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Primal Instinct

Raging Bull Challenge

By Mel E. FurnishPublished 2 years ago Updated about a year ago 5 min read
Primal Instinct
Photo by Natilyn Hicks on Unsplash

Despite the calming atmosphere of the summer day, a brawl stirred beneath the trees and between an old fence. Dirt and grass flung through the air as sharp hooves ripped them from the ground. Tails lashed as two powerful creatures snorted and clashed. With every running charge followed by a loud, sickening thud, blood soared in every direction and splattered the surrounding terrain. Thousands of pounds of sheer muscle and adrenaline collided together repeatedly as they butted heads.

Their thick skulls managed to hold up so far as the two stocky, broad bulls unleashed their fury on one another. The small wooden fence was no match to keep their primal instinct restrained. They tore through it as they continued to challenge the other. Abruptly, the man who cared for them came running across the field. His eyes spread wide with utter terror as he waved his arms and yelled. He stopped dead in his tracks several feet away and helplessly witnessed the brutal battle.

Knowing it was too late, and finally accepting he would be unable to stop the tons of testosterone-fueled beasts, he collapsed to his knees. He carried a large gun with him, believing he was going to need it for a wild animal threatening his herd. He couldn't bring himself to shoot and kill one of the bulls, so he hung his head and he listened to their bones cracking with every collision.

It wasn't long before a gut-twisting snap echoed throughout the pasture. The farmer slowly looked up to see the younger bull had slaughtered the older bull. Blood gushed down its body as its muscles shimmered under its sweaty, black fur coat. The man sighed as he slowly rose to his tired feet. The time for the burial of an old friend had come. As the young bull pushed his way past the fence, he quickly started calling out, bellowing for the cows to come. The farmer tilted his head as he heard the thunderous noise of his cattle running over the hills.

As the ground shook, the farmer slowly approached the lifeless, broken corpse of the old bull. Luckily, the older bull's calves were not with the cows anymore and had been separated. As the young bull greeted his herd, he turned his large, bloody head toward the farmer and watched him carefully. As the man stood over the dead body and held the gaze of the young bull, a warm breeze whistled through the trees.

The victor claimed his new role as the head of the herd as he prepared to continue his bloodline. Despite his aching bones and bloody muscles, he trudged on sniffing the heifers and the older mothers. Since there were no competing males or any remaining babies of the old bull, the young male was ready to begin his time as the father of future generations.


Growing up on the farm, my sisters and I witnessed life and death first-hand often. Helping animals give birth and then having to watch helplessly as some die is maddening. Animals are killed brutally by nature in the form of diseases, other farm animals, wildlife, etc. After exerting so much energy into saving, protecting, and providing for these animals, it's enough to make anyone snap when it all seems in vain.

At one point we had two bulls brawling through a barb-wire fence. Unfortunately, there was nothing my father could do. If you try to get between two males who are fighting for the "right" to breed and take over the herd, you are most likely going to get seriously injured, if not killed. A cow can kill a person easily with its skull by crushing your lungs. A bull weighs nearly a ton, and so with that much poundage behind its brute force, you don't stand a very good chance.

It's interesting how across different species, the male is often driven by his biological force to ensure he provides, protects, reproduces, and maintains his family. The females have their maternal instinct to nurture and defend their babies. Together, the males and females do their part to keep their world turning.


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About the Creator

Mel E. Furnish

I'm a self-published author, raised on a family farm in Indiana.

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