Cow Fight! Cow Fight! Cow Fight!

It would not, apparently, be a proper trip to Europe without a little dash of rowdy vache….

So we interrupt the description of our trip to Italy to bring you:



Sunday morning we decided to drive north from our house on the Grande Route de la Chartreuse to a town called St. Pierre en Chartreuse. We were planning to visit the town and the nearby Couvent de la Grande Chartreuse, a monastery originally founded in 1084, famous for originating the liquor called Chartreuse.

When we arrived at St. Pierre, we noticed a lot of traffic; luckily we were able to snag a parking spot near what was some kind of fair or event. As it turned out, this Sunday was the day of the “Bataille de Vache Herens,” or (wait for it, I kid you not, this is true), the Battle of the Heren Cows. This consisted of a series of “battles” (I use that word very loosely) between pairs of cows. This event was treated very seriously by the participants: There were different weight categories (it being unfair to match a larger cow against a smaller cow), and there were programs printed up with the name of the cow, the weight of the cow, the owner of the cow, and the town and the farm from which the cow came. There was an announcer, who kept up a running commentary on the action (or not). It also appeared that there was betting going on. The proceedings were to terminate with the naming of the “Queen” (presumably, the Queen Bruiser, the toughest vache in the Chartreuse).

What we all know to be true became apparent very early on: Hostility and aggressiveness are not traits normally bred into cows. They are docile, herd animals, bred to stand around together and chew. So, not surprisingly, that is what most of these cows did when brought into the ring (even though there had been some kind of material, looking like dung but apparently having an effect like catnip – or maybe I should say ‘cownip’). Much of the time was spent watching two cows stand around and eat grass – lovers, not fighters – and watching their owners try to cajole them into aggressiveness. Thus much time was spent looking at scenes like this:





But, as readers of last year’s blog entries will attest, some cows are mean. Some cows are rowdy. Some cows kick ass. And not all of them are in Luxembourg, as it turns out. For whatever reason, sometimes a pair of cows would just not seem to like each other, and would have a tussle. So, because a trip to Europe just isn’t complete without some vache action, I give you these truly incredible action shots:











I would be remiss if I didn’t note that in addition to the cow battles, there were a number of charming vendors of excellent cheeses, sausages, candy, and fruit drinks at the surrounding market. And, as has been the case throughout our trip, we seemed to be in a place of almost exclusively locals; we are quite sure we were the only Americans within 40 miles. We bought cheeses to eat here, and sausages to take back with us. Oh, and for lunch, I had something called a galette, which was like a dark, not-sweet pancake or pita-bread-like thing folded over itself with delicious ham and cheese and an egg in the middle. Delicious. Scenes of the market and the town follow.