Bullish Behaviour

Bullish Behaviour

Do you ever get those moments when you think to yourself, 'perhaps I shouldn't have done that'? Or 'that was a bit risky', but life wouldn't be as exciting if I wouldn't have done it? Or even 'I wasn't expecting that', but if it wouldn't have happened, I would be none the wiser now. I believe that in these moments of reflection, there is always something to learn.

I had one of those moments today when I took my 3 girls and my brother's German Shepherd dog to the local playground where my parents live in Wales. After about 10 minutes of running around, enjoying ourselves and getting the dog to play fetch, my 11 year old said she was bored!  Oh my goodness, we were only half way through the girls' summer holidays and my eldest was already complaining that she was bored.

"I know let's take the dog for a walk across the fields, that will be exciting," I exclaimed. "We can walk across the Monkey Bridge and play in the river like I used to as a child."

My 9 year old and 5 year old seemed excited by this prospect. My 11 year old sulkily dragged herself along, looking as though this may have been marginally better than the playground.

We started off well. As we approached the narrow, wooden, single track bridge, my 5 year old eyes lit up.

"This is exciting Mummy," she confirmed, with the vibrancy of a child who was about to go on an amazing fair ride.

The dog and girls played in the river and had lots of fun.  Not content to stay in one place for too long, I encouraged my children to follow the public footpaths along the fields, so we could enjoy some of the Welsh countryside. We put the dog back on the lead, walked through a field with sheep. They were fortunately grazing at the top end (my brother's dog pulls like a cart horse and I knew that she and I would be up the top end of the field in no time at all if she felt like it). To my relief, the next field was clear of animals. We admired a herd of cows. They were on the other side of the river and noted how different they looked to the Bali cows, which look more like bambis compared to the thick set Welsh cows. As we continued to walk along the edge of the field, the cows in the other fields were on the move and heading in the direction of the river. Suddenly and much to my surprise these cows were not only able to cross the river, they entered the same field as us.

"Mummy why are all those cows coming into the same field as us?" my eldest asked.

"We'll be ok," I re-assured my daughters, "They're only female milking cows." The size of their udders and swaying stomachs looked big enough to feed the whole of Wales.

The girls wanted to know how I knew they were female cows. While thinking that schools should explain this and reluctantly giving a mini biology lesson, I noticed that the smaller cows didn't have udders and were bullocks! I was becoming a little more alarmed, especially when one big black cow started to walk in our direction and gave us an angry look that instantly reminded me of an old woman from my childhood days who had a scowl that would scare off a vampire. Perhaps she had come back to haunt me.

"Just stay still," I advised my girls. "At least there isn't a bull in the field." I cheerily noted.

It was one of those moments where I was outwardly pretending to be calm and was starting to panic underneath. The actor Michael Caine sums up this feeling well:

"Be like a duck. Calm on the surface, but always paddling like the dickens underneath."


We waited patiently and considered going back in the direction we came from, but fortunately for us, the black cow lost interest and moved on up the field with the other cows. Finally, the long trail of at least 30 cows seemed to come to an end, when out from the river and the trees, sauntered the biggest, fattest bull I have ever seen. He was a beautiful, blonde colour and swaggered stiffly as though he had fathered too many calves.

"Mummy, why hasn't that cow got udders?" the girls asked.

"That's because it isn't a cow," I hesitated. "It's a bull .......stand very still so that he doesn't see us."

"But Mummy, you're wearing a red top!" My 9 year old clearly pointed out to me.

As I looked down at my top, not only was it bright red, it had thick red and white horizontal stripes that were enough to give a bull migraine. I was the proverbial red rag to a bull and didn't feel in the mood to play matador. I froze to the spot hoping he wouldn't notice us, inspite of holding a fidgeting dog who happened to be blissfully sniffing the bushes on her extended, long lead. Luckily for us he was more interested in the females ahead of him and he stiffly followed them up the steep field like a bull's version of John Wayne.

The girls and I gingerly walked along the edge of the field. The girls, who were wearing three quarter length trousers, complained bitterly about the stinging nettles and I was quick to inform them that a nettle rash was far less painful than mosquito bites that itch and blister for days afterwards.  At last, we climbed the gate to the field and made it to safety along a country lane.

"Can we go to a bar now," my 9 year old piped up, as if there would miraculously be a bar in the middle of the Welsh countryside!

"We're in Wales now, not Bali," I exclaimed. "You don't get bars in the middle of the fields!"

For my daughters, the perils of the Welsh countryside seem to exceed the perils of the poisonous snakes and pesky mosquitoes in the tropics! I'm glad we went on our Monkey Bridge walk, even though it unexpectedly required some bullish behaviour. As Michael Caine says:-

"I started with the firm conviction that when I came to the end, I wanted to be regretting the things that I had done, not the things I hadn't."

What are you glad you have done, even though it may have required some bullish behaviour or what can you do more of so there are no regrets?

For more information about our one to one coaching or team training contact NoLimits by clicking on the link on this blog page.

Janet