I’ve recently returned from visiting Cornwall and walking a little of the Coastal path spotting a few cows along the way. One afternoon whilst following the guide book of walks back across footpaths to the village of Tywardreath brought a bovine vision – loads of them by the gate. On entering the field I felt like I was being mobbed as they all flocked to gather round and even the ones on the outer edges ran to join them. Very quickly, a sea of brown and white jockeyed for position with each offering a slobbering tongue to assess me.

A swift return to the other side of the gate was necessary until the excitement calmed down a little. I did get some great reference photos as they were all doing their best to get noticed. It must be like this being someone like Tom Jones….well, without the knickers being hurled, obviously.

Eventually, they did lose a bit of interest so I could go back in to the field in an attempt to find the way marker and continue. With most of the herd following me there followed a game of Grandma’s Footsteps as each time I turned around and 120 or so hooves fell silent as they all stopped and became statues.

They correctly made their way out of the field via the hidden way marker whilst I took a different route and ended up performing the  limbo like an idiot underneath barbed wire. It was, one of those rare moments in life when there is a distinct advantage to being small. I did, however, return the next day with my sketch book and after a few close calls with the slobber did manage a few drawings.

Me with cow (contrary to how this appears I am not taking her dinner order)

If I lived closer to this herd they would be my new best friends, what’s not to love?!

Summer brings a raft of cattle and agricultural shows which affords me a wealth of material and reference photographs. Logistically, I can only visit a few and as they tend to follow on it’s a busy and expensive time but I love it.

I’m usually found with my nose in the show catalogues marking off entrants which help me identify them later or behind the camera lens. I have found that by dressing like a photographer the handlers/owners tend to think I’m an official press/show photographer and are happy to encourage the animal to pose!

I’m impressed with the enormous amount of work behind the scenes preparing the animals for the shows so they look their best…and at how patient they are whilst being preened. I can remember having to have my face wiped as a small child with spit on a hanky and not liking that..it’s not something you ever see these days but it used to happen to us all!

There’s a good natured rivalry between owners/handlers and I think it’s great to see the children learning the job at such an early age especially when they are so small and even the tiniest white show jackets still skim the grass!

It takes a certain amount of skill, experience and I daresay bodyweight to be able to handle some of the cattle. I have to admit I do love it though when something kicks off and unrehearsed chaos unfolds in front of me (well, I do when I’m sufficiently far away as the Pamplona experience isn’t for me) as the following photos demonstrate. The first shows an Ayrshire at Great Eccleston Show ending up in the hoardings after eventually doing the splits – she was fine and went over to take first in her class.

The second shows a Highland at the Royal Welsh where I thought the handler was going to be tossed in the air!

The Highlands look so cute when they are calves but when they grow to that size with those giant horns I think they are quite a feisty breed.

I will be joining the Royal Welsh Agricultural Society next year which will mean that not only will I have “free” entry each day but I will have access to the members areas. More importantly this means I will be able to visit the member’s bars and get a beer. Previously I was only allowed access to the bar in the small and noisy Welsh Black Cattle pavillion, the type of which you can see behind the Welsh Black in the photo below.

I am grateful for the chance for a chilled beer but it is rather like being involved in a cross between a scrum and a raucous Young Farmers stag do. It’s possibly the only place I’ve ever been wear I could be semi clad wearing nothing but a strategically placed rosette and wellies doing the “down in one” atop a table and no one would bat an eyelid…but then those Young Farmer types know how to party!