You big woolly cow

Monday 23 July at 1448 | Posted in Humour, Life, Personal, Scotland | 27 Comments

Update: It seems that my dad isn’t a very good tour guide. First he gets us stuck up a mountain. Then tells us tales of Nazi mountain owners that are false. And it appears – thanks to the very kind words of someone who it seems has taken it upon his self to straighten all cow related facts – that my dad doesn’t know his Aberdeen Angus from his Highland Cattle.  

On two occasions on my holiday I passed Aberdeen Angus Scottish Highland cows.

First was on second day of the holiday. After being scared to death while getting passed cliff edges, not sleeping well due to sharing a floor in a barn with a mouse, getting soaked for over 8 hours while warning I thought that may day couldn’t get any worse. Then we came up to the herd of Angus. My dad said “we would be ok as long as we don’t go between the mother and calf.”
I checked the path that led between the herd. And just our luck the path split the mother and calf. The only way past would to go between the two.
After a fun, but very scary and tiring last two days I was worried that we would be has-beens at the the final herd-le (haha, good pun)
Luckily we got past. Safe and in one piece.

Then next time I saw, what I guess was the same herd, was the same day I was looking at the beautiful scenenary.
As we got down from the mountain (and again I was pleased to see the floor, my dad nearly had us climbing up verticle rock face) and too the lake you can see in my last photo, we came across the herd having a relax in the lake. It was a hot day (yes it was hot in Scotland) and I was a little jealous.

But seeing as all the cows were pretty relaxed I had a good opportunity to photo them.

A very hairy Aberdeen Angus Scottish Highland cows.