Muzia

Muzia is just a cow. Muzia is just a cow… we hear that all the time.

It’s hard for us to even say that we love animals and hate people. Quite the opposite. After all, animals can’t cope here on their own. It’s people who make them come to us, but it’s also people – although different – who make it make sense for them to come to us. And it happens at all.

For almost 20 years, since we’ve been operating, whenever we ask for help for a cow – small or large – we most often hear: “but it’s not a horse”. Well, of course. We know it’s not a horse. Only a few people, you, jump up and shout that a cow feels too – and we thank you very much for that.

Muzia doesn’t have a long history. She’s only a few weeks old. Weeks that she stood in the barn, in manure and darkness. We were driving nearby to buy oats, because it was at a good price. We saw her mother being loaded. Don’t ask what a sight it was. Cows never enter calmly. But the trader didn’t even want to hear about buying her mother back. He said we could come in 3 days, because he had a calf from her.

We stood there and watched this drama until the end. Because we felt that someone had to watch, so that they could tell the world about it later. The cow didn’t just fall off the gangway and slide on it. Every now and then she would fall to her knees and twist her head, rolling her eyes with fear. No one there cared. People passed the farm by, because they were going to the local store for their morning shopping. Some glanced, but no one even stopped. At most, they waved at the trader. As if the cow wasn’t even there.

It’s so normal. After all, we breed cows to slaughter them. Here, in this village, such a sight is an everyday occurrence.

But let’s get back to Muzi, because we returned there after 3 days, just as the trader told us to. And we met the daughter of a big cow, who is probably long gone. She was still standing alone in this big barn, because she had the misfortune of being born a cow. I don’t know if this means that it is some kind of inferior species, or a species that does not suffer, or maybe a species that cannot be used in any other way than on a plate, so no one cares about it.

In Poland, we slaughter 3,660 cattle every day. In the world, about 900,000 thousand every 24 hours. It is a gigantic industry. And little Muzia is to become a part of it, because the trader will not keep her.

She is brought to us, jerking and jumping, under the car. We often watch the animal fight for its life – and it took Muzia 15 minutes to walk those dozen or so meters. In the meantime, she took a few jerks and kicks. She took the same when she returned to the barn.

I know that a cow doesn’t have the same status as a horse – and a horse has a weak one anyway. But in Centaurus we have a herd of over 50 rescued cows. And we would really like little Muzia to join them.

Will you get up today for Muzia?
We need to collect $240 in deposit. We are collecting for the buyout and transport. After the deposit is paid, we will probably get a few more days. And we will definitely use them well. I would like to believe that so much.

I would like to believe that we live in a world where the uselessness of an animal does not determine its priority in helping. Because it is not about us, but about the animal, right?