The cow is of the bovine ilk; One end is moo, the other, milk.

The living language is like a cowpath: it is the creation of the cows themselves, who, having created it, follow it or depart from it according to their whims or their needs. From daily use, the path undergoes change. A cow is under no obligation to stay in the narrow path she helped make, following the contour of the land, but she often profits by staying with it and she would be handicapped if she didn't know where it was or where it led to.

~ E.B. (Elwyn Brooks) White (1899-1985), U.S. author, editor. repr. in Writings from the New Yorker.



On a lighter note, I was reminded of this R L Stevenson poem I learnt as a child when I saw this cow:



The friendly cow all red and white,
I love her with all my heart:
She gives me cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.
She wanders lowing here and there,
And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open air,
The pleasant light of day;
And blown by all the winds that pass
And wet with all the showers
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers.