Last Monday was national farm safety awareness day, a worthy initiative that should be adhered to every working day.

On 8 March 2005, I left Clonakilty agricultural college at lunchtime to check a cow that should have calved since viewing her that morning. She had and so had the cow in the next pen.

I went to put iodine on the calves’ navels as I’d always done. No issues with the first cow. I went into the next pen and was welcomed by the head-shake “go away” gesture suckler cows make.

I’d seen it all before, so I carried on. She moved her head again, only this time she came for me. I’d been nudged back by cows a few times, so didn’t think much of it and slipped back towards the escape route.

Cow number 93 had other ideas. She came for me again and slammed me beyond the escape.

The next few minutes, even though it felt like an eternity, will be etched in my memory forever.

Once she had me cornered, her adrenalin was up and she kept battering me until I lost my footing. She then proceeded to grind her head into my chest in the motion where you see a bull or cow rutting the ground.

All I could see was the ridge of neck going back to the shoulder blades and the concrete wall in the pen behind. My mind, heart and eyes were racing, searching for escape.

She pulled back once and gave another run at me on the ground. I remembered the hurling mantra of “get in close and you won’t be hurt” and I clung onto her head.

This slowed her momentum, but the sustained battering meant I was thrashed across the length of the pen.

I let go and the cow went to take another run at me. I scrambled and crawled towards the gate and managed to put my hands on it in an effort to escape into the next calving box.

It was potentially frying pan into the fire stuff, as the cow alongside was worked up by what she saw. My attacker wasn’t for letting me go and flung me into the air, stretching me towards the roof. I held onto the gate for dear life and crashed back into it like a rag doll.

Her frenzy continued as escape was almost in sight. She pummelled into my legs like a jack hammer until I managed to get over the gate and flop onto the straw and scramble out of the pen before its occupant got similar ideas.

I lay down on the floor of the feeding area in a cold sweat, trembling and trying to get my heartbeat back under control. My attacker was still bellowing and straining through the barrier to get at me.

I used up a lot of luck that day. Badly bruised knees and shins were the obvious marks, but otherwise I felt physically okay. A visit to a doctor after a few sleepless nights revealed I’d pulled muscles in my ribs too. The large quantities of milk consumed in my youth must have paid off, as no bones were broken.

This wasn’t the cow’s first calf and I had no reason to treat her differently to any other cow in the herd prior to this. Escape routes were in place – it was just one of those things that fate deals out. Writing this brings the scenes, sounds and smells of the incident flooding back. If things had gone wrong, it could have been six to eight hours before I would have been found.

You end up with a very different perspective on life when a 650-700kg animal is treating you like a rag doll. It really brought home the fact you only live once and you’ve got to grab opportunities that come your way with both hands. Carpe diem.