This week’s #writephoto prompt is

‘What do we have, Dumbbell?’ Inspector Mervin Plectrum shuffled awkwardly into the small wooden hide and nodded his thanks as a small constable gave him some binoculars.

‘Just one, the rest are across the river.’ Sergeant Percival Dumbbell twisted to stop his thigh chaffing.

‘Stalking horse?’

Dumbbell shot his boss a glance. ‘It’s a cow, sir.’ He checked through the eye slot. ‘Though it could be an elaborate disguise.’

‘Figure of speech, Dumbbell, but it’s worth checking we’re not being trojanned.’

Dumbbell squinted at the supping Frisian. ‘You think it’s full of small horses?’

‘What?’

‘If it’s a Trojan cow.’

‘Shall we not get sidetracked, Sergeant.’

Dumbbell relaxed. ‘Not a problem, sir. Only one way in.’

‘Sorry?’

‘No sidetracks, sir.’

Plectrum let go a long sigh. He knew accepting a post with the Organised Agricultural Terrorism section had been a bad idea. ‘How many are there?’

‘With or without the stalking Trojan, sir?’

‘Just one number will do, Dumbbell.’

‘A couple of Jersey boys and…’

‘They’ve brought bulls?’

‘No sir. Figure of speech.’

‘Touché, Dumbbell. Are they armed?’

‘They’re cows, sir. They don’t…’

‘Dumbbell….’

‘Sir. It doesn’t seem likely. Seems like an opportunistic get together. No planning.’

‘On the hoof?’

‘Good one, sir. There’s an udder explanation, though, because they’ve not moved, just gathered round those bushes. Or that’s the rumour that’s circulating.’

‘You herd it on the grapevine?’

‘Exactly, sir. The constable sussed their plans.’

‘Really?’

‘Seems most likely it’s another steak out.’

‘I think I’ll wait in the car, Dumbbell.’

‘Understood, sir. It’s a tough gig with us OATies.’

The Inspector handed back the binoculars. ‘They’re cows, Dumbbell. They eat grass.’

‘Unless it’s cake, sir.’