I decided to take an evening stroll to post something in the box at the bottom of Bag Lane, and on the way there I noticed that the five Dexter cows (four ladies and a little boy who says his name’s Bobby) which live in the big field at the back of my house were close to the gate that leads onto the lane. I said ‘hello ladies’ – naturally – and the cows walked over to say ‘hey’ back.
And then one of the ladies came close up to the gate and was very happy to have lots of ear scratching, neck slapping, nose stroking, and chin rubbing. She was well into it, and a happy ten minutes was had being best friends with a friendly cow (who didn’t happen to mention her name, nor whether she’s Bobby’s dear mama, but that didn’t matter.) Bobby, incidentally, showed a good deal of interest in the proceedings, but seemed a little reluctant to join in, despite my earnest entreaties. Maybe he’s still a bit shy yet, or maybe boy cows don’t do that sort of thing (although readers of long standing might remember that Graham the bullock was well into that sort of thing. Mind you, Graham was clearly mad as a badger, so he’s probably not a good example.)
(So who says cows don’t have personalities? Hmmm… Dexters, by the way, are a small breed of black cow, about the size of an average donkey. It probably gives them the edge in the cutesy department.)
Anyway, my new friend eventually decided she’d had enough of being up close and friendly with a human. She turned around and walked sedately away. And Bobby went with her.
You know, if only I could get on as well with humans as I do with animals, I might suddenly find a reason to get up in the morning.
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