The Games Cows Play

 

Future Queen of Queens

Switzerland, oh Switzerland, how lovely are your peaks.

People contemplate Switzerland and immediately envision snow, mountains, cheese fondue, watches, chocolate and lots of other stuff, just like every other country. But, one is discounting a key factor in Switzerland's economy:
                             Bovines

Perhaps one of the strangest festivals involving cows is Annual Cow Fighting, beginning in March, lasting through September. Cows will spend the summer roaming and eating in the pastures, making delightful creamy milk that turns into magical cheese. So they have some time to fight.

All cows are naturally bossy and territorial, loving a good cow fight. Locking formidable horns, wrestling around a bit, until the loser gives up. Being muscular and easily riled, this breed appears like it could rip guts out. 

 Mooing loudly and apparently scary, the battle is mostly push and shove. When one feels like she won this event, they both walk off the field, apparently to do something involving grazing.

 

 

Hérens  breed is the cow of choice because they are particularly feisty and temperamental breed. This breed battles well, with its owner hoping to capture the prestigious title, Queens of Hérens.

From March to September, battles are held all around Switzerland, attracting tens of thousands of spectators. the final tournament will result the crowning of the Queen of Queens. The prize is one of those humongous ornate cowbell. Then any offspring will be sold for a big hefty price at an auction.(Big prize!)

 

 

YouTube, cows are paraded through town, showing their

large cow bells.

 

So there you have it. Switzerland is not just tourism, but this country celebrates the amazing products made in Switzerland. Here, cows are recognized for their contributions.  And the cow battles must be amazing.

 

This was posted in September 2019, we had just returned from visiting grandsons and their parents.  We did not witness this event, sadly. Maybe next time? This is exactly the non-tourist events we enjoy. Forget about listening to another entertaining events, or horn blowing, I'd rather see fighting cows anytime.

 

Who wouldn't? 

This was re-posted in 2022. We just watched a documentary on strange games from different countries and saw some of the strange habits of people with lots of free time after work is done.

 

Switzerland is an amazing country. Our daughter's family live in Bern; they have two sons, ages 13 and 8.  We tell our daughter that we come to see the adults, but they know the truth: We go to see our gr-sons.

Our Babies with Their Babies

Since 2014, our son is married and has 2 small boys; Our youngest daughter
is married and has 2 sons. Our oldest daughter has two girls, cuddling up to us.

 

We were 10 years younger then, and many pounds heavier. Thankfully, we are thinner, and we are older; things hurt more.

On one trip to Switzerland allowed our three grown-up children and their off-spring to be together.  Like proud parents, we stood back and enjoyed their interactions.  They have grown so much, accomplished more than we or they expected, and become successful adults.

Even in our glowing observing, we could not help but notice that WE were also be observed. 

Christmas 2018 at Disneyland

Sitting in the family room (me on the floor) while we played cars and trucks with our grand kids, these three (with their spouses) leaned in closely, talking in low voices.  

Occasionally one would glance our way and then turn back to the group.  One would point at us.  One would indicate some body part where we were currently experiencing pain.  

All were serious.  Sympathetic. 

My husband suggested,  “They have great senior facilities here…”

I looked at my husband and him at me.  “You know,” I whispered, “Euthanasia is legal here in Switzerland.”

We looked back at our precious adult children.  They quickly looked away and moved to the kitchen.  

Then we resumed play with grandchildren.  Life is good as grandparents when there are Legos and toys available, and the children who have a glow about them.

Someday they will be sitting on the floor with their own grandchildren. Lucky people. Life is fun, life is good. 

Battles to Be Queen of Queens

Future Queen of Queens

Switzerland, oh Switzerland, how lovely are your peaks.

People contemplate Switzerland and immediately envision snow, mountains, cheese fondue, watches, chocolate and lots of other stuff, just like every other country. But, one is discounting a key factor in Switzerland's economy:
                             Bovines

Perhaps one of the strangest festivals involving cows is Annual Cow Fighting, beginning in March, lasting through September. Cows will spend the summer roaming and eating in the pastures, making delightful creamy milk that turns into magical cheese. So they have some time to fight.

All cows are naturally bossy and territorial, loving a good cow fight. Locking formidable horns, wrestling around a bit, until the loser gives up. Being muscular and easily riled, this breed appears like it could rip guts out. 

