My sixth form friends and I enjoyed saying ‘horned beastie’ so we applied the description to anything that might qualify. It provoked the parachutes of laughter that rewarded the slightest of quips.
For practical reasons, we were forced to extend ‘horned beasties’ well beyond the normal range of deer, rams or gnus which were in short supply in and around the ROSLA block. Typically, they were much smaller beasties, including some so small that we could barely see if they had any head ornaments to speak of. Antennae amply qualified, so the alarm call, ‘There’s a horned beastie on you!’, might be an alert for a wasp or an earwig (the alternative would have been truly alarming).
Were we fortunate enough to spot a lap dog wearing a wobbling headband – a red sequin ladybird bopper, say – or a teacher in a cow costume or a halloween devil, our delight at being able to deploy the term was beyond measure.
Perhaps because of those days, seeing a horned beastie that would qualify for the most stringent definition is always a thrill, even when the several of the best-equipped beasties you’ve seen for some time are walking towards you.
Luckily a very sturdy hedgerow stood between them and us, with a barred gate to see over. And they were more preoccupied with each other.
While this picture uncomfortably seems to presage battles over resources, water and power being callously weaponised right now, in the relative safety of the Lancashire countryside back in midsummer, this meeting of minds worked out OK.
No horned beastie was harmed. The others drifted away leaving the one with the ring in its nose standing triumphant over an empty bath.
Every tousle serenely stayed where nature set it – dangling over the eyes.
Inspired by Becky’s WalkingSquares
Susan Rushton 
You have photos of coos….they are my favourite 🙂
I’m happy to set your soul singing.
I love a horned beastie, and you’ve kept Brian Bushboy happy too.
That’s an added bonus.
Phew, glad to read no beastie was harmed. Wonderful set of pictures, but the last one is especially good. I love the impertinent expression. As for the term “horned beastie”…I just might have to borrow that. 😉
He’s a handsome beast. Please do adopt ‘horned beastie’. It’s hard to use without a smile.
Beautiful beasts they are.
Noble creatures and very hardy too, by all accounts.
I love “parachute of laughter,” and it so well describes the carrying-on of girls who know each other well. I’m glad you mentioned the barricade between you and the beasties because I was beginning to feel as though they were getting a little close. Whether they were curious or miffed I couldn’t tell. Great photos, though, and a good story to go with them!
It was co-ed, so not all girls. I think they were quietly optimistic, thinking we had brought something to replenish their bath. A cow can always hope.
I might have to adopt that as a guiding light: a cow can always hope. Words to inspire. I’ll be laughing at that all day.
I’ll be happy to imagine your laughter.
Good choice for ‘horned beastie’!
Nobody can deny these horns… can they?
Fabulous horned beasties, but I wouldn’t want to get any closer!
There is a field of alpacas you can walk through nearby, or at least there was until they rerouted the public right of way. I have braved the alpacas more than once (and they are very curious) but draw a line at these.
oh I adore this post, both your writing and the photos . . . and as for the horned beasties, what stars
They’re little sweethearts, of the massive kind.
What a fun story and great photos of the ultimate horned beasties. 🙂
I wished I’d had a macro of an earwig to share too when writing this, but sadly, not.
😄 I can readily imagine one since my garden is full of those!
Gorgeous portraits 😀 😀
They were patient models.