We were driving the sheep along the road—that is, the big tarmacked highway outside the farm. It was the long way around, but we, or at least the guy with the dog, wanted to experience that scene when the car has to stop and wait in the midst of a swarm of sheep. And it’s fun, everyone thinks so. On this road, no one’s in a rush on a Sunday. The sheep don’t give a fig for the cars or the tarmac. Sometimes I’ve fantasized about stopping traffic, as an act of radical resistance to everything that destroys nature. Maybe large numbers of animals on the roads is the method.