What Do I Know?

Friday Cow Blogging

"Kathy found a sad lonely calf on Farmville...err, the real farm."

This morning I had just finished playing Farmville on Facebook (you know, that annoying Facebook application that causes your friends to post annoying "Just found a lonely pink cow/sad turtle/homeless kitten on my farm" notices). I went to let the dog out before heading off to class and noticed one of the cows near the fence. She looked so bedraggled and lonely out in the rain, I decided to toss her some apples. When I did, I saw a new baby calf lying on the other side. This wasn't one of the ones I noticed last month; this one couldn't have been more than a day old. I tossed out the apples, and Mum came over. Baby struggled to her little legs and followed Mum.

She immediately began nursing, safe on the other side where I couldn't get a good photo. Mum was very protective, even though she knows I wouldn't harm little Baby.

It's been raining all day, so I hope little Baby is staying dry.

It's a reminder that real farming is not quite as bucolic as virtual farming.

Here's Baby, getting her morning milk from Mum. I imagine the next time I see her she'll be loping around the pasture with her friends, not afraid to leave Mum's side.

Friday Horse Blogging

This nice looking horse lives near Chenies. He wanted to be friends with my dog, but my dog is more a people person, so she ignored him.

Friday Polar Bear Blogging

This is Knut, the famous polar bear born at the Berlin Zoo, the first "ice bear" born at the zoo in 30 years. His mother, a rescued circus performer, rejected him, and he was hand raised by a zoo keeper. Eventually Knut became a media sensation (you can read about it at Knut's wiki) and earned the Berlin Zoo millions of euros.

I'm not normally a fan of zoos—I don't like seeing animals in captivity, but for Knut I made an exception to my no-zoo policy. Plus, we visited the Berlin Zoo in 1990, when my daughters were small, and I wanted to see it again.

Knut had been separated from the other polar bears, and has a girlfriend now, though both are still adolescents. He's become a symbol of the threat to polar bears from climate change, and cheerfully lends his picture to the cause. 

Knut cleans his paw

But when I saw him, he was more concerned with licking his paw than with climate change (the temperature was in the 40s, and while I was freezing, the polar bears seemed to feel right at home).

 

The other polar bears, including, I suppose, Knut's negligent mother.

I didn't stay long at the zoo—seeing monkeys in cages, with rude people making fun of them, freaks me out. I prefer safari parks, where I'm the one in the cage and the monkeys make fun of us.

Friday Cow Blogging

Three cows, waiting

They see me at the back fence, and they come lumbering over. A friend gave us a bag of dessert apples, sweet and crisp. I cut them in half so they'll go further. The cows wait patiently for me to toss them over. They're patient creatures, cows.

The one in the middle plants her stubby legs firmly on the ground, waiting to veer toward the apple when it lands on the ground. The other watch for flying objects.

I need to work on my aim.

Friday Cat Blogging

Pierre, keeping the world safe from lizards and mailmen.

Yes, I know, this feature was originally the Friday cat blogging alternative, but I spent a week in Louisiana with my daughter's cat and a scarcity of cows, so Friday Cat Blogging it is. Besides, Pierre is such a swell cat she deserves her own Friday blog post.

You read that right, I said "she"—Pierre had some sexual identity issues early on. Upon discovering the stray kitten she adopted was indeed a she, my daughter chose not to change her name. It suits her; "Pierre" sounds feminine anyway (apologies to you French readers who may be named Pierre).

I never spent much time with cats, so I was fascinated by Pierre's predator instincts. She's an inside cat, so she hunts bugs, which are prevalent in Louisiana. Most of them were diving against the screen at night, but that didn't stop her from slaughtering them with her sharp green gaze.

And in the morning when I got up, I found her keeping a watchful eye out for waterbugs. Somebody has to do it, and I'm glad it's her instead of Orkin. This is probably the number one reason I could never live in the South, the giant roaches and the pesticides necessary to kill them.

Pierre's a tiny cat, smaller than most full grown cats. One morning she dashed out of the house when I opened the door, but after hearing some dogs bark, she gave up her quest for a walk on the wild side. Smart cat. Even I'm afraid of the dogs in the neighborhood, who run loose, sadly, and are un-neutered. And that's the number two reason I won't live in the South, the deplorable way so many people treat their pets.

But not Pierre—she's a pampered kitty who has a great life with my daughter and her grandparents. She amuses herself by torturing toy mice and bugs, and sits in the window watching for the mailman to deliver postcards from abroad. I wish every cat could have such a life.

Friday Cow Blogging

"How now, red cow" doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it?

When I was walking around Hedgerley the other day, we came across this lovely herd of auburn cows. (I would call them redheads, but I hated that term when I was little. After someone pointed out my hair was actually auburn, I insisted on that adjective ever since, which is why my drivers' license still says "auburn" instead of red or brown.)

There were also some other redheads—err, I mean auburn beauties nearby. The fields were full of pheasants, the males with their striking auburn and green plumage, the females a bit less noticeable—unless you're a dog, then you notice everything that runs across the ground.

These cows didn't seem bothered by the pheasants or the dog. Perhaps they thought we were there for feeding time, or maybe they'd heard of the exciting opportunities available on the internet—I'm sure word of Friday Cow Blogging has made the rounds of Buckinghamshire's finest cow pastures. But they stood and posed for us, pleasant creatures that they are. Unlike pheasants, who squawk and run whenever I pull out my camera.

