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Friday Deer Blogging

Five deer in the snowy woods

Yeah, turns out there are animals to blog about here in the New World after all. 

Of course I'm partial to farm animals—cows, chickens, sheep, and pigs especially, with the occasional amorous goat thrown in. 

But needs must. (I have no idea what that phrase means but it seems to fit so many situations.) Anyway, we've had a proper blizzard here, which you may have heard about on the news. I say "proper" because back in Britain they think any old snowstorm is a blizzard, when of course that's not the case. We ended up on the light side of this one, with only 22 inches or so. It turns out that after the first twelve it's all the same, something I did not know, never having seen more than twelve inches despite living in Wisconsin for six years. 

Anyway, the white blanket of snow makes it easier to spot the wild visitors, and no doubt they are bolder when their food sources are covered with 22 inches of snow. I managed to get quite a few shots of them (and I hate using the word "shot" in relation to an animal that too often meets that fate). In addition, we have a trail cam that picked up quite a few deer-in-the-headlights shots overnight. We also have fox-in-the-headlights shots, and a few dog-in-the-headlights. 

But this is Friday Deer Blogging, not Friday Fox Blogging—maybe next week. 

Friday Cow Blogging

Cows marching across the pasture

Mama number 400326

Babies

Don't go!

I saw these lovely cows at my friend's house, where we stayed for a couple days during my visit to England. They all came to the fence when I walked over, even though I had nothing more than a camera in my hand. 

I took a few dozen photos, then walked away, unbearably sad for some reason. 

Friday Cow Blogging

It's back! For a limited time only, Friday Cow Blogging will be making an appearance on these web pages. 

Maybe I should call this "English Friday Cow Blogging" or at the very least, "EU Friday Cow Blogging" since it is much easier to find cows in the bovine-friendly countries of northern Europe. Here in the US, I'm pretty sure I would be shot if I walked up to a pasture and started taking photos of cows, and as much as I love bringing you these smiling faces every week, I'm not about to risk coming face to face with a farmer loaded for bear. 

We arrived in the UK on Saturday, and by that afternoon I was out on the Thames, walking with my favorite dog, Stella, in my favorite spot, along the Thames in Bourne End. 

One of the loveliest stretches of the Thames as it winds through the Chilterns.

We always see cows when we walk there--they hang out in the delightfully named Cockmarsh, where they graze on grass all day and drink water right from the mighty River Thames. 

This far from the estuary, the Thames is still a mighty river, but it's not as wide and imposing as the London portion. There are always sailboats, yachts, canal boats, and other river craft sailing down the river or tied up at the moorings along each side of the Thames. 

A sailboat lesson seemed to be going on

It's dog friendly, of course, and Stella is pretty used to cows, living near them as she does. So when we came across the cows on our way back to the carpark, I didn't worry about her "worrying" the cows. 

The cows were all wading in the shallow water near the riverbank, as they do. These are all beef cows, young ones being fattened up before their eventual slaughter and trip to your supermarket. (Recipes here.) 

I liked this black one, who really wanted to get near to see what was in my hand, in case it was an apple. It wasn't, of course, only an Apple iPhone, but I don't think he minded. He just wanted to reach out to the strange human lady who likes to take photos of cows. 

 "Any apples?"

And then the cow and Stella fell in love through the kissing gate:

 

We left the next day for Cambridge, where I saw cows along the Backs, and lots and lots of flowers. More later!

Friday Deer Blogging

Deer come for a snack of hostas.

No, there are no cows here (anywhere, as far as I can tell) but there are other monstrously large animals. The deer in these parts are very big, especially to those of us accustomed to the small montjac deer in Buckinghamshire. 

This morning, Sparky started barking at the back door, and at first we thought it was just another squirrel. But I noticed this bark was different. It was more urgent and included some high pitched whining. So I got up and looked, and sure enough, there was a deer in the neighbor's garden, munching on her hostas. 

Remembering my duties as Friday Animal Blogger, I found my camera, then I went out (in my pajamas) and snapped some photos. That's when I noticed there were two deer, watching me in case I might have something other than a Nikon in my hand.

