It is with huge delight and excitement that I can finally announce the arrival of my cows, which came down off the hills this morning in a biting cold Northerly wind. A massive, full-size cattle float opened its doors and four muddy little beasts stepped out into the spitting rain. We brought some older cows down to meet them, then moved the whole gang together up across the fields to their new accommodation beneath the remains of an iron age fort which has been overgrown with red-boughed scots pine trees. The little cows vanished into the gorse like a hoard of stripy pigs, and the last I saw of them, they were hanging around their new grown-up pals like strange pygmies.
As I feared, their arrival has come as a major anticlimax. Of course it is thrilling to have them on hand, hale and hearty, but there will be nothing I can do with them for several days until they begin to settle down and learn where they fit in. They are so small and their new field is so large that I may end up watching them through binoculars for a couple of days until they relax and gain some confidence.