Life gets more up and down and busier and busier. I may come back to that, or I may not. Sometimes, one just lets things go. So I’ll just tell you about the cows.
Jonny the farmer who sells raw milk and home-made cheese at the farm gate puts a few dry cows on two of my (I typed our. Oh damn, will I ever get used to it?) fields from April to November. I arrived home on Thursday morning with Zerlina and Gus to find four ladies of the bovine persuasion in residence. I congratulated myself on having checked the fence and got it mended three weeks ago.
We’ve become better acquainted with them today. They’re friendly, curious, really quite lovely. Jonny and his dad Graham wouldn’t land me with awkward squad. Actually, there was one a couple of years ago that really tested my courage, which was not found wanting though it was a close-run thing. One more run and I might have stood aside.
Anyway. Here they are.
This is Spotty Perdita, Perdi for short.
Monty is a Montbelliarde and this herd’s milk is used for making cheese. I think that Jonny will move over to this breed entirely in time. They respond nicely when you talk franglais to them. Haw he haw he haw will do, if you’re stuck for a word.
Which brings me to Sally, who makes the most extraordinary noise, nothing like any cow I’ve come across before and nothing like a moo. It’s a cross between a peacock shriek and a donkey bray, high pitched. She is quite sweet natured, as are all of them, but it’s like a knife across a plate and I hope she settles down soon.
It’s good to have cows on the fields again. The grass hasn’t grown much this year yet but there’s quite enough for them, it’ll grow quickly soon and they’re very welcome.
Cowpatlotto !
My grandchildren adore poking sticks into cowpats, but they aren’t allowed on the field without wellies on!
I’m reminded of the old story about a farmer who lost his tweed cap in the cow meadow, and had tried on thirty eight others before he found his cap.