Beneath The Fringe
Less than ten minutes outside Toowoomba, Mostyn Highland Fold is one of the most unexpectedly wonderful things you can do on a weekend. Especially once you've met Sugar.
Written by Savannah Clark.
Photography: Oh_Tilly
Let's be honest: before you've actually met a Highland cow, you probably think you have a sense of them. You've seen them on Instagram. You know about the hair. You've liked a photo or two, maybe saved one or three. You are not, you tell yourself, someone who is going to get a little emotional about a cow.
And then the gate opens.
What hits you first is the hair. All of it. An absolute cascade of it, tumbling down over their faces, covering their eyes, spilling across their shoulders in a way that defies reasonable explanation. They are big animals (larger than you expected, and nobody warns you about this), with horns that curve wide and proud and a presence that fills the paddock. And yet somehow, impossibly, every single one of them is completely, unreasonably adorable. There is no other word for it. You will use it within thirty seconds of arriving, and you will not feel the least bit embarrassed. Because then one of them lifts her head, and through the fringe, two enormous dark eyes blink slowly in your direction, and that is, genuinely, embarrassingly, it for you.
Somewhere between the feeding and the brushing and the moment one of them presses her soft nose into the palm of your hand, you will also understand why people come here and leave unable to stop talking about it.
This is the experience at Mostyn Highland Fold, less than ten minutes outside Toowoomba on the Darling Downs. And if that sounds like a lot to promise from a paddock full of cows, well. It turns out some promises are easy to keep.
Lisa grew up on a cattle farm, with parents originally from the north of England who had always loved the Highland breed. For years it stayed a kind of quiet love, the type you carry with you, never quite finding the right moment for. She became a teacher, built a busy family life, and then, as these things tend to go, they bought a few.
"We completely fell down the rabbit hole," she says, without a hint of regret.
One Highland became a small fold. The fold became a breeding programme. The breeding became showing. And now there are twenty of them, each with a Gaelic or Scottish name, each with a personality that Lisa can describe in enough detail to make you feel like you already know them before you've even arrived.
There's Mirrie, named for the 'Mirrie Dancers' (the traditional Scottish phrase for the Northern Lights), who arrived into the world on the same night the Southern Lights were visible from the Downs. A coincidence, perhaps. A very good story, certainly.
And then there is Sugar.
Sugar deserves her own paragraph. Sugar is the one who is always first to the gate, always positioned just so, always aware (with the uncanny self-possession of someone who has never, not once, experienced an unflattering photo) of exactly how ridiculously cute she is. She is, in Lisa's own words, "a bossy princess." She is, in the words of every visitor since, a favourite.
Beneath the considerable hair and the dramatic sweep of the horns, each one of them is a distinct, irreplaceable personality. They are curious, social, and surprisingly, beautifully gentle. Originally bred in the Scottish Highlands to survive conditions that would floor most other breeds, they developed over centuries into something harder to pin down: resilient, yes, but also deeply calm. Hardy, but also (it turns out) extraordinarily good at making you feel like the most important person in the paddock.
There is something about spending 90 minutes in a paddock - brushing them, feeding them, hearing Lisa's stories, learning the breed - that has a way of quietly rearranging your priorities.
"People often arrive stressed or overwhelmed," Lisa says. "They leave saying they feel lighter. More relaxed. The Highlands have a really peaceful presence."
For those who want to leave with something more than a brush-shaped groove in their heart, Mostyn also runs photography sessions with Tara from Gypsy and Grace Photography. Given that Highland cows are quite possibly the most naturally photogenic animals in the country (your dog excluded, of course), the results tend to speak for themselves. For something even more dreamy, there is also Wine in the Field: an evening experience that adds firelight, a glass of something good, and the wide open sky to the mix. As Friday nights go, it is hard to beat.
And here is the thing nobody tells you before they go: it is surprisingly, genuinely good for you. Research has long supported what Lisa sees firsthand: that time spent with animals has a measurable effect on stress and anxiety, quieting the nervous system in a way that is hard to replicate elsewhere. People arrive carrying the full weight of their week. They leave having been thoroughly out-prioritised by a cow with absolutely no agenda. It turns out that is exactly what a lot of us need.
For Lisa, one of the most rewarding parts goes beyond the experience itself. "We're in a region defined by agriculture," she says, "but so many people have never really been through the gate. Many drive past farms their whole lives and have no real sense of what happens inside one. I think people are genuinely craving that connection. Life is so busy and screen-focused now. When someone leaves here and you can see that something has shifted for them — that they feel that link to the land, to the animals, to where things actually come from - that's the part that stays with me."
Lisa and her family also run Angus and Wagyu on a separate property near Allora, the more traditional side of the operation, quietly running alongside everything else. Mostyn Highland Fold, meanwhile, has been finding its way into the show ring with real success: Toowoomba Royal, the Ekka, and most recently the National Show in Bathurst, where they came home with ribbons and friendships forged with Highland breeders from across the country.
Far from just 'rosettes and ring classes' the Highland show circuit also includes a costume competition (arguably the highlight of the whole thing) where owners and their Highlands dress up together. At a recent show, Lisa's daughter arrived in full Viking regalia: horned helmet, fur vest, boots, staff and all, paired with a Highland calf dressed to match. They were, by all accounts, completely magnificent. The crowd didn't stand a chance.
The Australian Highland cattle community, Lisa says, is "very close-knit and supportive." A small world with a genuinely shared love for the breed, and, clearly, a very good sense of humour about it.
With a cabin coming later this year, the full farm stay experience is almost complete, and visitors will be able to wake up on the Downs, step outside into the cool morning air, and find twenty sets of eyes already watching from the paddock.
Sugar's will be at the front.
To find out more about Mostyn Highland Fold, or to plan a visit, head to mostynhighlandfold.com.au | @mountain_moos
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