A Crock of Bull

bull

This is a Brahman bull. I was for some reason reminded the other day of when I worked in a livestock pavilion where breeding bulls like this were sold at auction.  My job there, which paid cash at the end of the day, was to open and close numerous different fence gates that forced individual, mostly nasty huge fellows like the one pictured, into the auction ring and after they were sold, returned them by the same route to their pen. This was a somewhat dangerous occupation particularly if you let yourself be distracted for some reason. I, ever cautious and observant, was never in peril but I saw other guys get hurt. You opened a gate to a pen and the animal in the pen would be driven out and down the only alley he could go until he arrived in the ring. I once saw a guy who having opened the gate and standing behind it made the mistake of leaning on the gate which separated him from the bull. The bull rather than turning into his pen smashed headlong into the opened gate which of course he could not breech. But he broke the man’s arm from the sheer impact and his leaning on it. It could be pretty hair-raising at times. These animals are really big 2-3,000 pounds, even more. Which brings me to Diablo.

Diablo was a bull of reputation in the vicinity, unknown to me but notorious to the locals. I think somebody said he weighed in at 2,600 pounds. He looked bigger. I saw him in the morning just before he escaped and I saw him again when he was returned to the pavilion later in the afternoon after quite a lot of drama in between; in which I took no part nor was I a witness. Others told me it went like this. While transferring Diablo from his steel travel trailer to his pavilion pen, being a “mad bull” he managed to exploit a small opening and sprang for his freedom. He made a miraculous escape.  Soon some cowboys on horseback (I did see them) were in pursuit. Diablo, unknown to himself of course, made for the nearby interstate where fatal disaster could occur. The highway patrol were also instantly on the job. I have to mention here that Diablo was a very valuable piece of property and the idea of having to shoot him was repugnant to everyone involved. He made it to the interstate but wound up in the wooded median between North and South-bound lanes where he got down in the thick hollow.

After the day’s work and seeing Diablo returned to his rightful place in captivity I went to collect my pay. The man in from of me , an old very white-haired black fellow, received $300 at the pay window. He counted it right there while I waited to get mine. As I collected my pay I asked the woman about his large paycheck. “Oh he’s the man who got Diablo.” Meanwhile the old fellow was strolling rather lamely across the parking lot and I caught up to him to have a chat. He was very friendly. “They tell me you captured Diablo. How did you do that?” I asked. “My beagles.” he said.” And there on the bed of his old pick-up truck was a handmade kennel full of barking ever-annoying beagles.  “I don’t understand.” I said. He explained.

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He made me glad that I wasn’t a run-away bull.