The Cow....

One day I was looking through a little gem of a book about the native breeds of Scotland when my eyes came to a halt at ‘the Clootie Coo’. There was a faded photographic illustration of a stocky, short legged primitive looking beast with compact inwardly curving horns. Apparently the native cow of the Shetlands is also known as the Clootie Coo because of the tradition in the Shetlands of sending a square of cloth cut from an apron away with the cow when it is sold as a reminder to the animal of it’s former keeper and milker. Going all misty eyed at this romantic notion and spurred on by memories of my mother’s tales of hand milking Jersey cows during her time in the Land Army, I resolved that this would be the perfect house cow for me – I might even start wearing an apron….
Flowery was bought,– a good cow I was told, former breed champion at Melton Mowbray show, and in calf to a Shetland bull. Delivery was arranged for a couple of day’s time. Meanwhile, this being February, the weather worsened – snow, gales and hail from the north came our way. I assumed that Flowery’s arrival would be delayed due to dire warnings of impassable dangerous roads over most of Scotland. Despite the conditions however, the haulier was on his way. The only gate that we could bring the cow through onto our land was just peeping up through a four foot snow drift, and the field was under nearly 2 foot of snow. There was nothing for it but to start digging. For 3 hours we dug a channel, braving snow and freezing wind, until a pathway for our new acquisition was cleared. The huge haulage lorry arrived about 11.30 am, and the back door opened. I went in with a halter ready to lead my new docile little Shetland cow into her field to join our 2 little Highland heifers. I peered eagerly over the partition and this rather large, skinny cow with shiny, pointed horns looked up at me with an expression of great umbrage, got slowly up and waived her horns at me in a most unfriendly fashion. The halter idea was quickly abandoned as she made it perfectly clear that she was not in a mood to be cooperative. Once invited, she did grudgingly lumber out of the lorry, down the ramp and, ignoring our carefully dug pathway through the snow, began pacing the fences, evidently looking for the shortest route home.
Molly, our naughty little Shetland pony had been put at a distance in the top field, but had been watching closely as Flowery arrived. The excitement of the occasion was just too much for her and she just had to get involved. After backing up a few paces with a determined stamping of her back legs, she thundered forwards towards the fence, cleared the 4 foot high obstacle with ease and belted downhill at a gallop to play with the new arrival. Flowery does not do ‘play’. Flowery does dominance and she was obviously having no truck with this cheeky little pony – fellow Shetlander or not. With an evil glint in her eye and a powerful swing of her neck she attempted to wear Molly as a head dress. Fortunately, being a nimble mover, Molly dodged the fearsome horns and trotted off in the huff. Then Flowery’s eyes alighted on her new herd – Deirdre and Leah, the 8 month old Highland heifers who were watching the floorshow with interest. ‘Now this is more like it’ Flowery seemed to say as she marched off towards them like an elderly matron towards her new charges. Having briefly explained to them that the boss had arrived, they meekly formed a little crocodile behind her as she stomped her way through the snow to explore her new territory. Watching in awe I decided that if Flowery did take a piece of me away with her it probably wouldn’t be part of my apron…