Today the boys came home..
horned and hairy they have spent the summer pastured for tourists at Newtonmore’s Folk Park, celebrating bygone Highland ways..
They wander free now over the farm,
gazing quizzically
at guests – my visitors – who stare back, nonplussed
at these animals stating a claim equal to theirs.
Looking for a hardstanding to feed them on,
I remember the cobbles beneath the greened floor of the ruined cottages.
With their heads down to the dark-grain nuts,
they mimic the beasts long gone
from that same place..
just as we mimic our kind
on this old land.
todaysstoryblog 
delightful to hear about them. Recently I was in Argyll and driving late at night down a single track road – owned by two highland cattle – one pregnant and the other perhaps her calf from a previous year. They were reluctant to let go of their road for long and the steam rose from their coats as they exerted a dollop to keep in front of us. Then finally they realised that if they let us past we would go for ever and they would be left in peace. We went for ever on that good night but def. will be back.
for dollop read lollop – i have a rogue spell check that does not allow for curious words.
aha..I thought of steaming dollops being .er..exerted…. 🙂