Bovine Behaviour

To escape my personal, mind-melting vice that is television I went for a long walk. I took a left off a road near to mine in an effort to get to an old oak tree that stands two fields across from the house.

On the way, though, I was met by a field of curious bullocks. The animal nearest to me flicked its head round, and then, in a sort of domino effect they all flicked their heads round to gaze upon this lanky, two-legged ape. I was okay with this, I don't mind them all looking at me. I was even okay with one or two of them gingerly walking up to the fence to get a better look. I'm not so comfortable, however, when the whole bloody herd comes trampling over for a closer butchers. Kicking, jumping and snorting with excitement on their way. They all muzzled up to the fence that now, worryingly, seemed to only come up to their knees. Besides, what if they smelled the Bolognese on my breath and wanted to suddenly get revenge for their fallen, delicious brethren? I made a hasty retreat homeward.

On the way back I cut across an empty field. I made it over the swampy dip in the middle and up towards the fence at the other end. To my annoyance I found that the fence was barbed, rusty and too high to sling my lanky leg over. I had to get to the gate on the adjacent side of the field. On my way I imagined a reverse, pseudo-Orwellian world where I was trapped in a field, watching cows clopping past on hind legs with the smell of human mince issuing from their mouths. Gave me the creeps for a second.