Audrey (cow) Read online

  TORCHY

  (human)

  You should have seen the bug-eyed peepers on Humphrey! “What’s buzzin’, cousin?” I asked, ’cause suddenly we’re at a standstill, dead in the water, going nowhere fast. But Officer Stoneface wasn’t saying a word. He’s searching the ground like he lost a contact lens. “Tracks have stopped,” he finally mumbles. “Tracks have stopped!” I yell. “What do ya mean, the tracks have stopped? She’s a cow! What’d she do, hoof it up a tree?” Oh, this was rich. Audrey had learned to levitate. Or maybe she was abducted by aliens. Or maybe the hunted had just outsmarted the hunter. Humph thought he had it easy on this assignment, but hold your horses, the cow just pulled a Houdini! The ol’ Disappearing Bovine Trick! I couldn’t wait to file my report. Headline: Small Town Cow Outwits Authorities. The Hunt Continues!

  HUMPHREY

  (human)

  Hmm? Yes, I did have the misfortune to read Miss Murrow’s account of the first day’s pursuit. Her writing style is somewhat colorful for my taste. And I take offence to the expression “Grumpy Humphrey the Mild-life Enforcement Officer.” For the record, I am able to smile and have, on more than one occasion, laughed mirthfully.

  DORIS

  (deer)

  It was like a vision! When she stepped out of the woods into the meadow, she was radiant. Oh yeah! I mean that. Her hide was shimmering golden and creamy. It was something amazing to behold, like when I dream of being grabbed by a giant hawk that swoops down and then carries me high where I can see forever—see Mama and the family below—and everything is peaceful and serene, and the hawk doesn’t eat me in the end? Yeah, amazing to behold like that.

  And big? That girl was crazy big! She was so big and beautiful, and her eyes were soft black like night sky and her scent was strange and glamorous, so I knew she was no monster. Mama would call me a fool for being so trusting. But I wasn’t scared. I just had to meet her. Oh yeah! So I did. I walked across the meadow right up to her. “What are you?” I asked. She says, “I’m Audrey. I’m a Charolais, and I come all the way from France by way of Bittersweet Farm. And what are you?” I was speechless, was what I was. She talked in such deep tones, I could feel it rumbling in my chest. “I’m Doris,” I finally managed. “Mama says I’m a handful, and I come from the woods by way of that trail over there.”

  CLAUDETTE

  (cougar)

  Kept an eye on her all morning. Fear smell had gone by then. But still—lapping up puddle water? Too stupid to take the clear stuff from the river or pond nearby. Then she spots the meadow. Whole new scent comes off her. Childlike. Pleasant, even. It was joy. I was sniffing joy. Joy in the forest and too stupid to sense me on her trail. See her grazing like a deer. See her talking with a deer! She’s prey. I knew she was prey. Slow and stupid with plenty of meat. I can take this thing, I thought. It will not be hard. Would have taken her too, then and there, if I hadn’t been distracted.

  BORIS

  (skunk)

  No one bothers old Boris much. Suits me fine. I prefer a wide berth. If all the forest folk are so afraid of getting “contaminated” in my presence, why should I give a rabbit pellet’s worth of concern for their company? My, my, my, the world is a cold place. Not that any one of them would do more than shun me. I’m not big or particularly dangerous, but they know what I am capable of if cornered. I act the part too, mind you; play up the crazy so they aren’t willing to chance it.

  Even Claudette gives me a respectful distance. She and I nearly rubbed shoulders on our visitor’s second day. I’d just finished wiping the trails clean. I was studying this peculiar young lady who calls herself Audrey, this creature that stirs old-time feelings inside me. I was studying her from a few paces back, hiding at the edge of Homestead Meadow. Seemed Claudette was doing some surveillance too. She caught wind of me. Gave me the sneer that serves as her smile. Didn’t come any closer, though. She said, “Boris, your eyes are a whole lot bigger than your stomach if you’re thinking of making that thing dinner.”

