Farm animals developed routines almost as predictable as machinery.
The Voss cattle approached the pond from two usual paths, one near the cedar post and another from the northern fence corner.
For years they had used both.
Then Eli noticed they stopped using the northeast approach.
The grass remained green.
No thorns.
No broken fence.
No obvious mud deep enough to discourage them.
Still, the cattle curved around that section as if an invisible barrier had appeared.
One afternoon Eli watched a mature cow walk toward it, pause, lower her head, then shift sideways and take the longer route to water.
He marked that in the notebook too.
September 9.
Cattle avoiding northeast shore.
He began checking the area every few days.
A faint depression appeared in the soil.
Not deep enough to see from the house.
Not even deep enough to notice unless you knew where to look.
The grass dipped gently over an oval area maybe twelve feet across.
Then cracks began forming along the exposed mud close to the waterline.
Normal pond mud cracked under sun.
Eli knew that.
These cracks were different.
They did not spread randomly.
They formed a curved line, almost a partial circle.
A week later, the curve had widened.
One evening at dusk, Eli sat on an overturned bucket at the bank and heard the strangest clue of all.
Bubble.