The Dexter Is Small And Beautiful

 In Derbyshire walks, Health, Paleo food

Welcome to the Dexter, a rare breed cow. They are my neighbours but living outdoors rather than in. I suspect that we meet and chat to them (cowtalk) more than we do our human neighbours. They inhabit fields which we pass on our walk from Taddington on most days. It’s a three mile walk and it would be less rich without livestock in the fields. Okay, the sheep are rather difficult to engage with but their baa’s are redolent of the Peak District. The donkey is dull, except when he heehaws. The pony and two small Shetlands are entertaining but rather characterless. The cow, in general, is a rather disinterested animal, except when a tractor appears and hints at food. However, the Dexter is small and beautiful and so, so, appealing.

Cow stars

On our daily walk, we always pull in and lean on a gate. “How is this life if full of care we have no time to stand and stare?” For certain, the moment the Dexters see us, they often creep closer and closer. That is, on very short legs. There is apparent interest in us but then the hierarchy tends to intrude. One cow is always top dog, in convoluted metaphors. As they are naturally polled, that is, without horns, they flick their powerful neck to control others. Consequently, the top cow batters others out of the way, not least the endearing calves. Meanwhile, the bull tends to ignore us and sniffs his way around the rear end of the cows. He will be ready when the time comes, which is more than I could ever claim.

The Dexter is small and beautiful

Yes, I do feel guilty. All those delicious Dexter pies I have eaten. That comment reminds me of Desperate Dan and his cow pies in The Beano, a comic that taught me to read. However, I still stand by my conscience. If it were not for me and all other meat eaters, the Dexter would no longer exist. That also reminds me that vegans are still on a lifetime experiment. Will their meat and milk free diets come to haunt them through poor health? By the time you find that out, it’s too late. We, the British, have been eating meat raised on native grasses for perhaps 12,000 years. I am doing no more than reaching out to our pagan ancestors and their gorgeous cattle.

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