My limitations to animal husbandry have been put to the test and I have failed.
This afternoon whilst driving out of the village, I was met by a solitary ruminant. We have a lot of these in our village, in fact a good portion of them live opposite our house.
I am quite fond of listening to their grumps and protests during the day and it is quite a calming site. It makes me feel that I really do live in the countryside and what with them and my chickens, the days are aurally therapeutic.
However, I know that these 'gentle giants' actually have somewhat of a sadistic streak. Many of our footpaths go through their fields, so dog walkers need to be aware of the fact that they must keep their wits about them for, much as their cute faces and doleful eyes seem to suggest they will do no harm, they are quite renowned for charging man and dog over the stile at a rate to challenge Mo Farrah when they feel like it.
Hence the fact, I walk the arable routes whilst Mr Beehive takes on the beef cattle!
So, black, young bullock is in the road - no way forward.
I have a flashback moment to 1995, on an elephant safari in Sri Lanka with a guide armed only with a flip flop and a charging male. My young tender years flashed before my eyes that day.
However, I have learned well in my old age.
I carefully reverse my nice, clean and freshly mended car behind the van parked on the verge, stick out my arm to slow down the vehicle coming around the corner behind me, wind up my window...and wait. He can't get me in here!
Well, what can I do? I have no flip flop! I'm wearing my converse - by the time I take those off he'll have rolled me into the ditch!
The third car that comes around, a beaten up truck, pulls over to block the road...I do what any neighbourly spirited person would do...I suggest she pulls out of the way for fear her car will get trampled and maimed by this black devil in the road. Well, I wind my window down again and do my duck impression!
She looks at me sympathetically...I'm one of those transplanted country folk...opens her car door and gets out, arms spread wide, she's wearing wellies...it's a give away in a village.
Holy cow pat...she's going to give the bugger a hug...she's one of those cow whisperer types...I smile, sheepishly and wind down my window again as she returns back to her car, job done with the cow back in his field (single handedly)...
"I thought it might damage your car" I mumbled
"Oh no dear...they hardly ever do that" she smiled at me...there was that sympathetic smile again.
"Ah, right!" I must remember to re read my manual to cow herding when I get home I note to myself.
All crises avoided, I continue on my way, knowing that I can herd a cow next time...hell, I have dinosaurs in my garden!
1 comment:
thanks for sharing..
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