When most people think of France it’s probably the bustling (and highly fashionable) streets of Paris that come to mind.
But France is a large and diverse country, and if you leave the urban areas you’ll find a completely different reality playing out to the rhythm of farm life.
The rural French village of Sacoue (where we spent a month housesitting) is ruled by the whims of sheep. Even those few locals who don’t directly make their livelihood raising livestock are still affected on a daily basis.
The narrow lanes are always covered in sheep droppings, it’s more common than not to encounter a herd being driven to pasture on the main roads, and there’s a constant soundtrack of clanging bells and bleating lambs permeating every waking hour.
We’re pretty much the furthest thing from being farm savvy (when one of the cats brought in an injured mouse we tried to save its life instead of letting nature take its course), but we did our best to integrate.
We watched sheep being sheared one Sunday afternoon and stepped in to help catch a particularly evasive ewe when she escaped.
We attended a local ram auction and dutifully oogled the animals’ studliness.
And we laughed at the awkward newborn lambs trying to learn how to walk.
Okay, so most of our “integration” was just playing with the lambs. Who knew they were so dang cute?!
They’re gawky and adorable and inquisitive and they sort of look like little newly-hatched aliens.
We took that photo of the tiny lamb alien when it was literally only a few hours old. One morning we heard an unusually loud bleating racket from the field behind our house, but we didn’t climb out of bed to investigate until later… when we found this wee little thing looking confused and trying to suckle its sibling.
Its umbilical cord was dragging along the ground, its eyes were red and blinky, and its poor mom was still covered in blood.
But they clean up cute, though, huh?