Watching the cows come home in the Russian village of Manino is an experience not to be missed. In the sunset hour, a cracked bugle call stirs old men and their dogs from the warm outdoor benches where they have dozed out the long afternoon.
Women emerge from their kitchens and potato-patch gardens, and prop open the farmstead gateways.
Then the dairy herd appears, winding down a broad grassy thoroughfare flanked by a mile-long line of wooden houses, picket fences, and bucket wells. Far behind the cows come the herdsm en, with their battered bugle, and two small boys who take turns at cracking a bullwhip. They all halt to refresh themselves at the first house, taking occupation of a vacant bench by the porch. The village dogs sigh and go back to sleep. So far, so ordinary.