More Bull

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.

What a Load of Bull!

Yesterday morning, after a sudden cacophony of gut-wrenching roars, I almost thought that I’d been teleported into the African savannah, and we were being besieged by hungry lions. Our two intrepid hunters/watchdogs Bennie and Sophie, who’d been sunning themselves outside the kitchen door, sprang into life and went tearing off into the undergrowth of the secret garden and then out of sight. The roaring continued.

Went I reached the far fence, half out of breath, there stood Bennie on his hind legs attempting to straddle the fence with the neighbour’s grazing paddocks. Sophie was hopping around excitedly, yelping as only Sophie can.

One the other side of the fence were some forty sheep munching in the long grass. A few of those closer to the fence were standing attentively watching these two black strangers across the fence.

Then further back in the paddock I spotted the “lions”

Some two dozen black bulls. Big bulls. Scary bulls, if you’re not a farmer.

As the bulls came closer to the flimsy fence, I started retreating ever so slowly but surely. They were probably quite tame and friendly, I tried to reassure myself, but I was scared that our two beloved Labradors would come off slightly worse if they managed to accidentally enter the bull ring.

Down on the ground quite near our fence, I spotted this little Mount Kilimanjaro. It didn’t belong to me, nor did it belong to Benny. That left only the two dozen…. yes, what a load of bull!

Today, the bulls appear to have calmed down quite a bit in their new home and Bennie and Sophie, although clearly accepting that they should not try to challenge the presence of this gang of monstrosities, have remained in the general vicinity of the fence and are keeping a close watch on the grazing neighbours.

There will be bull reports if there are any further developments in the ring.