I heard the shout when I was in the byre, milking the cattle. It was not a roar of pain, nor a greeting to a friend; instead, it was a shout of surprise. My inquisitive nature made me wonder what had happened, so I listened intently for any other noise. When the cow I was milking sensed my distraction and stirred under my hands, I calmed her down with soft words and emptied her udders before striding to the entrance to the byre.
My other cows complained when I left, so I soothed them with a promise to return.
“It’s all right, ladies,” I said. “I won’t be long.” I liked my cattle; they were warm, inoffensive creatures, large, slow, and affectionate.
The byre was at the edge of the steading, handily placed to receive the cattle from the fields, and that meant I had an open view over the f
