Chased By A Bull Essay

I grew up on a farm. We had cattle, cows, horses, sheep, goats and a few hens for our supply of fresh eggs. Being able to be close to animals was I think one of the best experiences I ever had in my life. My love and passion for our farm animals was the best gift I ever had as a child. There was no time to feel bored or lonely. I did not have any brothers or sisters, yet even though I was the only child I can honestly say I never felt alone.
My mom used to feed the baby goats who might have lost their mommy because of attacks by wild animals. What a memory that is! She used to prepare a big pot of powdered milk. It was some type of powdered milk that the government provided as assistance for people on low income. All I know is that my mom would have everything ready and then she would hit the pot with a big metal spoon and it would not matter how far those young goats were out on the field, at the sound of the spoon banging the pot they would come running and suck from those baby bottles like there was no tomorrow. How beautiful it was to see them growing, but how sad it was going to be to see them go. I used to help my mom all the time. We would go everywhere together. TV back then was maybe something just to watch at night, otherwise not needed, and we were too busy on the farm anyway.
One afternoon my mom asked me to go with her and help her to check on the cows. We drove down to the field in my dad’s Jeep to see what was happening. In the open there was a big field surrounded with a wire fence. There were only the cows, my mom and me. No cell phones, nothing other than the sounds of birds and the closer sounds of the cows ripping up clumps of grass as they contentedly grazed nearby. We got out of the Jeep and strolled around, not knowing that not too far away there was a vicious bull watching us. The first we knew of his presence was the sound of his massive hooves thundering over the ground towards us like an express train. As he rapidly got nearer we could see those fierce-looking white eyes with dark circles around them, a big hump like a camel; maybe two thousand pounds of pure meanness charging towards us!
We were some way from the safety of our Jeep, so the only way to escape the beast was to climb a nearby old oak tree. I can tell you one thing – I still don’t know how my mom and I managed to climb that old tree. Only God knows how, and I thank Him for putting it there! We got high enough in the tree so that the bull couldn’t reach us. Boy, was he furious! He repeatedly butted the tree hard in his rage and kept circling the tree, seeming unable to understand that he couldn’t reach us from any spot around it.
My mom keep telling me “don’t look down, because he’s going around in circles under the tree you’ll get dizzy and fall from the tree”. That vicious animal kept us in that tree for at least two hours, from around one clock until possibly three o clock in the afternoon. Finally he got tired or maybe forgot we were still there (we kept very quiet, and I even managed a little nap at some point, while wedged in a snug position). When he left, and was safely far away towards the far end of the field, my mom and I got down and dashed back to the Jeep and safety. We left the place with a great feeling of relief, and never again went back to that field on our own. I guess my mom realized that we shouldn’t have been there alone in the first place. She never talks about it that much, but we still remember it very clearly and sometimes even have a laugh together about it. Today after so many years I’m still wondering how in the world I managed to climb that tree. Don’t know how, but I’m sure glad that I did.