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Friday Cow Blogging

Cow at Langley Park, Iver

We've gotten into a rut. When we want to take the dog for a weekend walk, we typically go to Black Park, near Pinewood Studios. We know the park well, and while there may be livestock there, they're behind an enclosure. So it's a safe walk, fenced off for the most part, and about halfway through our walk we come upon a nice stream for drinking water. 

But last weekend we decided to try Langley Park, which is across the road, more or less, from Black Park. My gardener had told me about it before, and I thought it might be an equally nice place to walk. It's lovely—the rhodedendrens are in full bloom. Towering ornamental cedar trees line the wide paths. It seemed safe enough for a dog who has a tendency to bark at cows. 

We followed the path out of the park and into the Langley Estate, once owned by the grandson of the first Duke of Marlborough (he didn't get along with his grandmother, so he bought his own place). We walked along a haha, and then to the ornamental lake, where we came upon these beautiful blond cows. 

With Sparky on a lead, we walked around, giving him plenty of space. Further on, we were able to let him off lead in a field, where he was mainly interested in eating the lush grass. I guess the cows gave him some ideas. 

It's a nice park, and we'll probably go back. But we do love Black Park, with its wooded paths and fine views of the studio lot. 

Right. I've dutifully reminded myself why I love this country, on a day which has no right to go by the name of Summer. 

Friday Ray Blogging

A thornback ray glides over for a cuddle.

I do believe I've committed a first in Friday Animal Blogging. How often do you see rays—those flat fish-like creatures commonly (and erroneously) known as stingrays—on Friday blog posts? Not often, I'd guess. 

And if I told you that we got to pet those rays—actually touch them—you'd probably be impressed. 

The thornback ray's eyes are on top of its body.

That's exactly what we did at the Nausicaa Aquarium in Boulogne-sur-Mer, France, this week. It seems to be a popular feature in French aquariums to have "touching pools", where visitors can get their hands wet and actually touch various kinds of fish. At the aquarium in Cherbourg where we visited several years ago, there was a hands-on exhibit that invited you to touch the fish, but there were no rays available for touching. (We did, however, have an equally amazing adventure, which I wrote about here. You can see why French aquariums are such tourist hotspots.)

These rays were surprisingly soft and warm. I could see keeping one for a pet, just to have an opportunity to pet it. And they obviously doted on the attention. They came gliding over, then stuck their cute little faces up to show us how friendly they were. One particularly grceful ray delighted in twirling about in the water like a ballerina. 

This graceful little ray performed a dance for us.

Too cute. 

I fell in love, needless to say. I also developed warm feelings for the sea lions, despite the dripping cold rain in their outside enclosure. And the penquins—oh, be still my heart! 

As an extra bonus, I'm including some Friday Penguin Video Blogging. But be warned, you'll want to tunnel to France right away—or fly, if that's more convenient—and rescue these poignant creatures, longing for the beach: 

Poignant penguins at the Nausicaa Aquarium. 

If you want to visit the Nausicaa Aquarium, first you'll have to get to France, which is quite easy via the Eurotunnel. It's easily a day trip from here, with the Folkestone terminal a mere hour and a half away. Boulogne-sur-Mer is 18 miles from Calais--take exit 32 from the A16, and follow the signs to Nausicaa, where you'll find plenty of free parking. 

And give my regards to Ray.

Friday Chicken Blogging

Chickens deserve love, too.

Yes, chicken blogging. I've been remiss in focusing on the smaller barnyard animals here at WDIK, home of Friday Farm Animal Blogging. But never let it be said that chickens are less deserving of digital space. 

We found these chickens not at a farm, but at a beautiful garden in the countryside. Walking along the paths at the wonderfully chaotic Hidcote gardens, we almost stepped on these chickens, busy scratching for bits and bobs in the dirt under the flower beds. 

