LOCAL COW GIVES GUINNESS

(Ridgway) A Swiss Brown cow, appropriately named Brownie, continues to fill pint glasses full of rich, creamy Guinness Stout according to Onfre DesPlants, the gifted bovine’s legal guardian. At last count Brownie had thrilled thirsty alpine audiences with more than 17,000 gallons of the popular brew.

Sources across the sea expressed concern that the zealous cow might create an imbalance in trade since the United States may find it unnecessary to import kegs of Guinness, leaving the Irish brewery anxiously searching for new markets.

“Ironically enough Brownie was sent to the U.S. as a gesture of friendship in 2007,” said Sean McCoxcomb, a former dairy farmer from Waterford who now spends his days taste testing a variety of intoxicants for little or no pay. “We thought if we donated a few logistical awards to influential parties in North America we might continue to enjoy favored nation status no matter what the political climate here in Ireland. Imagine receiving a fully mature Swiss Brown in the mail,” he laughed. “That’s bound to gain someone’s attention.”

Bovine

Brownie at the office

The cow’s efforts have already generated a lucrative industry in Ouray County with over 20 people employed in the many small storage units and another 50 at the main Brew Barn, located across the river.

Brownie has brought renewed credibility to the struggling ranching profession,” said DesPlants. “Already there’s talk of a bottling plant going into the Old School Building and a pipeline has been discussed to bring Brownie’s nectar to market.”

The beauty of the current situation is that Brownie appears to be quite satisfied eating sagebrush, willows and piñon nuts, all of which are available in abundance in the surrounding country. Recently compiled statistics even suggest an increase in tourist traffic due to the phenomenon.

“I’m not letting any of those loony birds near Brownie,” said DesPlants. “She’s sensitive to flash bulbs and polyester. Besides, all the commotion could cause her to plug up. I’ve seen it before.”

DesPlants went on to describe the tragedy of another bovine, a fragile Hereford named Lady Bird, who reputedly gave chocolate milk on a daily basis back during World War II. Apparently the cow, owned by local rancher Walter Domka, kept local kids happy despite rationing and other inconveniences endured during those troubled times. After the war she was acquisitioned by the government for psychiatric testing, and later branded a Communist sympathizer during the McCarthy witch hunts. Undaunted by these marginal setbacks the resolute dairy cow changed her name, moved to Utah and was elected mayor of Blanding, serving in that capacity through most of the Fifties.

Most readers will recall the saga ofWest Dallas Porkie, the nervous, politically correct chicken that laid square, geothermal eggs, and Hoss the two tone, multi-ethnic quarter horse that shat Cuban cigars along the shores of Cow Creek until his untimely demise (an Oklahoma hunter mistook him for a gelding cheroot in 1967) just two days before his 26th birthday.

Anyway, getting back to Brownie, the economic impact continues to marvel even the most sardonic of cowpunchers. Just yesterday local resident and clothing designer, Ralph Lauren, owner of the Double RL Ranch, west of Ridgway, announced a new line of ladies’ on-the-hoof ranch wear bearing a likeness of the cow. Lauren, who is reportedly scouring the lower Manhattan garment district in search of a suitable mate for the gifted Brownie, plans an extensive collection of perfumes in honor of the stout-hearted celebrity.

“Some of them have even been jawing about movie rights,” said DesPLants, “but we’ll have to wait until her book comes out first.”

Brownie’s literary agent refused to embrace a common agenda with regards to publication dates saying that her client is quite satisfied producing a monthly column in the San Juan Horseshoe about the evils of temperance.

“She’s been busy with the writing, the demands of her early morning milkings and assorted charity work with the disadvantaged over in Telluride,” said the agent, a stodgy, dark woman from Yonkers. “She barely has time to entertain a whirlwind over-the-sea romance with Finbar, a young Hibernian Shorthorn from County Mayo. Finbar, whom locals insist secretes 100-proof Jameson on major holy days, is a graduate of Trinity Ag School and former ambassador to Holstein-Friesian.

The two met while visiting a veterinarian in Ayrshire in May.

Despite the outcome of the bovine romance, spirits are up in Ridgway.

“The Santa Fe and Chinchilla Northern is already laying track in apprehension of yet another boom,” chirped DesPlants. “Hell, maybe even the Little Chef will reopen.”

Rex Montaleone

 

 

Filed Under: Fractured Opinion

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