The sky was cold and warm at the same time – to the north, it looked as if it would storm, the clouds dark and looming. To the south, it was blue and almost friendly. The two met somewhere straight above, joining in a suprisingly smooth gradient of lighter clouds.

Beneath, a herd of cows, black and white and brown, stood unaware of the drama above them. “There may be simpletons who spend time gazing at the sky,” the stance of the beasts seemed to say, “but we wouldn’t be caught dead at it.”

As for the ground, or at least their meadow, they looked as if they owned it. All around stood towering pines and oaks old enough to have dropped their leaves upon Daniel Boone & co., but in the meadow, the cattle ruled over all. And silently they contemplated their domain.

Some consider human intrusion in nature to be a bad thing, and in this case such a view might be forgiven. For, preceded by the sound of clumsy footsteps and crackling twigs, a man inserted himself upon the scene. He could not have looked more out of place.

It might have looked better if he had worn Tevas and a ponytail, out to enjoy Mother Nature and whatnot, but that was not how he appeared. He wore white sneakers, the type that can be seen a mile off in the woods, and they were spotless. He wore tan pants over those, and a faded t-shirt to top everything off. His shoulder held up a backpack; he was unmistakably a college student.

How he wandered into the area, it is unknown, but it might have had something to do with the picnic table sitting incongruously by the side of the meadow. He tramped over to it, whatever the case, and deposited his pack on the bench.

Taking a quick, dismissing glance at the countryside, he pulled out a thick volume and began to read. None of his surroundings seemed to spark his interest.

Ten minutes later, he glanced up from his books – but he didn’t look back down. The cows seemed to hold his attention. He peered at the beasts, similar to the way his teachers must have peered at him when they thought he wasn’t listening.

Despite what he saw, learning prevailed. He returned to his book and began to take notes on a small pad. A few pages later, he looked up again, confusion showing as his eyes took the cows in. “I could have sworn you were farther away.”

The cows did not acknowledge his remark. They stood as silently as before, eyeing the meadow and the grass below them as if the man had never intruded.

The man’s eyes narrowed, but he went back to his book. It would be too much to say he shrugged, but his hand had a shruggish attitude as it started taking notes again.

The light dimmed above him, and he noticed it. For the first time, he looked upwards. He saw the battle between the clouds and the clear sky, and it looked as if the dark side was winning. It now covered nearly two thirds of the sky. The gradient of lighter clouds had begun to dissipate, and there was a stark difference between the gray and the blue.

The man shifted on the bench and pointed his face at the cows. He started a moment later, dropping his pencil among the leaves. He fished for it with one hand, but the cattle held his gaze.

“Now I know you’re moving closer.” The words were confident, but the tone was not. It was easy to see why; if the cows had moved at all, they had been picked up by some invisible hand and deposited in the exact same formation 20 feet closer to the man. Some were facing him, some the other direction. Most were sideways, but they were all facing exactly the same direction they had been facing ten minutes ago.

Yet they were 20 feet closer.

The man’s thoughts could be read from his face without difficulty. At first, there was disbelief coupled with confusion. It shifted quickly to contemplation, then suspicion. And with a struggle, it became boredom. Such things were not nearly as interesting as his schoolwork; his professors had said so. And better to get some real work done than to spend time imagining things about bovines and their inexplicable actions. His mind convinced his face of the fact, and both returned to the book.

There was a pause while he retrieved the fallen pencil, and then he was taking notes again, concentrating diligently. His neck jerked each time his eyes moved from book to notepad, as if he intended to look at his surroundings but forced himself not to. The sky darkened further, but he did not look up. He heard rustling noises around him, but he did not look up.

A moment later, the cows were upon him.