Tall Tale: Cow­tas­tro­phy

Catron Courier - - Front Page - As al­ways, these sto­ries were ex­pe­ri­enced by me, told to me in person, or sub­mit­ted by read­ers of this pa­per. I sim­ply re-tell the sto­ries, fill­ing in some of the de­tails, and don’t make any judg­ments as to how true they are. Have you per­son­ally ex­pe­ri­enc

meet her on her ranch the next morn­ing.

They rode out in the law­man’s Jeep. She showed him the cow, the mu­ti­la­tion, and the lack of tracks. Strangely no flies or ants had touched the car­cass. The law­man said per­haps it was a prank played by teenagers.

“And they can float?” she asked. “Let me think a minute,” he re­sponded.

The two sought the shade of a nearby tree while they talked. Just then a tiny dot of blood ap­peared on the law­man’s cheek. They both looked up to see a dead cow sus­pended on the high­est branches of the tree. From the ground, the tell-tale marks of mu­ti­la­tion could be seen. The law­man looked at the soft soil and saw only his and Ka­rina’s boot prints. “This is quite the mys­tery,” he fi­nally said.

Over the next sev­eral days one or two cows were mu­ti­lated each day. Peo­ple from the univer­sity came to look at the dead cows. They said it looked like it was done with sur­gi­cal equip­ment, but they could not ex­plain how or­gans were miss­ing with­out any in­ci­sion.

Tired of wait­ing for the law to take ac­tion, Ka­rina called on her hands to keep a 24-hour watch. She armed her men with hunt­ing ri­fles. She was go­ing to find who was killing her cows and she was go­ing to make them pay.

The next morn­ing she found no dead cows. It was if some­how the cul­prit would not strike if he was be­ing watched. So she kept the up the watch ev­ery night.

Four days later, a ranch hand woke Ka­rina in the mid­dle of the night. “You must come and see this! We need every­one’s help!” he shouted.

By the time she’d got­ten dressed, sad­dled her horse, and rode out, all of her hands had ar­rived at the scene, and quite a scene it was. The crew stood around a steel wa­ter tank that fed a drinker. It was a large, once-piece tank with a con­i­cal top. From in­side, she heard the most hor­ri­ble—cows bel­low­ing, splash­ing, and scrap­ing their hooves on the metal in a des­per­ate at­tempt to es­cape from the in­side!

The tank had only a small hole in the top to ac­cept wa­ter from the wind­mill, a small over­flow pipe and an un­der­ground pipe to the drinker. There was no pos­si­ble way the cows could get into that tank. The crew strug­gled to get the cows out. Fi­nally, one of the hands brought out weld­ing equip­ment and be­gan to cut off the con­i­cal cap while oth­ers drained the wa­ter. Once tank was dry, they cut an open­ing in the wall of the tank and let out the ter­ri­fied cows. Nine cows had drowned in the tank. Ten sur­vived. For what­ever rea­son, no more cows were mu­ti­lated again.

Many peo­ple had their the­o­ries on what hap­pened: preda­tors, pranksters, drunken med­i­cal stu­dents, Satanists, and even space aliens. Even af­ter sev­eral in­ves­ti­ga­tors gave it their best shot, no de­fin­i­tive an­swer was ever found.

“What­ever the cause,” Ka­rina said dur­ing an in­ter­view, “I’m glad the or­deal is over, and I can get back to my ‘nor­mal’ set of prob­lems.”

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