We were putting our groceries into the car in the Argelès Carrefour parking lot the other day, when Michael happened to look across the road and spotted a shepherd with his dog and significant flock. Having stupidly missed the opportunity to photograph the vaches sauvages (wild cows) that had left mysterious droppings—we thought some equestrians had been passing by—at the top of our driveway, we got the camera right out.
If we ever manage to coincide, preferably from a safe distance, with the sanglier (wild boar) that has torn up our garden, we'll record that memorable moment, too. And someday I'll go through our old Picasa records to find the photo of the sheep that invaded our property one day when Kate was visiting. Their pellets carpeted the driveway. Eventually, I suppose, we'll become experts in dropping identification. My father wasn't impressed that we couldn't tell the difference between cow pats and deposits left by a horse.