CALMING INFLUENCE

My husband and I recently purchased a small herd of Angus heifers in calf. We were quite giddy with excitement at their arrival to our home at Parkwood. Aside from purely enjoying having them to look at as we drive through the paddocks, introducing cattle into our regenerative operations means our pastures have the added benefit of two different styles of grazing.

We often go out to visit them in the side-by-side. We’ll switch off the engine, sit and observe them. In the evening light when the air is still and crickets are chirping, they’ll mob up and saunter over. Swishing their tails and headbutting one another to get a good view of the humans who have arrived. Stare offs will ensue, and it almost becomes a game for them. Who is the bravest of them all, to take that one step closer and sniff?

I’ve always been fond of cattle. My grandparents bred Herefords on their property Eldersfield in the small locality of Eccleston in the Upper Hunter of NSW. My school holidays consisted of my parents bundling my brother, sister and me into the car and driving eight hours to spend two weeks with my grandmother Bobby. She lived at Eldersfield until the age of 88, when she could no longer stay there by herself. There was very little phone reception, books were welcomed, and we would spend hours with our cousins down by the Allyn River, sitting in the rapids and always giggling when Bobby would insist on hopping into the river herself, fully clothed. Her theory was that she would remain cooler for longer. Even her wide brimmed hat got a dunk before it was plonked back onto her head.

Having moved our herd a handful of times up and down the laneway since their arrival, it certainly takes longer than it does to move the sheep.

Bobby loved nothing more than walking down to the river flat paddocks to look at her herd of cattle. As she became less mobile, we would continue to take her down there, either by holding her steadily by the arm or helping her into the Ute and driving. Sometimes when we were out on the horses, we would push the cattle up to the garden boundary so Bobby could sit on the veranda and have a chat to them over the fence.

I’ve come to appreciate what my grandmother loved about them. Their calmness. I often find myself chatting away to them and saying hello before telling them it’s time to get going onto the next paddock. Having moved our herd a handful of times up and down the laneway since their arrival, it certainly takes longer than it does to move the sheep. The crossbred lambs will fly down the laneway, it’s their own amusement park after all. Merino ewes will move placidly but they’ll keep in a tight formation, steadfast on getting to their designated gate so that they can be left alone once again. These heifers though, they’ll spread out and enjoy their morning stroll. Ambling along at a dawdler pace, regularly sampling the grasses sprouting in the table drains. I love that they’re never bothered by our presence. With a clump of grass hanging from the side of their mouths, they’ll turn their heads to us and observe. There is no matter of urgency in their mind. What’s the rush after all? There’s good tucker right on the side of the laneway. It’s only after our son Jimmy, from his seat in the side-by-side, waves his little hands and says, “shoo shoo”, that they decide it’s best to continue.

I love that this small mob has brought Alex and I such joy in different ways. He’s excited for the diversity and expansion of the herd, eager to see how cattle and Parkwood mesh together. I’m excited to see that too. But I also smile each time I pass them and think of dear Bobby. How much she would have loved to hear about how they’re settling into their new home and asking if I’ve said hello to each one of them.

Alexandra MacAlpine lives on Parkwood, a sheep and grazing property in the Central West of New South Wales. Follow Graziher on Instagram to see her ‘Thoughts on a Laneway’ reels.