Away from the manger, these prodigal cows prompted a 16-hour search party on NC beach
Every year, the faithful at Seaside Chapel build a live Nativity scene with all the Biblical trimmings, detailed down to wise men with robes pulled over their bluejeans, Roman soldiers wearing plastic armor over their shorts and a manger that comes stocked with a full menagerie — including a pair of mischievous cows.
The opening Dec. 3 drew 205 pilgrims, who bustled around the makeshift Bethlehem until the charcoal fire died down and ox and ass alike lay down their sweet heads.
Then the police started knocking on doors.
The cattle, it seemed, had stopped their lowing and busted out of Bethlehem altogether, escaping down Dow Road.
What followed was a 16-hour chase down the streets of Carolina Beach, through the state park woods and neck-deep into the waters of the Cape Fear River.
‘It’s always something’
The recovery would require a trailer, several two-way radios, a police drone, some four-wheelers, several panels of cattle fencing, a loop of rope, a pontoon boat and a party of 40 rescuers — including one park ranger who leaped into the river.
“It’s always something,” said Dana Vess, whose husband is Seaside Chapel pastor. “We joked, ‘I wish our prodigal cows would return.’ ”
Eric Field provided this year’s livestock, and he stayed out searching the woods until 3 a.m. on Sunday, Dec. 4, hoping his beasts didn’t wander into the military terminal at Sunny Point. He slept about 2 hours in his pickup before resuming the search around dawn, bringing along the calves’ mother.
“My hope was that the calves would hear her bellow,” he wrote in his Facebook account. “This is when the real fun began.”
The police drone overhead spotted only a sleeping coyote, but some rangers at nearby Carolina Beach State Park got a report that the errant calves had strayed onto a pedestrian trail.
By now the search party had grown to 15, and the would-be cattle wranglers chased down the missing pair, tearing through the scrub bush. But as soon as the rescuers closed in on the startled calves, bearing down on four-wheelers, the pair took off running.
“We determined this was going to be a long day,” Field wrote.
The search party, now 40 people in all, chased the cows to the marina, then onto the beach, then straight into the river, where they sank deeper and deeper on their way to a sand bar.
Back at the manger, the donkeys and sheep wrung their hooves in distress. How many miracles can a small-town Nativity scene summon? If only for a heavenly host and a shining star!
Park officer to the rescue
Meanwhile, the cows waded shoulder deep into the Cape Fear and started to flounder until a passing pontoon boat nudged them toward shore.
A flat-bottom state park boat arrived, and an officer on board tried to lasso the cows from the deck. One exhausted beast’s eyes started rolling back in its head.
Then, seeing no other option, the park officer dove into the water and looped the struggling cows by hand. Slowly, the rangers pulled the repentant animals into their trailer, where a crowd applauded on the sand.
Typing his chronicle, Field offered thanks to above. “He loves even the smallest creatures,” he wrote, “including calves and you.”
By nightfall, the prodigal cattle had retaken their places of solemnity, content in their lowing, their wanton oats sewn.