 Mooing loudly and apparently scary, the battle is mostly push and shove. When one feels like she won this event, they both walk off the field, apparently to do something involving grazing.

 

 

Hérens  breed is the cow of choice because they are particularly feisty and temperamental breed. This breed battles well, with its owner hoping to capture the prestigious title, Queens of Hérens.

From March to September, battles are held all around Switzerland, attracting tens of thousands of spectators. the final tournament will result the crowning of the Queen of Queens. The prize is one of those humongous ornate cowbell. Then any offspring will be sold for a big hefty price at an auction.(Big prize!)

 

 

YouTube, cows are paraded through town, showing their

large cow bells.

 

So there you have it. Switzerland is not just tourism, but this country celebrates the amazing products made in Switzerland. Here, cows are recognized for their contributions.  And the cow battles must be amazing.

 

This was posted in September 2019, we had just returned from visiting grandsons and their parents.  We did not witness this event, sadly. Maybe next time? This is exactly the non-tourist events we enjoy. Forget about listening to another entertaining events, or horn blowing, I'd rather see fighting cows anytime.

 

Who wouldn't?

 

To Be the Queen of Queens in Switzerland

Future Queen of Queens

Switzerland, oh Switzerland. 

People contemplate Switzerland and immediately envision snow, mountains, cheese fondue, watches, chocolate and lots of other stuff, just like every other country. But, one is discounting a key factor in Switzerland's economy:

Bovines

Perhaps one of the strangest festivals involving cows is Annual Cow Fighting, beginning in March, lasting through September. Cows will spend the summer roaming and eating in the pastures, making delightful creamy milk that turns into magical cheese. So they have some time to fight.

All cows are naturally bossy and territorial, loving a good cow fight. Locking formidable horns, wrestling around a bit, until the loser gives up. Being muscular and easily riled, this breed appears like it could rip guts out. Mooing louder and apparently scary, the battle is mostly push and shove.

YouTube site

Hérens  breed is the cow of choice because they are particularly feisty and temperamental breed. This breed battles well, with its owner hoping to capture the prestigious title, Queens of Hérens.

From March to September, battles are held all around Switzerland, attracting tens of thousands of spectators. the final tournament will result the crowning of the Queen of Queens. The prize is one of those humongous ornate cowbell. Then any offspring will be sold for a big hunking price at an auction.

The winners

To access the interesting sites, please click on the colored and maybe underlined captions beneath the photos or in the text. These are fascinating sites, truly.

These amaze me, delight me, and give me an appreciation of the history of a country. 

Just you wait to see the Exploding Snowman. You will love it.

Small Shrines

Farmers walked along this land.

European countries with such centuries of history have, by sheer time, amassed incredible buildings, structures, monuments, and fountains that shout to the visitor:  “I have been here longer than you can imagine!" 

Shrines to the past stand tall, but most visitors do not know what they memorialize. Tourists are there to see, but not to learn. They suffer from camera overload:  so many photo opportunities stand that it is overwhelming to pick and choose. They may try, but there are too many places and things.

We have traveled to Switzerland every summer since 2013. When our daughter gave us a grandson, we hungered to hold him and see him grow. Each time, he taller and soon he was taking us on big adventures of his own making. Now we have his little brother to enjoy.

On the way back to our rented apartment, on the right, each day we passed by a cemetery where tombstones were also made.  On the left, we traveled by clearly ignored shrines of their own, clustered together.

Unlike the grand shrines of historical figures, these shrines require abstract thinking.

I labeled this post "Small Shrines".  

These are stone watering troughs from old farmlands, gathered together  to share the history of the farmers.

An old English telephone booth without its glass, has no phones where a plant had grown. It was there on purpose, I hope.

Each day we walked along the river.

A tree leans along the Aure River, hanging on with its roots until the next snow-melt flood

Sometimes the Small Shrines speak the loudest.
Sometimes one has walk along a river.

Sometimes one has to search for them and sometimes one has

to look to the left.

Murder! Murder! Morte! Morte!

Source

Switzerland is famous for its incredible awe-inspiring beauty, and rightly so.  When I viewed my first mountain with its cap of white snow, I almost reached out to see if it was a painting or real. 

