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Relax in Umbria with our dogs: an Easter getaway in the wild nature of Monte Peglia
Translator Translator Translator Translator If you are looking for a unique way to spend your Easter holidays, why not consider a relaxing holiday in the wilderness of Umbria with your furry friends? In our ancient hamlet nestled in the heart of Monte Peglia, you can experience the beauty of the Umbrian hills while enjoying the company of your free dogs. Our farm offers a variety of ways to relax and connect with nature. Take a walk on forest trails and breathe in the fresh air as you admire the breathtaking views of the surrounding hills. Let your dogs run free and explore the woods, getting drunk with the scents of nature. If you’re in the mood for adventure, you can also embark on a guided hike to discover the area’s hidden gems. Claudia will recommend small villages and lush woods where you can relax and even enjoy a picnic with your furry companions. In our ancient village, you can also immerse yourself in the local culture, family stories and taste the delicious Umbrian cuisine. Our farm produces vegetables from our garden, Chianina meat and olive oil, which you can share in our cozy restaurant overlooking the hills, reserved only for guests of the farm. Of course your dogs are welcome to join you on our outdoor terrace or inside the large fireplace room. So, if you are looking for a unique and unforgettable Easter holiday, come and relax in Umbria with your dogs. Discover the beauty of the wild nature of Monte Peglia and let your furry companions roam free in our 300 hectares of woods and pastures. We guarantee that you will feel refreshed, rejuvenated and connected to the world around you. Info: https://www.vacanzeanimali.it/bkd-0-agriturismo_borgo_spante-5245.html...
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Calling cows to new meadows…
I’ve always said that the cows are driven better by voice! Behold, I am hoarse as Popeye call them one by one to take them in the new meadows of Nervano … Time taken despite the disbelief of Loriano: 35 minutes !!!...
read moreMinerva and Jim Awaken… on the storm!
Today, the little one grows accompanied by the soundtrack which lives in her mother’s soul. During a storm a few mornings ago, ‘Riders On The Storm’ was playing on the radio… For me, this is Jungian synchronicity, for her it was simply a question of rhythm!...
read moreMinerva
2006 Clodovix Noli me tangere – Don’t touch me Mangiando… Eating… L’offerta di Hera – Hera’s offer 2006 Clodoveo Più piccolo di un mug… – Smaller than a mug… Dopo il primo volo – After the first fly Tra il vero e il virtuale – different point of view She sought shelter where she could: huddled on the dried branch of an olive tree which was leaning against the bell tower. And behold, after 10 years, history repeats itself. But she does not have Clodoveo’s yellow eyes, his wild spirit and his lightning swift movements. Covered with white down, she seems to have fallen from a cloud and has two black, intense and very gentle eyes. She has no family, no name but is very hungry. There is fresh liver in the fridge and to form the fibrous casing around it, the fine hairs from Daphne’s soft coat will do very nicely. And so, in this way, my hands recover the ability to prepare the tiny morsels of the right size and the infinite patience needed to feed them to her… For now, she can stay in Clodoveo’s little cage even if, unfledged, it is too big for her. She has terrible claws which she never uses, and as the days go by,, I discover that she likes to be stroked with a wing feather; she smacks her beak in greeting and purrs like a cat when one strokes her at the junction of her wings. Suddenly, in a way that is both abundant and unusual, even her food rains down from Heaven for her. A cuckoo, deceived by his reflection , flies into the window and dies instantly; a flock of birds collides with my car, the cats bring small mice as gifts, small bones, feathers, and skin, all indispensable for the growth of a wild, nocturnal, bird of prey. During the first week she keeps me company in the office. She is very sociable with the other inhabitants of the house. Dafne often looks for her, Rascal watches her for hours at a time , with his head resting on his paws The cats, however, are banished from the area because Morgan, a few years ago, succeeded in opening/ that cage all by himself and preying y on a small, wounded jay. After a few days she begins to recover, eating calves’ liver, chicken hearts and a pigeon that I have prepared in portions and put in the freezer for her…all dressed with tiny, chopped up bones, feathers, the skin of small rodents, and all those rejects indispensable for assembling the wrapping…and for keeping her in good health. If I think about this calmly,/rationally, I’m a bit disgusted at having to tear to pieces, chop up, and warm up only with my fingers, these little corpses barely dead, to push and hide deep inside each mouthful, the blunt bones and feathers that are important also for giving her calcium, so essential to growth for a creature of her size.After a while, my perceptions alter and I change into the Mother Owl who would have done her best to bring up her little ones had the nest not been destroyed and the other chick killed. Everything becomes more natural.We begin to understand each other better…or at least In...