Of course they were willing to pose for a few photos when I asked politely. Their sleek feathers are a gorgeous shade of auburn. (I grew up a redhead; once I learned the word "auburn" to describe my fiery locks I was quite relieved.)

There were other animals at Hidcote too, including a lovely ewe with her twin lambs. And bees. But bees aren't so willing to pose, at least not without exacting a price.

Friday Cow Blogging

Friends, at last

We have new cows in the pasture. Well, technically they're steers. Boy cows whose destination, I'm sure, is the supermarket meat aisle. 

I tried not to pay them any mind. They're all black, unlike the dairy herd that normally lives there. (I'm not sure where they went. The fewer questions, the better.) They're young and skittish, so when the dog barks at them, they scatter. 

Just as well, I told myself, since I didn't want to make friends with them, and have my heart broken when my friends left in the fall for their final journey.

But the other day they were all at the fence, peering over inquisitively, and I just had to toss them some apples. And of course they responded just as cows do when you toss them apples: "More please!"

There is one mama cow in the boy herd, a brown and white one, and her baby, who looks just like her. I'm not sure why they're mixed in with the herd of black steers, but I suppose it's some integration scheme the farmer came up with. 

 

This little guy wanted to go into the neighbour's garden.

After the apples, a couple of the boys came closer, through the brambles, and I heard rustling across the fence. They seemed to be trying to get into the neighbour's garden. Perhaps the dog is right; they DO want to invade our garden! 

Friday Cow Blogging

Cows eating buttercups at Hughenden

On Sunday we decided to go back to Hughenden, a National Trust property and former home of prime minister Benjamin Disraeli. We'd been there in March, and the parkland was an ideal place to walk the dog. Acres of livestock-free, and mostly squirrel-free, land, with only a few trees and wooded areas to distract my squirrel-obsessed dog. 

We were in the carpark next to the charming church when I looked up and saw cows grazing in the park. Uh oh. Where had they come from?

And then a horse trotted by. I cursed, right there in the churchyard. 

I crept toward them, hoping I wouldn't spook them into a stampede.

We decided to keep Sparks on the lead, at least until we'd gotten far enough away from the cows and the horse that he wouldn't run after them. I veered off toward the lounging cows, camera in hand, while my husband kept Sparky further away. 

But when we walked back, the cows had moved. They'd also become energized, strolling at a rapid clip (for cows, anyway) right between us and the carpark. We had to go through them. I wasn't worried; other people ahead of us were walking with a dog on the footpath and the cows took no notice. And Sparky wasn't about to bark at them, as long as he was on a lead. 

So we went through the herd of cows, Sparky keeping an anxious eye on the huge beasts. He got rewarded every time he turned away from them, but we let him look all he wanted, to get "information" he needed to reassure himself the big hairy monsters weren't gunning for him. And I snapped more photos.

Some of them were belted Galloway cows, a few the faded brown color they sometimes sport. 

A bit muddy, but still a gorgeous example of a tan belted Galloway.

Hopefully a bit of Sparky's curiosity was satisfied. I miss our walks through cow pastures; one day I'd like to be able to trust my dog won't go barking after them.

Friday Cow Blogging

Rarely, if ever, have I featured a cow on Friday Cow Blogging whose photo was not taken by me. But when I saw this cow this morning on Facebook, I knew I had to feature her today on Friday Cow Blogging. 

My friend MaryEllen in Albuquerque posted it. It was taken by her partner Barb Wold during their vacation last year, the last year they would spend together. Barb lost her battle with cancer in the fall. And the world lost one of its forces for change. Barb was a Democratic activist in New Mexico, whom I met in 2003 when we both joined the Dean campaign with the goal of sending George W. Bush back to Texas.

That didn't happen, not right away, but friendships were formed, and more importantly, organizations sprang up to continue the grassroots activism that Howard Dean encouraged. And Barb was front and center: she created the blog Democracy for New Mexico, where she posted daily about opportunites for New Mexicans to get involved, and more importantly, gave them information about candidates and issues in the state.