Friday Cow Blogging

Uh oh! Where did this one come from?

I'm a little confused about what's going on in the pasture behind us. Normally, baby cows are born in the early spring, and appear in the pasture with their moms soon after, when they're the size of large dogs. 

I love to watch them frolic with each other, running on their swift hooves. Over the summer, they get bigger and bigger, until they're close to 1000 lbs when they're fully grown. That's when they disappear, in November. That's a week I hate—their moms moan and cry out, loudly enough for us to hear them inside with the windows closed. 

But this year something new happened. Last week I thought I saw a tiny cow out back, far too tiny to be one of this spring's calves. The cows had been off in a different pasture for the last several weeks. (The farmer regularly moves them around, but they'd been absent an unusually long time.) 

And then I got a closer look. Two babies, with their mums, not more than a few weeks old I'm sure. When I went out to the fence to talk to them, camera in hand, one mum, who I think was Sock's mum, looked up. She was about to issue a warning to me, to stay away from her precious baby, but then she recognized me and went back to munching her grass. The cows all know I mean no harm to their babies. 

So I snapped away, using a zoom to get closer. I have no idea why there are baby calves this time of year, although I've seen other herds with fall babies. I'm excited to see them, though a little sad, as always, knowing these babies will one day suffer the way their older brothers have. (They're always male.)

You can judge just how small this one is by the size of his mum, and the size of that tall weed he's standing next to.

My, they grow so fast.

"Come on, let's play tag! I'll be "It!"

Friday Cow Blogging, Belgian Edition

Number 1666 checks me out.

It was pretty nice to stay in a castle the one night we spent in Belgium. But even better than our nice digs were the lovely cows that lived on the rural estate. Of course I went out the next morning and made friends with them, though the language barrier was an impediment. I tried a little French, but since these cows live in the Flemish part of Belgium, they probably didn't appreciate that. So I stuck with English, which all Belgians are taught in school.

"Scuse me, while I kiss this cow."

I guessed that Number 1666 and Number 1667 were sisters. The younger one, assuming they were named chronologically, continually licked her sister, first in the ear, then on her face, then on the white splotch on her back. This bovine grooming ritual was new to me—during all the years I've photographed cows up close, I've never seen such a gesture. 

I suspect it's related to the European kiss, a common greeting ritual among both sexes in Europe. Perhaps this custom hasn't made it across the Channel to our more reserved cows. 

A French kiss

I would have liked to have spent more time with these lovely ladies, but check out time was 11 o'clock. Plus, I was beginning to suspect they wanted to be alone.

Friday Lamb Blogging

Thomas the Lamb loved getting rubbed.

These two lambs were at Cogges Manor Farm in Oxfordshire. I wrote about my visit earlier, but wanted to save these lovely lamb shots for Friday Lamb Blogging.

The male lamb was the friendlier of the two. He was born in May, according to the "dairy maid" who showed up while I was in the barn. They both ran over to her for more pets when they heard her voice.

Cogges Manor "dairy maid" gives the motherless lambs some love.

The smaller female, I was told, was a late lamb. They thought her mum wasn't pregnant after all, then discovered the baby in the field one day in June, long past lambing season. Both were bottle-fed, as the male was one of a set of triplets. Three is too many for a ewe to feed, so Thomas joined the little late female in the pen here at Cogges Manor.

Looking on while his "sister" gets her pets.

I was surprised when the dairy maid told me the lambs had been penned up to protect the dogs that were visiting the farm that day. (Dogs are allowed, on leads, at Cogges Manor Farm.) Apparently these two give dogs a hard time. I immediately imagined my dog cowering in fear if a lamb charged her. She's sort of silly like that.

"I love when you stroke my face," said Thomas.

Thomas really loved it when I rubbed his woolly fleece. The top of his head had two indentions where horns are coming in, I guess. Otherwise, he reminded me a lot of my dog, nudging me to pet him if I stopped for a second.

I wanted to put both these lambs in my car and bring them home with me. But my dog would never have forgiven me.

Friday Horse Blogging, Stylized Liechtenstein Edition

I was looking for Friday Animal Blogging photos and couldn't find any recent ones. But I came across some photos my daughter must have taken while we stopped in Liechtenstein during our recent vacation.

This was in the public plaza in Vaduz, the main city in Liechtenstein (as you can imagine, there's only the one city there). I was sitting in the car, too ill to get out, but determined I'd at least set foot in another tiny country. (I'm obsessed with tiny countries, as regular readers are aware.) After walking a few steps from the car, I decided I'd seen enough, and I sent my daughters off to photograph the sights.

I have no idea what this stylized horse is supposed to represent, and the next one she took is even odder:

This looks more like something you'd see in Santa Fe. There's carving along the bottom, some sort of modern glyphs.

Liechtenstein is a country of oddities. They're known for their postage stamps, which is fitting for a country the size of a postage stamp.

From my seat in the Volvo, I could verify they've got a remarkable public transportation system. While I was sitting in front seat, waiting for my family to return from their photo mission, I noticed a bus drive by. A couple of minutes later, another city bus, and another and another. Keep in mind, the entire city of Vaduz is easily walkable. But this country is so wealthy it treats its citizens to bus service every two minutes.

Maybe the horses are just for show. I can't imagine anyone riding a horse in thoroughly modern Liechtenstein.