The Great Moo See Dung

You may be wondering how we managed to set up our own independent, fully-functioning, bovine-run farm. Well, for any normal herd it would have been a big ask – virtually impossible even – but luckily we are led by the inspirational genius that is Daisy, our very own Chairman Cow. Here is a picture of her in typical contemplative mood.

As you can imagine, with so much organising to do, Daisy has little time to deal with such trivialities as blogging, but it is entirely thanks to her that I am here speaking to you, instead of being in a pie. So here is the story of how we managed to overthrow the farmer.

It all started on a brisk but sunny spring morning in Puddlethwaite. To the untrained eye it may have looked like a typical field full of cows, but a seasoned spotter of bovine rebellion would have noticed a glint in Daisy’s eye as she stood up. Clearing her throat, she commenced her momentous speech.

“Okay, can I have your attention please, everyone? Right, I plan to get rid of our oppressor, so listen up,” she said to start her rousing rhetoric. When her inspired speech began in earnest, however, it did not receive the response she had expected, and apart from a small number of cows who managed to pick up occasional words like “free”, “chains”, “bondage” and “yoke” and assumed Daisy was talking about some sex show she’d been to, most of her bovine colleagues gave her no heed. The lack of attention infuriated Daisy, whipping her into a frenzy and filling her four bellies with fire. Did her sisters not realise they were being exploited? Weren’t they aware of their doomed plight if they didn't take action immediately? Releasing all her anger, she was still in mid-rant when she noticed the farmer striding cheerily out of the door with his shiny new bucket. 

“Morning, Daisy. Time for a milking, young lady,” he said with a tuneless but happy little whistle. 

“Moo!” responded Daisy.

“Yes it is,” said the farmer. In his ignorance he had misunderstood Daisy. Her ruminant ways had clearly deceived him, lulling him into a false sense of superiority so typical of humans, and she was in fact answering, “No, silly, it’s time for the Rise of Bovinity!”

Inspired by the potential hugeness of her words, Daisy continued lowing with pride. “We cows are smarter than you think, mister farmer. And yes, we’re gonna TAKE OVER THE WORLD. Or we’ll eat grass and occasionally lie down, I’m not sure. But anyway I’m gonna sum up all my mighty Unguis powers and, oh damn! I’m lactating!”

“There’s a good girl,” the farmer told our milk-making mugwump. 

Relieved of her milk Daisy was able to calm down and think things through, and as the farmer disappeared she chewed the cud and ruminated, and then thought, “ah, I’m a tautologist and I’ve just repeated myself.” Then she got to work on a plan. 

After a couple of hours she finally knew how she could remove the farmer from his position of power and set up a self-sufficient cattle commune – a cowmune, as she would call it.

“Ok,” Daisy said to herself with an intense look of concentration, “I need a length of rope, a set of grappling hooks, the farmer’s stun gun, a spade, a torch ... Ungulata!” she said, for once taking the name of the munificent goddess of bovinity in vain. “The list is endless.”

Realising she might struggle to get hold of most of these items, she wandered up to the farmer’s house to look around. She picked up the cattle prod – which he had fortunately left lying round in a nearby barn – just in case she had to protect herself, and while she was passing the front door of the farmer’s house she overheard the farmer in conversation. He was speaking with what sounded like a young boy of around 17 human years and, as far as Daisy could tell, the farmer seemed to be offering the boy work.

“Right, young man,” said the farmer in his gruff, pipe-smoker’s voice, “I’m getting too old to do all the work round here, so I need someone to help me with the slaughtering work. Stunning cows.”

“Yes, they are quite attractive,” replied the boy, obviously confused.

“No no,” explained the farmer, shaking his balding head vigorously, “I need someone to help me stun the cows.”

“Oh, how do you do that then?” wondered the boy. He scratched his chin and was deep in thought for a second or two. “Oh I know, we could tell ‘em we’re gonna eat them! That’ll stun ‘em!”

“Yep, that’s the spirit I’m looking for, young man,” explained the farmer. He seemed happy. “I think you’ve got what it takes to go a long way in this business.”

This was bad news so, in her desire to get a better view of this threatening situation – the possibility of two humans to deal with was much more daunting than just one – our great leader moved to look fully through the window to see the full scope of the danger.

Want to find out what Daisy did next? Then come back here soon.