Bovine antics

I know, I know.  Not everyone is as interested in cows as I am.  But I remain faithful to my cause of promoting the bovine as a fascinating and much-underestimated animal.  Take Yvonne, the Bavarian cow who, since the end of May, has been on the run.  Yvonne is practically a star; at time of writing she remains at large, hanging out somewhere in a dense forest.  There is a ten thousand euro reward for the brave person who not only finds her but, if not actually catches her, keeps her occupied until the police/vet/farmer cavalcade arrives to take her home.  Various blurry photos of Yvonne have been broadcast.  Despite the poor quality of the pictures, the determined gleam in her eyes, the gleam that says, enough of twice-daily milking and perpetual pregnancy for me, is plain to see.  Apparently she is aggressive and extremely crafty, and suddenly the media is waking up to the fact that cows are not, contrary to popular belief, stupid.  The strong herd instinct makes them appear that way, but they are actually pretty wily.

Just over the road from us there is a cluster of large brown dairy cows and the clanging of their bells, a sound I found almost intoxicating when I first arrived last year, was beginning to get on our nerves.  It seemed pointless to put a bell on a cow that is in an enclosed space and cannot escape (unless it's called Yvonne).  Yesterday I noticed that only one of these cows is wearing a bell, and she spends her entire time following her fellow inmates around and trying to lean her head on their back or sides.  At first this appeared to be affectionately meant, but after a few minutes of observation I realised she is trying to muffle the bell, which is, naturally, driving her nuts.  It is a futile attempt but not at all stupid.

So I'm off to work again today.  Who knows what will greet me on arrival - perhaps a coachload of people off to a luxury spa, just waiting for me to turn up and manage the phones before they tootle away to Austria?  Come now, do not be so cynical (I address myself here).  After all, seeing my pay in my bank account yesterday gave me a lovely warm sensation and made it all seem worthwhile.  I was so happy that I agreed to take all three children out on a boat trip.  One of those pedalo things that you need long legs for.  All in all, it was a pleasant experience, though Titus leaping around the boat akin to a mountain goat prevented me from relaxing completely.   And then, when he started one of his Rumpelstiltskin tantrums, we got really nervous.  Hell hath no fury like a Titus scorned.  Luckily we distracted him by pretending he was Captain Smith of the Titanic, deftly steering his craft through the icebergs (orange buoys) back to shore (the jetty).  If only Captain Smith had done so - history would look so different.