Life in a small village in northern France moves at a gentle pace — until a herd of cows decides the grass really is greener elsewhere. That's exactly what happened to Janine Marsh, editor of The Good Life France, on an autumn dog walk she recounts in her latest newsletter from what she calls cow country.
The setting alone is worth the read. Janine's route passes the Chapel of Miracles, built in the 18th century by a husband whose sickly wife somehow survived against the odds and who wanted to say thank you. Further along sits the home of the couple she nicknames Mr and Mrs Pepperpot (they're just very petite), and then a road leading to a forest hiding German bunkers and an old V1 launch pad from the Second World War. It's the kind of walk where history and farming life sit side by side.
Then the dogs started howling. A dozen or so of Thierry the Farmer's cows had broken out of their field and were making themselves at home — eating flowers in a neighbour's front garden, sniffing a parked car, using a telephone pole as a scratching post. Janine walks four dogs: Labradors Reggie and Ronnie Kray, who attract cows like magnets and patiently accept the resulting inspections, and Australian Shepherds Lady Ella and Nina Simone, who take a firm anti-cow stance. When the cows got curious about the Labradors, the Aussies bolted, the Labradors gave chase thinking it was a game, and a slow-motion stampede followed. Amusingly, the cows seem to have concluded that freedom was overrated and marched straight back to their field, where Janine shut the gate behind them.
The dogs, meanwhile, had torn off across a field chasing birds they'd never catch. The rescue tool of choice: the 'biscuit whistle', whose shrill pheeeep echoed across the valleys and brought all four hounds sprinting back for treats. Crisis over, cows contained, biscuits distributed.
Why does this matter to a traveller? Because it's a lovely snapshot of rural France you won't find in guidebooks — the scattered wartime relics, the tiny chapels with odd backstories, the village characters, and the fact that a traffic jam there might involve livestock rather than cars. Northern France, away from the coast and the big cities, rewards walkers who slow down. Expect damp autumn mornings, hedgerows, hidden bunkers in the woods, and the occasional escaped cow. Janine's weekly newsletter is a good window into this everyday France if you're dreaming of a slower, countryside-based trip — say, a gîte holiday with dogs, wellies and no particular agenda.
A gentle, funny read for anyone planning an off-the-beaten-path French escape, or who simply enjoys tales of country life going mildly wrong. Credit: The Good Life France.
