So, I’ll set the scene, we live in rural Yorkshire, fields
as far as the eye can see, our Springer Spaniel is used to both the terrain and
the wildlife – nothing really phases him.
But….we had visitors, friends from the South West of England, the
weekend was organised, walking and pub lunches during the day and great food,
wine and chats long in to the night. Our
guests arrived Saturday morning early, Lucy the Labrador Retriever in tow, our
guests suitably (or unsuitably) kitted out in their Barbour finery and welly
boots (still a little muddy underfoot in places).
It's 10:30am…off we go and I swear to you we must have only
been 30 minutes into the walk when we entered a field – to be fair it did have
a warning on saying ‘bull in field’, quick peak around the corner and yep – in the
distance – and quite a way in the distance was the herd of cows. As we normally
do we put Fletcher our Springer on his lead and our friends grabbed Lucy and likewise
put her on the lead and we head in the direction of the next footpath marker,
in the bottom left of the field.
It wasn’t
in view as the field dropped off but I’m familiar with the field and it was a
few hundred metres away.
I think we were
half way between both entrance and exit to the field when underfoot you could
feel the ground almost shaking and there they were – about 100 cows (looked
like 500) all charging towards us…..a few unpleasant words shouted and we all
took off running practically for our lives.
It was terrifying at the time but funny when you look back.
Gemma (our friend) fell over right by the 5
bar gate next to the stile and as the cows had recently congregated there it
was thick mud, she was covered in stinking mud, waxed Barbour jacket thick with
the stuff but it wasn’t over….she got up, grabbed the latch for the gate and
broke two of her finger nails – newly polished nails I hasten to add – she was
furious.
I was covered in mud but ok as
I was in my normal outdoorsy stuff.
My
problem was trying not to laugh at how the scene was unfolding.
All four of us gasping for breath, red faced and
caked in mud, John (Gemma’s husband) trying not to laugh at Gemma when
Fletcher, all four paws outstretched launched at John (for no reason) and sent
him crashing into the same muddy quagmire but safe from the herd of cows who
were now swishing their tails the other side of the gate and I swear to you
they were smirking at our townie friends!!
Gemma and John have not suggested a visit since!!!
Contributor - Annabel Warwick and Evette Williams
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