On my grandfather's farm, there was a coal-colored Angus bull by the name of Smitty. He was a very muscular, brute of a beast, having a rhino temperament. Granny had informed me to stay clear of Smitty because he had a mean disposition. That only served to fuel my curiosity on finding out for myself just how mean a bull he was.
With my
heart pounding, I slipped through the barbwire fence one day and taunted Smitty
to chase after me! Eventually, Smitty grew tired of this nonsense and made some
pre-charging motions which sent me scampering to safety. Even though I pulled
that stunt on multiple occasions, I didn't feel guilty about failing to heed my
grandmother's warning about Smitty. To me, he was just a mean old bull who
didn't take kindly to a little boy full of discovery.
I took
a matador approach with Smitty only once; he apparently did not like the red
handkerchief I was waving at him. When I ignored his usual workup routine of
preemptive strikes, he decided to charge me! Luckily, I made it up the gate
before he had a chance to reach me. The relationship between Smitty and I had
grown! I could simply stand safely behind the fence and make silly faces at
Smitty, and he would start his digging with one of his front hoofs and kick up
some dust. I could tell he had a fondness for me...
I felt
pretty good about being able to communicate with him. It seemed to me that I
was the only one on the farm that understood Smitty! One day, Granny sent me
out to take a bucket of tomatoes that were going bad and throw them over the
fence for Smitty. When I set the pail of tomatoes on the ground, I yelled to
Smitty that I had something for him. Then I got this crazy notion not to dump
the tomatoes over the barbwire fence, but rather take them out one by one and
throw them at Smitty about twenty feet away from me.
The first
throw fell short near the front hooves. The second throw, however, splattered
right on the curly locks of his forehead. Smitty immediately bolted toward me
with his nostrils flaring. I was frozen in place with fear for Smitty had
always given me an early warning that he intended to charge.
As good
fortune would have it, the barbed wire fence was between Smitty and me. That
black beast came to a quick halt about a yard short of the fence, snorting and
breathing heavily. Every muscle on his powerful frame seemed to be quivering as
his big dark eyes stared a hole right through me. For the first time, I thought
Smitty was mad enough to plow through the fence to get to me!
After I
mentally defrosted, I quickly dumped the bucket of unused ammo for target practice
over the fence and made a beeline to the farmhouse. Before losing sight of him,
I turned to see him eating the spoils of war.
Smitty and
I never had another unsociable encounter again. That rotten tomato episode
taught me a very important truth about Smitty and myself; he was all bull, and
I was all boy. Looking back, it was me who was out of character being
bullheaded and mean, not Smitty. He didn't know any better. Maybe Granny should
have warned Smitty about me?