read moreSOS DAGDA – EMERGENCY AID AT BORGO SPANTE
A few mornings ago I heard the Bitu’s urgent call, “The calf’s leg is broken!” I broke into a cold sweat because, for large herbivores, this always means they have to be put down immediately. As I rushed to the site I thought that fortunately Bitu always exaggerates. Once there I saw a two year old heifer, not a small calf, who is sadly standing on three legs, the back right leg dangling like a chandelier after an earthquake! I pulled her slowly to the shed and made sure she was safe. I could not distinguish if my emotions were more of anger or panic. The images in my head were of all my uncle’s old English prints of an owner or a soldier bidding farewell to an injured horse, or of Spielberg’s ‘War Horse’ which I had recently seen. There was always a weapon, a pistol aiming at the animal’s head and the look of a soul burning for the loss of a dear friend. I started a search of all the veterinarians in the area as I didn’t feel capable of making any decisions myself. But, as anyone who has animals at home knows, trouble always comes on Saturdays and Sundays, Christmas or major holidays…in other words, when a vet is nowhere to be found! Meanwhile, the young heifer, who I now recognized as Dagda, the great Cybele’s granddaughter, looked at me with an expression of pain and trust. I now felt wild with rage because I didn’t know what to do. I finally found a vet who told me he could advise nothing without seeing Dagda first (really!), but he’d send a young vet in the meantime and that I should not expect too much… A young man showed up in the afternoon…The calf had a serious fracture but luckily it was metatarsal, at the top of her hoof and not in the limb. The sensible thing to do would be to bring her to the slaughterhouse which doesn’t even cross my mind, or attempt surgery replacing bone with plates and rods. The problem is, cattle are very delicate when it comes to bones and tend to be easily infected throughout their skeletal system. I was finally able to reach my veterinarian, just returned from a relative’s funeral. She will guarantee nothing but we can try to place a cast on her leg. We decide on good old fashioned plaster and yesterday morning we began the big maneuvers. Dagda was sedated and moved on a tractor down to the lawn of the Villa where we could work more comfortably there in front of my darkened office. We start with X-rays to see the state of affairs. The fracture is total and very bad, but I decided to proceed anyway. Besides the sedation she is now anesthetized, as putting her leg in traction will cause a lot of pain and we could not risk her moving at all. As we waited for the anesthesia to take effect we all sat on the shady lawn having a strange sort of picnic as we sat between two tractors. Dagda lay in the middle, a needle in her vein as I held her by a horn and caressed her head as the others looked on. What tool could be better...
read moreTHE ROSES AND OTHER FLOWERS OF SPANTE
I have always been the friend of red blooded creatures, regardless of hot or cold! I prefer mammals with tails, but feel affinity just the same with those who slither or have wings instead of arms as they are my brothers as well. All of us can move on Mother Earth’s body as we share our experiences and learn many languages… I feel esteem and devotion to all the species of the Standing People from the lowest moss to the majestic oak. I admire their adaptability to the passage of time, the force of the elements and the alternation of the seasons. I admire their ability to live on light and heat and let go of their leaves in autumn. I am struck by their immobility of contemplation and prayer. I admire and respect their longevity. I admire their patience and ability to grow slowly and witness many events. They seem immense and superior in their ability to take nourishment from the sun and provide beauty and clean air for all things living. I admire the green sap, their bright blood able to retract into the deepest parts of their roots and trunk only to resurge in the spring. In the small world of Spante we celebrate the rebirth of life each spring and this year, the roses on the Villa façade, in the garden and at the poolside gave the best of themselves. The roses in the garden and on the Villa façade, as well as some red leafed begonias, bougainvillea and cactus in pots were planted by my grandmother Maria…She died forty years ago but her plants are still here blooming for her. I am not speaking of tall trees with big roots, but of flowering shrubs, hedges, bushes, wisteria, lemon trees, lilies, irises, tulips, violets and some ancient fruit trees… This year, Giuliana placed some petunias in the climbing rose planters. Spante was once filled with these delicate forgotten flowers. Giuliana didn’t know this, but some message from the roses or the breeze must have reached her in her unconscious desire for beauty. There will be, in another post, a time to celebrate Spante’s tall trees. For right now, enjoy the blooms of June and try to smell the...
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