I could hear someone tapping at a window, probably the neighbor trying to warn them off. She doesn't like it when the deer eat her hostas, and with such a lovely garden, who could blame her? 

Having secured a few photos, I let loose the dogs. 

Within seconds, the deer were on the run, and it turned out there was a third deer, behind the shed in this photo. Sparky felt pretty proud of himself, and we let him run around barking for a bit, sure that the neighbor wouldn't complain. Then I called him in, gave him a bone, and told him Good job! 

He's been glowing all day, frankly.

Not That Kind of Pie

No, not ants. Cows. 

So Pi Day is really more of an American thing (think about it) so I don't think my dairy farmer neighbour ever did this, and if they did it in England they'd probably use dogs instead of a pickup. 

Also, pie is different in England too. Shepherds pie just doesn't lend itself to circumferences. 

Friday Cow Blogging

Hey! Don't go!

I pulled down the photos from my camera the other day, and found the last pictures I took of the cows from my garden. 

I have no garden now; I have a yard. There's a wood behind the fence, instead of a pasture. I've looked around, in the two weeks I've been here (exactly, as of this moment) and I've not seen any cows. I suspect that despite the fact Northern Virginia is more rural than I thought, friendly herds of cows are not likely to be found this close to the nation's capital. 

That's a shame. 

That means Friday Cow Blogging is at an end. With no nearby cows, or the means to find any, I won't have a fresh stock of original cow photos. (It turns out farmers in the former colonies don't like nosy photographers snooping around their cow pastures. I could get shot wandering around cow pastures here. That's not a risk I'm willing to take for the sake of a few cow photos.)

Many of my cow photos in England and, occasionally, in Europe, were taken while on rambles along public footpaths. I've not seen any public footpaths here either, which makes me almost as sad as the lack of cows. Somehow, this country got settled by property owners who valued their property rights in a whole different way than generations of landowners in the United Kingdom. Trespassers will be shot, and that includes bloggers who only want a good shot of cows. 

Maybe more than anything, I miss my cows. They represented something I found unique to England—if you include sheep and other farm animals. I've give anything to see a hillside dotted with cows or sheep, ringed by hedgerows, crossed by a footpath.

A few days before we left, I spied the cows from the kitchen window, and went outside with my morning cup of tea, still in my pajamas. I soaked in the view, knowing it wouldn't be mine for long.

This new land here is vast—any single state is as large as England—but it's also unapproachable. It's been built in ways convenient for shopping; not so convenient for rambling. It's also more dangerous: Even as I type this, there is a report on the local news of a possible cougar sighting, about a mile from here. And a friend's dogs were recently quilled by a porcupine—another danger to add to the growing list. 

I try not to think about England and my cows—it's too painful just yet. I'll write more about the differences I've discovered, some good, some bad, later. 

Meanwhile, enjoy this last glimpse of the cows. I bet they miss me as much as I miss them. 

Friday Cow Blogging

This is what it looked like when the cows came back

The other day I heard Sparky barking outside. As I went out to see what it was, I saw a wonderful sight: the herd of cows, missing for the past two months, were running across the field, having just been released into the near pasture. 

Of course Sparky was disappointed, realizing the Greatest Threat to Peace had returned, but I was ecstatic. 

I was beginning to wonder if the cows would ever come back. I miss them when they're not there—the pasture just isn't the same without my bovine friends.

Later, I got to take more photos of the cows. They came to the fence to see if we still had apples (we did). The cows don't know it, but we toss them apples simply to entice them closer to the fence so I can take photos of them. 

I think they're going to miss us when we're gone. 

Friday Cow Blogging

One of the amusements at Black Park

One of our favorite places to walk here is Black Park. It's right next to the Pinewood Studios lot, and is often used as an outdoor set for films made at Pinewood. We've come upon sets while wandering around the park before, which adds a bit of drama to our walk. 

And also cows. We don't always see cows in the park, but when we do, they're in an enclosed area, so they're safe from dogs like Sparky who hasn't yet figured out that cows are our friends. 

