"You would have had to be a calf, in the beginning," she explained.
"Of course! Of course!" Mr. Crow spluttered. "Of course I knew that. You needn't bother to tell me things that everybody knows."
"Being a cow is not all fun, I assure you," the Muley Cow continued. "The trouble is, you can't go and come as you please. You have to do about as you're told. And I'm sure you wouldn't like that, Mr. Crow."
"Perhaps not!" he admitted somewhat grudgingly. "But they're not always looking for you with a gun," he croaked. "And you always have plenty of company."
"Too much, sometimes," said the Muley Cow. "You can get off by yourself whenever you want to. But how's a cow to get away from the herd?"
"She can jump the fence," said old Mr. Crow with a wicked gleam in his eye.
"Yes! yes!" the Muley Cow agreed hastily. "But we won't discuss that. And remember—a cow couldn't go miles and miles around Blue Mountain in just a few minutes, as you can."
The old gentleman couldn't see that there was anything specially pleasant in making long flights. "When I travel, it's generally because I'm hungry," he said. "It's because I'd starve if I stood still. And in winter I have to step lively, I can tell you. Food's scarce then, for us crows. We have to snatch a morsel wherever we can find it, while you fat cows are having the best of things in a warm barn.... Yes!" he declared somewhat sourly. "You're enjoying the finest of food—out of season, too."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said the Muley Cow.