Which twitch?

Many leaves were blown away by then föhn, but those that remain are a stunning copper and gold display

You might think that the Embachers all have some form of nervous tick. Walk through the village and hardly a car passes by without the driver giving a twitch of the hand or a finger raised in salute from the steering wheel.  The response should be a brief raising of the hand or a mere lifting of the chin. Knowing which to use, is a key part of local etiquette.

The walk from the centre of the village back home is always a source of fascination for someone having lived his life in a city. The lane is steep with fields on each side. Today they have just been spread with the manure from the stalls exuding such a rich, heavy aroma one can almost feel the warmth of the barn.

Past the old wooden farmhouse where four generations are at home. The tough old zirbe wood (stone pine) weathers all storms, needs no treatment, lasts for a lifetime and gives every building a character of its own – the knots and grain reflecting the house’s unique story

Cows are enjoying the warm autumn days, lounging about luxuriously, chewing, with eyes closed as if in some form of bovine nirvana. Some are noisily scratching themselves on the fence posts and nosily inspect the occasional passer-by. Newborn calves spring and stagger, nervously trotting away from the camera with a puzzled look.

In the distance, behind a stand of trees still bearing a few golden leaves after last week’s föhn wind, is the great colossus of the Hochkönig range. It is impossible to pass this spot without sensing its mood of the moment. Saucy pink in dawn light and a light toffee colour in the evening sun, the mountain is often grey during the day with flecks of snow on its flanks.

The lane continues up hill between meadows lined with post and rail fencing with views down to the village and up to the 2200m Baukogel, khaki brown but where the larches are beginning to turn to gold.

Past another farm: the farmer’s wife is digging manure into the vegetable patch in front of the house. Two sleek Noriker horses parade outside their stable, chickens scuttle across the road and the ducks squawk a welcome. Here three generations care for the animals and meadows, and are in many ways self-sufficient while, at the same time holding down jobs elsewhere.

Along the way one might meet the postman in his yellow van (chin up), an occasional car (raised finger) or, more likely, a tractor (twitch). At the top of the hill, there’s one more ancient, wood and stone house, great rocks on the roof to brace it against the weather.

A 15-minute walk home here is an every day pleasure whatever the weather, experiencing the season and it’s changing moods with every one of the senses.

The Hochkönig always present, always showing its mood

Soggy surprise

Embach awoke to a surprise 15cm of soggy snow yesterday. Snow had been forecast, but we expected nothing more than a sprinkling.  A little snow in October isn’t unusual. It lasts a day or so and goes away. At this time of year we expect deep blue skies, crystal clear air, cool nights and warm days.

Not only were the Embachers surprised, the few remaining visitors from Germany and elsewhere were caught unawares and the cattle in the fields were bellowing grumpily because the grass in the meadows had disappeared in the night.

Heavy, wet snow at this time of year is tough on the trees and gardens. Branches lie broken around the village, green leaves lie scattered, brought down before they had reached their golden best. Bushes are bent double with huge humps of snow on their backs, flower beds are flattened and vegetables ruined.

The flowering balconies (see blog: Flower Power on the Balcony) are bedraggled and pedestrians must beware as the way to dispose of them is to toss them into the road below rather than carry them through the house.

The surprise was so great that even a number of rowan trees still retain their scarlet berries. Vogelbeer (as they are known here – it means bird berries) are much prized as they make the best and most expensive schnapps. In the autumn, ladders lean at crazy angles against the Vogelbeer trees as every last berry is stretched for and carefully harvested.

But the sun is shining and no serious damage has been done. The snow is quickly melting and we can hear the tintinnabulation of cows grazing once again.

Mystery of the farmer's name

The Mitteregbauernhof amid steeply sloping meadows - the buildings date back to the 16th Century

It’s all very puzzling – particularly to a Londoner, living here in an Austrian village.

Why is Embach branded Das gröste Bauernhofdorf Salzburgs – meaning the biggest farmhouse village in the province of Salzburg? The village isn’t big, the farmhouses aren’t big, nor are the farms themselves.

Even more confusing is that local people know the farmers by names quite different to their own.  The names of the farms can’t be found on any map. And why is it difficult for a local to write these names down?

For example Robert Fletschberger is known as The Soxbauer. Or is it The Sachsbauer or Socksbauer?  Erich Winkler is The Emochbauer or Emachbauer. Martin Scheffauer is The Embachrainbauer, or Embachraenbauer.

Magit Geisler, a woman farmer who wields a mighty fence post mallet with ease, is the Grem, or Kräm, or Krem, or maybe even Chräm. More confusing is Gerhard Weissacher who is The Mittereggbauer but no-one knows him as that. Ask for the Brenner and there is no problem.

 

The Brennerbauer, Gerhard Weissacher and his wife Elizabeth..or is he the Mitteregbauer?

The difficulty with writing these names is that of a dialect which is strong enough to be so far from the regular German language, that Germans have difficulty understanding it. The people who can write best in dialect are children whose SMS messages would defy the Enigma decoding machine.

The farmhouse has arched ceilings in what was the smoking
room - the hook was for hanging meat 

The names go so far back into the past that it is hard to see when they originated. Farms, though handed down through generations, have also been bought and sold over the centuries. The Brenner has records going back to the 1760s but the origins of the name are even older.

Farming in Embach is mainly a suckling cow business, raising calves for sale. A handful of the 47 farms in the village also sell milk. Most of the farms have less than a dozen cows, the biggest has about 70. About 40 are needed to support a family, so most farms have at least one family member going out to work, fitting the farming around the employer’s working hours.

The village sits amid steeply rising meadows, cut for hay to feed the cows in the stalls during the winter. In summer they are high up on the mountains, bells a-ringing enjoying the fresh grass and clambering around in the most unlikely, steep places.

Expensive special equipment and tractors are necessary for the steeply sloping terrain 

Here lies another tale – the “mythical” Sennerin, who minds the alm, makes cheese and butter, plays the accordion and jodels, and possibly has long, blonde, plaited hair. No myth this. This kind of summer farming is still alive and well here.

Our farmers have another important task. They care for the landscape. Without them mowing the meadows, maintaining the forests, hedging, ditching and generally keeping things tidy, Embach and Austria would not be the attraction it undoubtedly is.

On a recent visit to the Provence region in the south of France, the result of farmers leaving the land was, in many places, obvious: neglected fields full of weeds, orchards of dead and dying fruit trees, vines collapsing and a dismal air of decay.

While there are no EU grants specifically for landscape grooming, grants do take account of the steepness of the terrain, the need for special machinery to work the sloping land, and the higher cost of traditional, small-scale, environment-friendly farming, Embach, without the grants, would not be Das gößte Bauernhofdorf Salzburgs.

It is still not quite clear what this means – but, hey! Who cares?

With thanks to The Brenner, the Ortsbauer

The view from Mitteregbauer towards the Berkogel