“I guess a slower beat helps them relax,” Daniel explained to CNN. In 2003, 10-year-old Daniel McElmurray won an award in his science fair at Goshen Elementary in Augusta, Ga., with a similar project: The herd kept by his dad, Earl, strongly prefers classical tunes over classic rock by Lynyrd Skynyrd and recent hits by Shania Twain-so much so that they produced “1,000 pounds more milk.”Īll three researchers concluded that tempo was key. North, “by playing certain types of music to cows.” every day for nine weeks one herd listened to Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony and R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts.” They produced 0.73 liters more milk each than the herd that listened to the Beatles singing “Back in the U.S.S.R.” “Milk yields could be increased by three percent,” concluded Dr. In 2001, Adrian North and Liam MacKenzie of the University of Leicester subjected 1,000 Holstein Friesian cows to a variety of musical styles. They seem to appreciate the gesture, though.)Ī pair of English scholars and a child from the United States are pioneering the field of serenading cattle. Being an American, I don’t know-or ever expect to know-all the words to these songs, but neither does my audience.
(“If I Were A Rich Man” tops my repertoire, though in acknowledgement of my audience’s nationality I may follow it up by humming “Jerusalem” or “Land of Hope and Glory,” the tunes I associate most with English patriotism.
VALHALLA HILLS COWS MOD
I simply repeated a la-la-la refrain from “Man in the Corner Shop” by the Jam these cows had clearly missed the Mod resurgence of the early 80s, and with something like teen glee they began to follow me along the side of the wall. But as I broke into song they surged exuberantly forward, a rumbling, quivering tide of beef, eyes alight with excitement. The herd, perhaps bored by the endless green expanse around them, had been inching curiously, if timidly, closer at the sight of me. All this background knowledge, however, did not prepare me for the response I elicited when I first tried it. (Intriguingly, when he practices his drums alone, they promptly retreat to the farthest corner of the field and stay there for days.)Īdditionally, I had heard from a girl who grew up on a farm that cows will follow you if you sing. A friend of mine has a garage abutting a cow pasture when he practices with his band in there, or spins a CD to accompany our efforts over the billiards table, the herd comes as close as possible and attempts to put its collective nose through the window. Farmers often keep a radio playing during milking because it is said to calm the animals down. It’s known in farming circles that cows like music. Real music, in other words, not the pop chants of the day, though I do throw in a punk anthem now and then-“Anarchy in the U.K.” or “I’m So Bored With the U.S.A”-to shake things up. (Mutton and music don’t mix.) When, on a long country ramble, I do find a scattered red herd, my heart lifts and my mind races through old melodies learned in childhood: tunes with lilt and variation, guts and brio.
Unfortunately I live in a rather sheepy area of England, so my opportunities are limited.
0 kommentar(er)
