The five bar gate clicked mechanically and satisfyingly into its catch with the slightest closing push as the three of us stood and surveyed the idyllic rural scene.
The meadow was a startling green, lush and in the light summer breeze the surface rippled and shone like the waters of a lake. Small clumps of coarse field grass stood out like small islets and a speckling of yellow came from clusters of buttercups and wild daisies.
Elsie strained at the lead after a rather hot road trip in the car keen to stretch her legs and sample the countryside odours on offer.
The path was well trodden by previous hikers and trippers, a darkened course of flattened foliage leading to another gated opening in a dry stone wall some two hundred metres away.
I looked around, marvelling at the fact that we were the sole beneficiaries of the tranquil scene, the sounds and fragrances.
That should be qualified as human beneficiaries as in the far corner of the field was a tight group of cattle.
They had gone unnoticed because of their docile nature and the general association of cows with ponderous, lazy movement and a rather comical concentration with seeking out another tasty morsel of grazing.
I thought nothing of the cold, hard stare of each and every one of the animals in our direction.
Perhaps we were the first walkers of the day which warranted surveillance. We could easily stray from the defined track and unwittingly trample all over their main dinner. After all it would be like someone coming to our own table and stealing our French fries.
As we reached around a quarter of the way over the distance between the gates the herd began to show some fidgeting motion. The ringleader, a handsome heifer was agitating and cajoling the more reticent amongst his entourage. His head rocked up and down accompanied by a dragging action of his foreleg across the turf. This stirred up the others and in a uniform action the mass of prime beef took to what would be a definite collision course with us.
My wife edged closer to me sensing that something was not quite right in the meadow.
The cattle were now adopting a circling strategy, thinning out into a line and getting progressively nearer. Elsie, ever sensitive to our emotions, stayed in front of us in a show of loyalty and bravery. Her tail was up and her breathing became fast as the adrenalin kicked in. Normally a very placid dog she was showing signs of being fully prepared for a battle.
We were certainly outnumbered and far inferior in momentum and sheer weight. It would be a very unbalanced confrontation if push came to shove.
Rather than defend us it was clear that we would have to protect Elsie because the sole attention of the renegade cows was evidently our shaggy hound.
It was by now very scary indeed.
The transformation of rambling herbivores to murderous fiends had been swift and shocking.
In tight formation we felt that we would, through the supposedly poor vision of the species, present a more formidable foe. This seemed to work to some extent as the herd began to slow and have second thoughts.
That moment of hesitation gave us the opportunity we had hoped for and we struck out for the far gate. A mere and single second head start was enough to give us humans and the canine an escape route.
We did not look back or dare check on where our pursuers were until we had clambered over the wooden gate, passing Elsie over between us like a cherished child.
Even separated by a stout barrier we did not feel totally safe. The cows were still aggressive and deprived of their sport or conquest they began to jostle in a cloud of testosterone and steaming pelts.
Theirs was a look of defiance in what should have been doe-like cow eyes. We were shaken and disturbed by the experience and were glad to be able to take a long and roundabout route back to our starting point.
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