Like bits of chocolate on a bed of mint, the cows dot the grassy hillside. Heads down, bowing to the glistening dew, accepting nourishment from the sun posing as green plants, the cows accept their lot in life. From the road, that life looks simple, calm and content. The cows are giving each other some space, not crowding the others out because they think the grass is better here or there. The clover doesn't spoil their meal or give reason for pause. Such acceptance is rarely seen in nature much less in human nature. Neither happy nor sad, the great bovine remain vigil in the fields maintaining their dignity until it is snatched from them in one quick moment. I wonder if they think about their long, leisurly walks back to the barn on a summer evening, or remember the birth of their calf as they are led to slaughter?