A couple of weeks ago, while prowling around the park hoping to come across a set from Star Wars, we came upon instead a herd of brown cows. Sparky looked a little too interested, so we called him back from the fence and leashed him--normally he can run off lead throughout the park with no worries, which is why it's one of our favorite places to go. 

I'm not sure who owns the cows that graze in Black Park. Maybe they're there as public amusement, sort of like the zip line that attracts kids on weekends. 

Meanwhile, closer to home, my cows have been kept in the far pasture the last couple of months, so I haven't seen them. Which suits Sparky just fine; he has a hard enough time keeping the garden free from squirrels. 

Brown cows add drama to Black Park

Friday Sheep Blogging

Sheep show their behinds to us as we approach from the lane.

More Scottish sheep on tap for this week's edition of Friday Farm Animal Blogging.

With sheep as plentiful in Scotland as midges (more so, actually—I didn't see a single midge while I was there, but they tend to stay away from the likes of me), there is no end to the photogenic sheep. 

These lambs and their mums were at Corrimony Cairn, where we stopped to admire the archaeological ruins. (Don't tell my family, but I pretend to want to go to off the beaten path sights just to get a chance to photograph farm animals.) The ruins were nice—you can read about them here—but the sheep had built their own clever structure for escaping the chill winds.

Yes, you're adorable 

By the way, if you're concerned at all about the environment, and the dangerous build up of greenhouse gases, you probably want to make sure these little guys stay off your dinner plate. Turns out lambs emit a lot of methane. More, per pound, than cows. Hard to believe, I know, they're so adorable, but these guys are serious methane producers. 

Have you checked out my tofu recipes? 

Shaggy sheep loses her fleece, which costs more to sheer than it's worth. 

Friday Sheep Blogging

You think those postcards are joking about the "Scottish traffic jams"? 

Scotland has more sheep than cows, in fact, Scotland has more sheep than people. So it's not surprising that today's Friday Farm Animal blogging is devoted to some of the sheep I saw on my recent trip to the Highlands. 

We were driving from Fort Augustus to our cottage in Foyers one evening, stopping often to take photos of the amazing scenery. Several times we literally stopped in the middle of the road. There was very little traffic; in the 45 minute journey I saw a single car. We did, however, have to stop for sheep in the road. 

We waited patiently for this bedraggled ewe to cross the road. She was losing her fleece in bits and pieces—since shearing sheep costs more than the wool is worth, many sheep are now bred to lose their fleece naturally, saving the farmer the cost of shearing his ewes, and putting sheepdogs out of business. 

Finally we found a designated pull off, and since we were itching to pull out our cameras and get some good shots, we stopped the car, right where some sheep had decided to cross the road to get a look at the view too. 

A sign nearby named this the Suidhe viewpoint. Here's someone's YouTube video of what it looks like. Breathtaking scenery, especially in the evening before the late summer sun sets.

I always say sheep have the best views, since they're often grazed on hillsides in some of the most picturesque countryside in Britain. 

These sheep have views of two lochs, Loch Nan Eun and Loch Tarff. Lucky sheep. 

A lamb by the side of the road. 

More Highlands sheep:

  

And if I wanted to make a car advert, I couldn't choose a better place: 

Friday Cow Blogging

Or should I call this edition "Friday Coo Blogging"?

This pretty mama was at Cardhu Distillery in Banffshire, in the area known for its Speyside whisky. We toured the distillery on Tuesday, a day when the Scottish sun was shining for all it was worth. As we were leaving after a tour, the woman at the till told us this "coo" was out in the field with her mate and newborn calf. I found her by the fence, but she didn't seem too happy. She was content to let me pet her and take her photo, but she never once made eye contact with me, even when I tossed her an apple, and then a digestive biscuit. I think she's shy; my cows would have been all up in my business after an offering like that.

Later I saw her baby and her mate, and the three of them ran back and forth along the fence for some exercise. 

Mama running along the fence with baby and Papa following.

