Post by Scrubb on Sept 30, 2016 11:26:46 GMT 2
So, every fall the cows come down from the Alps after a summer of grazing on wildflowers, and return to their winter quarters. Yesterday I met my friends half way down from the mountainside and walked back with them the rest of the way.
Here they come:
The cows are adorned for the parade:
Those without horns (like Serena here) get corsages:
poor Erika cow is disgruntled. One of her "friends" shit on her head right at the start of the day and ruined her headdress. Her new nickname is "Scheissekopf"
Here in cow Ceci's garland you can see the silver distal (the silver flower in the middle) - that marks her as the best milk-giver of the summer. They used to make the best cow wear the biggest bell but maybe they've finally realized that's not much of a reward?
Here they come:
The cows are adorned for the parade:
Those without horns (like Serena here) get corsages:
poor Erika cow is disgruntled. One of her "friends" shit on her head right at the start of the day and ruined her headdress. Her new nickname is "Scheissekopf"
Here in cow Ceci's garland you can see the silver distal (the silver flower in the middle) - that marks her as the best milk-giver of the summer. They used to make the best cow wear the biggest bell but maybe they've finally realized that's not much of a reward?
Where I met them is at an isolated little mountain "gaste haus" - a restaurant in the middle of a hiking trail. It's also the furthest point that vehicles can get to - walking only past there. So they had a small pasture fenced off ready for the cows and the farmers sat down to whet their whistles. After a beer and a round of schnapps the yodelling began. It's actually really lovely harmonized a capella singing and there were some wonderful voices around the table, including some professionals.
The teenage girls brought out their snuff tins, too. I didn't partake, though most others did.
After this pause, we all walked the rest of the way back to their home village. When we got there, people (mostly touruists) were lining the streets to film/photograph the return of the cows, or just to welcome back their neighbours who have been up on the mountain for 4 months. By then many of the garlands were hanging half off and there was a lot of cow shit on more than just poor cow Erika, but they still looked festive.
It was very fun. And when the yodelling started, I felt connected to the centuries of tradition in this area. There were 4 teenagers (3 girls and a boy) along, all of whom help out with the cows over the summer, and who seem to be carrying on the old ways of life.