In my travels around the region I have certain spots to which I return. One such is this pasture containing these magnificent highland longhorn cows. They graze contentedly for hours. Or do they?
I stand outside the fence in an adjoining graveyard, discretely taking photos of these beasts with my telephoto lens. It is ideal for such things as it allows me to get up close without actually getting up close.
Close inspection from this safe distance reveals these cows are almost entirely covered in flies on every smooth surface. Dozens on their horns, and many on their noses and lips. That is Summer in a field in Niagara, I’m afraid. But it cannot be comfortable. I’m itching just thinking about it. I am not surprised these gentle giants are occasionally a little temperamental. I suspect I would be, too, with this to contend with.
It is tick season. One can only imagine what is hidden under that bright red fur.
