About a month ago a small herd of heifers (and one or two steers) grazed the car park at the end of No. 1 Line. In the manner of all adolescent cattle, they couldn't restrain their curiosity, and checked me out — nervously, of course. I'd biked there, so I stood very still, leaning against my bike, while they gathered round. Eventually, the bravest one, or the most curious, came close enough to dab its muzzle on my hand. It wasn't this one, though.