Have I mentioned the cattle?

Yesterday I realized that I hadn’t seen the cattle for at least a day. The pastureland that surrounds my little house on three sides has been rich with cattle since the day I got here; when I arrived I counted close to 50 head. These are not milk cows. They are male cattle being fattened up on the lush green grass that is especially rich in the Irish Midlands. Most of the cattle are the commonest breed, Limousin. This breed ranges in color from light tan to pure black.  They are stolid and big-eared and, like all cattle, have lots of pals. Cattle are not loners; it is rare to see a cow on its own in the pasture. They stay clustered in groups, and if one animal heads off in a new direction the rest are sure to follow. They are also curious; if there is activity anywhere near them the cattle will lumber along to see what is going on.

When I first moved in to the house the cattle gathered around, pushing and shoving to get a better view. The house had been empty for the past several years, although it is highly unlikely that any of these cattle would have been around long enough to know that. Instead it was a matter of new activity where there hadn’t been activity before. They could stand right at the fence line and peer into the house. The cattle would come so close that I could have reached out the sitting room window and touched them if they were standing at the fence that divides their yard from mine, although they would have shied away if I had tried an aggressive move like that.

After awhile I began to suspect that I was seeing the same cattle again and again at the window. I started to write down the ear tag numbers when they stood there and, sure enough, #226 was the most consistent presence. At first I thought he might be especially interested in the radio; I noticed a corollary between my having it on and his standing there. But since the radio was on most times I was in the kitchen perhaps it was just a coincidence, and he instead wanted to study the human up close. After all, he was the one roaming free and I was the one in the small enclosed pen.

            Early one morning a couple of weeks ago I was wakened by a commotion outside. When I looked out the sitting room window I could see an enormous van parked in front of the pasture next door to mine. I had noticed a farmer over there the day before, an unusual sight in that pasture in which I had never seen anyone, animal or human. This time the small pen at the front of the pasture was filled with cattle, and two men with long sticks were yelling and beating the cattle brutally over and over as they moved them up the ramp and into the van. On my side of the pasture the entire herd was crowded into the corner, just over the fence from the commotion. My cattle were highly agitated, pushing each other as usual to get a better vantage point, but this time in a frantic way; the worry poured off of them.

            When the ramp was raised and the van pulled away, two animals were left behind in the pen. I don’t know why this was. My cattle immediately calmed down and began grazing; within a couple of minutes they were ambling back over the rise in the pasture.

            Last week the pasture was topped, a regular occurrence that simply means it is mowed to encourage new grass. Since there is little grazing grass after this happens, the cattle are moved to a different pasture. I’m hoping that is what has happened to my cattle, and that in a week or two they will be back watching me through the window. Fornow the jackdaws have the field to themselves; at dusk their grey ruffs stand out as they pick at their gleanings.