  I looked right back at her. “That thing has a name, Claudette. She’s a Charolais. Guess you hadn’t figured it out yet, for all your fancy stalking.” That set her back on her heels. Claudette likes to think herself the great hunter, but she’s no risk taker. “Thinking of having a go at her?” I asked. “You don’t want to mess with Charolais. They are vicious as wolverines and stronger than any animal in this here forest. I don’t know why she’s among us, but I sure wouldn’t want to tangle with her.” Now, at the time, I had not the slightest clue what a Charolais was or was not capable of doing. The young lady looked kind and gentle. I just wanted to buy her a little time before Claudette’s stomach grew bigger than her eyes.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Doris was my first forest acquaintance. She looked as delicate as a dandelion seedpod with her small brown and white-dappled body perched on thin, wispy legs. I thought she might float away on the slightest breeze. Once she got over her shyness, there was something familiar in the way Doris bounced about while she talked a mile a minute, so fast I couldn’t keep up half the time. She reminded me of Eddie when he was a pup. And I suppose she reminded me of myself too, telling me of her dreams and nightmares as vividly as if she were still in them. Doris could have been a younger sister, and it gave me pleasure to think of her so. I grazed contentedly while she babbled on, enjoying the sensation of eating the grass as much as tasting it. Each tug and chew of blade was acknowledged. Each swallow, a solemn moment of gratitude as my long stretch of hunger came to an end.

  JUNE

  (deer)

  Needs jes a second out of my sight to get herself all mixed up in no-good, my Doris. Once stuck herself on a rock cliff, tryin’ to explore a nest. Sneaked her foolish self onto a porcupine too, pretendin’ she be a ghost, and got herself a snoot full of quills for her efforts. Now this. Had I seen what she was doin’ back there in Homestead Meadow, I’d have put a stop to it before it began. I would have avoided the meetin’ ever takin’ place. But like I said, with Doris, all it takes is but a second.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Doris led me across the meadow until it dipped, and I saw not one but a whole group of deer grazing. In unison, the heads raised, but I easily guessed which of them belonged to Doris’s mother by the stern look on her face. We neared at a pace set somewhere between Doris’s excitement and my hesitation. I tried to disarm her mother with a polite introduction, as Mother would have encouraged me to do. I managed no more than “How do you do? My name is—” before she cut me off.

  JUNE

  (deer)

  I said to her, “I know what you are, girl. I’ve done heard accounts of your kind from family lore. Different color, mind you, but you still fit the bill. Your type lives within the fences, with them two-leggers. You don’t belong here, do you?” I said, “Do you?”

  DORIS

  (deer)

  I did not know why Mama was being so mean and cold, treating Audrey like she was dangerous or something. I tried to explain to Mama that Audrey was alright and we didn’t need to worry about her even if she was different from us. In fact, Audrey wasn’t all that different, because her and me, we discovered we ate the same way and that our stomachs were almost the same too. Oh yeah! I tried to tell Mama that, but she just hushed me up.

  JUNE

  (deer)

  “No, ma’am,” she answered. “This isn’t where I belong. It’s just that I have nowhere else to go.” Um-hmm, jes as I was supposin’. But then, this here Audrey, she done explained her situation. I swallowed a heavy lump, hearin’ her tale. That poor girl had barely outgrown her childhood and yet she was carryin’ woes heavier than a turtle with two shells. I had nothin’ personal against Audrey. I could see right from the get-go that she was no direct threat, which is why I let Doris indulge in her foolery. But only up to a point. Audrey might have been fine in manner and scent, but that don’t mean she weren’t dangerous. A big, passive creature like her has got herself a target on h
er hide. I didn’t want Doris close by when the howls and growls made their move. I said, “You are welcome to graze and browse with us durin’ the day. Come nightfall, we part company. You may not bed with us. If you survive until dawn, you may join us once more. And if durin’ the day there is trouble, we won’t wait for you. Is that understood?”

