of a mountain so thick with trees it appears dark green all the way the start of its rise to the tip of its peak.
when we stop next to a field, the calves feeding at a distant trough begin to look up and try to figure out what type of animal we might be. and then, one by one, they form into this mass of tiny hooves and swinging tails and slowly work their way toward the fence line where we stand. when they get there, they stare at us with their wet little black noses twitching and this look on each of their faces that says, hey, we're here, 