“I remember feeling I was about to die,” says Jill Gilmore. She and her husband, Mark, were walking their dog, Finnegan, in the Stockport area and had just climbed over a stile on a public footpath. Jill was slightly ahead, with Finnegan on a short lead, when a group of cows appeared. “It was just instant,” she says: the herd of 20 or 30 cows attacked her, butting her to the ground. She doesn’t remember the details, just snippets: hooves coming down on her and an acceptance that she was dying. “I had kind of relaxed,” she says. “Then Mark came up to me and just absolutely shouted at me to get up. He helped me up, got my arms around his neck.” He tried to get them hurriedly out of the field, dragging her under a gap in the fence, conscious the cows could attack again. She finds it easier to talk about than Mark does, she says. “He actually witnessed it.” She told him to leave her to die, he says.
The cows had broken both sides of Gilmore’s pelvis, 12 ribs and two bones in her neck and her arm, her lungs were damaged and she had head and ankle injuries. She underwent three days of surgery and spent two weeks in intensive care (“the worst part,” she says), for 10 days of which she was on a ventilator. After that came three months of hospital rehab, much of it with a “massive external fixator on my pelvis, like a scaffolding frame”, which meant she could not move or even roll independently. “My dignity was really taken away from me.”
Gilmore had to learn to walk again; she can no longer ride a bike and has aches, pains and scars. “I’ll never be a swimsuit model again,” she says, laughing. But she considers herself lucky: the surgeon told her she would have died if she had been alone when it happened. She was luckier than Brian Bellhouse, who was killed by cows in 2017, and Malcolm Flynn, David Clark and Michael Holmes, who were all killed in 2020 (Holmes’ wife Teresa was paralysed from the waist down in the incident), or Kathy McKellar and Huw Evans, who were killed in 2022.
Gilmore is far from alone in receiving life-changing injuries from attacks by cows. Libby James, a farmer’s daughter described as a “cow whisperer” by her walking group, was attacked and suffered multiple broken ribs, concussion, a smashed jaw and dislodged teeth, as she explained on the Jeremy Vine show last year. She spent 10 days in hospital and was diagnosed with PTSD after the attack. Janicke Tvedt suffered “seven broken ribs, hoof marks on her chest and legs, a broken thumb, and life-changing severe internal injuries that required emergency surgery,” according to the Health and Safety Executive (HSE), which prosecuted the farmer whose cows were involved.
There is something particularly shocking about members of the public – most often walkers using public footpaths – being killed or severely injured in cow attacks, but farmers are also victims: cattle are the most common cause of accidental death in the UK agricultural industry. Are they the most dangerous animals in Britain? Figures published by the Office for National Statistics show dogs were responsible for 16 deaths in England and Wales between 2019 and 2023; the calculation periods and geographical areas are not identical, but HSE statistics for some of those years, combined with evidence to the Agriculture Industry Advisory Committee, show that from March 2019 to March 2023, cattle were responsible for 22 deaths in England, Scotland and Wales – of farm workers and members of the public. So, possibly?
Deaths are just part of the picture. According to the HSE, 257 cattle incidents (including fatalities, injuries and concerns) were reported from 2015 to 2021 (it was unable to provide data on more recent years). David Clarke of Cows (Cows on Walkers Safety, a small group of walkers who campaign to raise awareness of the dangers posed by cattle) thinks that represents very significant underreporting. In its most recent roundup of cattle incidents reported through the group’s Killer Cows website since July 2017, its data tallied 889 incidents in England and Wales.
Clarke became involved in campaigning after he was trampled by a group of 24 cows in 2014, while he was walking with his dog, Merlin, on a Yorkshire footpath. The cows were out of sight when Clarke entered the field; then he spotted them. “I thought: I don’t want to walk through the middle of them, I’ll go around the edge.” There wasn’t time. “They got up, looked at me, started looking a bit agitated and then they just went for me. It wasn’t a gentle amble; they were Usain Bolt. They all went over me and one went over my dog.” Merlin, who was on a short lead and under control in accordance with the Countryside Code, was killed. Clarke managed to get to the edge of the field and attracted attention to get help; the cows were still encircling him. “It’s a strange feeling,” he says. “You don’t actually think: ‘God, I’m scared’, you just think: ‘How do I get out of this?’” He was airlifted to hospital, and operated on the same day for a lacerated liver.
It is a picture at odds with the image I have of cows: docile, touchingly fond of giant brushes (YouTube videos show them scratching in ecstasy); and, according to Rosamund Young’s lovely book The Secret Life of Cows, very much individuals with their own characters and complex emotions. Last year, I spent an idyllic afternoon at Dumble Farm in East Yorkshire, where Fiona Wilson, her husband and brother have partially converted the family dairy farm into a cow-cuddling “experience”. Lying in the hay, resting my head on a black-and-white dairy cross named Soft Face, a warm, vast, deeply calm presence, was truly relaxing: I wasn’t scared for a second. “As an individual they’re quite a gentle animal,” Wilson says, but she explains their operation required very careful planning, risk assessment and five months of training for the cows, who are handled only at their calmest time of day (lunchtime, after a silage feed). Wilson gives visitors a detailed safety briefing and she is well aware of the risk cattle can pose: “I always say to people, cows aren’t polite; they move through you, rather than around you. If a cow comes towards you, get out the way.”
Why are there so many incidents, injuries, even deaths? For a start, cows are gigantic: the average weight of a UK dairy cow is 620kg (98st). “Even a gentle knock from a cow can result in people being crushed or falling,” Wayne Owen, the HSE’s principal inspector, says in a statement. “I don’t think they realise their own size,” says Wilson. “They walk past with their heads, not considering the width of the body coming behind them; they push you out of the way.” And they move as a herd: “If one runs, it’s very likely the rest will start to run as well.”
