My black-and-gray rooster crows. The sound of birds’ chatter filters through the morning. I open the icy gate and walk the familiar trail. A cool, damp haze swirls around me. I carry the rusty bucket filled with a ton of feed; It pours like sifting sand into the concrete trough. Cowbells reverberate as they prance over the hill. Stopping beneath my willow tree, I watch them eat.