The people of Switzerland are polite and well-educated, and the unemployment rate is near to nothing.  And most have a dog or two, which are also polite and well-trained.  The canine walk on leash, silent, and discreet in relieving needs, which the owner promptly removes with a Swiss provided bag and disposal sites along the sidewalks.

Scrumpy and Porter (these are types of English beers)

My daughter Mary and husband Richard have two dogs, Porter and Scrumpy.  Porter has a stoic dignity about him; he will keep feet warm, let my grandson climb over him, and considers himself to be superior to his fellow dog, Scrumpy.

Benjamin (almost 2?) hanging out with Scrumpy

Scrumpy is a fun-loving and likable mutt, with mixed terrier tendencies and low on the intelligence scale.  If there is to be something destroyed in the house, Scrumpy is guilty while Porter shakes his head. Scrumpy..Scrumpy.

Porter, the ever-patient-Porter

The Swiss also have professional dog-sitters: people who are prepared with all the needs a dog might have.  Mary and Richard have left Porter and Scrumpy with a lovely lady on many trips, where dogs are happy.

This last two week holiday had an unusual twist in the regular day's activities.  Life for Porter and Scrumpy had been proceeding just fine, until this one afternoon.

How to Care for Your Tortoise

The lady had two sizable pet tortoises which also occupied the dog yard, and enjoyed a platonic, complacent relationship with all the other dogs. And Porter and Scrumpy had stayed there several times.

So it was a big surprise to all when Scrumpy raced toward one, and scooped him up.  He shook Bernard side to side to side.  Then Scrumpy threw him in the air, where Bernard turned end on end, landing with a thump on his back.

Scrumpy moved in for the kill—he somehow knew what to do.  With his front paws, Scrumpy disemboweled Bernard.

Porter had been laying under the shade of a tree, observing his impulsive friend do all this, gave one bark, which said it all:  Damn it, Scrumpy, you idiot!  Scrumpy happily jogged over to Porter, a jaunty wag of his tail singing his victory.

The owner lady came screaming and cursing.  How it all ended, I don’t know. Mary and Richard are rather silent on this, while Benjamin still loves to chase Scrumpy around the house.

But I do know this: Scrumpy and Porter will no longer be welcome at her house.

This is a re-post from 2015 or 2014. Benjamin is now 6 and has a brother James, aged 2.  Scrumpy is less spry, not as feisty. Porter is as Porter has always been.

With Christmas coming, I will be putting up some old posts.  New ones will appear in the New Year.

Shrines of Time

Farmers walked along this land.

European countries with such centuries of history have, by sheer time, amassed incredible buildings, structures, monuments, and fountains that shout to the visitor:  “I have been here longer than you can imagine!"

A first time visitor to Switzerland suffers from camera overload:  so many photo opportunities, that it is overwhelming to pick and choose. 

As a returning tourist, I visited Switzerland by myself in July 2012 to see a newborn grandson.  My photos naturally focused on him and his parents.  Each day, I rode a bus through the city of Bern and viewed the city and surrounding areas differently every time.

 I labeled this post "Shrines of Time".  

These are stone watering troughs from old farmlands, gathered together  for artistic appreciation.

An old English telephone booth without its glass, in which a plant had grown

A trail marker along the Aure River

A tree along the Aure River, and it is hanging on with its roots until the next snow-melt flood

 Sometimes the smaller Shrines of Time speak the loudest.

This is a Re-Post of April 23, 2013.  We will be returning to Switzerland in three weeks to see a new grandson and visit with our McKinley family!

Murderer! Murderer! ...Mörder! Mörder!

Source

Switzerland is famous for its incredible awe-inspiring beauty.  When I viewed my first mountain with its cap of white snow, I almost reached out to see if it was a painting or real. 

The people of Switzerland are polite and well-educated, and the unemployment rate is near to nothing.  And most have a dog or two, which are also polite and well-trained.  The canine walk on leash, silent, and discreet in relieving needs, which the owner promptly removes with a Swiss provided bag and disposal sites along the sidewalks.

Scrumpy and Porter (these are types of English beers)

My daughter Mary and husband Richard have two dogs, Porter and Scrumpy.  Porter has a stoic dignity about him; he will keep feet warm, let my grandson climb over him, and considers himself to be superior to his fellow dog, Scrumpy.

