How Now Brown Cow?

There’s a scene in Red River, I think it’s almost at the very end, where there’s a tremendous cattle drive through some Western town. Well, this was nothing like that.

For starters, the soundtrack was distinctly non-cowboy music. You can’t play a tuba in the saddle. Furthermore, I was the closest thing to an Indian in the environs. Top it off with the fact that after the whole thing was done, they must have hosed down the main street as it was spotless, spotless, I tellya, and I know for a fact that there was cow poop everywhere.

We walked with the herd for about 3 kilometers, to the barn where they’ll be spending the winter. They came from the upper meadows where they’ve been tended by shepardesses all summer long. This is a big deal because the young women who take care of them are modern first year in college types. It’s getting increasingly difficult to find youngsters that have an interest in staying on the family farm.

The Sennerin, the senior shepardess, questioned my mother in law about why the three of us were walking in such close proximity to the cows. “Aren’t you folks afraid of the cows?” MIL responded that we’re not especially nervous around them, but honestly, I just don’t know any better. Plus, I wanted to walk WITH the cows, not NEAR them, and they seemed friendly enough. And if you walked with the shepards, they kept offering you gingerbread. I suspect recruiting tactics were at work. “Be a sennerin, it’s all gingerbread and schnapps and friendly, friendly cows! Plus, a signing bonus of free cheese for the entire first season!”

We lunched in the beer garden – the family ate grilled pork products, I had a plate of local cheese on sturdy brown bread – and beer, of course. Then we flipped through a photo album showing the history of the farm and chatted a little with a farm Oma (grandmother). There was plenty of brass and lederhosen and an inviting selections of desserts, but we’d started our day with ‘kaffee und kuchen’ back in Radstadt. Instead of dessert, we rounded ’em up and headed for home.

I don’t think cowboys even get dessert. And no way do they get it for breakfast.

Go here for pictures.