The Lonesome Bull

I sit with the lonesome bull that lives in the paddock across the road from me.

When I leave for school in the morning he would be there, just standing in the paddock casually grazing. He wasn’t always on his own though, and over time I could tell something had changed within him.

He used to have the strong dominating presence of an animal. Exuding confidence with his structure, roaming around the paddock like it’s his kingdom and he is the ruler of the land. I can’t say I always had a strong respect for him though, the truth is I actually feared him.

The raging bull as my brothers used to call him. They named him that one time when he charged at them. To be fair, my brothers were throwing rocks at the bull from over the fence. He ended up ramming the post where my brothers were standing, giving them a massive fright. To this day that post is still bent at an angle.

There was once a whole herd of cows in that paddock, I swear over a hundred. The majority of them were female, probably for dairy as my dad told me.

My fondest memories of them were always stretching my arm over the barbed wire fence with a handful of grass and calling out to the cows to come over. I assure you that every time a few of them would slowly walk up to me, sniff my hand, and eat the grass straight from the palm of my hand. Their long tongues stretching out, scooping along my fingers searching for the food. Never once did I get bitten. That’s how I discovered how gentle and kind they are, sometimes even letting me pat their faces, looking into my eyes while they chewed on the grass.

This was also my earliest memory of the bull, the only one that would never come up to the fence for a feed. Instead, he would always stand at the back, watching from a distance. Usually standing there almost motionless keeping his eyes on me. At first, it made me feel uncomfortable, but I now believe he was just unsure of me. After a while he stopped watching, and would instead just walk around the herd, checking in on the others. It’s where my belief that he ruled the paddock first started.

I wasn’t always able to greet them after school, at times life would just get very busy. The usual life of a teenager, after-school sports, Sunday church, and visiting friends. When I was able to visit them again, the herd would have changed in numbers. Sometimes drastically, with many missing. In most cases, it was always the calves I wouldn’t see again. I loved seeing them following their mother around, always by her side and sometimes feeding on her. They were never there for long though. Mum told me they’re most likely being cared for somewhere else. I wondered why their mother couldn’t go as well. How come she couldn’t look after her own baby, why did it have to be taken away from her?

That was about the time I started questioning everything a lot more, not just on the paddock but everything about cows. I found out that mother cows can cry out for their missing newborn calves, sometimes for days. My parents started getting annoyed with all my questions, and the information I got online. I used to ask them where the milk we buy comes from and why is it called ‘steak’ and ‘beef’? I’m sure you can see what happened next.

I became somewhat of a problem in my family. Eating meat wasn’t so appealing to me anymore. I would always make sure to eat everything on my plate, but I refused to touch the sausages. It infuriated my father, he would say it’s just the circle of life and we need to eat it. At barbeques my brothers would bully me, biting into a large piece of steak in front of my face and letting the blood ooze out. Mum would just tell them to leave me alone, she would say it’s just a phase and I’ll get over it.

Then one day, I decided to climb the fence. I could see that the bull was feeling lonely with all the other cows now gone. I slowly approached him with a soothing tone in my voice. He turned his head to look at me and I could see the sadness in his eyes. Without walking away, he turned his head back and allowed me to pat him. Stroking my hand over his long back.

Now when I get home from school in the afternoon, I don’t go straight inside. I sit in the paddock on a plastic chair in the long grass and hand-feed the bull. I sit here until sundown. If he doesn’t feel like eating, then he just stands there next to me staring off into the distance.

It saddens me to see the way he now walks around with his head hanging down. He may still have his kingdom, but now he has no one to share it with.