Prelude

 When my children were very young I was in the habit of telling them a one minute story at bedtime. For the longest time I had to tell this story of Nagyi and the Cow Poop over and over again. Needless to say these stories were never only one minute long, much to the chagrin of my wife Kathleen. After awhile I had to start coming up with new stories each night which came out of my youth and extensive pre-family travels. As the kids grew older these stories grew into fascinating discussions of the world, other cultures and of course the love of travelling.

 Nagyi and the Cow Poop is a story of when I was a very young lad. My children called their grandmother (my mother) Nagyi which is the Hungarian equivalent of Nana and their grandfather was called Apu.  It happened at our summer cottage at Lac Taureau near Saint Ignace du Lac in Quebec. In those days our cottage was quite isolated, particularly during the week.  It was a beautiful but very basic cottage located in a large forested area which was just a few steps from a large lake and a beautiful sandy beach. Our lake was formed artificially in the nineteen thirties and stretched over 20 miles in front of our cottage with a number of uninhabited islands dotting the water, a haven for blueberry picking. Cottages were few and far between and other than the logging boats, not many recreational crafts were to be seen, and when one did pass by, we usually recognized the boat and the occupants.

 Saint Ignace du Lac was a small farming hamlet which spread about ten or fifteen miles along the main road. In those days the main occupation of the people was subsistence farming as the land was very poor and the summer growing season very short, consequently the farmers lived off small dairy farming in the summer and logging in the winter.  The tourist industry which is now the mainstay of the region was still many years away.  Our family became a part of the community and we were considered old time summer residents.

 Our cottage was accessible from the main gravel road, by a small one lane cart path which wound its way down a steep hill through a field and into our forest.  There the road became even narrower and bumpy with branches brushing the car as it went down, finally ending up at the cottage. Although long for us, the trip was well worth the effort.

 In the summer months my father would come up for the weekends as well as for his two week vacation but would leave my mother and us three kids there over the summer.  We had two cottages; the main cottage was warm and cozy with a hand built fieldstone fireplace, the other, our guest cottage, was more primitive with only two rooms but it was perfect for our guests in the summer since we spent most of our time out on the beach or socializing in the main cottage.  We had no electricity and no telephone so our main entertainment was swimming, boating and playing on the beach and generally keeping ourselves occupied with the daily chores of pumping water and cutting firewood ( only when we became older of course).  In the evenings we played cards, board games and of course read voraciously. Throughout the summer and over the years we invited many different families with their children to visit and stay with us. It was a time of fond memories, and we developed lifelong friendships and now our story starts.

The troubles began early one Monday morning as Nagyi lay sleeping, cuddled up in her warm bed at our cottage in Saint Ignace du Lac. All was well until she awoke suddenly as the cottage began to shake THUMP THUMP THUMP.  Earthquake !!!! was her first thought and she quickly covered her head under the blankets and waited for the tremors to subside – but they didn’t. THUMP THUMP THUMP the cottage shook again – this was no ordinary earthquake so what can it be? Thoughts of monsters and wild creatures swam through her head as she dug deeper under the covers wishing it would all go away. After all, reading all those stories of fairies and monsters to the kids every night can sure stimulate your imagination, even if you are an adult.

Here she was alone in an isolated cottage on a lake surrounded by a forest with the nearest neighbor, Farmer Baribeau, way up the hill. Normally the cottage would be full of visitors and friends but this was the first week of the summer holidays and no one was scheduled to be there until the next weekend. Apu had left for home Sunday evening and Nagyi assured him that everything would be all right without a car and with enough hotdogs and marshmallows to carry the family over until Friday. Then she thought of the kids – all 3 of us under the age of 7 fast asleep (or so she thought) in our bunk beds in the next cubbyhole. Suddenly her maternal instinct kicked in – I have to protect my children she thought and despite her fears resolved to keep her family safe.

So she crept out of bed and put on her brand new slippers that Apu had just given her and checked on us in the next room. We were wide awake by now wondering what that horrible noise outside, but were too terrified to even sneak out and jump into Nagyi’s bed. Shhhhhhh she whispered and in a low voice told us to stay in bed which of course we didn’t and quickly clamored out of bed and huddled around her. Nagyi again cautioned us to be quiet which, for some unbeknownst reason, we actually were, as we did have a tendency to not always pay attention. She peered into the main room of the cottage and saw the sun peeking over the horizon, the lake was calm and mist was rising off the water, a peaceful and idyllic scene if there ever was one. So she turned her gaze to the curtained windows facing the forest, but nothing was to be seen through the shimmery curtains until she looked at the door and there, visible through the curtain was a dark looming form standing still, as if trying to look through the curtain into the cottage – what evil lurked just beyond the door she could not imagine.

Terrified, but driven by the need to protect her family Nagyi slowly crept up to the door – drag thump, drag thump – creeping wasn’t an easy task when there were the three of us clinging to her legs. She checked to make sure the door was locked, so far the creature was not moving; at least, she thought to herself, it wasn’t trying to get in – YET. Crouching low, she put her ear close to the window to listen and see if she could learn more about what was lurking just inches from her head.  All she could hear was a low rasping breathing coming from this monster at the door. Uhhh ahhh  uhhhh ahhhhhh – curiosity took the better of her so she decided to lift the curtain to see what kind of creature was terrorizing her family. Was it a Moose? Was it a grizzly bear? Was it a Sasquatch? What could it be??

She bent down with her eye to the window and cautiously lifted the curtain bit by bit. Suddenly there it was – she was staring into a huge brown eye the size of a saucer, with a start we all jumped back, let out a collective scream and at the same time from the other side of the door came an equally startled and loud MOOOOOOOOO followed by a giant KER SPLOOOOCHing sound. It was a huge cow and the ground shook THUMP THUMP THUMP as this scared, ungainly beast took off mooing all the way. Mystery solved!!! Nagyi looked out the window and saw a herd of cows spread through the forest behind the house trampling the shrubs, munching and pooping all over the place.

Nagyi at once realized that Farmer Baribeau’s cows had invaded our forest and this was not good. Something had to be done and now. By this time Nagyi was full of adrenaline and she became very angry at the indignity of being awoken and terrified by cows – of all things. This was not going to happen again, so with a mighty yell she yanked open the door, grabbed a broom stick, and landed full force right into the largest stinkiest, greenest, gooiest pile of cow poop you can imagine. Squellllllch, right up to her ankle ooouieee it was disgusting. The smell, the gooiness and the putrid green colour could not deter Nagyi from her new mission of ridding her world of these interlopers. She chased those cows right out of the forest all the way up to the field with a step and a splooch, a step and a splooch, a step and a splooch.  No longer scared, we gathered by the open door and cheered Nagyi on, as we were entertained by the spectacle of Nagyi brandishing a broom overhead chasing the cows through the forest with one foot clad in a brand new slipper, and the other foot and slipper covered in green goo.

Later that morning, no matter how hard she tried to clean that slipper in the lake, she couldn’t get rid of that horrid smell (and colour) and so that evening, after our hot dogs and marshmallows were consumed, we had a ceremonial burning of the slipper to commemorate Nagyi’s first but certainly not last battle with Farmer Baribeau’s cows. The remaining slipper held a place of honour on the fireplace mantel for many years as a symbol of Nagyi’s courage and the Battle of the Cows as it became to be known in our family lore.