Mrs Down's Diary June 24 2009

One species we have been delighted to see the back of, however, were the two and a half thousand ducklings that we have been rearing for a friend's ponds. The combination of hot weather and copious duck poo had given rise to a plague of little black flies. All gone. Joy.

Our favourite stock will always be the cows. It will be a sad day if they go. But we respect them. When off to take a walk down the fields with the dogs, we never go near the cows and calves. Cows might appear placid, and generally are, but take a dog in, especially if any of the herd has recently calved, and they are instantly in protection mode and will chase the intruder or intruders off. As I believe Mr Blunket and his guide dog recently discovered.

So if visitors want to take a look around the farm and express a special interest in the livestock, off we go on our very own farm safari in the Landrover.

I am often struck by how calm animals are when approached by a vehicle in footage of film shot around genuinely wild animals. In wildlife programmes, the camera will pan back and reveal about five off road vehicles, all full of tourists, gawping at a dozy pride of lions who seem blindly oblivious to their presence. Bet however if the tourists took one step out of the safety of the truck it might present a different scenario. Game on. Lunch has arrived.

It is similar to our cows and sheep. You can drive right up to them, slowly, not a mad charge, and more often than not they will stay where they are until you are virtually on top of them.

In fact, when we took a drive round last night with a friend, on a glorious sunny evening, we imagined ourselves on the plains of Africa with our cows and sheep lazing in the last of the sun before dark fell. Even the bounce of the Landrover as I hit yet another grip in the fields added an authentic jolt to the drive. I am easily deluded.

Our friend was very complimentary about the stock. "Look at the gleam on the cows " he exclaimed. It's true. They are in great condition. A diet of rich grass does wonders for their coats. And their bowels. Nearly all the herd lay quietly chewing their cud, calves nuzzled up close. Very peaceful.

Apart from the bull. He had other ideas. As did a gang of adolescent bull calves. All of whom had their thoughts fixed on a cow who must just be coming into season. Talk about harassment. This poor cow was plodding about trying to get rid not only of the attentions of a very determined Mr Simmental, but also of a gaggle of young bull calves, all stirred up by they knew not what, but whatever it was was keeping them on the go.