The first two bulls quickly adapted. To avoid conflict, they gave up part of their territory, choosing survival over pride in the face of undeniable strength.
But the smallest bull made a different choice. He surrendered everything except his identity, refusing to be seen as anything less than what he believed himself to be.
Elsewhere in the pasture, another story unfolded. A mother cow named her calves after delicate flowers—Rose, Lily, and Daisy—each name reflecting beauty and gentleness.
Then came the last calf: Cinderblock. The name was awkward, even humorous, yet it revealed something deeper about identity—how we see ourselves versus how the world defines us.
