The book, though enjoyable in its way, was not what I think of as a good book. I thought too much of the 'secret life' was fanciful and not at all credible. And I speak from a point of view of knowledge. I know cows as cows who are not subject to people at all, I've been observing 'wild' ones for decades, mostly in my garden where they eat what they fancy every now and again. (They like psychedelic magic mushrooms but I've not seen if they get high or not on them). Cows are not farmed in farms here, the farmer lets the gardens of the whole island feed them and they just cull the baby bulls, the cows are free to live out their lives until old age weakens them, then they too go to the abbatoir.
The author has a farm where the animals are allowed to live more or less as they like until they go to the butcher. This last is referred to very briefly as in, Kite Farm is a beef farm. The rest of the time the animals are referred to in more or less the same way as people and as if they are going to live out their long lives until old age takes them. Perhaps this is true of the animals the author talks about, but what about the rest?
I take serious exception to an author saying they are writing a book about the true nature of cows and their intelligence, personalities and decision-making ability as animals but then writes that cows huddle in a corner together to discuss an impending birth, the older cow giving advice to the younger one. Really? There was too much anthropomorphising in the book. Just because an animal is intelligent in it's own way doesn't make it like a human.
As a pragmatist I have no belief whatsoever in spiritualism or magic, however you present it and homeopathy is ridiculous. Diluting a substance 'like' the disease in water so many times by shaking it in a 'special' way until not a scientifically-discernable atom of the substance is seen, works either as a placebo, or the subject gets better anyway, or a fault in perception.
We do, however, applaud the finer points of homeopathic diagnosis. For example, a sweet-natured cow might be prescribed one preparation while a bad-tempered one would be offered something totally unrelated for the same condition. This illustrates graphically that homeopathy recognises and treats animals as individuals.
She also writes, "Somehow she managed to negotiate the steep flight of a dozen narrow, Cotswoldstone steps up to the granary and early one frosty-cold morning we watched her come out onto the top step, yawn and look around to see if it was worth getting up – i.e. coming down. She had spent the night in great comfort on the wooden granary floor, away from mud and draughts and bullying. We had left the granary door open because we knew that no bovine could possibly climb the steps. Subsequently she taught two friends the same trick and we used to put hay and water upstairs for them.
I have about ten wide steps from the front to the back 'garden' (rainforest bush). The cows go up and down them with ease. The author thinks that because she has never observed something before it must be something that is unique and a sign of intelligence.
Cows usually in twos or threes will move off if you shout at them and move menacingly towards them as they eat your lettuces, marigolds and everything else. But if there are a dozen or more, they just sit there and stare insolently at you, they don't leave until they are ready. Cows also have a very good sense of how long it takes things to grow. They don't come back every week, they just turn up when everything is growing nicely and you are lulled (yet again) into a feeling that the cows have given up on your place. They haven't, they're biding their time.
When I grew up there was a bull in the field next to the school all by himself, we were all frightened of it. But here the bulls are different. Baby bulls are killed for beef, but not cows, and not a few breeding bulls. They are always part of a herd, and the herd is led by the biggest, probably oldest, female, never the bull. Baby cows will trot off slowly if you approach them, baby bulls will run, even teenage, pre-abbatoir ones, they are all scaredy cats.
I think the most beautiful thing I've ever seen with cows, is two that were in love. I saw them every day driving my son to school. They lived on a mountain, part of a small herd, they never strayed far. The cow was the leader of the herd and she and the bull were always together, never more than a yard or two apart. They were often rubbing their flanks together, or one of them licking the other. Mostly they would stand, touching, just grazing, their tails flicking each other's backs. If that isn't love I don't know what is?
A diversion, what wild chickens are really like. The author does get it more or less right about chickens and it is exceptionally cruel to keep them in cages. Right now my son has a flock of 3 that kind of like me, but not as much as him. On every Caribbean island there are a lot of chickens. On the richer ones they are just used as kitchen disposal units. They live around restaurants, hotels, anywhere there is food, no one eats them. When my son goes out in the morning, up come Hiss, Cackle and Cluck (they make different noises) and they run in front of him to his car where he always keeps stale bread. I feed them on dry cat food which they don't like quite so much. One of them is very bold and will eat from your hand. One of them is very aggressive and one of them more shy and you have to throw food at her for the others not to beat her to it.
There are two sorts of relationships chickens form, that I have seen over the years. Most of them live in flocks. But some of them get "married". You see a rooster (who are much noiser and much, much shyer than the hens, a bit like bulls and cows) and a hen walking together, and they are not part of a flock. I had a pair in my bar for a few years. There is a pair up here too. They are always together. Sometimes they are joined by a third, sometimes by a whole flock of little ones, but then after a while they will be just a pair again. This goes on for years.
A hen recently lost its under-a-week old chicks into a drainage grating that was about 12" deep and ran across the road. She was marching up and down making a lot of noise so we went to see what it was. We poked with sticks and got out three whom she fussed over. But we couldn't get out the fourth. She was quite frantic. Next morning when we came to work, the hen with three chicks was still there marching up and down clucking and crying mournfully, her chick now dead under the grating. I don't know how long she mourned for, she was gone by lunchtime.
Battery-farming such creatures is killing their natures.
It is a short book and there is a lot of padding. Lists 20 points long, saying things like, 'cows nurse grudges, cows take umbrage, cows can be unpredictable, cows can be dependable" with similar lists for pigs, sheep and hens are just filler and don't impress.
It wasn't an awful book, it read in part like propaganda for expensive locavore eating and to show how compassionate farming can be profitable, which is laudable. Because of that I rounded 1.5 stars up to 2.
Rewritten 5 Dec 2021