What Do I Know?

Friday Cow Blogging

Normandy cows enjoy their sea views.

The freckled cows of Normandy are famous, appearing on postcards throughout the region. (I sent a few to the USA. Be patient; French mail is not to be rushed.)

While the human toll of the Allied invasion in 1944 is apparent as you travel through the region, what is not so obvious is that the numbers of these pretty cows was also decimated by the fighting. Bombs do not discriminate between beast and man.

These spotty cows lived up the road from us, enjoying the sea breezes. I decided that if I had to be a cow, I'd like to live in Normandy, right on the coast.

In other beasty news, be sure and check out the 200th edition of the Modulator's Friday Ark.

Friday Sea Animal Blogging

Seahorses at La Cite de la Mer

La Cité de la Mer is a tourist attraction in Cherbourg with the largest and deepest aquarium in Europe. These seahorses floated in their own smaller aquarium. There were also sharks, jellyfish, and other exotic sea animals. The decommissioned “Le Redoutable”, the biggest submarine in the world that can be toured, is located at La Cité de la Mer also—a reminder of how the French swore "never again" after WWII. Nuclear weapons, known as dissuasion weapons in French apparently, were once carried on “Le Redoutable”.

One of our most exciting adventures occurred at La Cité de la Mer. There was a summer exhibition, but all Daughter Number Two and I knew was that it was called "On a marché sous la mer" and we were to show up at 4 p.m. We obediently did so, and were told to stand in the yellow line. We waited, while other colored lines were filled, and finally someone came out and explained everything. In French. Daughter Number Two and I looked at each other, and wondered if this was like the scene in Life Is Beautiful where the German officer promises cookies and jam to the team that won the most points. (The little boy in front of us looked just like Joshua from the film.) We figured the winner got to take the submarine home.

We dutifully followed the Yellow Team to another room, where some more explanations went on in French, but finally I heard "en Anglais" and I raised my hand. We were given headphones, and a yellow rubber smock.

By this time, we were getting pretty freaked—neither one of us are much for water sports—but the English voice on the headphones reassured us somewhat. We smiled at the green light, put our smocks on in front of the mirror, and preceded to do all the other silly things we were instructed to do, as part of our "preparations" for an undersea "voyage".

Or so we thought.

I couldn't help thinking the French were easily entertained—the whole thing seemed really cheesy. But then, when it was all over, we went into a room for "debriefing" and realized that while we were doing all these stupid things, including bouncing around on our "ride" under the sea, we were being filmed. Those sneaky French! They'd spliced together the footage and created a really funny video.

Also at La Cité were some of the relics from the CSS Alabama, the Confederate ship that sank off the coast of Cherbourg, right off the beach where we were staying, or so we were told.

More photos below.

Friday Goat Blogging

 
Goats at Odds Farm

At Odds Farm, you were allowed one small bag of feed, and could only use it to feed the sheep and goats. These pygmy goats knew the drill, putting their heads out of the fence as far as they'd go, hoping to score some pellets. They're in one of the first pens you come to as you walk through the farm, so I can imagine that they get the bulk of the pellets, while the sheep on the far side end up with dust.

It's easy to make friends at Odds Farm.

The animals at Odds Farm all seemed well-cared for, with large living quarters. People don't like to see how farm animals really live, of course, but at least they get to see that farm animals are just as cute as puppies and kittens.

Friday Cow Blogging

"I'm going to cool off a bit—catch you guys later," says Ms. Cow as she dips a hoof into the cool water.

These cows are fortunate. They can hop in the Thames whenever the temperature reaches a sweltering seventy degrees.

This reminds me of that commercial where the woman says, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful." Well, don't hate me because I rarely have to deal with temperatures over seventy in the summer. I do not, remember, have air conditioning. Nor can I jump in the Thames when it's hot, like these cows in Bourne End.

Cold comfort, I know, to my friends in LA who are having brownouts in 100F degree weather. Sometimes it's hard to believe we even live on the same earth.

Friday Chicken Blogging

Is that a camera?! Can I see?!

When Daughter Number Two and I went to Odds Farm the other day, I expected to be enchanted by the sheep and the cows and the goats—and I was. But I was especially moved by these hens. When I walked past their large, grassy enclosure, they raced to the fence to greet me. Normally I'd assume they were expecting food, but visitors aren't allowed to feed the chickens here. No, they were genuinely curious, as I discovered when I knelt down to get a better look at the beautiful, warbling creatures.

They stuck their beaks out to investigate the black clicking thing in my hand. You'd think they were considering the purchase of a new Nikon and wanted to get a better look at its features.

They're such responsive creatures, so sensitive to the world around them, it hurts to think of them in cramped cages where they can't turn around.

For more photos of the exotic breeds of chickens, go below the fold.

Friday Cow Blogging

One morning I caught the cows all lying down in the field, enjoying their field of yellow flowers. (My gardener would call them "weeds" but I think they deserve better than such dismissive nomenclature.) 

It's been a busy week here at WDIK world headquarters. I'm ready to go lie in a field of flowers myself. Preferably with a chilled bottle of Chardonnay and a good novel. Any recommendations? 

Friday Fledgling Blogging

 

Waiting for Mom 

The baby birds in the nest next to my kitchen door are getting ready to fledge. I've been watching their mom, a patient and thrifty song thrush, deliver grubs and worms to the nest, quickly depositing her bounty in a yawning mouth and flying off again. She flies low, diving almost to the ground, before lifting into the bush where her nest is carefully hidden. From everyone but me—I finally got a photo, waiting until she'd left her babies tucked snug in their cocoon.

I worry about predators. There are blackbirds, magpies, and jays in the garden, who enjoy snatching the peanuts we leave on the bird table. So I've cut down on the peanuts, hoping they'll find another grazing ground for now. It's a calculated risk: they may find the fledglings more enticing than the missing peanuts. 

But so far, the dog and I haven't had to chase away any "bad birds" like we did in Albuquerque, where we guarded a nest of swallow chicks from the jays, summer after summer. 

My fledgling is coming home tomorrow. Daughter Number Two arrives home for summer vacation. I was heartbroken when I left her at Heathrow back in August. But I've adjusted, discovered a life that doesn't involve being at the beck and call of a teenager. My own whims seemed foreign at first, indulgent and unnecessary. But I've quickly learned the value of my own schedule, my own desires.

In one of life's gentle ironies, I recall another bird nest, with baby birds who took their maiden voyage on the same morning Daughter Number Two set off for her last day of kindergarten. A pair of sparrows had nested in the porch lamp, and when I returned from the bus stop, depositing my youngest for her last kindergarten bus trip, I noticed the babies flying off. Symbolic, I thought sadly, as the school bus braked in the next block.

My baby is flying home—her plane takes off any minute now.

Friday Calf Blogging

This photo was taken about three weeks ago. Already the calves are bigger. They like to play with each other, running across the field sometimes to give each other a head butt.

The cow on the right is new. I'm don't think she's a mother yet—her udders aren't full. Maybe she's new to the herd. Here's another photo of her:

She is smaller than the other cows, but definitely female.

I'm beginning to think I have some sort of polygamist sect of bovines out there.

Friday Cow Blogging

We came upon a herd of black cattle during our walk abound Ibstone. Some of the moms had newborns they were very protective of.

When I got a little too close, this mom urged her baby to get up. You just never know what humans are going to do to your little ones.

Friday Llama Blogging

Fifi and friends

On our hike Wednesday we saw these giant poodles. Someone said they were actually llamas, but I know a poodle when I see one.

That tape in the front is an electric fence. These must be giant attack poodles.

(Don't forget to check out the other Friday Animals at the Ark.)