I'm past 60 where life seems a little quieter, more patient, less demanding, less contentious. Folks long gone are more remembered; childhood is more missed, youth is forgiven. With the grey hair, that I'm still vain enough to dye, has come the understanding that life isn't forever and if I have something left to do, I better get with it.
Bulls, big white Charolais bulls; if there was anything I don't like much that would be it. Let me tell my best big white bull story which is the total truth (with only a few embellishment to make it a good story).
All he had to do was go through a gate, an open gate, but no. It wasn't his idea and he just wasn't about to do it. Gentle suggestion didn't work, firm encouragement, didn't work, Growling "Hey Bull" and insisting didn't work.
In the end, I'm not sure who was madder, him or me. I hate them when they charge my horse with me sitting up there already half scared to death. This time, the scareder I got; the madder I got.
The bull was insisting he follow some cows that I figured were headed for the dugout about a mile and a half away. I looked down at my glas- eyed dog, Blue, and wondered if he was up for my plan. I yelled to my cowboy (who was at a distinct disadvantage without a dog this day), "Close the gate and load up. Meet us at the dugout."
Blue and I headed off after the bull. He ran till he got a little tired and decided it would be easier to fight. With Blue biting his heels when he charged me and me yelling and running my horse up behind him when he turned to fight my dog we got the bull spinning around and dizzy enough that he went back to his original plan, following the cows (now way ahead of him) to the dugout. He tried us a few more times but we managed to convince him he was better off running than fighting.
This dugout had a solar pump and a long trough made of culvert that it pumped into outside a wire and board fence. The bull ended up on one side of the culvert trough and me on the other. He was threatening me like he was going to come over the culvert after me. He was bluffing and I could tell and mad as I was I guess I just wasn't thinking clear. I took down my rope and roped him. "HA!" I thought, "got you now." When I went to dally it finally dawned on me that this bull out-weighed my horse by at least twice.
Now what? I wasn't about to lose my rope. (They are darn sure expensive and besides it's a matter of pride not losing your rope.) I figured maybe I could tie it to one of those posts and then thought better of it when I decided he would just snap it off, if he pulled at all. Then I thought, "maybe not if I tie it to the bottom of the post." So, I did. Very carefully I got off my horse, not 3 feet from that bulls nose (but on the other side of the culvert) and got down on my hands and knees, tied the rope around the post and carefully got back on my horse.
I was sitting there when my cowboy drove up with the stock trailer. I see him really looking at me strange but I motioned for him to back up to where the bull was. He opened the door of the trailer, tied it back, and backed right up to my big white hog-tied buddy. We threw another rope on him to make sure he wouldn't get away and when I slacked mine off he jumped right in the trailer. My cowboy laughed and said, "Looks like he had enough of you."
"And I had enough of him."
My cowboy told our farrier the story some time later and his comment was,"Boy I bet you never want to make her mad."