The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of cows are just chillin' in this pretty big pasture, surrounded by a rusty old fence. It's mid-afternoon, the sun is shining, and the air's really fresh with a sweet smell of cut grass. Like, the weird thing is, their moos are somehow harmonizing in perfect three-part harmony, like a well-practiced choir. Umm, the cows are just grazing, but the grass they're eating is somehow regrowing at a ridiculous rate, like it's being sped up by an invisible force or something.