Stopping a cow attack at Hadrian’s Wall
Bravery or stupidity?
You can’t say we weren’t warned.
Admonitions about the cows along Hadrian’s Wall Path sprinkle the internet. And a sign on a gate we opened to follow the path onto a pasture warned about the cows. The path, after all, which stretches from Newcastle upon Tyne in northeast England to Bowness-on-Solway in Cumbria on the west coast, crosses a number of cow pastures.
And, well, cattle are known to kill more people per year than sharks do.
But those warnings say nothing about how to stop a cow from attacking someone else. That’s what I ended up doing one September day in 2022. I stepped between a charging cow and its intended victim at Hadrian’s Wall. I just did it without thinking. To this day, I don’t know if it was stupid or brave. So I’m hoping you can tell me, but at least I lived to tell the tale.
Yes, cows attack people
There is a dangerous cow warning on Trip Advisor. Hikers reported a cow attack: While on the path near Turret 22B in August 2021, cows lowered their heads and charged them several times, probably because they had a dog. Backed up against a barb wire fence, the hikers had to kick at the cows’ heads to gain enough time to push their dog over the fence and clamber over themselves.
The Hexham Currant ran an article in 2018 entitled Helping walkers and cows live in harmony. It recounts several attacks on humans and even one death. But it does offer an important insight: If you don’t have a dog, the cows will probably leave you alone. If you do, just make sure it’s well-controlled.
The blog “Gallop Around the World” has a post called 10 things nobody tells you about walking Hadrian’s Wall. Cows are point nine: They can be dangerous and once chased the author in what she called one of the scariest moments of her life. Her advice to prevent a cow attack is to always plan an escape route and use walking sticks to hold attacking cows at bay.
Then there’s a site called Killer Cows that keeps track of cow attack statistics. The site advocates for bovine-predestrian safety and you can report an attack there. You’ll find my report of this attack there, too!
Close call: my near cow attack along Hadrian’s Wall
Marie Powell – Canadian author and my co-blogger – and I visited Hadrian’s Wall near Cawfield Quarry at Milecastle 42. From the gate above the car park, the Hadrian’s Wall path slices through the cow pasture adjacent to the wall. We ignored the cow warning on the sign.
We burst through the gate like curious schoolchildren. Our first visit to Hadrian’s Wall! We snapped pictures and meandered back and forth, like sandpipers, looking for the best views. Some cows peacefully grazed nearby. A couple of them might have raised their heads, still working their jaws, but they didn’t approach us. We ignored them.
Marie and I split up. She hiked up above the quarry to check out the view. I ambled along the wall in the other direction, lost in thought about the Roman history I could touch only few feet to my left.
Twenty minutes later it was time to turn around and meet up with Marie. I was only about 40 meters from the gate when it happened. A panicked middle-aged woman ran past me, her jacket flapping. She had a large dog on a lead. And 20 meters behind her was a cow, head down, charging them.
A decision without thinking
It was a split-second decision, but decision is not really the right word. I don’t recall having weighed my options. There wasn’t enough time. I just did it: I just stepped between the woman and the charging animal and faced the cow with raised arms. “Stop!” I bellowed.
The cow skidded to a halt about half a meter from me, raising little plumes of dust with its hooves. Then it raised its massive head to the level of mine. I stood my ground. It looked me over slowly. The cow had long, long lashes and its eyes were a soft brown. It sniffed me. I kept speaking quietly, tying to calm the beastie. “The dog won’t hurt you. They are just trying to leave your pasture.”
The cow emitted a long stream of steam from its nostrils and swiveled its head towards the woman and her dog. By this time, they’d made it safely through the gate. She was still was catching her breath on the other side of the wall, but she called out her thanks.
The cow looked back at me one more time, just briefly. Then it grunted, turned, and ambled away.
And I started shaking.
The fine line between courage and stupidity
What had I done?
Only afterwards did it occur to me what kind of danger I’d put myself into. A brief review of literature on bovine behavior indicates my instinctive assessment of the danger to the woman and her dog was correct: A lowered head and chasing are threat behaviors (think of a charging bull in a bull fight). But why did I place myself in danger without even thinking about it?
In fact, I couldn’t recall ever before having done something dangerous in a split-second decision. It seemed like a new behavior to me, like a window offering a new glimpse into my character. Had I just demonstrated courage? Or had I taken a stupid risk? And what’s the difference, really? There’s a popular quote attributed to Jeremy Goldberg that courage and stupidity are actually the same thing, and that’s what makes life so hard.
I’d be interested in hearing what you think.
Was stopping the cow attack courageous or stupid? And have you ever had a frightening experience with a cow?
Next week:
Next week I’ll present a recipe to accompany this story. I wanted something I could call “Roman Revenge on the Cow,” and I found it! There’s a recipe for venison with jus in an ancient Roman cookbook — and if the opportunity presented itself, I’m sure the Romans would have substituted beef. The fascinating thing about this recipe is that it may be the prototype of the French beef bordelaise.
France, eat your heart out, because the Romans beat you to it!
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Wow! THIS is a travel story if there ever was one.
Wow, a cow attack!! I will watch out for them from now on, thank you!