Tag Archives: Cows

Funny Friday — “Look Mac, That Ain’t No Moose” — 1966

Funny Friday — “Look Mac, That Ain’t No Moose” — 1966

CLIPPED FROMThe Ottawa CitizenOttawa, Ontario, Canada08 Jan 1966, Sat  •  Page 83

THIS is a story of valor. It is the strange but true story of a Hereford bull, a photographer and me. But to fully understand our brave act we must first go back to that day in November when I was called into my boss’s office. “Jim,” he said, “sit down. I have a job for you.” “Great, Chief,” I said.

“We are in the middle of the hunting season again,” he went on, “and at this very minute the woods are alive with amateur hunters who don’t know the difference between a moose and a cow. They keep shooting horses and cows and even themselves to prove it.” “Sure, Chief,” I said. “Well, Jim, you are going to get a cow and . . .” “A COW!” I said. “… or a bull, drive up to northern Ontario, put it on the roof of your car and drive back,” he said. “You should get some great reaction and prove my point.”

And that’s how it all began. That’s why, at the height of the deer and moose season, thousands of people saw Kingston photographer Fred Ross and me driving around with that animal on the roof. Before proceeding further, I think it is only fitting to extend sincere thanks to all those people who saw us; they were a great help. To those who called our passenger a Hereford bull, our compliments. To those who believed it was a moose, we say nice try. To that man in Peterborough who agreed we had been right in cutting the antlers off our deer so we wouldn’t scratch the paint on the roof we say . . . Sorry, I’m afraid we still can’t think of a thing to say to him.

We put the show on the road or, if you prefer, the bull on the roof at Sudbury. The beast, as you have’ surely guessed by now, had passed away. He had been, in case you haven’t guessed, in the trunk of our car, all 400 pounds of him. Our original plan had been to hoist him up on the roof with a block and tackle but it was cold in Sudbury and snowing. It being Sunday, we decided to let somebody else do the heavy work. We pulled up to a service station and I told the attendant what we had and what we wanted. He thought he might be able to help. “But I’ll have to check with the boss,” he said. I followed him inside the station. “George,” he said, “they have this cow …” “Bull,” I corrected…. in the trunk and they wanna put it on the roof.” George looked at his man and then he looked at me. “Bull he said. “Bull,” I replied. “Sounds like a job for the Cannonball,” he said. Cannonball, George’s big, powerful tow truck, handled the job with ease and we were soon headed south with the bull up top.

We knew we had a winner as soon as we met the first car. We were moving slowly and it slowed down when the driver saw us coming. There were five people in the car and, while we could not hear what they said, there was only one word on their lips: COW. We pressed on. By the time we hit North Bay hundreds of motorists and pedestrians, many of them hunters, had displayed some of the greatest double-takes you have ever seen. So we figured it was time to stop. Ross parked the car in front of a Chinese restaurant on North Bay’s Main street, went in and ordered something to eat. I stayed behind and pretended to secure the ropes. In no time at all there was a crowd around the car. “How was the moose hunt?” one of them asked. “See for yourself,” I told him. He walked all around the car, very slowly, looking at our prize from all sides. “Nice size,” he said.

“Have you ever seen a bigger one?” “Oh, they go a lot bigger than that,” said the man. “You should try your luck up around Mooso-nee. They say it’s real good for them up there. We wondered then and we wonder now whether the guy actually believed it was a moose. Meanwhile, Ross was inside choking on his won ton soup as he watched and listened to the Chinese waiters. I arrived in time to hear one ask: “Bear?” “Moose, said Ross. “Hen!” said the waiter and walked away.

By now traffic around our end of the main drag was hot and heavy; word spreads fast when you have a bull on your roof. We didn’t want to cause any traffic jams so we decided to leave town. Just south of Huntsville we were stopped by the police. Ontario Provincial Police Constable Len Schloendorf wanted to know if we had a bill of sale “for that.” We had one the carcass had been purchased from a farmer at Kingston. We levelled with him. We were, we said, conducting a survey. Schloendorf asked as they always do for Ross’s driving permit, saw it, took a few more glances at the bull and waved us on. But we had a feeling he wasn’t really satisfied. We were right. He wasn’t.

A few miles down the road he’ stopped us again. Would we follow him, please? He wanted to check this thing out in detail. We followed him to the police station at Bracebridge where we met Constable Art Dawson, who was on radio duty that night. He and Schloendorf both wanted to know the story. Schloendorf sat down at the teletype and started to punch out a message to the Motor Vehicle Registration branch in Toronto. He was going to ask them whether the rented car we were driving really belonged to the people we said it did. “Hold it, said Ross. “I think I can save you the trouble. I have a letter here from the police chief in Kingston and . . .

