I promise this will be the last cow-related post of the year. This won't be hard to keep, as the poor creatures are due to be locked up again till springtime. I wonder if they know that the barn is beckoning. Anyway. On my run yesterday evening I came across a typical scene. Farmer on bicycle wobbling along to field of cows. Throws bike to the ground, grabs his stick, and goes in to usher the girls out onto the road. They all obey in their pondering, meandering way except for one - I'm going to call her Flossie - who remained sitting on the grass, facing the opposite direction. Farmer pokes her back end with stick. Flossie flinches but doesn't budge. Farmer roars a strange Bavarian word. More pokes with stick. Flossie heaves herself up reluctantly. Observing this from the road, I see her walk ever so slowly towards the gate, Farmer following behind. Just as slowly and deliberately, she raises her tail and showers him with liquid excrement. The rest of the herd and a few car drivers laugh with me as Farmer gloweringly wipes himself down.
Once they were all on their way, I had the pleasure of weaving in between them - this is quite an art, actually, running through a cow herd. You have to be extremely careful not to spook them as, like horses, they don't like surprises and it shouldn't be forgotten that they are very, very heavy. A cow stepping on my foot would mean no more running for a while, perhaps ever.
Tomorrow we collect our new duck friends Donald and Daisy, and I suppose the day will be spent helping them to acclimatize to their new environment. I have warned Max to be on his best behaviour.
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