It's partly due to Barb's example that I created this blog a few months after moving away from New Mexico (you'll notice that we even use the same blogging platform, TypePad, since I'd seen how well it worked for her). I admired Barb a great deal, but ironically, our friendship began with a huge argument—I don't remember what it was about now, but I do remember deleting her passionate emails on the subject...and then later I grew to admire that passion, to learn from it, and be inspired by it. 

I often wish I had Barb's guts, those uncompromising guts that led her to try to change the world. I'd like to change the world too. In a way, my Friday cows are my not-so-gutsy attempts to effect change.

I think Barb would have liked seeing her cow on Friday Cow Blogging. I miss seeing her photos on Facebook, and seeing her comments here. She had an appreciation for cows, and for all of life's beautiful things.

Friday Cow Blogging

Sparky gets a cow lick.

I remember when I was excited about seeing cows on our walks in the countryside—that was when I had no worries that my dog would run barking after them. (A tactic known as "worrying livestock" here in the Countryside Code.) These days, I keep an eye peeled for any signs of livestock or horses, knowing my dog will, if he's off lead, run after them. (Even though I'd never had any real evidence that he'd react like this—we've been careful to only walk where there's no livestock—I knew in my gut that Sparky would react to other animals the way he used to to dogs.)

We went last week to a livestock chase prevention workshop (we were the only ones there) held at Company of Animals. He didn't show too much interest (he was on lead the whole time) and was offered treats whenever he looked away from the sheep. He actually got nose to nose with some small horses there. We were encouraged, yet I still had no illusions that he'd not give chase if let off lead. 

So when we came upon these cows at Queen Anne's Ride in Windsor Great Park, I was glad to have an opportunity to practice our new "look away" skills. Although, frankly, I was busy taking photos, and I forgot to reward Sparky when he looked away. We did reward him with the "life reward" of creating distance between him and the object he was afraid of—the cows.

In hindsight, we probably let him get a little too close for comfort, and we probably let the lesson go on a bit too long. Because after he spent a few minutes meeting the cows close up, as in this photo, he decided to bark at them when one of them moved suddenly. (You don't think cows can move suddenly? Yes, they can. And they weigh around a thousand pounds each, so the idea of suddenly moving cows should worry you. Especially if you're a 50 pound dog.) 

So we walked away from the cows, and then we saw three horses, turning in front of us to walk ahead with their riders. They were walking slowly, so they didn't get move of sight, and then my husband had the not-too-brilliant idea of letting the dog off lead, since they were 200 yards or so in front. Sparky hadn't even seemed aware of the horses, so I didn't object. Big mistake. Sparky took off after them, not responding to our whistle or calls. 

The horses were turning down a lane, heading toward a stable, and we heard a bark in the distance. Then Sparky came running back toward us at full speed. We don't know what happened, but we didn't see the horses bolt, thank god. And he apparently only wanted to warn them off, but still--it could have easily ended in disaster. 

People ask me why I'm working so hard on Sparky's recall (which is actually very good), as well as on his general training. This is one reason. There are few places here where there are no horses, and no livestock. And we really enjoy taking him on walks, but not when he has to stay on lead the whole time. It's not nearly as much fun for us, or for him. But we can't risk another horse chasing incident, or risk him slipping inside a pen with sheep or cows. 

So we're taking it slower. No more off lead countryside walks until his recall is 100% and he's had more experience with the "look away" behaviour that gets rewards. 

Now, I didn't mean to turn Friday's Cow Blogging into another dog training story, so I'll leave you with more photos of these lovely gentlemen. 

I'm pretty sure these were steers, even though I didn't investigate their parts. 

They were a beautiful dark brown color, and were blinged out with gold earrings.

This one seemed the bravest of the lot. He really wanted to investigate Sparky, and Sparky wanted to get information about the cows as well:

Smells like grass!

