Sunday 22 August 2010

Cows: a photo story

I was walking up Corks Hill the other day at milking time. Herds of cows are just one of those things around here -- like not being able to use the motorways at the weekend in August. Where are the cows?

There they are!

These cows really know where they are going. I don't usually encounter them on foot, and I think that if I had had a dog with me I would have been nervous. Apparently the thing to do is to let your dog go, and don't try to protect it: it can run faster than the cows, and if it legs it the cows are less likely to trample you. Anyway, some of them had a good look at me, but it was time to be milked so they trundled on. Apparently cows have a very fine sense of order and hierarchy, so here you looking at boss cow:

When I was a small kid, about seven or eight, my mother used to buy me Pony magazine, and my little brother used to say that cows are much better than ponies, and that he wished there was a Cow magazine. At the time I thought this was amazingly inane of him, but maybe Cow magazine would be quite good. Our local farmer's supply shop probably sells it -- it sells birthday cards with specific makes of tractor on.

These are just standard Friesians, but still have their own grace. Cows have a cow style in the way that cats have a cat style, and terriers have a terrier style but most dogs don't. There are some wonderful Devon Reds round here, and other less usual breeds. The horned types in particular seem to channel an ancient spirit of cow; they are quite soothing to be around.

Goodbye cows!

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