Roads, in the Haiti countryside, are mostly dirt,with holes filled with rain water, covered with a sprinkling of rocks. After a strong rain,these roads, leading deep into the bush, become non- negotiable and new paths have to be made through the underbrush so folks can reach their plywood shacks with tin roofs, homes with sheets for curtains, and plain Jane outhouses. This steer is stretched to the end of his rope and he drinks from his own muddy bowl in the road’s middle, guarding it like a dog guards his bone. Placing distance between us, as I gingerly walk past, I look at distant mountains and hear goats tied to fences, complaining continually about their nooses in the pastoral setting. This bovine is intimidating. I don’t see him taking off with a stranger without a brawl. It would take a special kind of thief to take the end of this rope and lead  this guy home.  
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