They checked us out anyway but, after they had detained us for about 40 minutes, they were laughing. They explained then that they had heard of us from the Huntsville detachment. We had passed the police station there and I recalled the officer who had been standing in the window, because the double-take he took when he saw us was by far the best of the trip. “He called us,” Dawson explained. “But it was difficult to make out what he was saying, he was laughing so much.

Before we left the police they told us that a few years ago someone had shot a Hereford bull “one just like yours” in their area and, convinced he had bagged a moose, had strapped a moose licence to one of the animal’s hind legs, loaded it on the roof of his car and headed home. He didn’t get far.

We got motel rooms at Bracebridge that night and parked our car out front. There was just enough light to do the trick. A few minutes after we settled in someone rapped on our door. It was Constable Nels Kennedy of the local police. “I have to ask,” he said. “I couldn’t face driving past that thing all night without knowing the story. Did you shoot it?”

In return for the facts he told us the one about a hunter who went out for deer in the area not long ago and saw a white goat. He killed it, thinking it was a white deer. He didn’t get far either. Traffic past our motel was heavy that night. Hunters would come up, stop their cars, get out and take a close look. And just at the right moment Ross or I would open the door and shout: “Beauty, isn’t he? Nine times out of 10 they would agree and walk away doubled up with laughter. At times I would open the door, walk out and say: “The only question now is how to cook it. Do you guys know anything about cooking venison? I hear that red wine …” It worked every time.

The next day we pushed on past the little town of Udney on Highway 69 and didn’t stop until we were forced to by cattle crossing the road near Brechin. Two farmers looked at our bull, looked at their herd and broke up. They were Hereford farmers and their animals looked just like our “moose.” We parked on the main street of Lindsay. Ross got out and walked away. I pulled my cap down over my eyes and pretended to sleep. A crowd gathered in no time and one man’s curiosity soon got the best of him.

He rapped, gently, on the window. “Yes, sir,” I said. “Is that, he wanted to know, “a deer or a cow? “Moose,” said I. “Lovely, just lovely,” he said and walked away. I drove the car around town for a while to let Ross get pictures of the people. We stayed long enough for Stu Mewburn, a photographer with the Lindsay paper, to hear about our bull. He saw me turning a corner and Ross nearby with his camera. “What do you know about it?” asked Mewburn. “Not a thing but it looks like a picture to me,” said Ross, who then got a picture of Stu taking a shot of our bull. Peterborough was really good to us. We hit town just before noon and parked in the heart of the downtown area.

Within 15 minutes the local press, radio and TV boys were on the story. We made page 1 of The Peterborough Examiner and later discovered other newspapers and the Canadian Press had carried the story of the hunters who had shot the bull by mistake. A little later in the day we pulled into the Royal Burger drive-in restaurant on the edge of town for a bite to eat. It is one of those places where you shout your order into a microphone.

We knew they could see us and we knew they could see our bull. “Two burgers, two large milks and an order of French fries!” shouted Ross. The girl on the other end repeated the order. We waited a few minutes and then drove up to the window for the food. The bull was about 24 inches from her nose but she didn’t crack a smile. Just before we left the restaurant a man from inside the place came out to the car and asked what this was all about. He said he had a reporter on the line who wanted to know if there really was a car in front of the Royal Burger with a bull on its roof. We told him we preferred not to comment “I understand,” he said. We left town.

We moved south on Highway 14 past the little towns of Bonarlaw and Harold and when we got to Stirling we saw a man coming out of the post office. Ross pulled up. I rolled down the window. ‘Tell me, sir,” I said, “do we turn right or left to get to Belleville?” He said left. I thanked him and started to roll up the window. “Out hunting?” he asked. “Yep, moose. And, with one eye on our bull and one eye on me, he asked cautiously: “Get one?” Proudly, I pointed to the roof and volunteered that we hadn’t done too badly on our first time out “for the big ones.”

He cautioned us to stick to the back roads and was still standing there when we went into the turn toward Belleville. We stopped for gas at Belleville. “Nice size, eh?” Ross asked the attendant “Beautiful,” replied the man on the pump. Ross wasn’t satisfied. “Have you seen many coming through?” he asked. “Four yesterday.” “Do they run much bigger than this?” “That’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen.” Ross handed him a $20 bill and we waited for him to go into the station for change. Several men in the window were laughing and we figured the man would get clued in before he returned. We were right

“That’s a steer,” he said with confidence when he got back. “Well, you’re close,” said Ross. “It’s a bull.” “Oh, a bull, ehr “Yep, bull moose,” said Ross. “They say they are good eating.” said the man, confused as ever. “Tender,” said Ross and away we went. After emptying a tavern at Napanee we went on to Kingston, where we parked the car in a shopping centre lot. Ross disappeared and I started to secure the ropes.