Friday Horse Blogging

Retirement brings many happy hays, err, days, for these horses

For years I've been meaning to visit The Home of Rest for Horses, now known as The Horse Trust, near High Wycombe. I've seen the sign several times on our walks, and someone once said it was where the Queen's horses retired after service. 

Well, it turns out that the retired horses there are not necessarily Her Majesty's retired coach horses (though some participated in Royal events, including the Royal Wedding last April). Working horses and rescued horses and donkeys live at The Horse Trust, including those recently retired after the 2011 riots. 

I went with a friend from California, who knows horses the way I know dogs. But having a savvy friend along didn't prevent me from being shoved by one cantankerous pensioner, and bitten by another. 

But I'll forgive Fairfax, who recently retired from the Manchester Police force after "showing an incredible strength of character by fighting the natural desire to flee from the noise and violence" during the 2011 riots.

Fairfax, the cantankerous pensioner who nipped me. 

The Horse Trust has been in the news lately, when it came to light in the Leveson Inquiry that Rebekah Brooks was given one of the Met's retired horses to ride at her farm. Last week's "horsegate" revelations included the admission from Prime Minister David Cameron that he had ridden the police horse, Raisa, at Brooks' farm. There's even going to be a film about the former Scotland Yard horse, "Poor Horse". And of course the horse has a Twitter account: @RebekahsHorse. 

This is what happens when clever horses have too much time on their hands. 

Having done his duty, Oliver spends his hours watching TV and surfing the hay bin.

This is Oliver, a handsome chestnut gelding who worked for the Manchester Police. He helped police the riots in 2001 and 2011 and also worked football matches, which must have been good training. He also took part in the Queen's Jubilee "All the Queen's Horses" in 2001. He was described as "one of the best police horses of the Greater Manchester Police". He suffers from osteoarthritis so he's in good hands at The Horse Trust. 

Kylie, the oldest horse we saw at The Horse Trust, hasn't figured out how to use Twitter yet. 

This old girl is Kylie, who was born in 1970. She arrived at The Horse Trust in 1998 in very poor condition. A lot of love and care have kept her alive well into old age, despite a condition that causes photosensitivity. 

Early retirement for Star, who got a bad start in life

This bright, gorgeous guy is Star, who was rescued from Spindles Farm, described as "the worst case ever experienced by the RSPCA". Underweight when he arrived in 2008, Star has made a full recovery. 

When we arrived at The Horst Trust, the sun was shining over a lovely sloping pasture. Ordinarily many of the horses would have been out enjoying a fine day, but it was visiting hours on the farm (Friday-Sunday, 2-4 pm) so most were inside their spacious stalls. And by the time we left, a cold rain had kicked up, so we didn't stop to take any photos of the fantastic views these horses enjoy of the Chilterns. 

The Horse Trust is located in Speen, a couple of miles from Bradenham off the A4010. Check their website for opening hours and directions. And keep well away from Fairfax if you go. 

Friday Cow Blogging

The Cows of Foggy Pasture, Friday Version

I should change the name of this to Friday Fog Blogging. When I saw the fog this morning I hoped the cows would appear near the fence so I could get another shot of foggy cows. And when I saw this black and white mama cow near her all-black baby, I rushed to get my camera and a bag of apples, for enticement. She needed to be a little bit closer to the viewfinder for those lovely markings to show up.

Such is the life of a cow blogger. These opportunities don't show up often, so we must be prepared to grab them when we can. Although I must say we've had many foggy mornings lately. That thing they say about England? It's true. Gray, fog, rain, mist—English weather is the reason they make anti-depressants. Big Pharma would be a mom and pop operation if not for the depression-inducing weather of the upper Atlantic island nations. 

Thank god for the cows. They make the fog so much more interesting, don't you think?

Friday Cow Blogging

Cows, possessed of a forgiving nature, agree that crisp apples mitigate the sins of barky dogs.

