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slopes, and margins, and rich bottoms, she is at home. Where the daisy
and the buttercup and clover bloom, and where corn will grow, is her
proper domain. The agriculture of no country can long thrive without
her. Not only a large part of the real, but much of the potential wealth
of the land is wrapped up in her.
What a variety of individualities a herd of cows presents when you have
come to know them all, not only in form and color, but in manners and
disposition. Some are timid and awkward and the butt of the whole herd.
Some remind you of deer. Some have an expression in the face like
certain persons you have known. A petted and well-fed cow has a
benevolent and gracious look; an ill-used and poorly-fed one a pitiful
and forlorn look. Some cows have a masculine or ox expression; others
are extremely feminine. The latter are the ones for milk. Some cows will
kick like a horse; some jump fences like deer. Every herd has its
ringleader, its unruly spirit--one that plans all the mischief and leads
the rest through the fences into the grain or into the orchard. This one
is usually quite different from the master spirit, the "boss of the
yard." The latter is generally the most peaceful and law-abiding cow in
the lot, and the least bullying and quarrelsome. But she is not to be
trifled with; her will is law; the whole herd give way before her, those
that have crossed horns with her, and those that have not, but yielded
their allegiance without crossing. I remember such a one among my
father's milkers when I was a boy--a slender-horned, deep-shouldered,
large-uddered, dewlapped old cow that we always put first in the long
stable so she could not have a cow on each side of her to forage upon;
for the master is yielded to no less in the stancheons than in the yard.
She always had the first place anywhere. She had her choice of standing
room in the milking yard, and when she wanted to lie down there or in
the fields the best and softest spot was hers. When the herd were
foddered from the stack or barn, or fed with pumpkins in the fall, she
was always first served. Her demeanor was quiet but impressive. She
never bullied or gored her mates, but literally ruled them with the
breath of her nostrils. If any newcomer or ambitious younger cow,
however, chafed under her supremacy, she was ever ready to make good her
claims. And with what spirit she would fight when openly challenged! She
was a whirlwind of pluck and valor; and not
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