A cow can get used to zero gravity just like a human.
In fact I’d swear they take to it even better than one of their two-legged minders. Maybe it’s because they’re used to a life at the ass end of the pecking order, always being told where to stand, when to eat, and eventually even how to die, so what’s free floating in a hemispherical cage in the cargo hold of a gigantic fleeing spaceship besides another decision that someone else made for them? Nothing.
Yet come to think of it, most of that applies to me too, and it hasn’t helped with nausea of weightlessness one bit.
Cows seem to take to spaceflight as if they were made for it. They just curl up their legs under their hulking chests and drift. They snort and grunt and moo, of course. Those noises never seem to stop. But there’s no panic, not even in their big glassy eyes that so often telegraph fear and stress and all manner of emotion. Just a confused sort of peaceful stare, meditative and calming to watch even while it creeps me out every time I make eye contact with one of the beasts.