In this field, we find a cow sitting smack in the middle of a rural township, right in the center of a county about 20 miles from a big city.
Our cow could be in Wisconsin. Or Illinois. Or Pennsylvania. Or Maryland.
Now, imagine that our cow settles down just so in this pasture.
As it blithely chews its cud, in just the right spot, our cow’s brisket sits in one United States congressional district, its prime rib in another, and its sirloin in a third.
This politically divided pasture is just one sign of how, across these United States, wacky electoral district lines zig, zag, loop, and narrow with no apparent rhyme or reason.
These lines don’t respect municipal or county boundaries, natural boundaries like rivers, or logical communities of interest.