The cows are crying.

Again. And again.

It was such a beautiful day that my husband and I had lunch out on the front porch. As we were eating, we watched as two livestock trailers were being pulled by pick-up trucks at the base of our hill. I've learned that when those trailers are empty, the trucks drive a little faster and the trailers make a rattling sound as they get pulled along the road. When the trailers are hauling cattle, the trucks drive a little slower and the trailers have sort of a heavy sound as the wheels turn against the road.

We watched as the two trucks pulled the trailers around the road across the other side of the hill, headed for the property owned by the man who has hundreds of wildlife and livestock in his pastures. We can't see that property from here, but we can hear the sounds coming across the hills.

If there's a hunting party going on over there, we can hear the rifle shots. I don't know how something like that is described as a 'sport' when the wildlife being hunted are enclosed in fences. Is having a trophy-head on a wall over a fireplace that important to one's sense of self?

I know for certain that the livestock trailers today were bringing cows to that man's property on the other side of the hills. And I also know that those cows were taken away from their calves, put into those trailers, and driven over to that property. How do I know that particular fact? Because since just after noon-time today, as those cows were being released from the trailers, they have been pitifully, mournfully, passionately crying. They began just after noon... and it is nearly midnight as I'm typing this.

That's a long time to listen to heart-broken mama cows who are over there on the other side of these hills, continually searching those pastures for their calves. My husband asked me just a while ago if the crying of the cows bothers that property owner. My answer to that question was "Apparently not." Nothing against that property owner.... he's a farmer. He raises livestock. He shoots wildlife. He has built a thriving business around those two activities. I'm sure his livestock have never had names. Most likely just a numbered tag in their ears.

After three years in this house, you would think that I'd be used to hearing the cries of the mama cows as they search for their calves. Think again. It's just as heart-breaking to me now as it was the very first time I heard it. After listening to these mournfully heart-felt sounds, I absolutely refuse to believe that livestock and wildlife have no feelings, no emotions, no souls.

I do believe, however, that there are people walking on this earth without feelings, without emotions, without souls.