September 2024

It’s nearly the end of August and we may have to abandon hay-making this year as we’ve not had three consecutive dry days since June. On the upside, the polycrub is  producing enough vegetables for all of our meals and more and I’m now having fantasies of getting a second one as it is so satisfying growing veg and feeding people.

I’ve been heavily involved in various community groups over the last few months and neglected some areas of the croft. All of this collective organising has made me wonder whether there are things we can learn from our cows and their herd behaviour.  Or at least perhaps, metaphors to be had, as there is always a danger in anthropomorphising.

When we first got cows we were told there would be an identifiable matriarch; it’s taken a few years to become convinced this is not how our herd works.

From what I’ve read and observed, cows don’t have a single leader, but make group decisions based on motivation and consensus. Any cow might lead at any given point if its desire is strong enough to go in a particular direction, and the others are prepared to follow.  

Each cow has its own distinct personality and skills to bring. Orchid is one of the cleverest. She seems to have a sense of the incoming weather, where the best shelter and best food is, and she often leads as a result, but not always. Poppy, (the cow I most identify with), is more highly strung and has a keen antenna for danger and urgency. She is the first to spot a pine marten or predator and has a healthy suspicion of traps. She has been known to get spooked by a deer and lead half the cows miles away – which is not ideal, but on the whole, the herd trusts her instincts. Sorrel is my favourite cow, she is bigger, stronger, and smarter than the rest, but rarely leads, in fact, only when I ask her too, as she and I have a special understanding. Instead, Sorrel leads from behind, hanging back to make sure the herd doesn’t do anything reckless or rash, being calm, gentle and wise and avoiding confrontation. I love her dearly.  

Then there are the outliers, like young Spinach, or Espinakus as we have come to know him. A year old now, he regularly takes himself off and stands in the sea. You can find him there, eyes closed, enjoying the water lapping his belly and the wind in his hair. We think of him as a philosopher. None of the other cows ever follow him – or at least they haven’t yet.

The result, or at least my idealised interpretation of it, is a shifting dynamic where the direction of the herd is a flow that incorporates the wants and needs, strengths and skills of each individual animal; all of their senses, intelligence and special skills contribute to the herd’s overall well-being and safety.    

Of course, there are tussles, usually over food, and everything goes out of the window when sex comes into play, as heifers, cows and bulls will behave quite irrationally, going through hell and high water, to get the attention of each other. And when bull meets bull… I need say no more.  There is also definitely a pecking order. Every evening at dusk, the cows establish their rank with playful skirmishes won as much with intelligence as by brute force, using the lie of the land to their advantage. During the day any minor disagreements are resolved quickly as a result of knowing their place in the ranks.  

It makes me think of our decision making on the croft, as well the groups I’m involved in. Alasdair and I can get into loggerheads over the smallest of things, but when it comes to the big stuff, we take so long to arrive at a conclusion it is not always clear how we got there, we just reached consensus somehow and only then moved forward. On the smaller stuff, over the years we’ve learnt the areas in which each other is usually right, but still enjoy the odd tussle or mêlée; as sometimes it is only through disagreements you make discoveries you would not make otherwise. They present an opportunity to grow, find unusual compromises, see things from new perspectives, and find out about each other.

If I were to take my analogy all the way. I would paint myself as “Poppy cow” on high alert for danger. My instinct to get involved in local groups comes from an increasing sense that we are going to need to be quite organised as communities in the future. We don’t know exactly what we are going to face as a result of climate change and biodiversity loss and the conflicts that these will cause. What we do know is that it is happening quicker than we expected and it is happening exponentially. My gut tells me we are going to need to find ways to work together, overcoming prejudices, differences and division, to face all kinds of adversity – perhaps more closely than all of us are used to. 

Me and Sorrel

Another one if you think it is better?

Espinakus the philosopher

Espinakus heading to the shore

Poppy Cow having time off