Tag: Transhumance

Postcard from Alsace: Fête de la Transhumance

We know that over in the UK you are battling with Storm Amy, so I’ll keep quiet about the fact that though it is raining here, it’s the only expected poor-weather-episode in our holiday. So we’ve decided to have an afternoon off, allowing me to send lots of postcards from the Fête de la Transhumance in nearby Muhlbach which we visited this morning, ahead of the deluge we’re currently experiencing.

Transhumance is the practice of taking cattle to spend the summer grazing in the lush upland pasture, before bringing them back down to spend the winter in their home community, Both ends of the season are times of celebration, and here’s transhumance in Seix, from our days in the Pyrenees.

The first people we met after we’d arrived were a group of three people in kilts tuning up their bagpipes. We greeted them in French, then reverted to English, assuming they were Scottish. But no! They come from Strasbourg, speak not a word of English, but are Passionate about Bagpipes, and here they were, ready to play their cornemuses for everyone’s bemusement and delight.

The Alphorn was originally used to call cattle. These days it’s the province of musical folklore enthusiasts and there were several bands of them playing today.

Then it was off to visit the donkeys who would be part of the procession of cattle (Don’t ask. No idea why).

On our way up to view the procession we found the tractor that carried so many of the cowbells the animals wear when in their summer pasture, to keep tabs on them.

Then finally, we could hear all those cowbells clanging away, announcing that the cows were on their way. In truth the cows weren’t happy, and many of them skittered nervously about. I don’t know how much the leading cows enjoyed their fancy headdresses either: but they didn’t complain. By now it’ll be over, and they can forget all about it till next spring, when they’ll be off up the mountain again.

We didn’t stay for the highpoint of the event for many of the locals, the large communal meal, thankfully under canvas. But before we went, we looked round the market: local cheeses, sausage, sweetmeats – cowbells too.

And as we were leaving, something else extraordinary. A procession of people, each holding a large cowbell, which they knocked on each knee alternately as they walked forward, producing a rhythmical cow-bell-dirge. Ouch! Poor knees!

After yesterday’s experience at Colmar, which was Tourist Central, jammed with visitors (like us …) it was good to be at a local celebration: crowded to be sure, but almost exclusively with locals, many of them chatting away in Alsatian, which is widely spoken here, particularly among the older generation.

We feel as if we’ve properly arrived here now.

P.S. WP’s AI suggests the following tags: technology; art; cats.

Revisiting Transhumance in the Haut Salat

I struggled to decide what to re-blog from our years in France this month.  June then was an opportunity to get further away from home to walk and to explore.  Should I take you for a snowy walk to the heights of Lanoux?  Or on a horrifyingly vertiginous expedition?  Maybe le Cap du Carmil?

In the end, since we’re getting a bit fed up with being socially distant these days, I thought we’d go off and have a bit of a knees-up over in Seix.  Come with us.

June 13th 2011

Transhumance in the Haut Salat

Transhumance.  It’s that time of year where here near the Pyrénées, the cattle and sheep are moved from their winter quarters down on their lowland(ish) farms up to the lush summer pastures in the mountains.  They’ll stay there till Autumn, and then be brought down again.  And each time, it’s the excuse for a party.

On Saturday, we joined in, and went over to Seix to meet friends who live there.  The Transhumance celebrations in Haut Salat last three days, but we made do with Saturday morning.  We nearly arrived late – very late – because we found ourselves behind a herd of cattle making their steady way along the road.  Overtaking’s not an option: the cows commandeered this route hundreds of years ago.  But we managed to zip down a side road and make a detour.  A whole hour later, after coffee with our friends, the herd reached the edge of Seix and passed their door….

Cattle trudge patiently down the road …
.. calves too
Patriotic cows are led to town

…and finished their long walk into town.  We went too, and arrived just as the last flocks of sheep were arriving, to be corralled like the cattle, at the edge of the town square.  For a while, and probably much to their relief, they were no longer centre stage.

Sheep come too
Sheep wait patiently in the market square.
Off duty cow bells.

Instead it was jollity of the traditional kind. There were processions of large solemn plaster effigies, local bands.  Dancers from Gascony, the Basque country, the Landes made sure we all had fun, and Malcolm and I even joined in some Basque dancing.  Stars of the show for us were the shepherds from the Landes.  Theirs is flat, marshy country, and they used to keep their eyes on their roving flocks by ranging round on stilts.  But this was a day for dancing, and that’s just what they did, up high on those stilts.  Have a look at the photos.

Loook at these giant cowbells strapped to the men’s backs. We couldn’t find out about those.
It seems strange to ride a plaster pony when there are so many real ones around
A stern-faced giant processes round the town.
.. and here’s her partner.
Basque dancers in red and white …
… still dancing.
Traditional clogs.
.. and the women join in too.
The shepherds from the Landes arrive on the scene…
Children in costume.
This man’s playing a pipe and drum at the same time.
The square at Seix.

We went off for lunch at the end of the morning.  But there was more celebrating, more meals to be shared, particularly by those farmers and country people who over the centuries have welcomed the fellowship of Transhumance as a break from the routines of an often lonely life.