A load of bullocks.

[Tom]

Regular visitors now. As each evening falls bullocks from the neighbouring farm, varying from between six to nine in number, come to hoover up the remains of food we put out for the birds and squirrels. They then go to drink in a trough we've left for them and on to our dried out pond, which still has a good crop green reeds and rushes.

They are a frisky lot and like to play but we think they are desperate for something fresh to eat. The earth is bone dry because there has been virtually no rain after June, when the farmer who owns these beasts mowed our fields. The grass hasn't grown even a millimetre since. Farmers are now regularly putting hay in the fields for their cattle.

At night the bullocks all go back to their own field, which is supposed to be electrically ring-fenced. Somehow they've learnt how to dodge this barrier. It's strange too because they come from a herd of about thirty five but we've never seen more than nine together on our land. Can't tell if they're always the same ones because they won't let us get close enough to read their ear tags.

[Le Démerdeur]

Shoot one each time and if there is one less on each subsequent visit then its probably the same group or they have a rota system

You are blessed to have such well behaved and interesting visitors.

[Stompie]

The teenage hoodies of the bovine world!