Fran's stories

Fran's stories

My best bull story was that one cold day I was out walking toward the cookshack wearing my very red down jacket and was chased by a red bull. He was a youngish looking bull with a lovely rust colored coat of fur and as he started slowly running toward me, I panicked and took off running as fast as I could. He only ran faster after me. I thought he was running at me because I was wearing bright red! So I took off my jacket while I was running and wadded it up and hid it under my arms. When I reached the open area in front of the cookshack, I slid down the hill into that steep gully that leads to the place we used to dig out clay from. Also known as the "fault". Anyway, that allowed me to escape as I disappeared under trees and the bull didn't seem to know there was another way to get down there by a more gradual trail. Later, when I next saw Tiny, the Portuguese cow hand, I told him about it and he laughed and said that young bull was actually friendly to humans and just wanted to play. The bull had been abandoned at birth by his mother and humans had to hand bottle feed him so his bonding imprint was with humans. I admit I never did go up to him when I saw him grazing later to check that one out....