Scrumpy and Benjamin's diapered bottom

Benjamin (1 year?) hanging out with Scrumpy

Scrumpy is a fun-loving and likable mutt, with mixed terrier tendencies and low on the intelligence scale.  If there is to be something destroyed in the house, Scrumpy is guilty while Porter shakes his head. Scrumpy..Scrumpy.

Porter, the ever-patient-Porter

The Swiss also have professional dog-sitters: people who are prepared with all the needs a dog might have.  Mary and Richard have left Porter and Scrumpy with a lovely lady on many trips, where dogs are happy.

This last two week holiday had an unusual twist in the regular day's activities.  Life for Porter and Scrumpy had been proceeding just fine, until this one afternoon.

Well, then.

How to Care for Your Tortoise

The lady had two sizable pet tortoises who also occupied the dog yard, and enjoyed a platonic, complacent relationship with all the other dogs. And Porter and Scrumpy had stayed there several times.

So it was a big surprise to all when Scrumpy raced toward the medium-sized tortoise (let’s just call him Bernard), opened his terrier-sized maw, and scooped him up.  He shook Bernard side to side to side.  Then Scrumpy threw him in the air, where Bernard turned end on end, landing with a thump on his back.

Scrumpy moved in for the kill—he somehow knew what to do.  With his front paws, Scrumpy disemboweled Bernard.

Porter had been laying under the shade of a tree, observing his impulsive friend do all this, gave one bark, which said it all:  Damn it, Scrumpy, you idiot!  Scrumpy happily jogged over to Porter, a jaunty wag of his tail singing his victory.

The owner lady came screaming and cursing.  How it all ended, I don’t know. Mary and Richard are rather silent on this, while Benjamin still loves to chase Scrumpy around the house.

But I do know this: Scrumpy and Porter will no longer be welcome at her house.

This is a re-post from 2015. Benjamin is now 6 and has a brother James, aged 2.  Scrumpy is less spry, not as feisty. Porter is as Porter has always been.

With Christmas coming, I will be putting up some old posts.  New ones will appear in the New Year.

K is for Kindness

The A to Z Geniuses

When one of our loved ones (adult, fully capable, with some common sense) sets out on a lengthy trip, we pray.  We hope for safety.  We try not to think about all the what-ifs. 

When our son "Victor" returned from two week biking in Germany and Switzerland, he told of one of the what-ifs.

“I mis-judged this part of the Alps. And the ascent, how steep it was. Then it started raining, a hard cold rain that nearly blew my poncho off.  By the time I reached the summit, my thighs were knotted and cramping.

Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps, My son was never near it.

I was freezing, I started doing exercises, flapping my arms, anything to keep warm.  A few energy bars in the saddle bag, but not enough to refuel.  My map app showed how far it was to the next town.  It wasn’t that far, maybe twenty miles.

It was a slick downhill ride.  Rain in my face, soaked me to the skin.  Dark sky, no moon, just my bike lights to show me ten feet ahead.  Cold, bitter cold.  Shivering so hard that handlebars vibrated.

Then lights ahead, a hotel. Started crying, so relieved.  Pulled on the door handle and found it was locked. Closed for the night.  Pounded on the door. Any one there?

Then the door opened.  A woman about my mom’s age, rounded and hands on hips.  She said something in German.  Then she grabbed and pulled me inside.

She acted just my mom.  Didn’t understand her, but she put me in a room with towels and a hot shower, so nice, down the hall.  Putting my gear near the heater, heard her calling.

Like Mom, for sure.  Sit down here!  Eat! Eat more!  And then she probably said something like this: WHAT did you THINK you were DOING?!

I fell into the best bed in the world and slept hard. There was a huge breakfast waiting for me, and a bag of bratwurst and cheese.  Plus some more mom-words.

I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t opened that door.  If she hadn’t been so….kind.

After a 60 mile jaunt

338 words

When Poppies Weep

Susan E. Kane, July 5, 2014, taken while walking to the tram station, Bern, Switzerland.

Living Life through Generations to generations

Our trip to Switzerland allowed our three grown-up children and their off-spring to be together.  Like proud parents, we stood back and enjoyed their interactions.  They have grown so much, accomplished more than we or they expected, and become successful adults.

Even in our glowing observing, we could not help but notice that WE were also be observed. 

Sitting in the family room (me on the floor) while we played cars and trucks with our grand kids, these three (with their spouses) leaned in closely, talking in low voices.  

