And you hear them. Every cow I've seen since moving here has a large cow bell around its neck. Local farmers still use cowbells to track the movement of their herds.
And you smell them, too. I've lived in an area where cows dot the hillsides (shout out to SLO!) and the aroma from the local bovine population was aromatic. But here in Switzerland, some days are down right pungent. A combination of humidity, precipitation, and proximity must be a recipe for especially fragrant cow pies. It is that fragrance that inspired the poem below.
And below the poem is a video of a herd (heard ;) of Swiss cows taken by Joe as we traveled up to the top of Mount Pilatus in a gondola - too bad there isn't smell-o-vision. Hee-hee.
|Photo credit: Maureen taken through the window of the gondola.|