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Stranded Strangely, it’s more comforting to find cattle grouped together in a feed lot; or loaded up for the meat-market, than to see one, stranded or lost. Domestic creatures, they’ve come to rely on the hand of man— the spinning windmill; the hay-dropping truck—becoming nervous; afraid to be away from the herd…And driving north, on Highway 45, somewhere between Normangee and Rice, just after the surge of Hurricane Rita, I came across a cow, up to her chest in a flooded field. Stuck, I feared, since she lacked that heavy-headed gait…I think of her often, wondering if her desperate brawl ever reached her rancher’s ears, or if it just bounced, unanswered, from her wide, frightened eyes; off the river’s rising waters; and back, off the tightly-rolled windows of each northbound, speeding truck. -75- ...

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