My American friend shrieks when she first stumbles upon one. With the hilltop ruins of Ruthven Barracks rising behind them, the horned beasts look like relics from a fierce Highland past. But if they’re not with a calf, there’s nothing to fear: Highland cows are gentle souls. These ones turn their shaggy, ginger heads to us, large doe eyes half-hidden by a tumble of fringe, their maws chewing sloppily on sweet summer grass. They obligingly pose for photos, allow a pat.
So charming and Instagrammable are these beasts that one could be forgiven for suspecting they are strategically deployed by VisitScotland. But their origins have nothing to do with tourism. Called Bò Ghàidhealach – the Gaelic cow – or Heilan coo in Scots, they are natives of the north-west of Scotland. Their long coats, which also come in fetching colourways of black, blonde and brindled, have an oily upper layer for repelling rain and a downy under layer for warmth.
