On my trip to Scotland I met a fine gentleman who was in residence in a field neighboring a shopping center. If you have been conditioned to think of bulls as untrustworthy at best or dangerous at worse, Highland cattle come as a surprise. Hamish was a delightful example of the basic gentleness of their character.
Hamish would linger at the light wire strung fence he could have easily breached. The purpose of this presentation: To get as many pats and affectionate greetings as possible. He absolutely blissed out on affection with one notable exception. “DO NOT TOUCH MY HORNS!”. This would produce a decided, cut that out, head shake.
After my return, a friend created an animated coo for remembrance to which I added a found poem that perfectly described his behavior.
I’m a hair-dishevelled heilan’ coo,
Hamish McKay be ma name;
Welcome tae this dreichet glen
I’m cursed tae ca’ ma hame.
Depending on the mood I’m in
I’ll raise ma horns on high,
An’ if I like the look o’ ye
I’ll likely let ye by.
But should I dinnae like the look
O’ ye, then tak great care,
I’ll raise ma horns on high again,
Go on, get oot o’there!
So whether welcome yae or nae,
I’ll raise these horns sae mean,
Then ye shall ken ma meaning
By the twinkle o’ ma een.
Courtesy of
MARION GRAY Wollaton Road Wollaton Park Nottingham
