PERMISSIVE STAMPEDE... (A scary walk near Knowle, Warwickshire in August 2012...)

 Permissive Stampede…

Staring, glaring even,

Their mild expressions

Through persistent rain

Created impressions.

Interested, fascinated even,

Then a chilling, perceptive strain.

Hardly permissive…

Mocking, blocking even,

Their herding propensity,

Through insistent disruption

Created curiosity.

Interlopers, threats even,

Then a milling, deceptive interception.

Barely permissive…

Stepping down from a footbridge,

Spanning the gushing River Blythe,

We forced the cattle to judder and stutter

And shuffle and doubt and uncomfortably writhe.

The watchful cows parted, we gingerly stepped

Into their damp, sodden field

But a gang mentality soon kicked in

And a previously hidden bull was revealed.

Nervously, slowly, we encroached through soaked cud

But cows closed in however, pressing en masse;

So, hiding behind the greys of a golfing umbrella,

 We retraced the boot-flattened grass.

The mob turned too and I noticed a ring

Through the umber bull’s splattered nose,

As I covered the forced yet cagily unhurried retreat

And the herd’s bestiality jostled and an unpleasant menace arose…

I stood on the concrete steps of a footbridge then,

Out of the herd’s seemingly predatory reach,

As a mud-strewn bog at a nearby stile

Proved worryingly awkward to breach.

I stood like a preacher, a brolly my bible

And goaded my massed congregation

Which bridled at my fire and brimstone sermon,

A profane but surreal pastoral revelation…

Blinking, shrinking even,

Their confused reaction

 Brought an unlikely defeat,

Created indignation,

Incomprehension, fear even,

 At our thrilling aggressive retreat.

Route permissive?

I lowered my large, wet umbrella,

Shook it at the intimidating horde

And as mists of raindrops sprayed like ammunition,

The creatures flinched, half-turned, in accord.

I took my cue and made more of a show,

The brolly was more like a Gatling gun,

Firing bullets of drizzle at the lowing troop

Until the herd turned as one and began to run…

Snorting, stampeding even,

Their sudden disappearance

Brought a tactical wrath,  

Created dominance,

Indescribable pleasure, even,

 At a chilling riverside path.

Non-permissive…

THE LIFE-SAVING UMBRELLA, MOMENTS AFTER THE CATTLE HAD RETREATED...

Pete Ray

This happened on a walk around the Knowle area, Warwickshire, in August 2012.. 

It was raining. 

There were two routes along Elvers Green Lane, which was partially flooded and the longer route was taken which included, according to the map 

provided, a ‘Permissive Path’. 

However, the herd of cows in a field beyond a metal footbridge was not permissive. Not at all… 

A solitary bull had maybe whipped up the storm of unpleasantness and tension present but to 

gang-hassle ramblers seemed a trifle mean. 

My golfing umbrella saved the day really and I still can’t understand how a shaking brolly was able to turn an intimidating herd into a stampeding horde. 

THE STAMPEDE BEGINS...

It was scary, then exciting, then a damned relief though…