The Francisco family had been herders for generations, living on the wide, wind-swept Canterbury Plains. Their days followed the same quiet rhythm — calves were born, raised, sold, and then born again. It often felt as if time there didn't move at all. One afternoon, on Francisco's birthday, the family sat together for a small meal. A deep moo sounded from outside. His grandmother hurried to look and found that one of the cows had just given birth. She called everyone out, her voice full of surprise. Francisco, only six, had never seen a calf before. He stared at it, amazed, thinking it was the best birthday gift he'd ever had. The next morning, he ran out to see the newborn again. He picked it up carefully and said, "We'll be best friends from now on." The calf, later called Bob, saw humans for the first time that day. To him, they seemed gentle and kind — and he fell asleep that night believing it. In the afternoon of the same day, Francisco left for the United States to study in accordance with his original study plan.
As the sun rose in the morning, a new day began. A few larks flew across the sky, chirping loudly as if celebrating their freedom
Apparently, the rancher Mike didn't like the sound. Mike raised his new gun, bought with the money from yesterday's milk, and fired into the sky—Bang! The sky trembled in shock as the larks scattered in fear. The goats on the nearby hill also subconsciously moved farther, and the cows on the ranch began their new day of work.
The cow mothers and cow aunts habitually walked toward the milking shed. Of course, some of them were still not fully awake, so the rancher would whip them with his lash.
Bob came with his father to the bull working area. They ate the leftover hay from yesterday together. Soon, his father would have to go pull the carts for labor again. Little Bob stood in the field, looking forward to growing up—he wanted to be like his parents, going out to work every day and making contributions to the ranch.
Suddenly, he saw a group of wild black cows near the ranch. They were wild cows. Bob was very curious because he had never seen cows of the same kind as himself living in a different world. They were strong and full of life, laughing and running, like the wind sweeping across the grassland, in sharp contrast to the drooping, expressionless cows inside the ranch. They moved with a rhythm Bob had never seen—every muscle carried purpose, not fear.Their eyes were bright, not dull and drained like those of the ranch cattle.
That night, when his parents came home, the little cow asked his father, "Why are there cows outside that look just like me but have different colors? Why can they run freely?" His mother flicked her shriveled udders, exchanged a glance with his father, and then turned around to lie down and rest. His father stroked his head and said, "Well, Bob, they live poorly. They could be killed at any time. We are the happiest ones here. We must work hard and build our ranch well." Bob didn't think much about it and fell asleep, cuddling beside his tired mother.
The next day, Bob and the other calves were playing in the playground. He looked at the fresh green grass under his feet and couldn't resist taking a bite. This scene was noticed by the rancher. Mike whipped down hard and shouted, "Who told you to eat grass? What if the inspectors come this afternoon and find there's no grass left here?"
Bob lifted his head in confusion. "But I'm a cow. Aren't cows supposed to eat grass, especially fresh grass?"
The rancher frowned. "You know nothing. The grass isn't for you to eat. It's for people to see."
Mike never cared whether the cows understood him. To him, they were tools—nothing more.
The words fell heavy on the air, like a chain around Bob's throat. For the first time, he realized that even grass could have a purpose other than living.
That night, Bob's parents were called to the management room by Mike. They were criticized by the rancher. Bob's parents were obviously used to such a work pattern. Soon, they adjusted their mood and went home. At home, they simply lectured Bob, "Bob, you can't be so disobedient again."
Bob said, "But Dad, we are cows. Don't cows like eating grass? If we can't even eat the grass we like, are we still cows?" His father didn't speak, as if he had automatically filtered out his words. That night, Little Bob walked outside and sat by the fence gate. The wind brushed past him softly, as if sighing on his behalf. He asked the lord, 'Why, as an animal, couldn't he do what he wanted?' Why did humans, who were also part of nature, have so many rights over them? The night didn't answer. It only listened.
In the boundless night, on the hills outside the ranch, horses were standing close, whispering love words, sheep were lazily resting, and kittens were tumbling and playing on the ground. A small creek flowed beside them—they could drink when they wanted and eat the grass under their feet whenever they pleased.
Years passed in the same repetitive rhythm.
Bob grew taller, then stronger, and eventually tired—just like his father once was.
By the time he realized it, twenty years had slipped away. Bob's parents had left the ranch one after another. Bob didn't know where they had gone, but he took over his father's work.
That day, Francisco returned from the United States after finishing his studies. He was now a wise and promising young man, ready to take over his father Mike's ranch. But he had long forgotten about Bob. Even if he remembered, he wouldn't know which one he was—Bob had grown old.
Bob originally wanted to talk to Francisco, but unfortunately, when Francisco came to the ranch, Bob was working. Bob could only bury that excitement in his heart and wait for the next chance.
The next day, Bob waited again for Francisco, but by dinner time, he still hadn't had the chance to reunite with his old friend from more than twenty years ago. Suddenly, a truck stopped at the ranch gate—it was the owner of a Chinese hot pot restaurant. He shook hands with Francisco, and they began signing some invoices.
It turned out that the hot pot owner had come to pick up the fresh beef as scheduled. Francisco looked at the bulls in the field and said, "This one, this one, and that one."
In a short while, the old Bob was also driven onto the truck. Bob didn't
know what was going to happen. The ranch workers whipped the cattle to force them onto the vehicle, while Bob was still thinking about how to reconnect with Francisco.
Soon, Bob arrived at the slaughterhouse. It was the first time he had smelled
such a foul odour—it felt unbearable, but he didn't think much. Soon, they walked into their iron room, and the iron door slowly closed as the expensive machine began to operate. The iron door closed behind them with a sound that felt less like metal and more like a verdict.
Moments later, Francisco entered Bob's section for inspection. Bob called out to him, "Hey, Francisco! Do you remember me? I'm Bob. Long time no see—how have you been?" Suddenly, memories surged back into Francisco's mind. He shouted, "Bob! I've missed you so much! You've grown so big!"
Francisco froze. For a moment, past and present collided—the boy who once hugged a newborn calf and the man who now signed slaughter contracts were the same person. Guilt clawed at his chest. Then he looked at his hands, stained with money and milk, and felt something heavy press against his chest.
Suddenly, the machine started running, and the slaughterhouse machine mercilessly twisted Bob's head off, the blades scraping his body. Francisco immediately shouted for the machine to stop, but the slaughterhouse wasn't under his control—he had no right to halt the processing line. Francisco turned his head away, tears streaming down his face as he kept hitting himself. The hot pot owner and the slaughterhouse boss silently checked the contract beside him…
Soon, Bob arrived in heaven, waiting in line for reincarnation. Two months later, it was finally his turn. God asked him, "Where would you like to be reborn?"
Bob said, "I want to be the free wind, the joyful bird, the unrestrained sheep, the passionate horse, or the lovely cat—anything is fine. I just don't want to be a cow again. Being a cow is too hard."
God said, "Oh, sorry, Bob. You can't reincarnate yet—one of your legs is still in Sam's freezer, so you'll have to wait a bit longer."
And so, Bob walked away quietly. He no longer knew what he had worked for all his life, nor whether cows were still among the creatures loved by God.
