The Story of Bo: The Beloved Black Angus

In the early 1970’s there was an outbreak of sleeping sickness affecting cows in our southwest Georgia area.  Grandaddy’s small herd of cows was not immune to the outbreak, and suddenly a few cows became very ill. The first few to become infected were suddenly unable to walk and refused to eat. One of the older members of the herd succumbed to the disease quickly.  Grandaddy worked diligently to keep the rest of the herd healthy.  There was one very beloved member of Grandaddy’s herd that he truly didn’t want to face the dreaded disease. Her name was Bo, and she was a beloved Black Angus. Bo became a member of the herd differently than the majority of his other cows.

One spring Grandaddy bought two young calves, one Black Angus heifer and one white faced Hereford bull.  The Black Angus was given the name Bo.  She had beautiful long black eyelashes and shiny black hair, as dark as the crows feathers.  I feel certain that the young bull was given a name as well, but his name does not remain in my memories. Bo quickly became special.  I remember feeding her milk through a special feeder bucket for young calves.  The two calves were kept in a separate smaller barn and stall for a while before joining the rest of the small herd at the old tobacco barn and pasture areas.   Over the years Bo had several calves of her own. When she came up for the afternoon feed time, she came up to us for a head scratch. At the time of this horrible outbreak, I believe she was around 4-6 years old, and was one of the younger adult members of the herd. 

As soon as the first few older cows became ill, Grandaddy called the vet, and he visited the farm. Injections of medication were given to those showing signs of the disease, and the vet told Grandaddy to try his best to keep them eating, drinking, and walking.  Once an infected cow gave up and laid down on their side, there was not much to be done. Once they reached that point, I couldn’t go with Grandaddy to check on them. It was just too heartbreaking to witness.  After seeing one of them lose their life, I struggled to even visit the barn. However, when the news was shared that Bo had come down with the dreaded disease, I quickly returned to help at the barn. Grandaddy was determined to keep her alive. She was a very beloved cow, to all of us.  

Grandaddy soon used the tractor and a hoist along with a makeshift sling to assist the sick cows. It took time to get the sling underneath the belly of the cow, then attach the top ring to the hoist.  Then Grandaddy would get on his tractor and slowly lift the hoist until the cow was standing upright with their hooves evenly and lightly on the ground. He had some help with this process from a teenage boy that lived at the edge of our farm. Once the cow was secure and on their hooves, Grandaddy would drive the tractor forward very slowly to encourage them to walk. He did this morning and evening. Bo responded to this assistance quicker than the other cows, so Grandaddy added a mid day walk to her day. This meant he had to come home on his lunch break from his job as the hardware manager of the local mercantile. He was very determined to keep Bo alive.  After a few days Grandaddy and his helper were pretty quick at getting the cows up and walking one at a time. But it did require dedication, time and patience. I can’t recall how many cows eventually succumbed to the disease beyond that very first one, or how many survived the outbreak, but I do know that Bo was one of the survivors and she continued to thrive and have a few more calves in her lifetime.  

I look back at this event from the farm and think of two things.  First, I witnessed my Grandaddy pour his love and time into those cows, especially Bo.  His love for animals was always very evident, but his love for his family was even more evident.  Even when I was taken out for “a walk and talk session” I knew he loved me.  And it only took a few of those “walk and talk sessions” to stop the incorrect behavior that prompted the “walk and talk session.”  Of course, other incorrect behaviors did crop up from time to time.  I was a child after all. But I was not just a child to the many adults in my life, I was (and continue to be) a child of God!  

As I look back at this story, I think of the many times God has held me up and made sure I stayed on my feet.  And for every time I know HE held me up, there are probably dozens of times I was unaware HE was holding me up. HE was there when I had major kidney surgery at age seven, but I was not aware until I was 23 that my heart stopped at some point during that surgery.  Since all hospital records were on paper during the 1960’s, my “adult doctors” were not able to get those records to determine what exactly happened. In addition to those close encounters with crawling critters on the farm, I am certain there were many other near misses that I never knew about. 

When I went into premature labor with those Thanksgiving Day triplets, HE was there to guide me through every single day.  HE was there when the tears came; HE was there when the joy arrived.  HE was there when we learned of the miracles we were granted; HE was there when a difficult diagnosis was given.  HE was there to help us raise them (and their siblings) to be the adults HE knew they could be.  No matter what I faced, God was there. I know that God will be there to point me in the right direction when I face troubling times in the future.  I just have to ask HIM for guidance and listen to HIM when he answers. Sometimes the answer to my prayers will be just what I hoped for.  Sometimes the answer will be one I don’t like.  Sometimes the answer will be something completely surprising. HE always knows what is best for me.  I just have to wait and see what HE has planned!   

Psalm 17:6