No, not really. I just
forgot to turn off my flash, so everyone has scary alien eyes. At least that's the story I'm sticking with –
mwah ha ha.
With the wet weather, soggy ground, and colder days, Farmer
Rob decided that it was time we brought in the cattle. I've heard bleats about "poor things,
stuck in the barn over the winter" (and not just from sheep) – indeed, we
had to cajole, pester and prod to get the beasts in from the fields…or rather,
not. They knew something was up, and
while I was laying out straw, bringing in silage bales and generally preparing
their quarters, cows and calves were bellowing in the fields and straining at
the gate – they couldn't wait to get in, having had enough of mud and rain. It was a bovine 100-metre sprint. As for the bull, he'd been let in a few
days earlier because he was standing forlornly as close to the barns as he
could possibly get, all doe-eyed and hopeful – Ann fell for it hook, line and
sinker.
There's always one
calf that gets into everyone's dinner.
There was a small error of judgement on my behalf, letting
the cows have silage ad lib before
the vet came to finish off the TB testing (all fine, by the way). Lovely, lovely grub – so much so that two of
the cows were too rotund to get into the 'crush' (the contraption that keeps
them still while being faffed with – no real crushing involved as that would be
a stupid way to run a business). Even
the bull fits in there, no problem - so these girls were almost spherical.
The calves use the creep gates to get in and out of
the barns so they can have extra cake twice a day.
"See you later mum! Off to have dinner with my mates."
At home, bulk buying at Mole Valley means we have to bag our
own Bonios. Never have we had such a
rapt audience…
"What's in the box dad?"
A trio of manipulative collies.
