The Cows Part 3
So I’m getting settled down and relaxed with my new girlfriends and I think they are getting used too me to. OK, my bag looks like it’s been slime bombed and Poppy has retreated to a quiet corner of the field because she was swamped by them, but on the whole, things are going quite well.
So I look around to see how my bag was getting on, when all of a sudden I feel my camera being yanked from me. The amazing thing was that she hadn’t bit it, she was holding on with her tongue.
Now I had experienced what those tongues feel like previously; in my hair, my neck and I reckon I could have slid home on my back the amount of licking going on there, so knew they were a formidable piece of anatomy that had sandpaper as a surface.
I was beginning to have visions of Gertrude here being the first flickrite cow if I didn’t do something. Then up popped the little voice again ” use the flash doe ball” (the voice was getting a little pissed off with how the day was going), so as I was getting dragged around the pasture, much to the amusement of her girlfriends, I zapped her.
Of course when you point the flash at something, you are also pointing the lens and this is the result.
“It’s my Nikon”
So the moral of this part of the cow story is: In every cow there is a budding photographer and, just like most females have a tendency towards, thinks they can do better than the males 
ahem … KNOW they can