Beneath the shade of a gnarled cottonwood, I sat down to think. Without a cloud to interrupt the blue expanse of the sky, the noonday sun beat down mercilessly. A light breeze moved the leaves of my cottonwood and rattled the branches of the sagebrush and juniper. No longer wobbly-legged, jet-black calves roamed among the scrub, nipping at sparse grass. The dogs kept a watchful eye on them; I had nothing to worry about. Everything seemed so tranquil, and yet....

It happened not so far away from here. One peaceful night, just after a successful performance. The stars shone brilliantly that night, I remember; there was no moon, and the coyotes would not stop howling, although they could not possibly have known what was about to occur so many miles from here. Later, I went to see it myself. By then, the late summer rains had already washed the blood off the roadside, but those who had been there told me what it had been like early that morning. They told me how an early dawn traveler, forced to pull off the road to fix a flat tire, stepped out of his car to find...that. I shudder to think about it.

And, for us, life goes on.