OUR RURAL DIVINITY 125 
to gore the masters if she can get them in a tight 
place. If such a one can get loose in the stable, 
she is quite certain to do mischief. She delights 
to pause in the open bars and turn and keep those 
at bay behind her till she sees a pair of threatening 
horns pressing towards her, when she quickly passes 
on. As one cow masters all, so there is one cow 
that is mastered by all. These are the two extremes 
of the herd, the head and the tail. Between them 
are all grades of authority, with none so poor but 
hath some poorer to do her reverence. 
The cow has evidently come down to us from a 
wild or semi-wild state; perhaps is a descendant of 
those wild, shaggy cattle of which a small band is 
still preserved in some nobleman’s park in Scotland. 
Cuvier seems to have been of this opinion. One of 
the ways in which her wild instincts still crop out 
is the disposition she shows in spring to hide her 
ealf, —a common practice among the wild herds. 
Her wild nature would be likely to come to the 
surface at this crisis if ever; and I have known 
cows that practiced great secrecy in dropping their 
calves. As their time approached they grew rest- 
less, a wild and excited look was upon them; and 
if left free, they generally set out for the woods, or 
for some other secluded spot. After the calf is 
several hours old, and has got upon its feet and had 
its first meal, the dam by some sign commands it to 
lie down and remain quiet while she goes forth to 
feed. If the calf is approached at such time, it plays 
“possum,” pretends to be dead or asleep, till, on 
