Cattle

She lies in the corner, head raised, listening to a field she’s never seen. Above her the herd swells into one great body of horn and ring and hide, bolted together, a yellow tag swinging from its ear: 333. Counted, owned and kept, the cow has fed the world for millennia, and fed a family in Waihī too. She carries the long, patient grief, and the quiet generosity, of being useful. Over the years there have been many, Nameless, but each cared for and loved.