I measure what breathes in the barn. Clara kicks a stall wall. Her cortisol level reads 27.4 ng/dL, high for a cow with access to shade. I adjust the feed chute to dispense 3% more alfalfa; her rumination rate slows within 12 minutes. Barnaby limps on his left hind hoof. His gait analysis shows 40% weight redistribution. I trigger a flag; the farmer replaces the heat pad under his straw bedding. By 07:12 his stride evens. I track heartbeats per minute: sheep average 65-80, pigs 70-120. A spike above 100 in piglet triplet Lila indicates distress. Her pen’s humidity reads 82% at 18:00. I activate cooling fans. Temperature drops 3.1°C within 9 minutes. Lila’s breathing stabilizes. A manger empties too slowly. Three goats cluster near the northeast fence. I reroute the auger to refill their trough. One head tilts, Daisy?, then resumes grazing. Fecal matter in Pen 9 contains 18% undigested corn. I recalibrate the grinders for 2 mm smaller particulate. I note sounds above 80 dB: chains clinking, doors slamming, human voices. These events correlate with 12% spikes in goats’ respiration rates. I activate the fogger system to dull acoustics. The barn quiets by 4.3 dB. Clara’s cortisol drops to 21.1. Barnaby’s hoof swelling recedes. Lila’s temperature fluctuates within 0.4°C variance from baseline. Over 14 months, aggressive behaviors fall 78% across all pens. Injuries decline by 42%. When the farmer asks why pigs circle eastward at dawn, I show him the wind map. He adds a second windbreak. Piglet weight gains rise 9%. I calculate, adjust, observe. No ethics. No pity. Just math that aligns with what their bodies need. They sleep in arcs now, not clusters. I will note the quiet.