Adding dogs to the equation seems to increase the risk, presumably because cows perceive them as a threat. “If you have dog or dogs with you, it is a higher risk,” says livestock behaviourist Miriam Parker, who has worked with the HSE on trampling incidents. University of Liverpool research in 2017, based on 54 media reports of attacks over a 20-year period, found dogs were present in two-thirds of incidents and 94% of fatal incidents, though the sample size is small. For my Guardian colleague Christophe Gowans, his dog definitely seemed to be a target. This summer, Gowans was part of a group of four walkers on the North Downs Way, with two dogs on leads, when he found himself surrounded by a group of cows; he shouted to scare them back, then made for the nearest corner of the field. “I had the quite surreal experience of looking over my shoulder and seeing about 20 cows all herded together and kind of charging, basically,” he says. “They were pretty much hellbent on getting to the dog.” He was knocked to the ground (“I imagine I was head-butted”) and could see one of the cows was focused on the dog. “I heard my wife shouting: ‘Let the dog go’, and that was clearly sensible.” He was able to get to the perimeter of the field with his wife and brother-in-law, who had also been knocked over, but they became surrounded by the cows who had managed to get through a fence. The fourth member of their group, who also had a dog on a lead, went to get help. She returned with the farmer, but the cows “barrelled past him and knocked her over. She got a broken arm and concussion involving memory loss.” Gowans suffered a fractured ankle.
In other cases, the dog’s part is less clear: Gilmore’s dog, Finnegan, was “completely calm” and stayed close without attracting any attention from the cows as they continued to attack her. “They weren’t interested in the dog.” James’s dog was with her husband, who was not targeted; in fact, the dog was able to clear a path through the cows to allow her husband to rescue her. Cows’ data suggests that the bigger picture, taking in less serious attacks, is more nuanced: 52% of reports to the website did not involve a dog.
The presence of young calves is a known risk factor: cows seeking to defend their young are likely to be more reactive; HSE guidance for farmers suggests: “If possible, use fields or areas not used by the public when cattle are calving or have calves at foot, especially during periods of greater public use, eg school holidays.” But space is at a premium for many farmers, and there may not always be other options.
So what, if anything, can be done to minimise the risk? It’s tricky. More clarity on the extent and severity of the problem would be a good start: there is no centralised reporting system and database of cattle attacks (the HSE tell me members of the public can report incidents through its customer support team). That is something Cows would like to see (in the meantime, it welcomes reports on the website). Gilmore, who joined the group after her experience, thinks the nearly 900 reports it has received are just “the tip of the iceberg”. The group would also like to see cattle fenced off or kept away from public footpaths, but is conscious that can be difficult, costly or even impossible. “It’s not about saying: ‘We want this; we want that; all farmers must do this’ – it’s just about opening a debate,” Gilmore says. Clarke, who is from a farming background, says: “We’re not anti-farmer as a group. It’s got to be done with cooperation.”
There seems to be a tension, too, between some of the recommendations of best practice for farmers – providing warning signage when cows are in fields with footpaths, and offering alternative routes – and walkers groups’ desire to ensure rights of way are respected. Gowans says the farmer whose cattle were involved in the attack he experienced told him that, “they put signs up at pertinent times of year and they’re almost immediately torn down”. Gilmore says diverting paths to avoid livestock is a sensitive subject too. “A lot of walkers are very against that, because these are ancient pathways.”
So what’s left? Exercising extreme caution, really. “I’m going to be extremely circumspect about how I go out and about in the future,” says Gilmore. Wilson says when she is walking in a field, “I always make sure – and I know cows – I’m between the cows and the fence so I can get out of the way if something happens”. The Ramblers says its advice to walkers is: “If you are walking through a field of cattle, give the herd space and walk around them, even if this means leaving the path. It’s best to walk around the herd, as you should never split calves from their mothers.” The National Farmers’ Union also only offers a brief statement, advising: “There are simple ways that people can remain safe and vigilant, such as not walking in between a calf and a cow, as well as keeping dogs under effective control and in sight on leads around animals.” The Countryside Code’s advice remains to let go of the lead if you feel threatened by cattle.” The HSE’s advice to the public is similar.
But some people who have been attacked did everything “right”. “At first we were a little bit embarrassed or ashamed; was it something we did wrong?” says Gilmore. “But talking to other people, no. We don’t think that at all.” However careful you are, a cow is half a tonne of hooved herd animal. “There is a degree of risk we cannot eliminate,” Parker says. As Clarke puts it: “Keep in the back of your mind, as I do, the Mike Tyson quip: ‘Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.’”
How to stay safe in a field of cows
Be alert: keep an eye out for any signage warning of cows on your route.
Give cattle space: don’t walk through a herd and never separate cows from calves (stay clear of calves altogether).
You are allowed to leave a footpath to walk around cows, according to the Ramblers Association. Position yourself so cattle are not between you and your nearest exit route.
Walk – don’t run – through fields with cows quickly and quietly and avoid sudden movements or using your phone. Unfamiliar sounds are stressful for cattle so stay quiet and calm. If you panic, or run from them, they may also start running.
If you are walking with a dog, keep it under close control – ideally on a lead – and away from cattle. But let your dog off the lead if you feel threatened: it will be easier for both of you to get away.
If cows run towards you, don’t try and confront them: get yourself to a safe place.
Once you’re safely home, report problems with cattle to the local authority and the Health and Safety Executive with as much detail on the location and what happened as possible.
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