Seeing the "coo", as the Scots pronounce it, was one of the highlights of our tour of the distillery. (For me at least. The others enjoyed the wee drams of Scotch they sampled later.) Cardhu Distillery was pioneered by a woman, Helen Cumming, who was distilling spirits illegally back in 1811. Three times she was caught by the revenue and customs men, and each time her husband John, a farmer who had nothing to do with the distillery, went to jail since, back then, women weren't jailed. (At least not for distilling whisky).

After her death, her daughter-in-law, who took over the distillery upon the death of Helen's son, sold the distillery eventually to John Walker, who is now known for the Johnnie Walker label. If you've ever had Johnnie Walker, you've had Cardhu, since it's one of the whiskies used in the blend. 

The River Spey, the Caingorms in the distance

The tour was entertaining, even for someone who's not fond of whisky. The drive along the River Spey was beautiful, and of course, the high point of any visit to the countryside is the chance to chat with a cow. Even a slightly shy coo.  

Friday Cow Blogging

Can you see the cows, gathered in a heap at the fence? 

We've been having some close encounters with the cows lately. It turns out there's something they like more than apples. The gardener tosses the freshly cut grass over the fence, and several times we've found them practically climbing upon the fence to feast at the buffet he's laid out for them. 

It's gotten to where we're worried they may topple the flimsy fence. A couple of times my husband has sent Sparky out to chase them away, something  Sparky's only too happy to do. I don't like the idea of encouraging the dog to bark at cows and scatter them. It's exactly the thing I don't want him to do, but I don't want the cows coming into the garden either. 

We've got some new ones in the herd now. Some young girls, not babies, but not adults either, have joined the ladies and two little ones in the pasture. I've been trying to get a good photo of the two little ones, who only appeared a month or so ago, but they're very skittish, especially if the dog is anywhere near. 

The babies and the new girls scatter when Sparky barks. 

But this Mama isn't afraid of a barky dog. She continued to eat fresh mowed grass. Yes, that's grass on her head. 

The new arrivals came closer. The two in the background are the young calfs, one black and white like her mum, the other brown with a lovely patch on her forehead. 

 

They're so curious about us humans! 

Friday Llama Blogging

(I know; it's not Friday, but Typepad suffered a Denial of Service attack yesterday. The hackers will do anything to prevent Friday Cow Blogging from going on. They clearly are worried.)

This week I took a couple of friends to the Cotswolds, and our first stop was Minster Lovell, possibly my favorite place on earth. After we admired the ruins we walked around a bit, and came upon a field of llamas, as you do. It turned out one was a mama llama, but she must be fed up with that whole nurturing thing, because when Baby Llama (who was almost as big as Mama) came over looking for the goodies, she kicked him out of the way. 

This went on for a while, but eventually Mama Llama succeded in her denial of service. 

That's llamas for you. 

Give me a cow any day. 

Mama Llama

Baby Llama arrives, Mama scuttles off.

Mama bites Baby

Friday Goat Blogging

I don't usually approve of kids playing with dogs unsupervised, especially if they're climbing all over the poor dog, but this dog, a Great Pyrenees, tolerates these kids pretty well. 

We almost got a Great Pyrenees, before we got Bailey, but I didn't have anything to guard. They do seem like really great dogs.

And now I'm wanting some baby goats. Sparky seems good with kids; maybe it would work out. 

Friday Cow Blogging

I've been thinking lately that I need to get out more. Maybe everyone was getting sick of the same old cows, week after week, instead of more interesting, more colorful cows, further afield. Yet Sparky isn't good around strange cows (okay, all cows are strange, as far as he's concerned). Walking amongst livestock just isn't a good idea with a cow-reactive dog.

So today when I saw the cows near the fence I ran outside with apples. 

This is the reaction I got: 

I think he's trying to tell me something. 

For now I think I will just stick with these cows. Maybe not so boring after all. 

Friday Cow Blogging

Cows from my gym window.

I'm really enjoying working out with the cows. On Wednesday I was peering outside while I did bicep curls, and noticed a couple of cows coming close to the fence. I kept my eye on them as I did press-ups against the wall, and tried to think of other exercises I could do that would allow me to keep looking out the window. 

