Journal

Cows, and plenty of them.

So I live in a farmhouse, although it's the old litle cottage that used to come with the place, and now the farmer has built himself a huge new house, and rents this little, tumbledown lump of stone out.
Being veggie and living on a cattle farm is a little weird, but being beef cattle, all they do is mooch about for a good amount of years then get eaten. It's as close to natural as meat farming gets really, it's not intensive, and unlike dairy, doesn't support the veal trade or require artifical hormones and such. Plus, I've not eaten meat since childhood, so it's not some big novelty or burning issue in my life, it's just part of my existence.
We are close to the Scottish Highlands, and the land is open for miles. The cows seem to make the most of that, and like to wander.
They stay in shelters for the winter, staring at me through the open wall as I stand at my kitchen sink. Then yesterday I noticed loads of folk about, and all the cows (600 of them) were let out the sheds into the fields and woodland, now that all the babies have been born, and the weather is finally warm enough for them.
We have a little garden which has a small, ancient stone wall. It's fallen down in places, leaving gaps just big enough for cows to come in and sniff the washing hanging on my line, or stare in at me through the windows.
I've got to admit, I love it! There's nothing nicer than the HUGE face of a full grown cow, taking up most of your living room window. If I go out there they wander away, used to being herded from places they shouldn't be, but all I want to do is touch them.
The only downside, is my lawn is now peppered with cow pats.
I must stop running out there in just my slippers.