The pace of life is slow in rural France. One day follows another with only the weather, the seasons, and the produce in the weekly market to mark the passing of time. You might think that this life would drive a New York City person crazy after a couple of weeks, but in fact, I am finding quite the opposite. Something in me has slowed way down and as I arrived home from my morning run, I realized I was genuinely excited and satisfied by three small developments in the animal world of Argenton Chateau.
My run takes me down the hill from the center of town, across the main road and into a park that surrounds a lake made by the damming of the l'Ouere. The park is empty on weekday mornings and only slightly populated on the weekends when a few local fishermen pitch their tents and set their poles on the banks hoping to catch something to bring home for Sunday lunch. The only visible lake denizens are several ducks and some swans, usually four of them, who patrol the length of the lake like powerful and supercilious kings. In the last couple of weeks, however, there have only been three. So when I saw flashes of brilliant white through the trees today, I stopped and waited, expecting to see three swans glide by and sure enough there they came, dignified and haughty. But as I turned to leave I saw another flash of white out of the corner of my eye and way down the lake, along came the fourth as slow and relaxed as any dude ever was. This swan had definitely removed himself from the rat race. Unlike the others who kept their heads tall, eyes forward, posture perfect, this swan dawdled along, head swiveling and eyes darting lazily from one side of the lake to the other.. His feathers were unkempt and slightly rakish and instead of following the regal path down the center, he paddled in great circles, pausing here and there, diving underwater, eating the odd fish and having the time of his life. Here was a swan who had opted out and was enjoying every moment. He was beautiful and funky and definitely taking the slow road. I suppose that one of these days, he will fix his feathers, button his collar and catch up with the others but for the moment that's not happening and he's a swan whose only mission is find out what around the next bend in the lake.
The second piece of news is a little gruesome. There is a dead rabbit at the top of the Rue Ste. Anne which has been lying there for a week or so being eaten by maggots and flies. I have checked it out every day, because little by little its entire intact skeleton has been, shall I say, revealed as its flesh has been chewed away. Today, the rabbit's bones were almost bare and there lay in its entirety a perfect skeleton of a bunny. What's cool about that? Not much unless as an artist you care about the structure of living things, which I do. So it was both curious and unnerving to see lying there a being with all the same skeletal parts as a human, only differently organized, more miniature and with distinctly less space in the cranium for a developed brain, and distinctly bigger foot size in proportion to the rest of its body so that during its lifetime, its thoughts were minimal but the spring in its step made for a particularly enjoyable ride.
And finally the big news is the return of Fripon. Fripon is the local donkey whose name in English means "rascal." Until recently, Fripon could always be found in a walled field on the way to the hamlet of Auzay. Students at the school have always fed him, patted his head and talked to him as if he were an old and batty uncle. So a great deal of worry surrounded the fact that all of a sudden, Fripon went missing. There were rumors that he had died, that he had been sold or that he was having an amorous relationship somewhere in the next village. Everyone was concerned because this is a notable donkey who responds to voices with a loud hee-haw and who, when you stand at his gate, trots up from the river like a faithful dog, tail wagging and ears flopping. It was more than sad to see his field empty and it seemed like the village had lost a vital citizen. But a couple of nights ago, Fripon's distinctive voice could be heard across the valley and when I checked this morning, there he was in his old field, hearty and vociferous as ever. And though he may have a broken heart, Argenton Chateau feels more like its quiet, slow-moving self with Fripon back where he belongs.
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