The strange case of the Highland bull who learned to jump

The new day was bright, crisp and clear. A sharp overnight frost had formed a crust on old snow. All was well in the world of Romesdal, and had been since the start of the winter feeding season.

Then came an unexpected knock on the front door. 'If you're the keeper of a Highland bull then the animal is on the main road', said a strange but kindly-faced man.

The phone was ringing also and my wife answered. Her cousin from the cottage on the eastern edge of the croft told her the bull had jumped the fence and onto the main road.

I rushed about in frantic haste, throwing on jacket and hat and exited the back door in time to see our bull, Big Iain, cantering down the Mill Road. The dun bullock, his companion, was on the field side of the road fence keeping pace.

(Image is of Iain the bull in his park)

'Phew! at least he was off the main road', I thought with relief.

As to how and why they got out of the bull park, that would have to wait.

As I ventured out the bull had stopped half way down the road and with head up was looking all around. He was obviously in an agitated state.

I reached the side gate into the field where I hoped to lead him back to safety and began calling him to me - he knows his name's Iain, by the way - with no success.

Experience tells that the easiest way make beast do what you want is to entice with food. At this time of year anyway. So I headed to the byre for a bag of cobs. As the bull is used to seeing me on a quad and associates it with feeding time I decided to take the quad as well.

Riding down the Mill road towards the bull I could see he was interested. I stopped about twenty meters from him and advanced on foot with the bag of food. He didn't run away or charge towards me, which I took to be good signs.

Carefully I edged near him, softly calling his name and offering him a look at the feed bag. The bull slowly and nervously advanced. I placed some cobs on the ground in front of him and retreated with the bag back to the quad. He finished the cobs and looked up for more.

(This is the quad bike mentioned)

Mounted on the quad I began the slow journey back up the road to the field, stopping every so often to lay a cob on the ground as a lure. The thought of food seemed to have calmed him and thus I managed to entice him off the road, through the gate and into the field.

I was lucky there were no vehicles trying to get up or down the Mill road during this time otherwise he would most likely have been spooked again and taken off.

I left the bull and bullock in peace to settle down and got on with the job of feeding the rest of cattle and sheep.

Once finished, I loaded the quad with a bale of hay and some cobs and went to feed the bull and the bullock. The plan was to lead them back into their bull park at the southern corner of the croft and let the matter be.

A necessary digression: The bull park.

There is a house on the croft, Romesdal Cottage, the former home of my wife's late aunt and uncle bounded in the east and south by the Romesdal river. Access is by a track from the main A87 trunk road. The northern boundary fence of the cottage has created a 'corner' of the croft which we deemed ideal as a place to put the bull when not working. All that was needed was to run a fence down the side of the access track to cottage with a gate in the middle.

Anyway, back to the day in question, I'm on the quad with the feed, the bull and bullock are in the field and, as I lead them over a rise in the ground back to their park, I notice two cars at the top of the cottage access track by the main road. The gate is also open. There is a woman coming up the track from the direction of the house. My wife's cousin and owner of the cottage.

I about turn and with the beasts in tow go to a far corner of the field out of sight of the main road, cars, people and open gates. There I feed them their cobs and spread the bale of hay in the hope they will settle down.

Finished, I rode up to speak to the cousin and see what had happened. I was told that as she was dragging a wheelie bin from the cottage up the access track to exit by the main road, the noise of the wheels on the crunchy snow had caused the bull and bullock to freak out.

The bullock jumped the fence onto to track and was away whilst the bull jumped the fence by the gate at the main road. Actually, he more went through the fence rather than jumped and it was a sorry looking section of fencing indeed. The idea of putting the beasts back in their park would have to be curtailed for the moment, until the fence was mended.

So there you have (for the moment for there is more in part 2)

A case of what can go wrong will go wrong, expect the unexpected and that's what you get for being smug and complacent and thinking you are in control.