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The Bull's Run

a shadow in time

By Thomas DurbinPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
2

Sitting on the swing under the majestic maple tree one sunny Saturday afternoon, Grandpa once told us the tale of the bull that found his way home from the county fair and crashed a birthday party. Grandma still had a photo Great-Grandma had snapped that day of Grandpa milking one of the dairy cows while Great-Grandpa supervised, casting his shadow in profile on the side of the cow. Chores had to be done regardless of the afternoon bedlam and it was his turn to milk the cows. It was the week of the county fair and Grandpa and his brothers and sister had taken their show animals to the fairgrounds, including one young bull they were going to try to sell. Fair week was always an exciting time during the summer. It was a time to see family and friends during the long break from school and the parents usually took vacation from work so they could be there every day and help prepare the livestock for showing. Fortunately, the county fair grounds were only a few miles from their home and they could take turns going back and forth to feed the pigs and chickens, water the garden, and milk the cows. There is no vacation from chores and caring for the animals at home and running a farm. The week of the fair had been a blast for all the kids and the adults. There were carnival rides and games of skill in a big oval near the grandstand. The side shows were there, too, including a haunted hall, a house of mirrors, and the freak show in a tent at the end. Thursday night, they each got a dollar to spend on rides and games and shows. The kids had also saved their earnings and allowances for spending money the rest of the week.

The week was productive, too. They won ribbons for best of show with one of their pigs and their best yearling calf. Great-grandma's rhubarb pie earned her a blue ribbon in the culinary arts contest for home-made desserts. It was her fifth blue ribbon in 6 years. She collected her prize early Saturday morning and hurried home to prepare for a late-afternoon birthday party for her sister. The fair was coming to a close after an exciting week. The boys took care of their show animals and made plans to bring them home Sunday morning. They hadn't sold the young bull yet, but two buyers were interested in him so they left him there with the show animals. The young bull had been a bit of trouble to handle. The flashing lights from the carnival and noisy visitors to the barns seemed to unnerve him at times. After they finished cleaning stalls and feeding the livestock, the boys asked a neighbor to keep an eye on things and they went home for the birthday party. They planned to return to the carnival and sleep in the barn at the fair after the party, but they couldn't miss the family gathering and all the wonderful home-cooked food that would be on the table. And, there were blue-ribbon pies and cake for dessert!

Curious people wandered through the county fair barns to look at the livestock and get a glimpse of what farm life involved. Some were brave enough to pet a pig or a cow. Usually, this didn't bother the animals since they were basically treated like pets and trained to behave nicely in the show ring in front of the livestock judges. However, the young bull was nervous again when some kids with little horns ran ahead of their parents into the barn. The kids stopped and started blowing their horns and jumping around, thinking the reactions of the animals would be funny. Their mortified parents told them to stop, but not before it was too late. The young bull reared on his hind legs and pulled his halter and rope hard enough to break it free of the slat it was tied to at the end of his stall. Startled and feeling himself break free, he took advantage of his newfound freedom and whipped around in the stall and headed for the roadway next to the barn. A crowd gathered to see what had caused the uproar. The rogue bull became the afternoon entertainment at the fair. He busted through the tent of chickens, upsetting cages and unleashing a bunch of hens and a couple of cranky roosters. The bull continued his startled dash into the carnival, youngsters scattering out of his way left and right. The cranky roosters chased the judges out of the poultry tent before being caught by their owners. The bull unleashed a whirlwind of chaos across the grounds. After scattering the riders in line to board the Ferris wheel, he dashed into the hall of horrors and made a new exit out the back as half-scared, half-laughing teenagers spilled out the actual exit and stared in amazement at the bull not believing their eyes. He then turned toward the racetrack, dashing across the dirt track behind a supercharged tractor pulling a sled and scattering popcorn from the mobile vendor on the way past the concession stand. From there, he fled the grounds, racing through the gate and down the road. The neighbor who had been asked to keep an eye on things had followed as best he could. He decided to go back to the other end of the grounds and get his truck and go tell the boys their young bull was on the loose. Being close to home, though, the young bull beat him to the farm. No one knows if it was luck or if the young bull had a good sense of direction or caught a familiar scent or if it was a bit of all three, but the path he took from the fairgrounds took him straight toward home and familiar territory.

When the neighbor reached the farm, he saw the boys herding the young bull into a corral by the old barn. The yard was littered with plates and cups and chairs and food and the rest of the family was on the porch watching the spectacle come to an end. After the young bull was secured, they surveyed the scene. Great-grandma was the first to burst with laughter. A couple of the youngest ones had peed in their pants. The dog was under the porch with his tail between his legs. Everyone slowly left the porch to gather the things and put the party together again. She told the neighbor as he started helping put tables back on their feet how the young bull had come down the drive at a run, headed directly through the party toward the feed sacks in the old barn. The speckled pup they had recently adopted barked and tried to stand his ground, but the bull put his head down and plowed straight ahead. He knocked over three of the tables and hooked table-clothes with his horns, scattering food, drinks, tableware, chairs, and gifts around the yard as everyone scattered for cover and reached safety on the porch. Her description of the scene created a vivid scene in the neighbor's mind and he joined her in laughter. A couple of pots of marigolds had been flipped, too. Hopefully, he thought, someone had snapped a few photos as they jumped and ran. There were a few slices of chocolate cake and a box wrapped in brown paper left on one table. A few glasses of tea and some platters of food sat undisturbed on another table the bull missed. The kids gathered around the pen to see the bull while the adults quickly cleaned the mess and got the party going again with some live music after all was in order again. There was plenty of laughter as each person recanted the tale and a few other neighbors who had witnessed the spectacle at the fairgrounds stopped to regale them with tales of fleeing carnival patrons, cranky roosters, and scattering popcorn. The bull's run through the county fair and their afternoon gathering made it the most memorable fair week ever.

vintage
2

About the Creator

Thomas Durbin

Raised in rural east-central Illinois, I appreciate nature and the environment. I'm a father, grandfather, professional engineer-scientist, leader, scouts leader, coach, stoic, minimalist, costumer, historian, traveler, and writer.

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