The Isard, Pyrenean Prince of Climbingard
From brown to russet in summer or at the approach of winter towards darker shades,
The color of the izard's coat changes with the seasons, with its awn and down hairs,
Ebony black, matte or barely shiny, with fine and tight grooves,
Two horns finely curved backwards add to the grace of its zealous silhouette
In the Pyrenees it lives in herds between thick forests and eternal summer snows,
Its hooves, sharp-edged and rough inside pads,
Are ideal for snowy slopes and steep rocks
In Spring, the period of the births of the blessed begins at the beginning of June.
In summer, the izard devotes itself to the search for food on the grassy summer pastures,
Fleeing the heat, in the hot hours, siesta on the shady slopes,
Young goats have a pronounced taste for games under the watchful eye of mothers,
Chases on snowfields, slides, jumps, antics, chases without blinkers.
In Autumn the first snowflakes chase them from the snowy peaks,
The females will be under the authority of a dominant male chasing away excited intruders,
To assert his territory, the rutting male seeks to seduce his beautiful goat
Rubs its horns at the base provided with glands, against the shrubs, for its love affair.
In Winter the males, exhausted by the rut, must reconstitute their reserves,
Their favorite food being buried under a thick layer of snow,
They must content themselves with lichens or buds in procession,
The herds look for pasture areas freed from snow.
Pyrene, on the white lace of your crests,
Proud and light the chamois prance,
The aces of the mare, the acrobats of the cliffs fly,
The acrobats of the ravines always keep their heads high.
Guy l’Arié…..Joie