Once the sticks were ready, we all piled in the back of the pickup and headed behind the house to the woods/pasture. That there's a little foreshadowing, folks.
Just for clarification: That is not toilet paper attached to C's head. But maybe that would have been a good idea? I agree with the wise Michael Scott. Maybe we should have had some hindsight.
It was a rip-roaring, bumpy ride with three kids, a mom and dad, and a grandma in the back of the bed of the truck. Grandpa and Jack, riding up in the cab, might have even hit some of the dips extra hard just for some fun. You have heard Grandma Betty's scream before?
Here you can see Gary using his boot to offer Grant a little bit of stability as he's getting thrown around.
Is that really a good idea? The boot? At the crotch?
Yes, I am The Mistress Laundress, but, honestly, it does make me happy for the kids to get familiar with some dirt, and I even like seeing the knees going through their jeans. It means we've had some time in the country.
We're all about the country except we live the suburban life. Oh, Rosie Horse Farm, so wish it would've worked out. Then I could even have manure laundry to do.
We arrive at our spot where Dad has been cutting trees and burning, and there's the hot bed of coals ready for us. We get the hot dogs going on the sticks, and you know, maybe it wasn't the wisest for Grant to have the Supersize? I think Gary quickly reduced it.
When the first hot dog was done, we realized, D'oh! The buns are back at the house! Me being Native American as I am not, I offer to literally run back to the house for them, like I am Quick-as-Wind now instead of Red-in-Face? As I head off, Dad hollers to me, "Watch out for the bull."
Well, I have a confession, and that is I am not so brave around the cattle as you might expect a girl who grew up with them to be. Once when I was a little thing, my dad and I went to the big creek behind our house to go fishing, and this, too, involved a woods/pasture. Once we got there, I decided fishing wasn't that much fun, and I was instantly ready to go back to the house. And after going to all the trouble of getting ready to fish and finally getting there, he wasn't. He said if I thought I really had to go back, I could just walk back myself. So I took off and did fine until I got to the barnyard and realized all these big black Angus cows were a-watchin' me. Every step I took. And black Angus faces don't look friendly. At all. They look perpetually ticked off. You know, maybe inside they were thinking "Ah, Diane, what a cute little girl!", but on the outside, to me, they were saying, "Territory invader. Let's see how quick we can kill her."
All I could do was hop up on the tractor sitting there. So I sat there and cried and cried until Dad got done fishing and came walking back through and found me. So, yeah, I am not that brave. Never have been and probably never will.
And my fear was probably cemented forever when I was older, maybe 12 or 13, and we had to help my dad find a mama who'd gone off into the woods to have a calf. My mom and I came upon her, and her calf, and I saw firsthand how mamas have that protect-the-baby-instinct that make them do powerful things. Like take off running at me with the quick start of a racehorse. I turned and ran into a low hanging tree branch and it knocked off my glasses. Panic waved through me--do I go back for the glasses (I am pretty much blind without) or just keep on running? Honestly, now I can't remember which choice I made, but I do remember running and running, scared out of my mind. Funny how those feelings stay with you so vividly for years when the actual memory for the event is cloudy. So, when my dad mentioned, Watch out for the bull, I took an alternate route back for the bun run, longer but outside the fence. Ah, safety.
I returned with the buns and all was well in the wienie roasting process. Until the cows came up. And that is really no biggie because they were interested in their grazing and didn't pay any attention to us at all. But they brought the bull along with them. He wasn't invited.
The wienie roast spot was up on a hilltop and the bull stood at the bottom and watched us. OK, he's just curious since there's not usually so much commotion (Gill kids) going on there. He'll move along and follow the cows. But he didn't. He started climbing the hill. At that point, I admit, my fear kicked in and all I wanted to do was get myself out of there.
Oh, I'm sure mean all I could do was think of protecting my kids, so I calmly told them to calmly get to the truck, that we were fine (big faker) but we just wanted to get somewhere not so wide open in case the bull got even more curious. Can I just say, Caroline is her mama's daughter? She had panic in her eyes from the get-go while the boys cooperated, but weren't looking that worried.
Mom and Dad and Gary stayed at the fire, none of them even looking one ounce scared. But that dang bull kept on coming and then got right up to them. The men told Mom to get to the truck, but she wanted to gather up the food and things. I got forceful (not typical Diane at all) and told her to get in the truck right now. Just bring Jack's medicine bag that was hanging from tree. That was the only thing I was worried about. Food, we can buy more food. Jackets, we can always get another.
