238 SIGNS AND SEASONS 



have eaten, the hirds — snow huntings and red- 

 polls — come and pick up the crumbs, the seeds of 

 the grasses and weeds. At night the fox and the 

 owl come for mice. 



What a beautiful path the cows make through 

 the snow to the stack or to the spring under the 

 hill ! — always more or less wayward, but broad 

 and firm, and carved and indented by a multitude 

 of rounded hoofs. 



In fact, the cow is the true pathfinder and path- 

 maker. She has the leisurely, deliberate movement 

 that insures an easy and a safe way. Follow her 

 trail through the woods, and you have the best, if 

 not the shortest, course. How she beats down the 

 brush and briers and wears away even the roots of 

 the trees! A herd of cows left to themselves fall 

 naturally into single file, and a hundred or more 

 hoofs are not long in smoothing and compacting 

 almost any surface. 



Indeed, all the ways and doings of cattle are 

 pleasant to look upon, whether grazing in the pas- 

 ture, or browsing in the woods, or ruminating under 

 the trees, or feeding in the stall, or reposing upon 

 the knolls. There is virtue in the cow; she is full 

 of goodness; a wholesome odor exhales from her; 

 the whole landscape looks out of her soft eyes; the 

 quality and the aroma of miles of meadow and pas- 

 ture lands are in her presence and products. I had 

 rather have the care of cattle than be the keeper 

 of the great seal of the nation. Where the cow is, 

 there is Arcadia; so far as her influence prevails. 