Then I noticed one of the cows had strange markings on his side. I picked up the iPad and started taking photos, forgetting all about working out. 

I can't tell what language those markings are; anyone have a clue?

At one point, one of the cows started staring into the neighbour's garden, then ran over toward the fence as if he wanted to see who was there. I didn't see anyone, but maybe my neighbour throws apples to the cows too.

Pretty soon I'll be able to throw the apples quite far, as my biceps are getting huge. Not really, but I am pretty sure I can out-gun Michelle Obama in an arm wrestle contest. I bet she doesn't even have any cows to look at from her gym window. 

Friday Cow Blogging

Hey, is that apples?!

I just love the expression on these cows faces. I was outside the other morning with the camera, since I'd seen the cows lying in a heap out in the pasture, hungover from their carousing the night before. Well, that was my interpretation anyway. I like to imagine they have a good time out there. 

Anyway, as soon as we went out Sparky ran to the fence and gave a warning bark, so that woke them up. Meanwhile, I grabbed a shovel and started shoveling shit. Really, that was what I was doing—we fling the dog waste over the fence so it can decompose where it won't bother anybody. 

But the cows apparently thought I was tossing apples over the fence, so they hotfooted it over to the fence, eager to partake. 

Boy, were they disappointed. 

Nope, not apples. 

I didn't have any apples, or I would have tossed some to them. So they hung around for a while, and one climbed up to the top of the compost and started eating the leftover Christmas tree. 

I know some people envy my life here in England, going to plays in London and checking out castles on the weekends, but honestly, most of my days are spent shoveling shit at cows and entertaining plumbers.

Just for that I'm eating your Christmas tree. 

Friday Cow Blogging

Plotting an incursion

Sparky kept barking this morning, but it didn't sound like his usual squirrel-alert bark. Finally I let him out, and he ran to the fence. I saw some movement back there, then I noticed it was coming from a cow.

One of the cows had gotten inside the neighbour's fence. I ran upstairs to get dressed, grabbed my camera, and put on my wellies, but by the time I got outside the cows were running up the pasture toward the barn in the other pasture. The errant cow was nowhere to be seen. 

I suspect somehow the farmer found out and called them back to the upper pasture, but I don't know how he does this. I never knew cows had such good recall.

Also, if you haven't seen cows running you just haven't seen anything. Next time I'll try to get a photo; the image above is from a few weeks ago. 

Friday Cow Blogging

"Here, have some muddy apples, cows."

It's not the rain; it's the mud. We've just had the rainiest January on record, at least here in Southern England. But it's the mud that's had me at my wits' end. Our garden is now composed of several mud pits, the latest near the fence that was damaged during one of the gales that's accompanied our many storms. When the gardener repaired it he mucked up what was left of the grass, and now it's another spot of ankle-deep mud. I don't even go outside without wellies. I'm seriously considering getting a pair for Sparky. He tracks mud inside, making pawprints all over the kitchen floor—the part that's not covered by throwrugs or towels. 

When I saw the cows out near the fence, I grabbed a bag of apples I had chilling in the fridge and my wellies, leaving Sparky inside. They didn't seem to mind that the apples landed in mud. 

They don't know it, but they're lucky—there's at least dry land for them to stand on. Cows in Somerset are standing in flooded fields. Farmers are using boats to get to their land. 

And somehow, I have turned this into another post whinging about the weather. 

Friday Cow Blogging

My new view from my home gym beats the view of the Central line. 

For the last couple of weeks I've been turning my spare room into a gym room, storing my new rowing machine, hand weights, medicine ball, and various other equipment. This week I finally "moved in," saving me thrice weekly trips to the gym. 

Immediately I noticed one great advantage: my view. Instead of looking out over the Central line tracks, I now have a view of my cow-filled pasture.

I'd say that's worth the price of a rowing machine, as well as the time I spent cleaning out the room. Cows, it turns out, are great inspiration for working out.