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The happiest and most loved old lady in this part of SW France

is a tiny woman in her late 80s who spent her life farming. As was usual in those days, she would call by name each cow who would come to be milked by hand. The other day, she was greeted by an old man who had not seen her since their primary school days. He recognised her at once, crying as he kissed her on both cheeks, "You are still the prettiest girl for miles!"

It is hard not to beieve that the secret of her brimming happiness is the love that comes from a closeness to the land and the animals. She is respected and even adored by all the local people who sense in her a joyful innocence.

Do the Andersons, Krebs, Scudamores, Campbells, Powells, Blairs of this world really inhabit the same planet as those who think as we do? And how is it that we are allowing them, even when they are acting "in good faith", to destroy it for true farmers and for cows who used to come when they were called?