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The Bull

a tale of man and beast

By Matthew DonnellonPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
2
The Bull
Photo by Pascal van de Vendel on Unsplash

The sun was out and the day was hot. The bull stood in the grass like he did most days. It rained that morning and now the air was thick with steam and humidity as the mud filled field dried.

The bull stood there, his tail swiping back and forth, swatting flies. The warm air irritated the bull. He longed for the colder days when the leaves changed. He was tired of the sun. Just one more day in the cold crisp air instead of the swamp air.

He knew it would never come.

Not after the incident.

It was not three days past. The old bull was in his pasture minding his own business when he heard commotion near the gate. He saw a group of the two legged ones. The old bull sensed danger.

He put himself between the intruders and the cows. The two legged ones carried bottles and laughed a lot. They surrounded the old bull. He swung his horns and grunted, but they would not run. He felt the rope come over his horns and his neck.

Suddenly, one was on his back. The old bull reared and jumped and seconds later he was free. Another jumped on his back. He threw this one even quicker. He tried to drive off the two legged ones but they ran in all directions.

The last one to jump on him wasn’t so lucky.

The old bull had had enough. This time he bucked hard and felt the intruder dislodge. He turned quickly and rammed the rider with his horns driving him into the air.

That scared them enough. They scattered. The old bull snorted. The cows and calves were safe.

He saw the old farmer talking to another two-leg the next day. They were pointing at the bull. Deep down, the old bull knew something was wrong, that his days were numbered. The old bull knew he’d never feel the cold days again. He only saw the old farmer when one of them was taken away never to be seen again. The old bull had been lucky so far. He’d seen other bulls taken, other cows, even calves.

But now it was his time. So he stood there, swatting flies, waiting for them to come.

He suspected the intrusion the night before had something to do with it. But that was beyond the old bull’s world. The old bull didn’t know he’d gored so rich guy’s son. Now the man wanted the bull dead.

The old farmer didn’t want to do it, but the rich man threatened to take his farm.

The old bull stood there chewing grass and swatting flies. He saw something near the fence again.

With grace unexpected of such a large form, the old bull took off crashing towards the intruder who was getting closer and closer to his herd.

The old bull saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was the old farmer waving his hands. It broke his stride and he stopped when he saw the intruder. It was another two legged one but it was much smaller.

The old bull stopped just in time.

The farmer caught up to his little grandson who was now reaching up and playing with the old bull’s nose. The hulking animal stood over the tiny child as the farmer carefully picked up his grandson. He patted his old friend on the snout showing gratitude to his old friend.

And for a moment man and beast had an understanding.

The old bull went back to his pasture. He never saw the truck coming, and the old farmer had tears in his eyes as the rich man loaded the rifle.

Short Story
2

About the Creator

Matthew Donnellon

Twitter: m_donnellon

Instagram: msdonnellonwrites

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