The tale of the homesick Highland bullocks:
Once upon a time (not so long ago) in a place called Romesdal on an island known as Skye lived a fold of pedigree Highland cattle. These Romesdal Highlanders consisted of seven cows and their followers (offspring) and were a very close-knit community as most had known each other since birth.
(Image of Blackie with the hill and Romesdal glen in the background)
Now the man in charge (advised by his wife) deemed it sensible to separate the cattle into different fields according to size and sex and therefore kept three bullocks in the place known as 'over the wall'.
Moreover, the biggest bullock, known only as 'Blackie', was over two years of age and had become a bully to the younger heifers. So, along with his pals 'Brownie' and 'Dunnie' they were exiled from the main body of cattle and put 'over the wall'.
At first they were not too happy and bellowed at the gate (which had another gate tied to it so as Blackie couldn't jump over it as he was an accomplished fence jumper). To no avail, as the wall was high and the gate even higher and so after a while the three bullocks settled themselves down and munched and wandered the length and breath of 'over the wall' in seeming contentment.
(Image of Brownie looking windswept and interesting)
As the summer progressed and the sheep were gathered from the hill the man had the notion of giving 'over the wall' a rest from grazing cattle by putting the bullocks across the road an onto the hill, for which he had grazing rights, but had never exercised them. If that all makes sense?
The main obstacle, however, was the busy main road leading to the ferry terminal at UIg one way and the main Skye village of Portree the other way. You see, and this probably wont make much sense either, Kingsburgh township crofts in the main are sited below the road with the common grazings above the road. Therefore beasts coming and going from croft to common grazings have to be led across this main road.
As this was a first and the man failed to seek advice, the tried and tested method of trial and error was called into play. With a bucket of cobs as a lure the tactic was to lead the bullocks through a gate, across the road and through another gate and onto the hill.
Cars whizzed by as man, wife and bullocks waited at the gate by the road. The cattle were nervous but greedy. The traffic lulled and they decided to go for it and gates were opened. Dunnie came through and onto the road with the other two more reluctant but starting to follow gingerly.
You may recall that the bullocks were very unhappy when first put 'over the wall' and wanted back to the main body of cattle but couldn't jump the high wall and the even higher gate. So it was no great feat of genius to predict that once the bullocks realised they were exiled even further away from their mommas, there would be wailings and gnashing of bovine teeth. And, oh my, were there wailings, or more precisely bellowings.
It was embarrassing. The darn beasts just stood at the gate demanding to be let back across the road and home. And all the neighbours, as they passed by in their vehicles going to Portree for shopping, had a grandstand view of these three, spoiled, brats of bullocks.
The man therefore (advised by his wife) decided to lead the bullocks far from prying eyes and take them on a journey to Madrigal, an abandoned village in the glen of the Romesdal river, in the hope that they would meet new friends and settle down for a few months of free grass and heather munching. And the plan seemed to work.
The bullocks duly followed the bucket and after an hour or so walking were abandoned by the man near the tumbled down ruins of Madrigal. They looked bemused, he thought, as he dived behind a tree and made good his escape along the line of a little stream, keeping low to avoid detection.
It was with a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips that he made his way home by a circuitous route lest the cattle follow him. He arrived in a triumphant mood but a seed of doubt impelled him to have a last look up the hill with the binoculars before a cup of tea and a piece of home-baked fruit loaf.
With binoculars raised he scanned the hill for sign of bullock and at first all seemed clear. Not a sign. Then a black dot of bovine head appeared on the skyline. And then another and yet a third, like Indians readying an attack. With a resigned sigh he went indoors to impart the bad news to his wife.
The bullocks were back.
A few days later the three bullocks jumped a fence into a neighbour's croft (the only croft above the road) directly across the road from the Romesdal croft. They had not only come home but had decided to come by way of our front gate just to rub it in.
The man's resolve to banish the bullocks collapsed. He gave a shout of encouragement and the three homesick beasts trotted through an open gate, across the main road and down the Mill road to be let into the field to join their mommas and siblings
There's a moral to this tale but I am not so sure what it is?
Once upon a time (not so long ago) in a place called Romesdal on an island known as Skye lived a fold of pedigree Highland cattle. These Romesdal Highlanders consisted of seven cows and their followers (offspring) and were a very close-knit community as most had known each other since birth.
