There is a large, weathered barn… somewhere… can’t say where. The livestock in this barn are not four-legged. The various manimals are classified by region of origin, height, weight, dental health, and age, with special attention to those greatly endowed that generate a lot of milk. Each Saturday a dozen pickups with heavily loaded livestock trailers roll into this remote farm, and the drivers use high power cattle prods to unload hundreds of pounds of prime beef to get ready for the next week’s auction. They roll out empty on Sunday morning, and all week there’s a sense of activity, of feverish anticipation. The manimals feel it; they know something big will happen. And Friday nights a similar procession of hauling vehicles — empty ones — roll in for the evening’s commercial entertainment. The people at the auction are a mixture… some veteran owners looking for good bargains. A few are spectators, carefully qualified to attend. Others are totally new to the auction, and are just looking for that one special specimen to breed for years to come. For one hour before the auction, potential buyers can stroll through the stalls and identify the manimals they like best. The smell of sawdust, sweat, urine … with just a hint of scat… make the washed and groomed manimals all the more alluring to the viewers… Especially the way they react when prodded into the ring, to high-step and show off their assets for the bidders. Rarely is there a manimal to carry over to the next week. Each one usually ends up being roped, branded, and led away by a happy, successful bidder. And the owner of that barn gets that one night of true silence in the countryside, to rest well, and know that His efforts bring great satisfaction and reward, before it starts all over again the next day.