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Sunday, March 1, 2009

The Kiwi Bull Run - gotta get away from this big black bull...

The Kiwi Bull Run - gotta get a way from this big black bull...

Jellen's Blogevolve Writing Challenge - My childhood memory:

After writing my recent post about flatulence from cows and sheep creating most of New Zealand's methane and greenhouse gas, the rest coming from the Beehive, the nickname for the round government building in Wellington, NZ; I suddenly remembered an incident from my childhood:

I used to spend many holidays on the farm of my foster mother's brother (I came from a broken home, but that is another story for another time) 20-30 miles out of Christchurch City in north Canterbury. It was a mixed farm, sheep, dairy cows, a few pigs, some poultry and crops. Typical of the 1950's farms in the area, I reckon, going by my memory.

I used to wander around the farm at times, typical of a 10-11 year old Kiwi lad. But during these particular holidays the farmer had bought and brought a new Aberdeen Angus bull to the farm - a big black devil!

Being young, naive and a bit clueless in some respects, I starting making noises at the big fellow. He started to paw the ground and roar a little. This just excited me more, and I started to make louder noises and the big black devil began pawing even more, and roaring like a bull should roar!

I began to get scared and started running, running, and running. And so did he! The fence was six foot high, but to me it may have been only a couple of feet. This skinny sandy haired youngster who could run a bit, began to prove it. Around the bull paddock fence, across the main paddock towards the milking shed yards I went at the speed of sound, not looking back. The big wooden posts of the milking yard fence immediately came into view, and I scaled that fence as good and as capable as any olypmpic hurdler or high jumper...!

Over that fence into about two feet of sloppy, black and greenish cow manure I went, feet one way, and body another. After hosing myself down in the cow yard, I had to face the farmer. The fact he was furious was the understatement of the year. I knew the big fellow wanted to give me a giant kick up the backside and a few across the ear - quite common in those years of yore. But he cooled down quickly, and realising I was scared witless, he asked me how I felt? "Scared," I mumbled almost incoherently.

"And so you should. That fence just stopped that big black devil. I'll have to repair it, but I'm sure you won't do a stupid damn thing like that again, will you?" he asked demandingly. "Go inside and see the wife to get you some dry clothes." he added further.

I came to that farm many times in the future and remembered the day that big black bull chased me, with only a six foot barbed wire fence stopping him.

Public Domain Pictures/a

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