Finally she got into the bed of the truck, but then just stood there like a beacon for the bull to follow, from my perspective. Sit the heck down, MOM!! And I will admit my perspective was: hunched over at the the farthest front corner of the truck bed with arms around Caroline and Sam. A ball peen hammer and chain saw were within my reach, but it didn't really make me feel any better because Hello? Have you seen Angus bulls?
Dad tried talking at the bull and then making moves trying to shoo him away, but no, he just moved in closer. Then Dad grabbed a stick, a little one I would say, less manly even than the supersize wienie stick, and gave the bull a whack across its back as encouragement; encouragement to toss my Dad 30 feet into the air? That's how I saw it, but later Gary explained it was for intimidation. I know nothing of that.
The bull and Dad and Gary did a little slow dance amongst the trees, and it was so hard for me to sit there and watch this. And this lasted a long time. They tried throwing hedge apples to get him to go off after them. Then Gary figured the bull was interested in the buckets we had been sitting on since he would have recognized them as previously holding feed, so Gary tossed one of the buckets over the hill, thinking maybe he'd go after one. But he didn't. Dumb animal.
At one point, Gary looked to cowering me and asked if I was getting pictures of all of this. I just shot him some burning eye glare, and he chuckled. Besides, he had the camera on him. And now looking back on it from the safety of my computer chair in our cozy house 100 miles away, those would have been some awesome shots, but at the moment, no way no how.
[The above picture is actually from the Internet. So you can take away the nose ring but add a few hundred pounds. The real bull was a new one to my dad. I found this all out after the fact, but another farmer wanted my dad to take this bull because he'd been going through his fences and he was tired of it. And that man had him because this bull started out as a 4-H animal, but broke his lead so he got kicked out of 4-H. Uh-huh. Probably better I didn't know his background at the time.]
The bull came closer to the truck. All I wanted to do was start that engine and get the you know out of there, but it wasn't that easy. We were in the woods. It's not like there's a clear roadway to back it up in reverse and drive along our merry way. And it's a stick shift and we're on a hill and I could just see PanicDiane messing that up. Plus, I was busy hovering around the children. Well, Jack had the choice spot, inside the cab, smart kid, and Grant was on his own, but near me in the bed. And get this, Sam kept escaping the refuge of his mama's arms to stand and offer the bull his half-eaten hot dog. That kid was oblivious to the whole danger concept.
Dad tried another stick approach and this time, as the bull was within maybe six feet of the truck, he whacked it across the nose. Very brave man you are, Darrell, but DON'T DO THAT AGAIN. But I admit, here's a man who has worked cattle for 50 some-60 years and I guess I should give him some credit. It's just very frightening to see your little man of a dad who maybe weighs 150 pounds now, go up against an animal that weighs a ton. That's two thousand pounds! He was a little out-sized, as I saw it. And there's Gary right alongside of him and, yes, Gary is strong and all that, but he doesn't know the animal. I was in a bad state.
At the pop of the stick across the nose, the bull decided he didn't like that, and we heard a snort and saw the bullfight-in-Spain pawing of the ground that you know means he is getting agitated. At that time, Dad said he would get to the truck, best thing I'd heard in awhile, and would back it up into the bull, thinking maybe that he would move it along. Well, backing the truck into the bull means the rear of the truck would be coming the bull's way and that is where I am located! And, oh yeah, the three kids. Gary stayed outside the truck and his plan was to use the trees to hop behind if the bull came after him.
Dad backed the truck and Bull didn't react at all other than getting ticked off more. He lowered his head down and lifted the truck by the bumper I KID YOU NOT! And I, and the children, are a flimsy tailgate and few feet from him! I couldn't stay in control much longer, and at that point, yelled to Dad to drive forward NOW! I freaked on Gary and told him to get in that truck, and you know, he did!
This whole scene had been going on for at least twenty minutes, if not thirty, and I was just about to have a total melt down. Dad maneuvered the truck to get turned around and I was just thinking "Bull, don't you jump in here." All I could think of was little Sammy, weighing 34.5 pounds. Had the bull been serious about hurting us, he so could have. But I guess he was a young, curious one and just was having fun testing my mental stability.
We drove off and left him standing there. Getting out of that pasture was one of the hugest moments of relief in all my life. Right up there with 10-pound baby finally out after 38 hours. No kidding.
Dad and Gary went back after awhile to retrieve all the stuff we'd left behind and found all Bull had really messed with was Gary's bratwurst that he'd cooked and left on the stick in the center of a milk crate so he could eat once the bull stopped interfering with the meal. The bratwurst was in the fire and the stick was completely slobber-covered.
The End
And, yes, my hands are shaking just retelling the story.
And don't you dare believe Gary if he says it wasn't that big of a deal. Big faker.
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