Occasionally one would glance our way and then turn back to the group.  One would point at us.  One would indicate some body part where we were currently experiencing pain.  

All were serious.  Sympathetic. 

My husband suggested,  “They have great senior facilities here…”

I looked at my husband and him at me.  “You know,” I whispered, “Euthanasia is legal here in Switzerland.”

We looked back at our precious adult children.  They quickly looked away and moved to the kitchen.  

Then we resumed play with grandchildren.  Life is good as grandparents when there are Legos and toys available, and the children who have a glow about them.

Word Wall

Yes, it does look exactly like this.

After three weeks of total immersion in European history, castles, towering Alps, rain and more rains, and most of all, family:  My brain has crash-slammed into a Word Wall.  

Every single thought stumble, slams, and stutters.

Once the grey cells unclog, maybe a lucid and original few sentences will emerge.  Maybe on Wednesday?

Until then, grant me grace.

Sweet, so sweet baby boy!

Happy Trails

Oh, the places we will go…

This week, our family group of husband and myself, daughter & husband & two daughters, and son will fly to visit our youngest daughter and her family in Switzerland.  We have not seen them for about 1 ½ years. 

Since then the car thief has grown from 6 months to almost 2 years old.

I have pre-posted brilliant writings during the MWF during which we will be frolicking in the Swiss countryside and playing cars & trucks with Benjamin (car thief).  

Some posts are actually re-posts, but others are new and sparkling.  In fact, Delores gifted me with Wednesday Words, so please pop by tomorrow!

Please come by, and leave comments if you wish.  I would love that, but also know that vacations are roaring down the roads and byways.

We’ll return July 10^th.  Our house is being house-sat by a lovely young woman from our church. 

Happy Trails to each of you.

My Grandson, the car thief

I need some more cars.

Today my grandson and I played “cars”.  His collection is huge, while I have only 6 cars, one of which is gone.

One by one we shared our cars. 

My little yellow and orange plastic cars (from the movie “Cars”) to his massive earth mover which he calls his "digger".  My bus to his blue car...  

Yet the little stinker tried to take them from me!

My bus, fire engine, light green VW —the little thief tried to take them all!

Fortunately his hand could not break through the computer screen.  My car, indeed.

Skype is a marvelous invention for a grandmother longing for her little guy in Switzerland.

At least he didn’t get my hot red convertible.  It is under the desk, hiding.

 

Eating hamburger and French Fries with his daddy

Song of the Soil: Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman has been called “The Father of Free-Verse”, as a writer in the mid-1850s who was pulling away from traditional rhyming poetry.  So very talented, Whitman was a teacher, a government employee, journalist, and a volunteer nurse during the Civil War.

Walt Whitman was connected to the earth, the soil, and he wrote passionately about its beauty, as well as its cycles of life and death.  Toward the end of his life, he moved to Laurel Springs, New Jersey, which he called “the prettiest lake in: America or Europe.”

I took these photos in Bremgarten bie Bern, Switzerland, when I visited my new grandson (and his parents) in 2012.  The photos reminded me of Walt Whitman’s poetry.

One day....

...and then the next.

A song of the grass and fields!

A song of the soil, and the good green grass!

A song no more of the city streets,

A song of the soil of the fields.

A song with the smell of sun-dried hay, where the nimble pitchers

        
             handle the pitch-fork,

A song tasting of new wheat, and of fresh-husk’d maize.

Please notice the next field over is green and tasseled with stalks of corn.

Last Year...The 2012 Olympics

Did you see this? I didn't. Source

Last year I missed the London 2012 Olympics.  All of it, if you don't count the BBC commentators giving their summary of the day's events.

My sweet grandson Benjamin was 6 weeks old then (Have I ever mentioned him?) and I was in Switzerland for almost three weeks during the Olympic time.  The balance of the day was spent with the new parents and their new baby.

But, when twilight came, I took the #10 bus back to an apartment my daughter had arranged for me.  (Why didn't you just stay there?  At their house?)  Their own apartment was the size of a kitchen drawer and I might have had to throw up a tent on their tiny balcony.

When I finally settled down for some Swiss-German TV, the choices were limited and so was my understanding.  It wasn't until I returned to my own home, after the flame had been extinguished and the flags carried out of the stadium.

This video with Mr. Bean/Rowan Atkinson was all I needed to see anyway.