Milky Night

I am a heavy sleeper. Waking me up requires a lot more than a gentle tap on the shoulder. Try frying some eggs in the middle of the night however, and I’ll be at your side in no time. The vigorous shaking and slaps across the face finally get to me and I spring out of bed ready to return the compliment. It was my brother and as usual, patience had gotten the better of him. He had been out for the better part of the night and was eager to get to bed. “It’s time!” He screams. I scowl, jump into my… his clothes now handed down, grab the warm coat he had been wearing, reach out under the bed for my club and walk out. It is my watch.

Cow milking DIY is simple. Lure the cow into a pen, distract it with some silage, secure its hind legs with a rope, apply some gel to its teats and with the pail firmly in place, hammer away while whistling your favourite tune. For the last four nights however, someone with a different set of rules had sneaked into six homesteads and drained the milk off seventeen cows while the dogs busied themselves with large bones he had tossed their way. The Chief had on the morning of the second day selected some of the village’s finest to follow the large bare footprints but they vanished somewhere up the hills, only to return at night. In a crisis meeting, he asked all parents to keep vigil, a responsibility that was promptly delegated. I got the 3 AM to dawn shift.

The night is quiet. I squeeze into a leafy corner at one end of the cow shed. Our cows lie in the middle, lazily chewing on cud. I gaze into the night. Thousands of stars light the sky, a perfect time to brush up on my astronomy. Aha, so, somewhere in the Milky Way; I hope to find my zodiac sign, my energetic and passionate Scorpio. I read somewhere it’s a… one cow suddenly flaps its ears and heaves; I draw a whistle from the coat. The cow remains still for a moment and then resumes chomping … I read it’s a southern constellation but to begin with, where is south from here? I’d better work my way from the North Star…

For the second time that night, my brother is shaking my head off. “What are you doing? Didn’t you hear the whistle?” “What whistle,” I blink rapidly at the harsh torch light. “The neighbours, the thief has escaped!” It turned out as soon as the burly figure was spotted, the alarm was raised. My father and brother dashed out of the house to join the manhunt. It was unsuccessful. They were worried stiff when they couldn’t spot me among the villagers and feared I had been kidnapped. It was only after a careful examination of the shed that they picked me up, snoring the night away.