"The wail of farm machinery had fallen silent, and in the space it left I could hear the varied sounds of birds: songbirds in the trees, but also the low gossip of hens and the lower throat singing of turkeys. Up on the green, green shoulder of hill rising to the west I could see a small herd of cattle grazing, and, below them on a gentler slope, several dozen portable chicken pens marching in formation down the meadow. Laid before me was, I realized, a scene of almost classical pastoral beauty -- the meadows dotted with contented animals, the backdrop of woods, a twisting brook threading through it all...."
Thursday, April 15, 2010
The Ohio Country
"The wail of farm machinery had fallen silent, and in the space it left I could hear the varied sounds of birds: songbirds in the trees, but also the low gossip of hens and the lower throat singing of turkeys. Up on the green, green shoulder of hill rising to the west I could see a small herd of cattle grazing, and, below them on a gentler slope, several dozen portable chicken pens marching in formation down the meadow. Laid before me was, I realized, a scene of almost classical pastoral beauty -- the meadows dotted with contented animals, the backdrop of woods, a twisting brook threading through it all...."
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