I soon had a crowd and one of them, a young man in his twenties, got me over to one side and in hushed tones out of the corner of his mouth said: “Mister, that isn’t a moose.” “You’re kidding,” I said. “Look, I’ll lay you $100 to $1 that that is a Hereford bull. Moose are a lot darker than that and they have long noses.” “You’re sure that isn’t a moose?” “Look, my dad raised Herefords for years and I know one when I see one,” he said. “If I were you I would get it the hell off this lot in a hurry.” When he left another fellow took his place. “What have you got there?” he asked. “Moose; what else?” I replied. “Well, all I can say is it’s a good thing you didn’t go duck hunting.” “How’s that?” “You woulda shot an airplane,” he replied.

CLIPPED FROMThe Ottawa CitizenOttawa, Ontario, Canada08 Jan 1966, Sat  •  Page 83

Perils of the Cows of Carleton Place or Where’s the Beefalo?

Should Cows and Smart Cars be Tipped?

My Shortlived Bushman Farm Career (Bill Saunderson) — Larry Clark

Remembering The Old Cow Bell — Don Crawford — The Buchanan Scrapbooks

Remembering The Old Cow Bell — Don Crawford — The Buchanan Scrapbooks

From the Buchanan Scrapbook

If you let your cattle trespass within a quarter mile of mills, stores, taverns or churches on preaching days  in 1841 it would cost you a shilling– same with a cow without a bell.

Did you know each cow wore a different bell and that is how they knew whose was who..

Don’t Fear The Cow Bell — The Belled Vulture

Some Cold Hard Facts- First Tailor in Ramsay and a Cow Without a Bell

Louis Irwin of Clayton

Louis Irwin of Clayton

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By Mary Cook–20 Oct 1976, Wed  •  Page 2

If Scottish Highland beef is good enough for the Queen’s table, it’s good enough for Louis Irwin of Clayton. He went into the business of raising “the beef of royalty” about five years ago and now his herd numbers more than 70. The Irwins are accustomed to passers-by slamming on their brakes when they pass the farm pastures, because the animals resemble something between a buffalo and a long haired sheepdog. They are covered with a profusion of long and gracefully waved hair, which will grow up to 13 inches.

The cattle are various shades of brown, but the breed also comes in black, brindle and red. At first glance it’s hard to believe the animals are cows. The long hair gives them a primitive look and they are short-legged, long-bodied and with horns that grow sweeping out from the head with a back curve making them look ferocious and wild. Superior meat However, Mr. Irwin says, they are a docile, contented animal, which is partly the reason for the excellent quality of beef they provide. The animals live outdoors all year, another reason the meat is superior. While other breeds are kept inside from the winter elements, Mr. Irwin says layers of fat build up on their bodies.

The Highland breed needs no fat insulation from the cold as its long hair develops an underrating of thick down, which insulates the animal from the severe weather. In fact, the breed originated in the Highlands and the west coast Highlands of Scotland both areas where severe climate is the rule rather than the exception. Highland cattle are usually smaller than other breeds with much less fat, so the consumer can buy smaller weights for freezer lots. Mr. Irwin said the average weight of his cattle is between 800 and 900 pounds. They are raised as beef cattle only. “It’s less expensive getting into Highland cattle than any other breed,” he says. “Because they are an outdoor breed, no barns are needed, and they are foliage eaters and eat anything that grows. Feeding the animals is really no problem.”

The Irwins use no additives in the animals’ food for the winter. Mr. Irwin doesn’t believe in all the things beef producers add to bolster weight and produce larger animals. “I like to know exactly what I’m eating,” he says. There are few breeders of Highland cattle in eastern Canada. A few farmers have a small number “to dress up the barnyard,” Mr. Irwin says, but the big Highland breeders arc usually in the western provinces where the first Highland bull was bought in the 1880s by Lord Strathcona of Winnipeg. Balmoral Castle in Scotland raises Scottish Highland cattle for the Queen’s table, and other royal families have favored this breed as its choice of beef. ; In some parts of Scotland the fine wool which grows under the outer coat of hair js often sheared and spun for clothing just as one would use the wool of sheep. This unique animal has another endearing characteristic.

The mothering instinct is prevalent and abandoned calves are unheard of. A Highland cow will not leave her new calf even to feed herself until that calf is old enough to follow. i Safeguard to calves ‘ This protective attitude is a safeguard to new-born calves, many of which would otherwise be lost to predators. The calves arc hardy and grow rapidly to maturity. ! There is only one drawback to raising Highland cattle. Mr. Irwin calls all his cattle by name and they readily come when called. “It’s hard to prepare such a friendly, trusting animal for the slaughter house,” he says.


Perils of the Cows of Carleton Place or Where’s the Beefalo?

Should Cows and Smart Cars be Tipped?

Did You Know this about Fraser’s Meat Market?

