The cows have recently come into the barn for the winter and, right now, having them close by in the farmyard is still an enjoyable novelty. But it won’t stay like this. By virtue of their size and weight, cows are very destructive and, as winter progresses, we’ll have to deal with broken partitions, leaking water troughs, dripping gutters and gates that don’t work. But that’s to worry about in January, right now it’s clean and fresh, everything works and I’m loving their company and watching them go about their daily business.
It’s a known fact that cows form lifelong friendships and conversely hold big time grudges when they fall out. They can babysit when called on, invent games, communicate with humans and solve problems. In fact it’s rather arrogant of us humans to assume otherwise.
There are currently sixteen cows in the barn, all adhering to a very strict social contract that positions them one to sixteen, with each individual very aware of where they sit in the pecking order. If you look at a herd of cows in a field they may just look like a bunch of black and white cows – or in my case brown cows – but spending a lot of time with them means I know them all by sight and, of course, by name and personality.
Delia is the head honcho and whether lying down, walking round, drinking at the trough or feeding at the hay rack she is always surrounded by her immediate gang of admirers, the other big cheeses – Clementine, Heedless and Patience. Then there is a large group in the middle who don’t seem intimidated by the bossy girls or interested in the lowest ranks where Daffodil and Lofty Lily find themselves – though I’m not entirely convinced they mind. It’s nothing to do with size or age – just cows being cows.

Cows are only ever interested in bulls when they are in season and see the bull for one purpose only, and as our cows are all pregnant his arrival will hardly be acknowledged

In the next door barn are three adolescent boys, all being fed and nurtured before they get sold in the spring as ‘ready to work’ bulls. All sons of an Admiral bull (so in pedigree terms they are Coopers Admiral One, Two and Three) but known around the farm as Nelson (that was the easy one), Rodney (as in Admiral Lord George Rodney – best known for his command in the American War of Independence) and Dewey (yep another high seas hero). Nelson and Dewey definitely like each other but Rodney sees himself as a bit superior, leader of the pack, to be admired and respected. He stands in the yard and growls for hours – a deep, menacing growl – paws the ground sending up clouds of dust, but sadly the other two take no notice and sooner or later he’ll have to stop and then act in a very nonchalant fashion as though nothing has happened
However, with George (our stock bull) having gone off to a new life in Canterbury, Clive, his replacement is coming soon. This really will give Rodney something to get heated about, although of course as they don’t know each other they can’t be put together as they would fight to the end. So Clive will spend Christmas with the cows, although possibly not the social occasion he might be hoping for. Cows are only ever interested in bulls when they are in season and see the bull for one purpose only, and as our cows are all pregnant his arrival will hardly be acknowledged and he certainly won’t be considered worthy of a place in the pecking order. I hope your Christmas is more eventful than Clive’s. Have a Happy One.