Actual Cowgirl Found in Wyoming
Peter Garland
365 Hanover Ave. #303
Oakland, Ca. USA 94606
2150 words
First rights
510-834-3617
April 6, 2015
Dear Blackbird, I’m looking forward to appearing in your pages, if possible. My work (prose articles) is today appearing in the Bay Area Reporter and the Gay&Lesbian Review with more articles bought by Irish American Magazine and Earth Island. I’ve been published elsewhere as well.
Biography:
I was born in Ireland, part of a large family. We came to Long Island, New York when I was twelve and a few years later to San Francisco. I served with the Marines in Vietnam and then got a degree in English Literature from U.C. Berkeley. I worked first as a Navy analyst and then as an English teacher and finally I am a full-time writer with thirty or forty years full of notebooks to plough through.
I hope you like my work. I have lots more.
Best wishes, I look forward to hearing from you.
Peter Garland, MA
Actual Cowgirl Discovered in Wyoming. (Only the face is human)
By Peter Garland
An article in the Cheyenne Athenaeum prompted us to send a reporter to Wyoming to check on a story about a cowgirl. Not the kind that ride horses in a barrel race but an actual cowgirl – a creature part cow and part human girl. Here is her report:
The father of the girl granted me an interview on the understanding that I would not identify the county where his farm is located and that we protect the privacy of his daughter.
I arrived at Mr. Jones (not his real name) one Saturday morning after he had been out with the hired hand mowing hay and he welcomed me into his spacious bungalow-style farmhouse where I also met his wife, Minnie, and some of their children (all normal by the way!). The cowgirl was not among them. This gave your reporter the cue on how to begin the interview, once Farmer Jones and I were comfortably seated in the living room which is decorated with lots of cowboy regalia: heads of bears and antelope, tanned skins, rifles, cowboy hats, tomahawks, war bonnets and so on. There were some photos of the family group with a cow that had the face of a girl – quite a pretty face, too!
Reporter: Mr. Jones, thanks for inviting me in here today. According to the Cheyenne Athenaeum, you have put your daughter out to graze. Is that fair or proper?
Jones: See how things get twisted around! We tried to keep her in the house when she was growing up, as much as possible, but it was difficult – the old bull, or rather, cow, in a china shop story – things would get broken. So, she was put out to graze pretty much. But she wanted to be. You see there’s someone, I mean, a bull, named Tony, that she’s fond of out there! He’s certainly not coming into the house! She still occasionally does.
R: I see. Do you milk her?
J: No, I pretty much leave that to her younger brothers and sisters. To have the hired hand do it, we’re not comfortable with that. Her youngest brother, Bill, they’ve always been especially close, he’ll usually do it, but the others chip in as need be.
R: How nice. Do her younger siblings drink her milk?
J: Sure! They love it. Always have. They were raised on it. She gives good milk. After all, why not let her have her natural function? The worst thing would be to act as if we were ashamed of her in any way. We’re not. In fact, we’re proud of her, just like you would be if you had a handicapped daughter who still managed to live a pretty much normal life.
R: Yes, I understand. Might I ask how you come off being the father of a cow-woman?
J: As for how she came to be –well, you know, a young man, when he’s alone, especially a farmer – anything can happen. Sometimes the gods take a hand in these things – read the Greeks and Romans, they understood human nature better than we do in this
regard. Let’s just call it one of my little peccadilloes and let it go at that.
R: Okay. How old is she?
J: Recently turned nineteen.
R: So she’s eligible to vote.
J: We think so. If there’s a challenge it could go to the Supreme Court, but that’s a decision she’d have to take. All the publicity, you know.
R: Do you have any idea whom she voted for in the recent presidential election?
J: Oh, yes. You understand, even though she has a human face she does not talk just like a human; it’s a cross between that and a moo. Most people could not make sense of it, but the family can. Anyway, when asked whom she favored for the presidency, she definitely responded, “MooCain.” I think she finds Obama too citified for her. She likes a country boy! McCain seems more like a farmer to her, though she doesn’t watch that much t.v. when she comes into the house. She doesn’t like earphones or ipods, either,
for which I’m grateful. She’d rather hear one of the kids play the piano.
R: That does make sense, about her political leanings. Tell me, what was her growing up like? Did she go to school?
J: Oh, yes. It was difficult but everyone pitched in to help. She could not eat in the cafeteria with the other kids; we generally kept a bale of hay and some oats in the school playground for her.
R: Did she use the same bathrooms as the other girls?
J: Well, no, that would not have been possible, how could she have fitted into a stall? Fortunately, in that regard, she has some human modesty, so that was not a problem, really. There’s generally some fields near any of our schools.
In the classroom, flies could sometimes be a problem, especially in the hot months. Generally she was put at the desk at the end of a row, in the back of the classroom, because of the tail, you know, swishing back and forth pretty constantly. There were some complaints about the flies, but we deemed it was better to let her stay in the classroom and try to get an education, which
as a human being and an American is hers by right, than to segregate her out at a greater cost, even in those days when there was more money for education. Fortunately, too, the principal of the high school, Judd Warner (not his real name), is a friend of mine, we grew up together, and he was always very supportive, as were so many people. It’s quite a community here. We really believe in community.
R: Did she, does she, want to go to college?