Today Sparky reminded me I hadn't taken any photos for Friday Cow Blogging this week. When I let him out, he went to the fence and started barking at the cows, who scattered at the sound. Way to remind me I need to photograph the cows, Sparks. 

I put him inside, grabbed a bag full of apples, and headed out to the fence, eager to make amends. Fortunately the bovine nature is a forgiving one, and they came back to welcome me and my apples. 

I'm still figuring out how to control Sparky's barking. Other than using his excellent recall to call him in when he barks, I'm stumped. I think we need to seek arbritration with the cows. Surely he'll come to an agreement with them eventually. 

Friday Cow Blogging

Hey you with the dirty face...

More cows in the snow, taken last week when the cows showed up at the back fence, hungry for a handout. I rushed to put on boots and grab a bag of apples and my camera, and as soon as I heaved one over the fence they all got really excited. 

Okay, I guess excited is a relative term. 

You can watch them here, on this video I shot. The camera's a bit shaky—I had to hold it and the bag with one hand while I reached inside to grab the apples. And the sound is distorted by the noise of a jet coming in toward Heathrow, and my reedy, bronchitis-damaged voice. (I don't think I'll ever get my lungs back in shape—heck, I should have just been smoking two packs a day for all the good abstaining all these years has done. One month of bronchitis and I sound like I've been smoking for decades.)

Note the dirty face on the baby calf. Still adorable. And no, I don't mean that in a relative sense. 

Friday Cow Blogging

Cow in the snow fog. 

On Sunday, four inches of snow fell. When I went out to play with the dog, I heard plaintive moos coming from the pasture. I was surprised that the farmer had left the cows in the pasture during the cold snap. Usually they'd be in a barn, eating hay, during this sort of weather. 

A day later, the snow began to melt, then refroze, and we ended up with snow fog. That's when I got this photo of the poor cow, out there looking for a sweet blade of grass under the snow. 

Another two inches or so of snow fell last night. The cows are still out there, freezing. But yesterday I fed them some apples. They seemed to appreciate the handout.

Friday Cow Blogging

Cows come into iPhone camera range

Yesterday while I was at my desk Sparky started barking, running to me and then to the back door. No, he wasn't doing his usual warning bark to alert me to the Evil Fox who prowls the pasture, looking for field mice to bop on the head. He just wanted me to know the cows were near enough to the fence for me to get some photos.

He's such an intuitive dog, he realizes I appreciate him running maniacally to the back door every time there's a photogenic cow posed near the fence. He even barks, once out there, to let them know they should look toward the camera. A perfect photographer's assistant. 

This time there were several cows within camera range. I think, if I ever go on safari, I'll take Sparky with me. He's definitely got an eye for appropriate wildlife subject matter. 

Wonder if I can find him a khaki vest to hold my extra batteries?

Friday Calf Blogging

Pheasant, meet Calf.

It's only January, but the cows have already been let into the back pasture. Usually I have to wait until March or even April to see my friends. But the weather has been so warm...suddenly there are signs of spring everywhere. 

Including in the pasture. A couple of days ago I noticed a young calf lying in the grass. I grabbed my camera and headed to the fence. While I'm snapping photos, a pheasant walks across the viewfinder! Again, I don't usually see pheasants (or hear them) until spring, but there's Mr Show Off prancing around the pasture, right in front of my camera lens! 

I watched as he went over to investigate the calf. He got about 3 feet away, looked her over, and then turned around and walked away. 

Last spring there were so many pheasants out there they kept us awake, squawking all evening. (Don't know what a pheasant sounds like? Think of that sound an old-fashioned bicycle bell makes—that's exactly what they sound like.) Maybe that's why this year, we've (we, meaning "Sparky" of course) seen so many foxes. 

I predict a busy spring out back. 

