Will’s World: When farmer derring-do meets daddy cool

It had been an uneventful Saturday morning. I’d fed the cattle and the dogs, hastily grabbed a bite of breakfast, and headed out the door with the youngest of my numerous daughters to get to her dance class on time.

It’s one of those things where it’s a bit too far away to come home again while she’s there, so I get to sit and read a book for a peaceful 45 minutes, which, as you can imagine in the Evans household, is a rare treat indeed.

See also: Escaped stock – who is liable for damage to property and people?

The time passed quickly, and the tiny dancer and I hit the road for home with her jabbering happily away beside me, making up for the all-too-brief period of quiet I’d just experienced.

Heifer-gate

Then, suddenly, as we exited the centre of the known universe that is – thanks to Hollywood superstars and a Netflix documentary – my beloved hometown of Wrexham, we came to a commotion on the busy stretch of road in front of us.

Cars were pulled over, hazard lights flashing. Concerned-looking bystanders watched as panicked people ran about. What now, I wondered wearily.

Then I saw her: a rogue Aberdeen Angus heifer was on the road, terrorising motorists and striking fear into the hearts of the civilian population.

There are times in your life when you go into autopilot. When the years of training kick in, adrenalin floods your system and you know without hesitation that your moment has arrived. This was one of them.

Action man

The next few minutes are a bit of a blur, but according to the eyewitness report of an eight-year-old girl in a pink tutu, I leapt out of the truck, ran between the cars in front of me and took immediate charge of the situation. “It’s OK, I’m a farmer,” I yelled, rather magnificently.

“She’s scared, so you all need to stop shouting and waving your arms,” I said, and instructed one of the more capable-looking civilians to head down the road on one side of the junction to stop her running back towards the town, while I attempted to subdue the heifer.

Remember when Crocodile Dundee faced down that angry water buffalo? I’m not saying it was exactly like that, but it was similar.

I only wish someone had been videoing it, as I surely would have been a viral social media sensation and earned a fortune from my five minutes of fame.

She ran towards me at high speed. People gasped in horror; someone probably swooned.

But the combination of years of experience working with cattle and my whispered sweet nothings worked, and she stopped right in front of me, blowing hard.

Farming hero

“Can someone open that gate?” I asked of the onlookers, pointing towards the field of cattle she’d escaped from.

But in classic farmer style, it wasn’t on its hinges and had been tied so tightly with a piece of frayed bale string that they couldn’t open it.

“Don’t worry then,” I said, walking steadily over and pulling out my penknife (regrettably not as big as Crocodile Dundee’s).

I slashed the string, opened the gate, and the heifer quietly and obediently followed me in, and ran back to her mates.

As I closed the gate again, I suddenly became aware of applause and cheering, and looked over my shoulder – it was for me.

As I walked back to the truck, muttering things like, “Just doing my job, Ma’am,” and “All in a day’s work”, the tiny dancer yelled out: “Daddy, that was so cool!”

Move over Deadpool, there’s a new superhero in town.