossed the fence into the neighboring Jeffers Farm and had probably witnessed the whole event from a distance.  We all assumed that Betsy had been looking for him, too, when she had collapsed in the heat.  Maybe we should have added one more thing on the Pet Patrol form, in the Comments box:

“SATISFACTION WITH PET:  100 PERCENT.”