There comes a time in the life of every woman pretending to be a farmer’s wife when she must man up and act like the real thing.
So this morning, I had to get up early to feed a shed full of young calves, and then help Pete to load two bulls on to a trailer. Actually, Pete did all the dangerous bits and I stood around and waved a stick while trying to look scary and failing to convince. Well I didn’t convince myself, although for some inexplicable reason the bulls did keep their distance, so maybe I did look fiercer than I thought.
I don’t mind helping with cattle as much as I used to, but our huge Limousin-Charolais cross breeds are still daunting to Townie Wife.
I’ve asked my wonderfully kind husband to buy smaller cows- you can get them, they’re called Dexters (the smallest breed of British cattle) – but so far his devotion hasn’t extend to changing his livestock priorities. I wonder if I can find a way to convince him?