8/31/2009:
Ask any North Dakotan, and they will tell you that cows have an important place in the history of the state. These simple creatures were as much a part of the prairies as they are a part of the dairies. Yet a day in the life of a cow is usually not very interesting to us. From the past to the present, their days generally consist of obtaining the essentials-food, water, and perhaps some space to wander.
On this date in 1929, however, it was reported that a cow from around the Hazen area wandered directly into perhaps the most interesting day of her life.
The day started out the same as any other. She ate, drank, and began to wander. Searching for greener pastures and better cud, ol' Bessie discovered some ground that was smoother and more compact to walk on. And then, that sweet old milk cow met the future, for Pete Reeault, of Bismarck, and Art Sailer plowed Pete's car right into that cow in a milk-shaking collision.
The cow rolled right over the top of the two men, scrambling and stomping and kicking in an attempt to regain her footing. Art later said that the poor beast "looked like an inverted dead cockroach pinned under the weight of an order of Minot hot cakes." Luckily, the two men and the cow all survived their encounter, though they did sacrifice the front bumper, one fender, and the headlights of the car-and, Pete reported, about a year's growth out of him. Art said he was just thankful, since the kicking cow had barely missed his left ear.
After hearing about the incident, wagging tongues in the community wondered if the faithful old cow was giving forth quarts and quarts of sour milk, or if Pete Reeault was likely to find his car's radiator to be leaking milk. After all, Art insisted the scared bovine dropped at least six quarts of milk there before it landed safely on the opposite side of the car.
The two men said they would never tackle the cow again, which they feared might remember them. It's just as likely that the cow never tackled another car.
After all, surely Bessie remembered that the grass was greenest when she didn't have to cross any roads.
Dakota Datebook written by Sarah Walker
Source:
The Drake Register, August 29, 1929