Scents and sensitivity

I WAS leaning on the iron gate of the cow field, chewing a length of ryegrass, gazing at the occupants. The cows, bits of grass hanging from their slobbery mouths, regarded me. Mirror match.

Few animals exude contentment to the degree of an outdoor cow in summer and watching the Limousins engendered the usual contagious joy. But my hanging like a yokel on the gate was about more than self-help, a down-on-the-farm pick-me-up: survey a collection of cows for five minutes and you can tell which is sick and which is on the up (or down) in the herd order. Any