Friday Cow Blogging

We had our first frost about a week ago, so of course I ran out in my pajamas and slippers and snapped a few photos. Apparently the warm weather has kept cows out in the fields longer than usual, along with the drought. Thames Water says water levels are low, and as proof they offered the fact that farmers are leaving herds out in pastures well into December. Other years it's already too muddy by November for our delicate livestock. Mustn't have muddy hooves. 

Meanwhile, I got muck all on my slippers during my early morning photo session. So I think Thames Water is full of cow poop.

Friday Calf Blogging

Aren't these just the cutest, most precious babies ever? 

Well, I'm sure their mothers think so. These calves aren't very old, definitely not spring calves, who are almost fully grown now. These were born a few weeks ago. 

I took this with a zoom. Mum would never let me get that close. Especially with my sidekick, Sparky, who still occasionally barks at the cows. 

He seems to be concerned they may intend harm. Silly dog.

Friday Flanders Cow Blogging

In a field overlooking the Ieper canal, a Charolais cow contentedly munches sweet grass.

On the way to Ieper we stopped at Essex Farm Cemetery, which despite its English name, is located in Belgium. It's the site where Major John McCrae wrote "In Flanders Fields", the iconic poem associated with WWI.

Today the site of the former field hospital is a cemetery and memorial dedicated to the soldiers who died there. And, it turns out, there are two Charolais cows grazing on the hillock above the remains of the hospital bunkers. 

As we drove up, this pretty cow came loping over to greet our car. I was as eager to see her as she was to see me—I simply can't get enough photos of gorgeous cows, and these white French cows are very distinctive. Her thick muscles rippled as she walked, yet she stepped ever so delicately amidst the high grass. Her gorgeous pink nose sniffed me as I held out my hand. 

Isn't she the most beautiful cow?

She has no idea of the significance of her little pasture, situated above the forward field hospital.

In Flanders Fields, the cattle low...slightly edited version of McCrae's moving poem.

I'll have more about Ieper later. It's a very moving place, the scene of massive destruction and senseless loss of life. 

I'm glad I stopped and spent some time with this sweet cow, and her more reticent friend. I needed a bracing dose of sweetness for what was to come.

Love me?

Friday Sheep Blogging

Sheep at Highclere, washed out a little by the exposure setting on my Nikon. (And these days Highclere is getting lots of exposure.)

On the way out of Downton Abbey yesterday we drove past acres and acres of his lordship's sheep, grazing on the green pastures of the vast estate. 

Oh wait, did I say Downton Abbey? That's a fictional place, created by Julian Fellowes. I knew that. Actually I was at Highclere Castle, home (sort of) to the Earl of Carnarvon, not the Earl of Grantham. He's fictional. I knew that. 

But these sheep are real. They live in a lovely spot of the earth, with rolling green pastures and ginormous trees creating shade to frolic in.

Lucky sheep. Well, for now. 

Actually, we were the lucky ones, because it was a lovely day and we were in this lovely spot. And it was easy to forget the crowds back at the house, hoping to see Downton Abbey during the few days it's open in October. 

Right. I mean Highclere Castle. 

Friday Cow Blogging

"Me? I'm just playing ball with my human buddies."

A friend gave us a bag of apples from her tree the other day. (Our sad little apple tree was fruitless this year.) There were too many for us to eat, but that's not a problem around here. There's always a cow or two to partake of apple bounty.

But this calf was the only one who recognized the apple tossing going on and came to the fence right away. I haven't known calves to be particularly interested in apples. They usually just stare, wondering why we're lobbing missiles at them. But he gobbled every apple we tossed, then gazed at us begging for more.

"Hey, what's going on over there?"

His buddies eventually came over, wondering what he was up to, but he just looked all innocent. I think he told them he was just playing some ball with us, a cow-libi if I've ever heard one.

Friday Cow Blogging

When the Cows Go Marching In

Jazz-loving cows. French cows. You'll love this. Here's the story if you want to know more.