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Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland
The bells around the cows' necks clanged with a disjointed rhythm, echoing briefly in the steep valley. Even though summer was beginning further south, the Alpine air was still damp and chilly, and patches of snow crowned the mountains. The cowherd leaned against the trunk of a tree, his cap pulled low over his eyes. A solitary bird flitted to the branches above him and perched, peeping down through the leaves.
What a strange creature! the bird mused to herself. How idly he sits, on the same patch of ground as the day before!
Oblivious to any surrounding creatures besides his cattle, the cowherd hummed absentmindedly, tapping his staff against a rock near his foot. Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap. His face was still young, but silvery hairs dusted his temples. Life on the mountain was dreamlike, and he barely noticed the years passing. Each day to follow would be the same, and soon he would grow old and withered beneath his tree without ever having stepped beyond his meadow or learned of the world below the mountain.
Looking once more upon the cowherd with pity, the bird took flight in search of newer and greater lands.
