Billy Bull and his girls were working in the swamp this morning. The closest I got to interacting with him was over the northern corridor fence. He came over for a chat, but my grip on the cattle language is so loose that I couldn’t get the gist of what he was saying. I’m reasonably sure his body language was telling me to keep well away from his cows; his nifty footwork and sweeping head swings left me in no doubt that he was not in a welcoming mood. I have to say, though, that all his gesturing and dancing will not speak louder than a sharp slap on the snout from my hand if he doesn’t behave himself.
Billy Bull is doing a valuable job, so I stroked his head and whispered a little encouragement: your days are numbered, mate! I’m not at all convinced he is up to the job – time will tell. He is a bit of a cutie, don’t you think? I mean… just look at that face!