Like Good Neighbors

We are lucky to have a great group of neighbors. You know, like the ones you could drop in on and ask for milk or an egg if you were in need.
The field behind our condominium is home to a group of cows. And most are bulls, so the corny milk joke doesn't necessarily apply. They are separated from us by a porous fence, so they spend time on both sides. It is fun to hear the mooing and to hear the kids' best impression of them.
My commute to work consists of travelling down a washed-out gravel/coral road that is riddled with deep ruts, holes, and exposed culverts. The travel time to work is between five and ten minutes, depending on how many cows I have to excuse. The grade is steep, and my ears pop each time.
I also have to stop for hens, who walk around and eat meat from the coconuts that their owner has split. The roosters can be heard calling from our condo balcony.
The chickens are on the same land as the bee farm. Hives are stacked around the yard, and swarms shade the surroundings.
Finally, I pass a pig sty. Just like in the movies, they wallow in the mud.
Our other non-human neighbors are the abundant "boonie" dogs. These are strays, whose looks and constitutions have suffered from the obligatory inbreeding and tropical climate. They are loosely adopted by our human neighbors, who give them scraps of food.