By the time you read this entry, I will have been in France for about three weeks. So this piece will be a little different from what you have perhaps come to expect. I will, nevertheless, try to write something current. Before I left the states, we were working very hard to build new fences on a piece of property that serves to expand the deeded portion of the ranch. Four new pastures for the buffalo translates into about six miles of work: building new fence (I mostly help), putting in a new water system (I just watched them do it) and removing old fence (my specialty),.
My assistants were Maeve Bongarcon, our summer intern from France, and Lucas, Jill’s son. We rolled up old wire and pulled posts wishing simply that the next quarter of a mile was the last quarter of a mile. But when I left the states, I know there were two quarters still standing. Once on the airplane, believe me, I did not look back; although I wish we had finished that tear out of fence before I left. That piece promised to be difficult.
Well, here I am in the south of France, about as far south as you can go without getting your feet wet in the Mediterranean Sea. It is a region called Le Camarque, and an exceptional place to be sure. Here they raise fruits and vegetables, rice, wheat, cattle and horses. But these cattle and these horses are unique to this region, a watery land reminiscent of the deltas, swamps and bayous of the Mississippi River. The Rhone River forms this region as it empties into the Med. This also is a land of birds: as is Louisiana. some of them are familiar, some are not. A hawk or a falcon is recognizable, and with the exception of the kestrel, not specifically identifiable to me. But back to the horses and cattle, specifically the cows selected for breeding the bulls of Le Camarque, which are used in the bullfighting arenas. Both the cattle and the horses I believe to be exceptional. In neither case are they what I would prefer as my own, but here, I am a visitor and ride what is assigned to me and try to catch on to their round-up, or gathering, and participate without making any major mistakes. In a lot of ways horses are still horses and cattle are still cattle, but the systems people use with them are different, which goes also for the equipment: the saddles for instance, and the method for catching a calf (usually a big one for branding) with poles and strong men on the ground. Sorting off the calves and the young bulls in the South of France is similar to the way we do it, which is all I can say, definitely a spectator sport, unless like me, you happened to be riding in that rodeo.
Many of the people I meet here have read Buffalo for the Broken Heart and most ask me what we do on the ranch. They have a keen interest in our concern, as well as their own, for the environment, for sustainable harvest, for restoration of the prairie, and trying to help change what I call a culture of poverty, by augmenting our diet with healthy meat. It is, of course important to offer other ranchers a means whereby their buffalo can retain tradition and also become commercial, profitable, and sustainable for the twin purposes of generating good health and breaking the chains of poverty. And so I explain as best I can in our languages what we do, how and why we do it. It is the goal of a vision quest. A votre sante, bon appetit, a bientot.