Chapter 11: The Yodel Carillon of the Cows

They say that the soul of Belgium is the carillon. In many a tower, far up in the air hang a hundred bells or more, of all sizes. These are struck by hammers, which are worked by the carillonier, who presses the keyboard, as if playing the piano. Very famous are these chime-masters, and sweet is the music, which sounds in the air. When away from home, in a foreign land, the Belgian gets homesick, amid strangers, and is often down-hearted, because of the silences of the strange country. Should he hear the sweet chimes of a city church, a vision of the home land, with its quaint houses and high towers, its carrier pigeons, and river-dykes, and flower markets, and happy children, playing in the streets, rises before him. Then he thinks of the years of his childhood, in his old home.

In Switzerland, it is not the tower bells, or even the church-spires, sounding out the tollings for a funeral, or the merry peals of wedding bells, or the strokes calling to worship, that so deeply stir the mountain man’s heart, as do the yodel music and the carillon of the cows.

On summer days, let one stand in the high pastures above the valleys, or on a mountain slope, and he will hear the tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, of bells, bells, bells. They sound and echo from near and far. They float on the air, from unseen nooks in the distance.

Even the cattle enjoy the music of the bells. Just as soon as the shepherds sound the Alpine horn, or start the call, for the herds to come home, every goat moves forward and cows leave their grazing on the grass, or they rise from chewing the cud. Then one may see the long lines of the milk-givers marching towards the chalets. There the men, at night, and in the morning, milk the cows. When the animals are housed for the night, they start the fires. They put in the rennet, that curdles the cream and turns the white and golden liquid into cheeses, so solid that one can roll them down the hills.

Everyone in America knows about the delicious white Schweitzer cheese. When cut open, it is seen to be full of holes, as if well ventilated, or, in many places, bored with an augur.

So well do the cows like to wear the leather collar, or neck strap, and hear the tinkle of the bells, that sometimes they die of homesickness, when these are taken away, or they lose their sounding collar; or, when among their sisters, thus decorated, they have none.

In old days, when it was the fashion for young men to be soldiers of fortune and enlist in the armies of France, or Germany, or Italy, or Holland, a Swiss man could forget, even his country, unless he had a sweetheart at home.