You’ve got to graze it to taste it, she said, and I couldn’t
understand, my hooves still on the tender side

of stone. Then after the blue-cold nights
came the blue nights. I nibbled hard,

as hard as she had said. A thousand rumblings
in my stomachs reminded me of rain, and how it greens

turf until it tastes of fresh mornings and her milk
—microbes and bacteria ferment and sing

of change. I grazed on, like she said. Perhaps
we are like rain. Our movement onwards

is warm and smells of yellow flowers rotting.
My hooves become rocks, and now I understand.

Our food feeds from loss like us, the last herd.

Andrea Ferrari Kristeller wrote this poem after taking Creature Conserve Master Class: Writers Respond to the Science of Animal Migration, as a Scholarship recipient. The workshop, delivered by Christopher Kondrich, Susan Tacent, and Dr Lucy Spelman, provided concrete scientific data concerning several migrant species and writing skills-oriented presentations. The mission of Creature Conserve is to grow a creative community that combines art with science to cultivate new pathways for wildlife conservation.