The Feed

Each day one of us would take a bucket of feed down to the meadow to feed the cows.

When we’d approach, they’d be giddy; Bounding; Bouncing; Their udders undulating as they galloped towards us; their lowing and mooing audible for miles to hear.

They’d jostle for position in front of the feed bucket, nudging each other out of the way.

Oh, how happy those cows were to eat the feed from my bucket.

And oh, how happy I was to deliver the feed. For, after the slaughter, my plate would be full with compliant chattel.

I wonder: did the cattle ever consider the cost of consuming the feed freely placed in front of them?

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