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  I said, “Yes, ma’am.” To be honest, I was very surprised to hear her talk as if danger was lurking just around the corner, because other than my active imagination and Roy’s warnings, I had not encountered anything that I found life-threatening. But I wasn’t one to argue with my elders, and I was grateful to have any company in my new forest life. As for where to bed at night, that problem was literally solved right then and there. Doris’s family continued grazing, and as their progress took them over a small rise, suddenly I saw buildings at the far end of the meadow. I gasped in astonishment because before me was Bittersweet Farm.

  Only it wasn’t Bittersweet Farm, you see, it was another farm, complete with a small house and barn and fences, but all in terrible disrepair. It must have been abandoned many, many years earlier. Grass and weeds grew right up to the doorstep. The house might have been a cozy and cheery place in its prime, a place for a child like Little Girl Elspeth to feel content in, staring out the window toward the meadow on a cold, frosty morning. But now the remaining bits of red paint were faded, the chimney had crumbled and the roof had caved in toward the middle. It was as if the house had given up trying to pretend it was still a home and had sighed so intensely it broke itself and finally collapsed.

  As for the barn, it was no more welcoming. It too was much smaller than what I had known, with a low sloping roof. Trees had grown right against the wood-slatted walls, and moss and ivy covered the shingles like hair, hanging over the edges in unkempt tresses. The barn door was pushed inward, held askew on a single, bent hinge. I squeezed myself through, feeling as if I was forcing myself into the dank, dark mouth of some long-sleeping creature. I half expected to be chewed and swallowed at any moment.

  Inside the barn, I was pricked by a dozen narrow shafts of afternoon sun that poured through the many holes in the roof. I was intrigued by the strange patterns they created. But holes also meant that the roof offered little in the way of protection from the rain. I took a moment to consider whether this broken-down dwelling could be my new home. It was not ideal, that was certain. It was neither comfortable nor comforting. But I only needed some protection in the night, so I decided it would suffice.

  DORIS

  (deer)

  It was all good! Mama let Audrey be family with us, and I got to show her all the different plants she’d never seen or tasted before. And that girl can eat. Oh yeah! I showed her the pond and the river where the water is cool and tasty. I showed her the best trails and the warmest spots to rest. And Audrey told me about Bittersweet Farm, Eddie and Buster, the lake called Atlantic, and the place called France where we decided we would go together and taste the clover and meet all her cousins.

  When twilight came, which is when my jitters always get the best of me on account of the silent snatchers that roam the midnight woods, Audrey would nuzzle and lick my ears with her crazy big tongue. She’d tell me happy stories that I could take into my dreams so I could sleep better. Then she’d say good night and head over to Homestead Meadow to bed in her barn. Before I closed my eyes, I always wished really hard that Audrey would be okay and survive the night, so that I could see her at dawn the next day.

  HUMPHREY

  (human)

  I continued to hunt for the cow for several days. I also continued to be accompanied by Miss Murrow, or Torchy, as she insisted I call her. Each morning I would encounter fresh bovine tracks that confirmed the animal was still alive. But consistent with the first day, her trail would simply end for no reason. Remarkably too, whereas I had expected to find what civilians often refer to as “cow patties,” I discovered none whatsoever. Nor was I able to smell evidence of any, due to an almost unfailing cloud of skunk odor that hovered above the trails.

  Contrary to what … uh, Torchy wrote in her daily news reports, I was not frustrated or befuddled, nor did I ever throw down my Wildlife Enforcement Officer cap “in a fit of utter exasperation.” That would have been highly unprofessional. I was not put off by these setbacks, as I am a patient man. I was most willing to continue in the pursuit of the cow on my own. However, due to the growing public interest in the story generated by Miss … by Torchy, my supervisor felt that a larger team of officers could end the hunt more quickly.

  TORCHY

  (human)

  Poor Humphrey-Dumphrey. Come day four, his boss is chewing his ear off, demanding results double time, or threatening to demote Ol’ Humph to a guard at a petting zoo. I felt for the lug, I did. But as a reporter, I’m rooting for the gal fighting for her life. Did I milk the story? You better believe it, sister! I knew I had to slant this tale in the cow’s favor, see. The readers needed to put themselves in Audrey’s—that was her name, you know—Audrey’s shoes. Not that I’m saying she was wearing a pair of loafers, but I wouldn’t put it past her. That gal had pizzazz and plenty of moxie. We’ve all been there, see; we’ve all been backed into a corner with no place to go.

