iv; 



THE COW, MENTALLY AND 

 INSTINCTIVELY 



I HAVE been endeavoring to write a description 

 of the cow — trying to see her in the same way that 

 John Burroughs saw the robin or chipmunk or rab- 

 bit or woodchuck in his forest walks, or as Thoreau 

 watched the wild life that strove or gamboled at 

 the door of his lodge on Walden Pond. I must say 

 that I do not think the cow lends herself to the 

 same sort of treatment or, at any rate, the task is 

 different and more difficult. All the native fauna 

 of our fields and woods has been living under the 

 same set of conditions for uncounted generations. 

 An unchanging environment has tended to iron 

 out all differentiation and variation. The present 

 form, size, protective coloration, food and shelter 

 habits, every biological character of the wild life 

 of our farms represents an adaptation, presum- 

 ably a very perfect adaptation, to the conditions 

 under which they must live. Thus there has re- 

 sulted for each species a very firmly fixed and al- 

 most unvarying standardization of type. Any 

 marked deviation or mutation from this type would 



33 