Cattle Driving — Keeping the Beast on the Road

“Let the Cattle Pass” An Insulting Nuisance

Hurdis–isms–How A Man Who Broke Leg of Chas. Bollinger’s Cow Was Caught

Hurdis–isms–How A Man Who Broke Leg of Chas. Bollinger’s Cow Was Caught



How A Man Who Broke Leg of Chas. Bollinger’s Cow Was Caught


January 13 1928- with files from the Almonte Gazette

R. McMillan of Ottawa, appeared before *Magistrate J. T. Kirkland at Carleton Place on Wednesday charged with failure to transfer title of a car and was fined $10 and costs. For failure to return or remain at scene of an accident he was fined $27 and costs.

McMillan also made a deposit of $140 with the court to cover the costs of the cow which was run down on the road near Black’s Corners.The accident had caused the cow to break a leg and was afterwards shot. The cow belonged to Charles Hollinger.

Wilfred Hurdis, a young lad of about 16 years of age who was driving the cattle, having no paper or pencil on him took his stick and marked the number of the car in the snow. Afterwards it was transferred to paper and Traffic Officer Fred Turner was notified and took charge of the case.




Clipped from The Ottawa Journal03 Sep 1949, SatPage 34




Clipped from The Ottawa Journal11 Apr 1938, MonPage 16


Come and visit the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page– what’s there? Cool old photos–and lots of things interesting to read. Also check out The Tales of Carleton Place.

Information where you can buy all Linda Seccaspina’s books-You can also read Linda in The Townships Sun and Screamin’ Mamas (USA)


Related reading

The March to Black’s Corners

The House of Daughters –Stonecroft House

Dishing up the Memories of The Devlins


Sitting on a Bench Outside Devlin’s Store Looking for Stories

Straight Outta Carleton Place High School –Hurdis–isms

In Memory of H. Albert Hurdis

Chatterton House Hotel Registrar- George Hurdis -1884

Really Lanark County? When Bovines Attack!



Beckwith Cows near the Kennedy Cemetery eyeing me-Photo by Linda Seccaspina

Should Not be at LargeAlmonte Gazette–May 26, 1882

On Saturday afternoon last a vicious cow made an attack upon some children in the neighbourhood of the Free Church. One of the little ones was very badly hurt and had its clothes tom off, and, but for the interference of some persons living close by, the result might have been serious.

There have been many complaints respecting this cow, and if one half of the gossip is true the brute ought not to be allowed at large, and if the owners, whoever they are, will allow such a beast to be roaming around the streets, then the sooner the Council passes a by-law to prevent it the better. W e understand complaint of this particular cow has been made to the owner before.

Did you know that 20 people a year in North America are killed by cows?

In April of 2016 Marian Clode died after being charged at by a herd of cattle while out for a walk in Belford, Northumberland,(UK) on 3 April. The 61-year-old had been walking along a public bridlepath with her husband Chris, daughter Lucy Rowe and son-in-law Kevin when they were approached by a herd of cattle which included several calves.

When one cow charged at her a third time, it flipped her like a rag doll over the fence into the next fence. The consultant said the injuries sustained were the worst they had ever seen, equivalent to those of a high-speed crash. There have been 74 fatalities involving cattle recorded since 2000 – with 18 of those being members of the public.

Who knew?


Come and visit the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page– what’s there? Cool old photos–and lots of things interesting to read.

Information where you can buy all Linda Seccaspina’s books-You can also read Linda in Hometown News and now in The Townships Sun


Go Away then!!! Oh Bugger–he says–Serves him right! LOL

Perils of the Cows of Carleton Place or Where’s the Beefalo?


It was tough to be a cow I tell you.. tough.. real tough..

May 1955

Ten cows and a calf were killed when lightening hit a tree on the farm of Mrs. Alex McCuan Monday evening. The cattle were Hereford and Shorthorn breed and valued at $125 each. The farm is located four miles out of Carleton Place on highway 15. The cattle were not insured.


Aug 8 1913

Fifteen head of cattle were killed on the C.P.R. Track about a mile south of Carleton Place after being struck by a train at an early hour this morning. A herd of 175 cattle had been driven into town by the Willow brothers yesterday and placed in the stock pen for shipment. Some time after midnight cattle broke through the fence ad proceeded to travel down different track routes.

A freight train traveling near the 10th and 11 th concessions of Beckwith struck the largest herd and before the locomotive could slow down fifteen cattle were killed or so maimed they had to be destroyed. Two head were also killed on the line west and three east of the station making for a total of 20.


Do Beefalo still exist in Carleton Place?

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Buy Linda Secaspina’s Books— Flashbacks of Little Miss Flash Cadilac– Ttilting the Kilt-Vintage Whispers of Carleton Place and 4 others on Amazon or Amazon Canada or Wisteria at 62 Bridge Street in Carleton Place