Thanksgiving: A glimpse into the life of a happy cow.

I’m contentedly stuffed. We ate well today; all the family favorites were represented in abundant quantities and seconds were verbally refused but physically loaded on to waiting plates. This evening I’m not looking for snacks, nor am I dreaming of dinner tomorrow. Tonight my stomach is full, (really full), my mind is flush with a day’s worth of family, and that’s all that matters.

This has to be how cattle feel on good pasture.

The girls load up on forage, completely stuffing their fifty-five gallon rumen until it looks like they’ll burst. I submit that there is nothing more enjoyable to observe than a cow in such a distended state of bliss. Cows live in the moment. They’re not hampered with dreams of tomorrow or a longing for something better. They don’t stain any experience with anxieties about Instagram or the trendiness of disgracefully adulterated fake food. Each bite consumed was a perfect ten, the best, the pinnacle of of forage goodness, and absolutely nothing can rob that enjoyment from a cow in the moment.

Thanksgiving gives us a chance to glimpse such a pure life, if only fleetingly. It’s good. I’m thankful for this exact second, not yesterday or tomorrow. When the sun rises I’ll be back to worrying about deadlines and workloads and what on earth Gina and I will cook for dinner. But I’m always comforted knowing the herd is living out the best meal they’ve ever had, regardless of the fact that it was the same yesterday and will be again tomorrow.

That, friends, is a good life.