I had all sorts of misguided expectations before I landed on this lush, green island called England. Fanciful visions of infinite curtsying, of crinoline and petticoats, and gentlemen wearing top hats. Romantic, chivalrous gestures on every street corner of stately men forever throwing down their capes over puddles so that delicate ladies might cross without getting their shoes soiled. Alas, methinks the lady has watched one too many BBC period dramas !!
Although life in modern day England is not like living in a Jane Austin novel, there are a good few traditions that have endured still. One, of course, is the custom of drinking tea. Britons drink copious amounts, millions of cups per year. And they also, love to say the word "lovely" over and over again. "That's lovely" or just "lovely" in a very lovely voice. Whenever I say "lovely" it doesn't sound as - lovely - must be my stilted, nasally, Yank accent.
I'm very fortunate to live in a pastoral area of Eastern England and opportunity affords me to wander the bucolic countryside taking pictures of just about everything. I've been obsessed with cows lately and my fondness is for a herd, the eight, who I call "the naughty boys" that graze in Wilhorn Meadow just outside my front door. They can be an ornery lot somedays, never pausing once to look up from the relentless grass gorging so that I might take their photo. I will sorely miss their grumpy faces when the farmer collects them back to his farm for the winter months.
Some weeks ago whilst on the hunt for wild blackberries at the lakes near my home, I discovered another muddy rabble of bovines, munching happily, swishing tails and pooping piles. I was halfway across the field, when one looked up from his meal and stared - dead pan stare - watching, watching, watching...
Slowly, like a gentle, lumbering elephant he started making his way towards me, his head bobbing up and down in mechanical momentum as he trudged across the meadow. Then like an unspoken secret cow code, one by one, each cow followed suit, trekking after their horned leader. At ten feet from me they stopped, standing all in a row, to get a closer look at this human visitor and to greet me in proper cow style. Moo. The cows back in Montana can certainly learn some manners from these prim and proper English critters !!
You might title the above photo as "The Stand Off"
Do you spy the little, dozy black faced sheep laying down to the left of the herd? Clearly, the cows have accepted him as one of their own. He's made himself quite at home - this little sheep - and has no idea that he's not a cow. Using a long lens, I found myself much too close to frame everyone to my liking so I turned around and traced my steps across the meadow. When I turned around and looked through the lens again, this is what I happened to capture. Cow wants little sheep to get up and follow the herd - so he gently nudges...
How cute was that ?! So there he is, the little buster - standing there in the midst of all his cow comrades. I'm going back to the lakes soon, weather permitting, to check up on him and to see whether he's learned how to moo yet. I'll keep you posted.
*Note: As of today, December 1, 2008 - little sheep is still hanging with the cows.
{Post Script} This archive was originally posted Friday, 5th September 2008.