Two evenings ago, I saw the neighbor’s bull walk by the family room windows. Naturally, I called Hero, since that’s what I do in any emergency or interesting development.
|This is not really Bob. He is much larger!|
Our neighbor’s bull, named Bob, is her pride and joy. She sells his calves only to other breeders. No slaughter house for her pets. Our neighbor is a tiny woman with a double helping of spunk, and she leads Bob around with no problem. Not so us!
Bob found a weak place in the fence and brought two of his harem for some birdseed. He also lapped up all the water in the birdbath.
Not that we mind sharing, mind you, but it was near dark, we live near a blacktop road with no streetlights, and black cattle are not that easy to see at night. We hated to risk Bob or his lady...er, make that heifer...friends getting hit by a pickup or car. Could be fatal to the driver and/or the cattle. By law, our neighbor would be at fault for letting her cattle stray.
We knew the neighbor was not home, so Hero called another neighbor to see if he and his two sons would help round up the cattle. The husband was gone, but his wife and two sons came down to help Hero coax the cattle home. Yes, I know I was a wuss to wait on the patio while the woman and her two sons helped Hero. She and her husband have cattle, though, and both of their sons are ropers and rodeo fans. They used a bucket of feed to entice Bob and the heifers followed him. End of story? No.
This time the neighbor was home, so Hero phoned her. She spent yesterday repairing fence. I think Bob’s birdseed forays are over for a while.
Those of you city dwellers miss this sort of excitement. Are you tempted to move to a rural area?