Cows

Walking across moorland yesterday I phoned my son to check if sheep would chase me when Iwalked across a field full of them. 'City boy!' he said. I'd been walking two hours by this time and I had no idea where I was. I relaxed a bit and struggled, ill equipped and thirsty, through lumpy grass and squelchy brown water that filled my boots every third step. I saw some sheep's ribs and the skull in this picture. Wolves or wild boar I guessed or something that would no doubt enjoy my meaty urban flesh. The rain started and the wind lashed it into my face as I struggled through the swampy terrain. I came to a stile that led to another field; this time full of cows. At least I thought they were cows. Maybe they were bulls. As I walked tentativley past them they stared at me in the way Gary Larson's cows stare blankly out of the cartoon panel. I took this picture as I walked past them, trying hard to exude confidence or, at the very least, an absence of fear. 'What are you looking at?' they all seemed to be asking. 'Get off our land.' Disturbingly, every time I looked round they all seemed to have rushed closer then adopted the same blank pose. It took me ages to get past them. I don't like cows.