Can You Hear the Cows Tonight?

We all know what the Cycle of Life is.  Its that thing they used in The Lion King to explain to the children of inner city urbanites why lions aren't vegan.  Things not explained in that movie were why lions still had a system of government based on hereditary rule rather than of the lions, by the lions for the lions.  Neither did it address the shocking misogyny in lion communities as revealed in that cutting edge social documentary, Big Cat Diaries.  Personally I think Simba's pride would benefit from a people's (or rather, lion's) revolution combined with mandatory gender studies classes.  Rather typically the Cycle of Life was explained by one lion to another.  If the antelope had been asked for their definition it would have probably been something as simple as "it means those bastards with the manes get to kill us".

Leaving the broad savannahs of Africa behind the Cycle of Life turns even in places so far removed from Africa that Savannah is nothing more than the name given to your sixteen year old daughter's second child.  Yes naturally I'm talking about Tasmania which is to Australia what the Habsburgs were to sensible marriage policies.  Now that the Winter snows have come early and people look towards a long dark future (which to be fair has been the case in Tasmania for about the past fifty years) the Cycle of Life is about to run over a very special cow.

You know this cow.  This is the cow I immortalised in a previous blog entry who refused to move across the road with the rest of the cattle.  Proudly defiant it stared down the farmers and challenged them to do their worst.  This cow has been living happily ever since on its chosen side of the road.  It has even been given a name.  Admittedly that name is "Moo" so it isn't like imaginations were stretched to the limit or anything but nevertheless a small blow for bovine liberty had been struck.

Now this happy story is reaching its natural end.  As the Cycle of Life moves on so naturally do cows proceed towards beef.  My Tasmania located colleague has spotted her mother in law chalking outlines of various cuts on Moo's hide and calls have been put in to people who may have a penchant for the freshest of meat.  As we gather together to celebrate the continuation of the natural order of things (and not coincidentally enjoy a tender steak dinner) let us pause to remember this cow who provided us all with so much joy and entertainment.

I'll actually be sorry to see this cow go despite the fact that my sole involvement with it has been the occasional anecdote related second hand by my colleague.  I did in fact discreetly investigate how much money it would take to save it but upon being told decided that there is a financial limit to the amount of sentiment I'm prepared to permit myself.

Meanwhile still in our own personal antipodes Forestry Tasmania, the government body charged with chopping down and selling trees at a loss has discovered an example of a vary rare eagle.  They discovered it by chopping down all the trees around where it lived and finding the nest in the wreckage.  Strangely they still haven't got their Forestry Stewardship Council certification.  Go figure.