Do you know I have developed a little soft spot for cows? I know, I know,they don't appear to have that much going for them. Less cute than a sheep, less graceful than a horse, less quirky than a pot-bellied pig. But they have an accepting placidity about them that makes me want them to know they are loved all the same.
I live slap bang in the middle of two farms. The farmer to the left maintains a cow from the other side attacked him earlier this year and tossed him into the air but that hasn't put me off. One has to wonder what his business was in someone else's field. No witnesses either, beyond the largely silent ones who are saying nothing. Just an occasional moo.
Anyway, the school run involves a fifteen minute drive along empty country roads and the school adjoins a large dairy farm with around 200 cows. I know the number because they take a very long slow walk from the milking sheds to the fields, then back, at least twice a day.
To do this, their path takes them across the lane that leads up past the lake and the swans to the back of the school. And often, if my journey coincides with theirs, I have to sit and watch a very very long line of them slowly make their way in one direction or the other. One is always looking for a gap in the cows, much like looking for the gap in the traffic in any urban rush hour - just without the 'rush' bit.
Friday, however I suffered my first incident of bovine rage - only this bovine had two legs.