The cow bawled all night long. Well, from 1 a.m. to be exact, and since the distance from her yard to my bedroom window was less than fifty metres I didn’t get much sleep. In between the vigorous tromboning of the cow you could hear the piccolo woe of a calf half a kilometre away. First the cow, then the calf, over and over. With a pillow on your head you hoped each bellow from the cow would be the last, but as soon as the calf answered, their dialogue began again: the distant cry of distress far off in…
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