  But stop the presses! Audrey was a story that wouldn’t go away. Four days running, not a sign of her. I’m thinking if the cow keeps it up, I’ll have a two-week series, and maybe it will even go national! Round five takes a twist, though. Now I’m following a half dozen officers into the woods, each one of them more stone-faced than the next. Heck, Ol’ Humph was starting to look like Chuckles the Clown by comparison!

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Nights in the barn were never pleasant. I had no hay to soften the ground, and the air was stale; I felt like I was stuffed away in a musty old box. It was the opposite of freedom. The sky stayed clear and the moon was waxing. Its light seeped in, sometimes cross-hatched across my flank, like fence chain, hemming me in even more. Those were the loneliest times.

  Back at Bittersweet Farm, I’d have drifted off to sleep with the hushed voices of Madge, Greta and the other ladies in my ears. Now, there was nothing soothing, nothing familiar. So I would make myself remember as vividly as possible all of the friends I had left behind. I’d think of Eddie and Buster and Roy. I was squeezing drops of comfort out of my memories the way Farmer squeezed water from a wet rag. There was Eddie running and barking with joy. There was Buster, his little eyes twinkling at a newly filled trough. Squeezing and remembering, squeezing and remembering until I could wring out a small smile. But memories are double-edged. They may warm you with happy thoughts of what you once had, but knowing you no longer have them leaves you cold, shivering and alone.

  The fifth night was different. The fifth night was the worst. I heard sounds from outside, close to the wall. Padded steps with the faintest rustle of grass, controlled breath, a smack of lips, and then I saw a shadow projected onto the dirt floor. It was of a tail, rope-thick and long. I stared, near hypnotized as it slowly coiled and uncurled, while behind me, a voice growled low and soft as a lamb’s ear. “Been watching you, Charolais,” it said. “Wondering if you’re dinner.”

  I jumped to my feet and turned, catching sight of two fierce amber eyes peering in between the slats of wood. In a split second they were gone, as if I had imagined them. But I didn’t. I could feel menace encircling the barn. I tried to keep track of the stranger’s whereabouts, constantly shifting my position as she resumed prowling, first one way and then the other. “Hear you’re dangerous, Charolais. Are you dangerous? Smelling fear now and, mmmm, that makes me so hungry. Wondering about you, Charolais. Wondering … but close to deciding.”

  She was out of the moonlight’s reach, which meant she was nearer to the door, which foolishly I had always left open. “Why should I be afraid of you?” I asked, attempting a light, breezy quality to my quivering voice. “We’ve never met, and I could not imagine yo
u would mean me harm.” While I spoke, I walked as quietly as I could manage toward the door. I listened for any twig snaps or breath exhales. Then silence fell upon the barn as deafening as a roar. Intentions were clear; the time for waiting was over. I saw a fan of whiskers caught in the moonlight, barely extended into the doorway. With all my force I pushed against the door, casting out that yellow-eyed beast while catching a few of her whiskers in the doorjamb. She screamed and growled madly; strong, hard nails scratched and clawed at the wood. The pressure against the rickety door was formidable. She pounded once, twice, again and again. Oh, my, the threat was horribly clear: if I was to ever meet this creature in the open, exposed and unprotected, I would be no match for her at all. I would be her dinner.

  FAY

  (human)

  Like most everyone else, I was following the ongoing search for Audrey in the articles that Ms. Murrow wrote for the Daily Planet newspaper. The drama was so captivating; one could not help but root for Audrey. Her story was now more than just an amusing anecdote to e-mail to your friends. There was something universal in her struggle to remain free, something that touched each of us. But I could see the writing on the wall. It did not bode well for Audrey. With all the attention being focused on the story, and with each new day that Audrey remained free, the hunt grew larger. The Wildlife Department was looking foolish, so they had to end it. They wanted the story dead. In the meantime, I began making inquiries.