It’s bitterly cold outside and fairly wet, so I’m going to reminisce about the summer. When we had the sun and could feel its warmth.
Those of us on the BBB spent most of the summer travelling. We made it into a different county, and virtually to the sea!
We saw the Earith seals, travelled through the tiniest windiest rivers, the largest deepest rivers and visit many lovely pubs. But the story I want to tell you about happened on our way back.
We were planning on stopping at a mooring by a nice pub that we’d used many times. We were cautious – we know the mooring is against a cow field that you have to cross to get to the pub, although the cows are generally used to boaters and not a problem. But it’s still wise to be cautious.
As we came in to moor, another boat called us over. They weren’t exactly moored – they were tying the boat up, but quite wonkily.
It was hard to put my finger on what – but something wasn’t right.
The man from the other boat called us over and asked for some help. It turned out that a sheep had ended up in the river and they wanted to help it out.
That made more sense. they weren’t mooring – they were stopping for a moment to help the sheep.
But the sheep didn’t want to be helped!
Sheep are quite big. Bigger than I imagined. Bigger than most dogs. And sheep in the water get waterlogged, which makes them heavy (and wet – think wet dog smell combined with farmyard). But that wasn’t the biggest problem. The sheep wanted help. But it didn’t want us to get near it. Whenever the three of us got nearer than about a metre, it went further into the river.
We did what us humans do in these situations. We stood around and debated the situation. While we debated, the lady who was on the other boat came over. She walked straight towards the sheep and put her hand out as if it were a dog or a cat.
The sheep didn’t appreciate this. It didn’t go and sniff her hand. It freaked and leapt sideways – straight out of the river!
Great – the sheep is out and safe! We can moor up properly, the other boat can continue on their way.
But…as the more astute amongst you will have noticed – the mooring was against a cow field. Not a sheep field. The other boaters were convinced that there was a bull in the field. I could see heifers and big calves. They don’t put bulls in with calves. But I don’t like being in fields with heifers and calves.
The freaked sheep leapt out of the river and straight into the cows in the field. The cows were now freaked, too. The cows started chasing the sheep around the field – cue Benny Hill music!
Cows are very, very big. And they aren’t very nimble. If the sheep stopped or slowed down (which is likely because it had been swimming for ages) the cows will trample it.
They often put a sign with a phone number for the farmer on the fence to the field. But that was on the opposite side of the field to where we were. For some reason they never put those sign near the river.
Brave (or insane) Mr BBB to the rescue!
He decided to cross the field to find the farmer’s number. The sheep and cows were at the furthest part of the field from him and the cows were totally focussed on the sheep.
Until he got three-quarters of the way across the field. Then the spooked cows spotted him. They chased him across the field! Thankfully, he was faster and escaped.
But… he was on the other side of the field to me and the boat.
The sheep (I had named Flossy and decided it was female) had used the distraction to hide in some long grass and trees. So the cows had no aim – they were wandering around looking unhappy and stressed. In front of the boat.
As they passed the windows it became clear that one of them was definitely a bull. With plenty of the things that make bulls…bulls. Quite a lucky chap, in that regard!
So, to recap. The second boat has gone. Ade is outside the field. I am on the boat eyeballing some stressed cows, knowing there is a rogue sheep around.
Mr BBB found the number, which was only for evenings. It was early afternoon. Unsurprisingly, no one answered.
It still wasn’t safe for either of us to cross the field.
So Mr BBB went to the pub while we considered what our options were!
The best idea we could come up with was me moving the boat to the uneven haphazard mooring outside the pub – not in the field. But I would have to get off the boat to remove the mooring pins. Or leave them behind and risk not being able to moor.
I wasn’t happy about the plan, but there wasn’t much choice. Between us, we’d called the council, police, RSPCA and Environment Agency and none of them could help.
As I was waiting for the cows to move far enough away that I could remove the mooring pins, I could see a boat coming towards me.
It had a lot of people, music and lovely looking drinks. And, on further inspection…Mr BBB! As the boat passed, he hopped off and onto our boat!
We waited a bit longer, for the cows to settle, then between us, we unpinned and moved the boat.
We had a well deserved evening at the pub, and tried calling the farmer every half an hour, or so, with no result.
That night we went to sleep to the sound of poor old fluffy bleating on the edge of the cow field. The other sheep had given up calling and gone to sleep.
The next day we had to go, so I don’t know whether Flossy was reunited with her friends or made her peace with the cows. I like to imagine that she made friends with the cows and all were happy. 🙂