A week after my thought-provoking interaction with a herd of cattle,
I witnessed an interesting overture of friendship between two non-human mammals: my dog Rosie and a ram.

​The dog and I were walking in Wakapuaka Cemetery, a cool and lovely retreat on a hot summer’s day with banks of purple agapanthus in bloom, and a view over the sea and the Boulder Bank. 

A flock of sheep were grazing in a field behind a double wire fence. All of the sheep - except a big ram - moved nervously up the hillside at our approach.

​My dog seemed quietly interested in the ram and so I allowed her - still on her lead - to sniff her way towards it. 
​The ram watched the dog for a moment, and then to my great surprise, leaned awkwardly down on one shoulder so he could get closer to the dog.  

​My dog responded by calmly putting her head through the wire of the fence and touching the ram's nose with her own. The two animals communed through the fence like that for a long, long time, noses touching, exchanging breaths. 

It wasn’t until I found myself to be the subject of the frank, inquisitive gaze of a herd of cattle, that I realised how casually I assume that I am always the observer, not the observed, the watcher not the watched. 

At the time, I was walking with my kind ex-husband around the perimeter of his small piece of rural paradise in Mahana which he’s planted entirely in trees, including sugar maples.

Our ramble began in deep tree-shade. Drifts of fallen leaves and pine needles crunched under our feet. Then, as  we reached the back fence-line we stepped from shadow into sunlight and a bucolic landscape worthy of a Constable painting: a gently rolling patchwork of fields, small clusters of trees, the roofs of half-hidden houses and farm sheds, and tracks created by the movement of animals and humans over generations.

A small herd of young steers grazed in the neighbouring field. We paused taking in this appealingly domesticated landscape which, for us, included these handsome, sturdy animals. And then almost imperceptibly, the cattle stopped being simply part of the landscape ...