The Highland Charge

2025

The ground doesn’t shake — but it feels like it should. From the far edge of the field, a shape gathers speed, framed in dust and wind, he comes—cloaked in woollen armour, crowned in curved defiance. The Highland cow, half-shadow and half-legend, strides through the hush like a forgotten king.

You don’t watch him — you witness him. He’s not charging at me, but through something — through time, through instinct, through a world grown too quiet. The muscles ripple beneath that shaggy coat like wind across water. This is nature not tamed, but tolerated.