The other day, I was enjoying a mug of Earl Grey in the greenhouse, doing a spot of watering and listening to some tip-top pop tunes on my headphones. Singing away to myself I didn’t hear that I had company. It was only some movement, caught out of the corner of my eye, that made me look outside.
Margaret’s cows had come down to enjoy the long, lush grass growing beneath her ancient fruit trees. It’s not a large herd but bigger than normal with all the calves that were born in the spring. They are cute, no question. Still, I won’t think of that when Margaret is selling boxes of her fantastic, twenty-eight-day-hung beef. Seriously good beef.
I won’t think of how pretty the calves are to look at and how overly curious they are.
How they like to come up and see who and what I am. Like her sheep, Margaret’s cows couldn’t want for a better life, better care or better surroundings.
It’s jolly nice to have a visit when you’ve been alone all day. But when your visitor leans over the fence and helps herself to Priory property, well! Munching, uninvited, hazel and hawthorn without so much as a, “I’m a little peckish, would you mind if I just had a little bite of ….?”.
How rude? But then what would you expect? Notice the curious spiked nose ring she’s wearing? Do you know what it’s for? I didn’t. It’s to stop her stealing milk from another cow, that’s what for. She’s a milk filcher. A robber, a stealer, a pilferer. She’ll brazenly tuck under another cow and help herself to milk. But if she goes for a crafty suckle, whilst wearing the spiked ‘Ring of Shame’, she’ll stab the victim in the udder and, understandably, get a good hard kick. That’ll teach her. Serve her right too. But which is worse? A hard, justified kick or the wearing of the ‘Ring of Shame’. I think the latter. Imagine the disgrace. The ignominy. To be the only Thief of the Herd. Reviled, berated, gossiped about and
……. oh. Oh, not you too? Well, really. We all know what you’ve been doing Madam, don’t we? A milk mugger! How could you? Tut tut.