From where I had been sitting, on a barn at Dr. Hill's farm, standing solitary watch over the plight of the cows, their plaintive and frantic mooing sounded like a cacophony of chainsaws. I had listened to them for two days and nights and was helpless to save them. Above the mooing, I would occasionally hear the flat drone of an airplane or the chopping of helicopter blades. My husband, Warren, his dad, Sylvan and I went down there on Monday.

Dr. Hill (a retired veterinarian), Sylvan and I took a boat loaded with hay bales. We didn't have an oar. The small motor worked well but we needed something to push us off of poles and help keep us going against the current, which was pretty stiff. We found a long piece of lumber, which I used to guide the boat away from obstacles sticking up into the water.

It was treacherous, getting to the cows, because of the hidden fencing and things that had washed into the way. As we slowly went along we saw the first victim. A black Angus cow,bloated and floating by a fence post. Morbid!

We could navigate what's normally a path because most of the tops of the fenceposts were visible. We dared not touch them with our hands because fire ants were on them in the millions. Fire ants have been everywhere. They clump together to save themselves, even taking their eggs with them. The ones inside the clump die, but the colony is saved. They are survivors and can be dangerous to some people. Painful to say the least.

Dr.Hill had to get out to unlock a gate. It was tied with wire and baling string, which was below the water. He was up to his armpits in the water. I thought he'd never get it undone, but he finally did.

From there, he waded on through, guiding our boat to the higher ground where the cows were.

The cows were at belly level in the water. There were calves in the herd of 30 or so. One was trembling and very small(above), born only a few days before the flood. I asked Dr.Hill if could we take him back with us. The little guy was starting to fail; we hauled him into the boat. He was so weak he didn't even protest. I know he was in shock.

The cows were so hungry that although we threw hay into the trough (which was in water) they converged on our boat. I thought they might try to climb in but they didn't. They just took huge mouthfuls and stood there fighting for hay.

One big bull was in the herd. His shoulders were a good foot higher than the boat and he weighed at least 1,500 pounds, but like a gentle giant he stood there munching away. It was awesome to be beside such a powerful animal and know how helpless he was. I knew he would die if we didn't get him and the others out or at least keep them fed.

We ended up taking another calf with us on that trip. This one was much stronger and almost did us in! Dr. Hill had to haul himself and the calf in. I grabbed his leg and we all fell over into the boat. But we got the calf in, tied his hind feet and started back out. Warren's uncle was there by this time with his boat. After safely placing the calves on dry land, they took both boats back in an attempt to coax the cows out. They tried for over two hours to get them to swim out, but as soon as the cows lost their footing, they'd turn around.

Again, I was up on top of the barn trying to see how it was going. I could hear the wasps scurrying and trying to see what was upsetting their homes under the eaves of the barn. The wasps are very aggressive since the hurricane and will sting unprovoked.

Having no other choice, we left the cows there that night. I called the Humane Society about a "large animal air lift" called "EARS" but was told that cattle were the lowest on their priority list. Dr. Hill said he didn't have time to wait for them and would attempt to get feed to them by boat.

We hope that if they can just hold out with hay in their bellies that they can make it until the water recedes. Warren and Dr. Hill are making a floating trough using barrels, which they plan to tie to the posts down there. Then the hay won't sink and the cows will have plenty of time to eat it. Hopefully the strength they get from eating the hay will sustain them until the water goes down.

Lots of emotions have gone through me since the flood began. As a photographer, I am humbled to be able to record this historic event and realize that there is a healing power in photography. For those who are victims of such a tragedy, knowing that their suffering is seen and understood by others helps in untold ways.

The convoys of linemen have been wonderful, as well as the Army and National Guard. Our poor law enforcement boys are so tired from manning the intersections where the high water is and having to sit there all day. Everyone is worn to a frazzle, but yet can't stop. It's very wearing emotionally for all.

The love and empathy being sent our way from others in the state and in our nation is a beautiful thing to see, feel and behold.

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(update published in the Raleigh News and Observer, 9-28-99)

High water, hungry cows

For readers who might wish an update on the effort to save a herd of cows described on this page Sunday, Donna Hardy reports:

"The floating pallets of hay the men built worked relatively well, but . . . the cattle [became] tired and confused. Water was up to their heads, which prevented them from getting to the hay sufficiently. All in all, after a valiant struggle by both man and beast, only eight cattle out of an original herd of 35 were saved. I'm sure I can speak for Dr. Hill and the rest of his friends and neighbors when I say that, to us, saving those eight was worth every bit of time and effort that was required of us."

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