Livestock Report from India

For anyone who has had the misfortune of travelling with me before you'll know I have a bit of an obsession with photographing local lifestock. It's the farm girl in me, I don't have any other explanation. India is no exception.

I've decided that my favorite animal in India is the water buffalo. They have the most peaceful, relaxed eyes, as though they've achieved the higher consciousness I failed to reach at the ashram. The fur on top of their heads looks so soft I want to touch it. And as they stroll about villages, chewing on whatever it is water buffalos chew on while in transit, they see at peace with the world and their place in it.

I'm almost charmed by the Indian pigs as well, but their full-on scavenging habits are a bit off-putting. The pigs here resemble wild boars (or my misconception of what a wild boar looks like), with a shock of bristely hair that sticks up from their spine defiantly like a mohawk. They trot through town as though wearing a matching set up tiny high heels, clickety-clack, clickety-clack, snouts constantly rooting through garbage in the gutters. They often travel in small packs of 2 or 3, with the occasional tiny piglet prancing behind.

And it really doesn't matter where you are in India, turn your head in any direction and you'll see a cow - lounging by the median on a busy city street, prowling through the market, killing time in bus and train stations, or just sort of rambling along slowly, going nowhere. Growing up on a farm, I pathetically was always moderately petrified of cows, and only really relaxed when barbed wire separated me from by bovine friends. But the cows here are totally chilled, very used to people, and aside from the frisky cow who head-butted me a couple times in Pushkar, and my irrational fear has been replaced by a fascination. According to the Hindu religion, the cow is sacred, and as a result, ordering a Big Mac at McGreasy's is impossible in India. Unfortunately, the majority of cows in India are sadly disrespected, which is exactly the opposite of what I would have thought. If a cow isn't producing enough milk and a family can't afford to feed it, the cow is basically kicked out into the street, and has to fend for itself. So there's feral cows everywhere, ribs sadly visible, and most of them root in gutters and garbage heaps looking for scraps of food. I saw a young cow in the train station the other morning eating a piece of newspaper, and I was highly tempted to go buy it a samosa.

The other day I rode a camel named Rama. While our guide assured us before we set out that no tourist is allowed to ride a camel in India without a camel-handler, after 3 minutes my handler passed me the reigns and promptly disappeared. He surfaced about an hour later, with a bag of milk in his hand, so I think he was running errands. Not that it was a big deal, we ambled through the back streets of Pushkar and then out into the desert for about an hour and a half, and it was clear that Rama could have done the route in his sleep. What was really fascinating in a 'I'm about to crap my pants' sort of way was the way motorcycles weave in between camels like they're just another vehicle on the side of the road. I was feeling delicate in the gut region that afternoon, so bouncing around on the top of a camel really wasn't well timed, but it was pretty cool, I have to admit. Half way through we stopped off in the desert for masala chai and cookiesm, totally posh-tourist, but it was fantastic. Getting off a camel is interesting, because you have to lean back, and then pitch forward and back high in the air as the camel sits down. Some of the camels sort of collapse onto their sides in relief once their passenger has dismounted, and sink into the sand trying to get cool. My dismount was less than graceful - for anyone who has ridden a horse, it's a similar feeling but more thigh-numbing, so I collapsed into the sand right between a couple of camels for a few seconds in relief.

I'm a dog person, and have to admit, despite their scrawny stature and obvious infections, I'm charmed by the dog population here. Very occasionally you come across dogs that are actual pets (you can tell because they're a distinct breed and are usually over-fed), but most are wild, and starving. The dogs will sort of follow you looking for food, but usually don't get too close. At night you can often hear dog fights in the neighborhood, which from a distance is sort of just noise pollution, but up close, is actually kind of scary. Yesterday morning, Monika (friend from the tour group) and I were on very early morning hike through the town of Pushkar with the aim of seeing the sunrise from a hilltop, and came across a very violent dog-fight. The underdog (sorry, couldn't resist) eventually got away, but it was touch and go for a second. (No worries Nancy, we beat it out of there pretty quickly!) I come across a bundle of puppies a couple times a day, and have reached the conclusion that when I get home, I'm getting a dog, enough wasting time on the subject.

And well, yes, for those of you who couldn't resist the monkey jokes before I left, yes, there are a crapload of monkeys in India. Most tourists are pretty skitish around them, but I'm usually creeping closer, hoping for a good photo. Perhaps I'm tempting fate, but I've got to get good use of my over-priced rabies shots somehow, now don't I?