College, Contemplation, and Cows

C hrist Church might be the most famous college at Oxford University. Scenes in the Harry Potter movies were filmed there, so it’s common to encounter sightseers snapping photos while adorned in Gryffindor robes and witch hats. The historic college inspired mathematics lecturer Lewis Carroll when writing Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland; students and visitors can marvel at the figures of the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat, the Mad Hatter, and the Red Queen that were added to the stained-glass windows in the 20th century as a tribute. Those who have never stepped onto the Christ Church grounds are familiar (perhaps unknowingly so) with the college because of its frequent depiction in literature, movies, and other media.

Christ Church is more than a film set; it hosts many acclaimed and aspiring scholars. But it is also the beloved home of less intellectual residents, including a tortoise for the annual tortoise race (which also features a lettuce-eating competition for “human tortoises”), little ducks named Tom and Peck, and most noticeably, majestic longhorn cows.

You might imagine Oxford as having a serene and hushed environment, yet there is hardly a tranquil area on campus, since even the library walls cannot drown out the tour guides or honking horns outside. The bustling town is anything but quiet, given the tourist groups that dominate the sidewalks, the students zooming on scooters to attend classes, and drivers who evidently don’t know how to use a turn signal. The fast-paced trimester is overwhelming, and I’ve realized that I have no aptitude for phonology, let alone three-dimensional phonology. Brilliant students engage in riveting discussions but also less respectable activities, including disruptive protests. In the midst of more than 26,000 students, I hardly ever encounter the same person twice. It’s all exciting — but also overstimulating and draining, contributing to a fatigue that renders challenging schoolwork even more difficult.

I remain grateful to attend such a prestigious university, but I have also felt a nagging desperation to escape the campus. Fortunately, I found the cows’ pasture hidden behind the expansive Christ Church college, a spot that provides a necessary escape. The cows are docile, although their ram-like horns are somewhat intimidating. On some of my visits, they approached the fence, so I could reach across and run my fingers through their soft hair, which is inordinately therapeutic (without the financial impact of paying a person to hear me talk for 55 minutes). I envied the cows: They had the luxury of enjoying my campus without the burden of homework. It must be so nice to spend the day grazing and sleeping rather than reading and writing.

I’m certain the cows weren’t thinking much as they relaxed on the grass. But I did think, and I considered the cows my study buddies. They were my research assistants who permitted me to sit and reckon with my semantics proofs; their gentle moos didn’t interrupt me. In that peaceful environment, I considered such topics as successive cyclic movement and scalar implicatures. I’ve long defended the need for free speech and open inquiry on college campuses, but now, I realize there’s a need for silent introspection and contemplation before engaging in debate.

Last weekend, I returned to the Christ Church Meadow to enjoy the cows’ companionship — but they were gone. I was devastated staring at the empty field, worried that they had been slaughtered for Christmas roasts. I asked a Christ Church employee what had happened to them, and he told me they’d been moved to a field with a barn for the winter. I was happy to learn that the cows are now warm and cozy but upset that I could no longer see them. Who would be my company when I worry about papers and exams? He must have detected my disappointment and so he reassured me, “Don’t worry, they’ll be back!”

For now, I’ll have to do without my research assistants. But I’ve learned that perhaps the most intellectual environment at such a renowned university is a field with cows, where the mind can roam freely.