The Clock Tower and Other Stories by Lynn Woolley

Author:Lynn Woolley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Planet Logic Press
Published: 2020-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Holy Cow

This is a story that had been languishing in the back of my mind for several years. It’s about the economy, sanctity of life, world war, the human soul, and a cow named Clara. This story was begun on March 7, 2019 and was completed on March 17, 2019.

In the early morning hours of a cold and bleak December day, a meteor flamed through an overcast sky, landing near a dairy farm outside Sheboygan, Wisconsin. It was sparsely reported, and then forgotten, and no one ever made a connection to the strange story of Clara the Cow.

By the time the meteor hit the ground, Wesley Wheelis had been working for a couple of hours. He was too busy tending to his girls to notice such a thing, and so he didn’t. Wesley and his wife Wynona ran a small operation — certainly not one of those big factory farms that get all the government largesse. And so, with a few hired hands, they vaccinated their animals, fed them hay and silage, milked them, and bred them with carefully selected bulls. Female calves were allowed to mature for their milk; male calves that, of course, do not lactate were slaughtered for veal. Animal rights organizations didn’t much like anything that went on at the Wheelis Dairy Farm, but Wes and Wyn had made a life of it, and it all seemed natural to them.

About thirty days after the meteor struck, Wes began to notice something that was not so natural about one of his cows. He didn’t say anything about it to Wynona until one morning at breakfast.

“Somethin’s eatin’ you!” said Wyn with a focused glare.

Wes Wheelis took his coffee hot, strong, and black — and he sipped it, singeing his tongue. “Somethin’ is,” he said.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I guess so. I haven’t been sure until now. But now I’m pretty sure.”

“What are you sure of?” she asked.

“You know that pretty Jersey that’s pregnant?”

“Yeah I know the one.”

“She’s been talkin’ to me.”

“Like hell she has,” said Wyn. “Are you crazy?”

“I might be,” said Wes. “She can’t make words like you and me. But she’s telling me stuff for sure.”

“How long’s this been goin’ on?”

“Just a couple of weeks. It started with her nudging me, you know, to let her in or out of her stall, or pushing me over to the pitchfork to get her more hay, or grass, or whatever she wants.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearin’. Are you telling me that this cow has got human intelligence?”

Wes paused and thought. “I can’t say for sure. But Clara’s awful smart.”

“Clara!” Wyn banged her fist on the table and three pieces of silverware fell to the floor. “You done went and named that cow? Wes, you know we gonna slaughter her when she stops producing. How are we gonna slaughter a cow you named?”

“Maybe we’ll slaughter her and maybe we won’t. I been thinkin’.”

“’Bout what?”

“’Bout callin’ the TV cable networks. They might be interested in doing a story about a smart cow like Clara.

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