J: She wanted to, to study agricultural science at U.C. Davis in California, where she was actually offered a scholarship. But it’s the old story, college plans put on hold due to yen for a guy. Tony the bull came along and then she seemed to prefer his company to going off to school. We’ve always let her make her own decisions as far as possible, though this one was somewhat of a disappointment to her mother and me.
R: Her mother?
J: I mean, my wife, Jane, not her real mom. As for her real mother? We prefer not to go into that. She’s no longer with us – has not been for many, many years. Rest in peace.
Jane, my wife, has been very understanding, thank goodness. She and Esmeralda get along well. That’s my daughter’s name, by the way. In fact, Jane often used to milk her, when our kids were smaller. She’s very protective of Esmeralda.
Sometimes Jane’s crocheting and quilting group will set up a table by the meadow where Esmeralda grazes – our cowgirl likes to come over and watch them. One time, as a surprise, they made a whole quilt of cows with girl faces and Esmeralda – she was a child then, I mean a young cow, – just loved that! She capered around the meadow – more like a filly than a cow, from what I heard.
R: Was she able to participate in sports when she was in school?
J: In school, she wanted to participate in sports but none were found really suitable to her – the horns were always a problem. You
know, if her animal side took over - and, then, girls are so competitive in sports today. In her case, that would have been dangerous.
Sometimes she was given a ball to kick around by herself and some of the other kids would play with her, but, as I say, they had to watch out for the horns! There was no way we could let her play on any of the regular school teams, anyway. For instance, in soccer – other schools would have objected, there would have been lawsuits – what a headache that would have been! Esmeralda understood that – she’s really quite smart, you know!
R: This business between your daughter and Tony, the bull, how serious is it? You don’t find it inhuman?
J: Well, she’s not human – she’s a cow, darn it, except for her face!
R: Sorry, Mr. Jones. But anyway, how serious is the affair?
J: With Tony? She’s definitely in love with him. Tony really likes Esmeralda, too, so we’re happy that they’re a good couple, so to speak, though the idea of marriage is out of the question, Tony being all bull. Esmeralda could approximate “I do”, though it
might sound more like “I moo” to you, but Tony could do nothing but roar. It would be a farce. It’s hard on her – you know how girls love weddings, but she’s realistic about it.
R: She sounds quite mature. Has she ever hurt anyone with her horns?
J: No people. There was another cow – there was apparently a bit of a bovine tiff over Tony, the bull – the other cow came up with a few wounds, nothing too serious. We can’t prove Esmeralda did it. Anyway, the other cow stays away from Tony, now.
R: Well, it’s a remarkable situation, Mr. Jones, and you seem to handle it very well. She really is an intrinsic part of your family.
J: Of course. We do include her in all family photos, even if we have to troop out to the field to take them. She enjoys photos and always likes to look at them, though, Tony, the bull, doesn’t seem to have much interest.
At Christmas times we always erect a big crèche on our front lawn and she plays a part in that, too, you know, the cow in the stable. She’s quite religious, like her mother (my wife, I mean), so she likes that. Next year she wants Tony the Bull to join
her there. We’ll have to see how that works out, maybe she can convince him to just stand quietly there by the Baby Jesus, but I’m not betting on it.
Then, on her birthday, we bring her some special sweet oats and hay.
Also, she always remembers Father’s Day and somehow produces extra cream for my oatmeal that morning. It’s delicious!
R: Do Tony and she plan to have children?
J: I’m sure they do. We’ll take care of that when they’re born. When calves or children, call them what you will, come, there will be questions of baptism, of life insurance and so on. It’s not a simple situation!
R: That’s for sure. We appreciate that. You must think about the future a lot, Mr. Jones.
J: Of course I do, for all my children but especially for Esmeralda. Her younger siblings are very fond of her. One thing I’m afraid of is that she be butchered some day, for the market, but I don’t
think there’s much chance of that happening. I don’t think a sibling feud, in the future, after I’m gone, could lead Esmeralda to the stockyards!
Anyway, I’ve put some extra provisos in the will to cover
even that eventuality and to protect our for all her life. Also her
children, if she has any.
R: Are you leaving her any money?
J: Yes. And she inherits a part-interest in the farm.
R: Well, this is quite a story, Mr. Jones, and I promise you we will protect your privacy. Your daughter sounds very well adjusted, as are you and your whole family, to her unique position. We wish you all the best in the future and, may I add, that I hope the relationship between Esmeralda and Tony works out to be a happy one.
J: So far so good. We’re keeping an eye on it. Thanks for coming to see us. We appreciate your discretion.
And that was that. I said goodbye to the farmer and he escorted me out to the pickup I had rented at the airport. I did not attempt to interview Esmeralda herself nor to take her photo as it was agreed beforehand with her father that I not do so. Mr. Jones had told me, when I initially called him from New York to set up the interview, “She is a little shy of strangers. I think, as a woman, she’s a little bit embarrassed at being a cow. Then, as a cow, well, I don’t know how she would feel about reporters. Probably could not comprehend them.” I had assured him I understood. Privacy is the major concern here and the living, as far as possible, of a normal life style.
Soon I was airborne, leaving one more unique American family to figure out their future for themselves.
I’m sure my readers will join me in wishing them the best of luck.
End