My Personal Heroes

There is a mythical creature in western Oklahoma. Much like big foot, or the yeti, these creatures have little physical evidence, and a ton of folklore. You hear of them in talk at the post office, and the gas station. They run faster than a pickup truck, jump higher than a barn roof, and vanish in front of one's eyes. These mythic creatures have humble domestic beginnings, however. They are ordinary bulls. They were born, bought, and traded for the typical purpose: beef. These two particular bulls were not satisfied with their life's purpose. At some point they looked at one another and said "No. Fuck this shit." From that point they could no longer be wrangled into a fence, or a truck, or any other man made contraption. They evaded  herding by means of dogs, four wheelers, trucks, pissed off farmers, and hands. They couldn't be caught for days, then weeks, and then months. Eventually the people who had invested in these bulls also said "fuck this shit", and stopped trying to catch them.

Now, these bulls roam the countryside. They move without inhibition. Fences mean nothing. They eat, and drink where, and what they like. They take a nap in the shade, make love to a heffer in their passing, and trek on. They are the ones who have broken the code of domestic complicity with a slaughterhouse as the end.

I have had the pleasure of encountering these wild things on a couple occasions. Both times they jumped the four foot high barb wire fence on the East of my property, sauntered through my yard, and jumped over yet another fence without even picking up speed. They did this like one would step over a stick on the sidewalk. They wandered off, never running, but moving at a fast pace until they were invisible from my viewpoint. I like to believe that in between the time of my two sightings that the navigated the entire globe.

Go on wild bulls! Godspeed.