Perhaps the great animal had been here before. Perhaps not. The bull’s sight was not one of the best, and it seldom remembered the areas it wandered through. What mattered in life was to find that lovely green grass and to chew and regurgitate it over and over again until it was time to move on and do something else. Perhaps like lying down in the shadow, or perhaps to walk somewhere else with green grass. Life was very simple, and the large cow preferred it like that. It was not at all aware of the fact that it was walking very close to the place where it had met lots of barking wolf things and seen a purple box that was not a tree after all. That incident was mostly forgotten, although it did remember that those small woofers could be really noisy. Perhaps it was a sort of defence mechanism. It had surely startled the furry bull, but it considered itself quite brave for having stood on its ground and mooed back.
They had been so small and noisy anyway. Not big dangerous wolves like some of the dog things could be. No, there were not a lot a lot a lot a lot of those wolf things. The critter was too stupid to realize that it had merely been insanely lucky for not walking into a pack of hunting canines or some other predator. A brainless game walking about in slow motion would always be a delicious, free meal. The giant highland bull slowly kneeled down to place itself under a tree. The wet things hitting it from the sky did not stop, and it felt something vaguely similar to irritation. When both pairs of limbs were neatly placed under its massive body, the animal stared dully out at nothing, wondering why water suddenly came from above, basically the same thing it always wondered every time it rained.