Heeland Coo

(Image courtesy of the Highland Cattle Society.)

While my own family doesn't do too much regarding its Scots roots, apart from turning out in clan tartan ties and skirts at various holiday dinners, my God-parents and their family are a completely different case. All of them have very Scots Christian names. They fly the St. Andrews Cross. They turn out in full kit, including kilt, dirk and all the rest of it, for various formal occasions. They've been participating in Highland Games and Fairs for donkeys' years. The son plays the pipes and his sisters used to do sword dances. For as long as I can remember, they've used Burns' Selkirk Grace at meals. And, perhaps the capstone on their Caledoniphilia, they own about eight or ten head of Highland Cattle.

Positively prehistoric looking thing, isn't it? In fact, their temperment isn't really all that different from any other cow. But there is something about that shaggy, ageless look that always makes me especially cautious around them. You can't see their eyes, so you're never totally sure what they're thinking. And I sure wouldn't want to make a mistake and get on the receiving end of one of those prongs.