A Giclee Print Featuring Aberdeen Angus Calves.
A Limited Edition of 395 Prints Made in Our Own Studios and Available in Three Sizes
Reproduced on Hahnemuhle German Etching Paper. AND, below is a short story about the bull one of these wee guys might one day become...
Angus and Mrs Partridge
The day was hot, far too hot. Angus was lying in the shade of his favourite oak tree, thinking. He was thinking about the things a big, black Aberdeen Angus bull thinks about when the sun appears over Meikle Wartle for more than two days in a row. Things like lying in a cooling river, or standing under a huge waterfall, or sticking his head underwater and wondering why so many tadpoles were holidaying in his trough. But, now that he was thinking about holidays, he'd heard the farmer's wife say Pitlochry was nice. So he quite fancied a visit there. But then he remember a story about the last bull who got all excited in Pitlochry - and the police shot him. So, nice as the place may be... his own field had all the amenities required: a big shady tree, an antique concrete trough, good fences, a quality five-bar gate, and lots of space... oh, and grass - lots of grass. So why would he ever need to go to Pitlochry - and get shot?
It was around this point in the afternoon when Angus realised he was bored, so he needed something to take his mind off holidaying abroad. He stood up, shook off the dust, and decided to go see how Mrs Partridge was getting on.
Mrs Partridge had built her nest in a clump of nettles in the middle of his field, and she'd been tidying up since... she'd been tidying up for so many days that Angus had lost count. He was keeping an eye on her because she was due to lay her first egg any day. He was so excited. He was excited because, although he'd missed the birth of every one of his own seven hundred and fifty-three youngsters, he wanted Mrs Partridge to know that - this time - he'd be there for her. This time - he was the guy. This time she had back-up - definitely... unless there were any... any messy complications, or he felt faint. Other than that - unless somebody else turned up first - he'd be there.
As he arrived by Mrs Partridge's patch of nettles, he snorted gently so as not to startle her. He'd done that the first time they met – startled her. He had coughed and she came out of that tussock of grass like a... like a startled partridge, and exploded into the sky just like startled partridges do when they're... startled. And that startled him, which was the only reason he jumped so high, which startled the fox, which startled the rabbit that ran across the road, startling the driver, and... it really was a day he'd rather forget. So that was the reason he always snorted gently, so as not to trigger another unfortunate chain of events. So after doing his little snort, he poked his nose into the nettles and said good day.
Mrs Partridge was tugging on an untidy piece of dried grass. She looked up and apologised for her home being such a mess, then added that she hoped the weather would hold, because...
Angus waited... then, still waiting to hear what Mrs Partridge's 'because' was, decided to give himself something to do while - still waiting. So he wretched, brought up some cud, and began chewing. But Mrs Partridge had moved on. She didn't say what her because was, because she was now circling her nest trying to find just the right place for her new piece of grass. Eventually, she set it down beside another piece of grass she'd tidied earlier, then stood back, tutted, and said she was very busy tidying, so couldn't talk all day.
Angus, understanding the stresses involved prior to giving birth (some of which he knew could be psychological), realised that Mrs Partridge had probably now forgotten she said a because, so he just agreed with her about the weather, and left it at that.
By this time, Mrs Partridge had found another unruly piece of grass. This piece was green. She tutted again, folded the long blade back onto itself, tucked it into the undergrowth, then paused. She looked up at Angus and explained she was very busy, so she couldn't talk all day, because... and she hoped the weather would hold.
Angus nodded, swallowed his cud then heaved up a new lot and stood quietly, watching and munching. But just when everything seemed to be in order inside Mrs Partridge's nest, she discovered a very short and very untidy piece of string. She lifted the string and laid it carefully beside the grass she'd just tidied. Then she picked up the string and moved it to the other side of the grass. Then, just when everything at last looked ship-shape, Mrs Partridge spotted a tiny piece of straw in the wrong place. So she picked it up and laid it beside a twig – then picked up the string again.
Angus had never watched a partridge's nest being tidied before, or was this actually decorating? He wasn't sure. But if this was tidying that was decorating, he never realised decorating was so complicated. This also explained why the farmer's wife got a man in to do her upstairs. He had a little white van and a ladder. But Angus was impressed with Mrs Partridge's work ethic, her attention to detail, and her down-right hard work. The only thing she lacked, he felt, was the ability to project manage - and decide where string went.
Just then, Mrs Partridge gently settled herself into her nest. She puffed, then shuffled, then puffed and shuffled again, moving herself around until she was facing the opposite direction. She placed her string neatly on the edge of her nest, then looked up at Angus and said she hoped the weather would hold, but she couldn't talk all day, because... Then she tugged out a tiny weed, stood up, turned in a circle and laid it carefully beside a little pebble.
But, standing out in all that sunshine, Angus had become way too hot. It was the sort of hot that any bull standing in a field near Meikle Wartle may well describe as excessive. So he told Mrs Partridge he liked her nest, but was off to his trough to drink a tadpole, then head back to the shade of his tree. Mrs Partridge hopped to the other end of her nest, turned around and said she was sorry the place was such a mess. Then she pecked at a small beetle, swallowed it, and said she was very busy.
Later that afternoon, Angus was dreaming in the shade of his tree. He was dreaming dreams of cool mountain rivers, cascading waterfalls and the lovely mud under his water-trough. But a noise down by the farmhouse caused him to prick up his ears. He prised one eye open - it was the man with the little white van - and the ladder. Angus rose to his feet, stretched his muscles, then he wandered towards his gate by the farmhouse.
The farmer's wife was laughing. She pushed the man back against the van and said she'd be over at her place in Spain again on Tuesday, and maybe they could... Angus didn't hear any more because the man had chased the farmer's wife into the farmhouse. But the mention of Spain was interesting. Angus had never been to Spain. But he knew it must be somewhere further south, probably near Stonehaven, because every time the farmer's wife came back - she had a suntan. So maybe he could go to Spain one day, just to see what it was like.
But now it was getting late, so he wandered back to the oak tree and settled down in the dust. He smiled and thought how wonderful it would be when Mrs Partridge's little partridges began scooting around in the grass. They could play tag, run races, and his favourite game of all - hide and seek.
As Angus drifted off, he once again began dreaming... dreaming of the things Aberdeen Angus bulls dream of when the sun sinks low over Meikle Wartle. Things like lying in a river, or standing under a waterfall, or maybe even an afternoon visit to Spain. Because, as far as this black bull was concerned, Spain sounded a much safer place for an afternoon out than Pitlochry.
SKU: 1145