Cows and Hens

You may have noticed the photo of two hairy cows. We (my charming husband and I) have somehow built a herd of a dozen Highland cows. I just wanted a Jersey to milk. He said no. Not just no, but definitely no. He'd end up getting up early to milk the cow, I wouldn't be able to find enough uses for the milk. Etc. Ad nauseum.
Unfortunately, he's right.
But he liked the ideas of cows. And since he has a faux Scots background, we ended up with Ceitagh (Katy), Suisdaigh (Susie), Ailenna (Fuzzy Lumpkin), Burger (now living in the deep freeze). Then Rib Roy and Chuck arrived, and last year we had Ceanagh (Kenna), Briannagh (Brianna), and Duncan. Three more were born this year - Eoinn (Owen), Fergus, and Grace. That's a lot of cowshit.
They do look good in the pasture. But they're smart, and they know where the ends of their horns are. So do I - and sometimes they're poking into me.
We also have hens. 25 hens manage to lay an average of 10 eggs a day and totally trash the garden. The black ones are named Florence, the brown ones either Chicken Little or Henny Penny. There's also Beanie, who is a little black hen with a rose comb and gold topknot. And Farrah, the feral brown one who's comb has never grown.
We have alpacas, too. But that's another story.