It started out pretty much like any other project. Old John needed to load his bull into the cattle truck. He'd had the bull for a couple of years and the bull's offspring were coming of age, so the bull needed to be replaced in order to put new blood into the herd.
Old John backed his truck up to the loading chute and prepared everything. He herded the bull into the pen, and everything was going as planned, until the bull caught sight of the ramp into the truck.
Now, whether that bull had seen too many of his counterparts take a one-way trip in that truck, whether he caught wind of something he didn't like, or whether he had a major aversion to being in a small metal cage on wheels, no one will ever know. But once the bull saw the truck, the whole process ground to a halt.
Old John tried everything. He put grain in the truck to coax the bull in. He got a whip and tried to convince the bull that the truck was a preferred alternative. He tried everything he could think of, but the bull planted his feet and wouldn't budge.
By this time, as often happens in our farming community, everyone driving by had to stop and offer some, not always appreciated, advice. Pretty soon a small crowd of farmers had gathered. Old John, a man of few words, never said anything, though everyone else had an opinion on how to get the job done.
It was suggested that they put a board through both sides of the chute, behind the bull, and then everyone could push. They found the biggest board they could and stuck it behind the bull. Three men got on each side and commenced pushing. But a bull that weighs over a ton can out-push six men who, together, maybe weigh half that.
"Perhaps," suggested James, who had just moved from a big city and bought a nearby hobby farm, "He is just scared. Maybe, if someone would pet him and calm him down, we could get him in the truck."
Everyone stared at him like his rivets were coming loose. Rough and Ready Jackson, chewing on a twig of hay, said, "I'll tell you what, James. You go ahead and climb in there and pet him, and the rest of us will go order your coffin."
Fred pulled up with his sheep dogs. Once he heard the problem he knew just what to do. He ordered his sheep dog, Butch, into the chute to chase that bull into the truck. Butch looked at Fred like he wondered if Fred had all of his spark plugs firing, but finally went in, barking and growling. Butch came out, flying off the hoof of the irate bull, and, when Fred ordered Butch to try again, Butch gave him a sideways look that said, "Why don't you do it yourself, if you think it's so fun."
That was when Rastus showed up. He was a cattleman, if ever there was one. He wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, carried a lasso around in the cab of his truck and a saddle in the back, and his whole demeanor bespoke a man in the know, when it came to cattle. When he found out the problem, he drawled, "Why, shoot! You just ain't givin' that bull enough motivation ‘s all. I'll get my motivator out of my truck."
He came walking back with a cattle prod, which most of us call a hot shot - basically a cattle taser. We all stepped aside as he gave that bull a few-hundred-volt shot of motivation. The bull let out a beller, but didn't move. A couple more tries without success, and Rastus was beginning to fear he'd lose face, when he hit on an idea. He reached that motivator in and zapped that bull where no male of any species likes to be zapped.
That bull let out a beller, like a freight train at a busy intersection, and shot forward like a race car coming out of a pit stop, all four hooves squealing in the sand, all horns a-blaring. He pounded up that ramp at a run approaching the speed of sound and continued into the truck without slowing. He hit the truck's front cattle railing, snapping it like a Tinkertoy, and smashed down through the cab of the truck. He came out through the front window, made scrap metal of the hood, and kept going at a dead run through the men and dogs that were scattering for cover. He roared out the yard gate and down the road, heading for the border, bellering and snorting his rage at the injustice he'd received.
As everyone stood around in shock, Old John finally spoke the first words he'd said all day. He turned to Rastus and shook his head. "I think you pushed him just a little too far!"
Thursday, February 14, 2008
A Load Of Bull