(Image of Blackie with the hill and Romesdal glen in the background)
Now the man in charge (advised by his wife) deemed it sensible to separate the cattle into different fields according to size and sex and therefore kept three bullocks in the place known as 'over the wall'.
Moreover, the biggest bullock, known only as 'Blackie', was over two years of age and had become a bully to the younger heifers. So, along with his pals 'Brownie' and 'Dunnie' they were exiled from the main body of cattle and put 'over the wall'.
At first they were not too happy and bellowed at the gate (which had another gate tied to it so as Blackie couldn't jump over it as he was an accomplished fence jumper). To no avail, as the wall was high and the gate even higher and so after a while the three bullocks settled themselves down and munched and wandered the length and breath of 'over the wall' in seeming contentment.
(Image of Brownie looking windswept and interesting)
As the summer progressed and the sheep were gathered from the hill the man had the notion of giving 'over the wall' a rest from grazing cattle by putting the bullocks across the road an onto the hill, for which he had grazing rights, but had never exercised them. If that all makes sense?
The main obstacle, however, was the busy main road leading to the ferry terminal at UIg one way and the main Skye village of Portree the other way. You see, and this probably wont make much sense either, Kingsburgh township crofts in the main are sited below the road with the common grazings above the road. Therefore beasts coming and going from croft to common grazings have to be led across this main road.
As this was a first and the man failed to seek advice, the tried and tested method of trial and error was called into play. With a bucket of cobs as a lure the tactic was to lead the bullocks through a gate, across the road and through another gate and onto the hill.
Cars whizzed by as man, wife and bullocks waited at the gate by the road. The cattle were nervous but greedy. The traffic lulled and they decided to go for it and gates were opened. Dunnie came through and onto the road with the other two more reluctant but starting to follow gingerly.
Suddenly a line of vehicles approached from the direction of Uig, spooking Brownie who headed back into his own field. The traffic halted and the the mission was aborted by shooing the other two after him. A few days later a friend and neighbour suggested that very early on a Sunday morning, when there was no traffic, was a good time to cross the road with beasts.
He proved correct and the bullocks were moved across the road with ease the next Sunday morning.
Mission accomplished, as they say.
He proved correct and the bullocks were moved across the road with ease the next Sunday morning.
Mission accomplished, as they say.
(Image of some Shorthorn/Highland cross yearling
heifers, for no other reason than I like it)
You may recall that the bullocks were very unhappy when first put 'over the wall' and wanted back to the main body of cattle but couldn't jump the high wall and the even higher gate. So it was no great feat of genius to predict that once the bullocks realised they were exiled even further away from their mommas, there would be wailings and gnashing of bovine teeth. And, oh my, were there wailings, or more precisely bellowings.
It was embarrassing. The darn beasts just stood at the gate demanding to be let back across the road and home. And all the neighbours, as they passed by in their vehicles going to Portree for shopping, had a grandstand view of these three, spoiled, brats of bullocks.
The man therefore (advised by his wife) decided to lead the bullocks far from prying eyes and take them on a journey to Madrigal, an abandoned village in the glen of the Romesdal river, in the hope that they would meet new friends and settle down for a few months of free grass and heather munching. And the plan seemed to work.
The bullocks duly followed the bucket and after an hour or so walking were abandoned by the man near the tumbled down ruins of Madrigal. They looked bemused, he thought, as he dived behind a tree and made good his escape along the line of a little stream, keeping low to avoid detection.
It was with a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips that he made his way home by a circuitous route lest the cattle follow him. He arrived in a triumphant mood but a seed of doubt impelled him to have a last look up the hill with the binoculars before a cup of tea and a piece of home-baked fruit loaf.
With binoculars raised he scanned the hill for sign of bullock and at first all seemed clear. Not a sign. Then a black dot of bovine head appeared on the skyline. And then another and yet a third, like Indians readying an attack. With a resigned sigh he went indoors to impart the bad news to his wife.
The bullocks were back.
A few days later the three bullocks jumped a fence into a neighbour's croft (the only croft above the road) directly across the road from the Romesdal croft. They had not only come home but had decided to come by way of our front gate just to rub it in.
The man's resolve to banish the bullocks collapsed. He gave a shout of encouragement and the three homesick beasts trotted through an open gate, across the main road and down the Mill road to be let into the field to join their mommas and siblings
There's a moral to this tale but I am not so sure what it is?
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