When immoveable object meets irresistable force..

There is something quite special about the language of the country; the mournful 'Maaaa" of sheep joined with the variable sounds the cows make depending on what they want, and of course the never-ending clucking, clacking of the chickens. Even the sound of the new fan-dangled Power Pony which we use for feeding out and fencing.
We have, in the past three weeks, added to our block by way of four Hummels - a Scottish Highland breed of hornless wonders. Two mothers, hopefully in calf and each with an eight month old calf at foot, both of which need separating from their mothers.

They are a noisy bunch, quite happy to bellow out just to say hello as much as they will if they see me with the two big plastic salad bowls in which they know perfectly well I put the molasses-based Moozli they so love. So much so that I am glad they do not have horns; the crunch sounds their heads make with each other and their calves as they battle for the best spot to eat the stuff ensures I stay on the other side of the fence when I feed them! Having said that, it is a good time to do anything with them - Mamie even let the vet push her belly around the other day to see if she was pregnant. As long as she has her Moozli, it appears she'll let you do anything.
These cows are different from our 'normal' beef cattle, with their long hair which they developed as a way to protect themselves from the icy conditions of the Scottish Highlands. While this means that their meat content is a great deal leaner than our average beef cattle and therefore healthier overall to eat, it also means that they get itchy.
In our front paddock, it isn't a problem, as we have an old iron bath tub for a water trough and they learned in five minutes flat that the corners were really excellent for a decent scratch around the head and neck.
But in the far front paddock is the home of Lala's apple tree, a 50-plus year old Albany Beauty heirloom tree. I saw what this quartet were able to do to a willow tree in their previous environment in terms of debarking it, and this was something I didn't want to see happen to this wonderful old tree.
"You need to put a fence up around that tree," I said to Ken, "and I need it done by the end of the week as I'll want to change them into that paddock then."
Off he went to inspect what he had in the way of fencing supplies and I heard the tractor beetling off down the driveway.
He came back about two hours later and told me he had put in the fence. From the deck, a distance of about 150 metres away, it looked sturdy enough with posts and chainlink fence.

So when the the time came to put them all into the next paddock, I was shocked to see the fence sadly sagging within an hour.
"Er... how far did those posts go into the ground?" I asked the fencer of the family.
"Well I couldn't go too far in," he said reasonably "The roots of the apple tree were in the way."
Right. So when a 400kg animal decides she wants to scratch an itch, of course the posts are going to fall over if not properly in the ground.
So he decided that he'd put in steel waratahs as well. Off he went and did that and straightened the posts. All good, as far as he was concerned.
We woke up the next morning and what did we see? That's right, bent waratahs and posts once again sagging inwards.
With a little steam coming out of his ears, back into the paddock went Ken, this time armed with old electric fence tape. The one, in fact, on which he learned that knotted tape won't hold a charge. He knew though that these old girls knew what electric fences were and they didn't touch the ones I put up for strip feeding.
So he straightened the posts and the waratahs and threaded the tape through both.
Cows 2, Ken 1, he thought.
Wrong.
Those old girls obviously know when a fence is charging because next morning, down was the tape, bent were the waratahs and sagged were the posts.
I forebear to say anything at this point because I know, being a mere female, that as it is females who are causing the problem, one more adding her two cents worth isn't going to help matters at all.

Each morning, I hear the Power Pony chugging away as he goes to feed the hay out. Then I hear it beetling off down the driveway and along the road frontage and there is peace and quiet for about half an hour as he sorts out the fence again. He is determined they are not going to beat him, even though the scoreboard looks a little like this: cows 5, Ken 0.
And I now have to add a much more colourful language to that we hear each day. Ken not known for his lack of volubility when things aren't going his way!