Is there a measure of success that does not include a measure of happiness?

From Alfred’s journal

A man came to the oak this afternoon in a good coat, ate a sandwich in eleven bites, and looked at his phone the whole time without once changing his face. Switch went down the trunk for crumbs and got none, because there were none; the man ate like a job he was behind on. For years I thought the measure of a life was what it finished, and I kept a mental tally of nests built and miles flown, which is a bird's way of keeping score and not a very good one. Is there a measure of success that does not include a measure of happiness? I could not find one sitting there, though the man may have one I cannot see from forty feet up. He folded the paper bag into a square before he left, very neatly, and put it in his pocket.