The Mystery of the Mesmerized Highland Cattle

November 5, 2024 debbie

The Mystery of the Mesmerized Highland Cattle

In the summer of 2000, Duncan, my cherished late husband, and proprietor of Louis Page, whisked me away on a spellbinding journey to Scotland for our honeymoon.

August draped the Scottish landscape in a cloak of enchantment as we ventured from the east coast and meandered our way north, west, and south, tracing the contours of the breathtaking coastline. It was a time of unparalleled beauty to be in Scotland, with the local children returning to school, leaving behind tranquil sites for us to explore in blissful solitude.

The weather, too, favored our escapade, with bonnie sunshine gracing our every moment, save for a gentle mist that veiled the air on the eve of our departure.

Duncan, renowned for his penchant for unearthing hidden pathways and off-road escapades, delighted me at every turn. We ascended hills, traversed pastures, and followed babbling brooks, our journey punctuated by encounters with quaint cattle-crossing bridges and picturesque scenes.

Each morning, we would visit the local grocer, selecting an array of cheeses and a freshly baked loaf of bread to fill our picnic basket before setting off in search of the authentic pulse of local life.

One particular day has etched itself vividly into my memory. As we wound our way down a narrow, stone-walled lane, the forest enveloped us in a serene embrace, whispering secrets of centuries past.

Suddenly, as if conjured by the very magic of the land, a quaint stone bridge emerged before us, its ancient facade barely wider than a footpath. Below, a gathering of Highland cattle stood in silent communion, their majestic forms forming a perfect circle, their intentions shrouded in mystery.

Parking our car by the roadside, we approached the wire fence that bordered the pasture, drawn by curiosity to unravel the enigma before us.

And then, amidst the tranquil backdrop of nature's symphony, we heard it—the roaring of a chainsaw.

At that moment, the cattle slowly and deliberately stepped back as if to give us a glimpse into the sacred gathering. Our eyes traced the source of the sound to the figure of an old, weathered farmer, his rugged frame silhouetted against the verdant backdrop as he embarked on cutting logs from a felled tree.

Yet, not the farmer nor his labor captivated us, but the solemn congregation of the Highland cattle, their sober gaze fixed upon the unfolding scene. They were in harmony, and neither were bothered by the presence of the other. Cattle and Farmer understood one another.

At that moment, amidst the rustling leaves and murmuring brooks, it felt as though time held its breath, as if the land's very essence had converged to witness the age-old dance between man and nature.

As the old tree yielded to the relentless onslaught of the chainsaw’s biting teeth, falling to the earth repurposed for the cook stove, the Highland cattle stood as silent sentinels, guardians of a timeless bond that transcended the bounds of comprehension.

In the hallowed embrace of Scotland's ancient landscape, Duncan and I shared a fleeting glimpse into the ineffable harmony between humankind and the natural world—a harmony woven into the fabric of existence, echoing across the ages in whispers carried on the wind.

Although our journey may have ended, the memories we forged amidst Scotland's rolling hills and misty moors would endure, forever etched upon the tapestry of our hearts.

Did you notice mention of “the wire fence that bordered the pasture” above? That wise old farmer was not so entranced by the romance of his surroundings that he neglected to protect his herd.

And neither will you. Order yours from my website. There's a sale on - worth a peek to see if what you want can be scooped up: https://louispage.com

Debbie Page

CEO, Louis E. Page Inc–Woman-owned business and Family-owned since 1893. (Sigh! Notice how fast businesses and management can collapse these days? Better you deal with a business under family management that’s stood the test of time… 130 years!)

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