In February this year, I introduced you to some of the livestock in the paddock to the North of Chartwell in a blog called What a Load of Bull. On our Southern border in the direction of the river, the neighbours have a small flock of sheep, some chickens, a gang of ducks, a solitary pig and some cattle.
Clayton spent a number of weekends with the chainsaw in the pine border plantation to “clean up” the appearance and the security of the fences, resulting in a number of piles of branches, to be allowed to dry out and be cut for firewood. While busy with this cutting process this morning, I heard the sound of ladies clapping their hands, shouting and calling out in the distance,
“Shooo, come on, shoo!”
(Above): The creature on the left (with horns) is huge. Apparently she’s called Kathleen. Name or no name, she remains a formidable animal. I’m not a brave farmboy, yet.
Truthfully, I am not sure what they were calling, but the general idea of the “noise” was to shoo the bullocks from the front paddock into one of the back ones. Guess maybe the grazing had been depleted in the front. I could hear their voices, and see their arms waving around in the air, confirming the fact that the animals were being herded. Brave girls, really.
(Above): I managed to capture the falling rain against their black hides. The guy on the right almost has that I’ve-just-smoked-a-joint look in his little eyes.
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