The Cows Coming Home

      I'd like to open this post with a few random observations, each a propos of nothing and none interesting enough for a blog of its own. Then I will move to the real topic, which involves more pictures of cows than you've ever seen (probably), and certainly more than I've ever taken. (In the spirit of crediting sources, thank you to a dear friend for the "observation" idea. I do realize that it was yours first.)

      Observation #1: This has been a really successful cooking week. I baked brownies from scratch that actually tasted as good as brownies from a box. I also welcomed the autumn chill with risotto and my first run at polenta (with pumpkin -- so yummy). To top it off, Johanna, Lucas, and I stretched the meaning of nutrition class to allow us to make our own Asiago cheese bagels on Friday. Although the project did involve several steps (including boiling before baking -- who knew?), it was actually surprisingly easy, and the bagels, though not Panera, were outstanding.

     Observation #2: All of a sudden, our family is consuming astonishing amounts of food. I understand that this state of affairs is considered normal for households with (almost) three teenagers, but still . . . . I am at the grocery store daily. Good thing it's a short walk.

     Observation #3: Every time we meet someone's grandmother, she comments on how handsome Drew is. He is beginning to develop a complex about this; while it's always nice to be complemented, he'd prefer to hear about his good looks from the teenage girls. I told him that the phenomenon is due to the fact that he is handsome, but in a very non-threatening, "I will have your daughter home by 10 p.m." kind of way, rather than in that smoldering, dangerous way that may attract the younger set. Someday, he will appreciate this. Perhaps.

      Observation #4: As with everything else about the Swiss, the Swiss chapters of Boy Scouts of America are not kidding. Lucas just returned from a 9-hour hike up a mountain in Kandersteg. Even allowing for 12-year-old exaggeration, that's a long hike. Amazingly, he said he'd do it again given the opportunity. Clearly, there is some brainwashing going on. Actually, it was probably the outdoor cooking that made it all worthwhile for him.

     And now, on to the cows. Last weekend was the Desalpes festival in St. Cergue, which is a town in the Jura mountains about 45 minutes from here. The Desalpes celebrates the cows coming down from their summer pastures in the mountains to their winter pastures at lower elevations. I had heard that the cows have flowers on their head and come down in troops, led by the herdsmen. Last year, when I suggested that we go see this spectacle, I was met with moaning about getting up early on a Saturday and who wants to go see a bunch of cows, anyway. So this year, I announced that I was going, and people could come or not, as they wished. This, as it turns out, is a brilliant strategy. Everyone except Drew bit (he has a Saturday morning job teaching English, so he had a legitimate excuse).

We had pictured the cows ambling slowly down a grassy path. Instead, they thundered -- or at least jogged -- through the streets of the village. Apparently, they were eager to reach their winter pastures.

The herdsmen all had matching outfits, which I assume were traditional Swiss cowherd garb.

These two were leading the troop, carrying a sign with the name of their family or farm.

You can see one of the flower-bedecked cows here. They didn't all have flowers; just the ones in the front of each herd.

The bells were huge and loud, in a nice, pastoral kind of way. They had them for sale for 300 chf a piece.

Here's my best cow picture. Lots of them had evergreen branches with tissue flowers on their heads, rather than actual flowers.

Some of the herdsmen seemed kind of nervous that their cows would run out of control and trample someone. Also, there were signs everywhere disclaiming responsibility for adults, children, or animals injured by the cows. We didn't see any injuries, though. When the loudspeaker announced the next "troupeau,"  people pretty much moved to the side to give the cows their space. And to avoid being splattered with . . . well, I'm sure you can guess.

More cows.

And still more cows. This was my favorite herding family, too.

Between the parading cows, dancers performed traditional Alpine dances.

It looked very much like Dutch dancing, except that they didn't wear wooden shoes, and they shouted a lot in the middle of the dance.

A band accompanied the dancers.

Leading a herd.

Cows with headdresses.

      This is about half of the pictures I took, but I think it is adequate to get the general idea of the concentration of cattle. We did not invest in a 300 chf cowbell, but we did buy some local honey and some cheese . . . emmentaler, of course. We returned home cold and wet from the rain, but I don't think I was the only one who was happy to have experienced the Desalpes.