I would have taken a picture of Bully.
You have not lived unless you’ve fed 16 horny bulls. Twice a day. By hand.
Yeah, you heard me.
They all come a’runnin’— all, let me see… What’s 2500 lbs. times 16? Better get out my calculator- all 40,000 lbs. of them.
It’s not that they want to kill you, it’s that they want the food and they don’t really see you at all. Except for Bully, who was hand-raised, who pushes you around with his huge head (no horns, thank god) until you pet him. He likes his forehead scratched first and then his butt. He’s very forward, has no concept of personal space. Bully has a best friend who’ll give you a sniff and let you give him a little pat- a bull with a sweet expression, but I can’t remember his name. I was too busy watching my back to manage a formal introduction.
The night I arrived in Montana, after having been awake for 24 hours straight, taken two flights, done all the grocery shopping for a week and driven two hours to the ranch, my daughter said, “Mom, you gotta feed the bulls. I can’t do it.”
And I’m like… “Feed the bulls??? Are you fuckin’ nuts?”
And she’s like… “It’s okay, they won’t hurt you. Just lay out the hay in a line so they each get their own pile.”
Yuh-huh.
The first time I did it, I was like duck and cover. Throw the hay and run. By the second day I was already yelling at the bulls to back off. However, if a 2500 lb. bull wants to run you over, he will.
You should have been there for the bull fights the day they were, ahem, tested. Sixteen randy bulls in a small corral waiting for an electrode up the ass. They knocked down fences, tossed big old wooden poles across the corral, nearly killed the in-laws. The smartest thing you can do is get the hell out of the way. My heart was pounding, I was terrified I’d have to crawl into the corral, braving those heavy hooves and heaving bodies to rescue my daughter’s father-in-law. And then I realized I’d just have to let him get stomped.
You’ll be happy to know all the bulls are fertile. And after the testing they got turned out with the cows. So everybody was in good spirits.
My son-in-law is doing better. The first few days were pretty awful. I called today to check on him because I knew he’d be home alone as my daughter and her father-in-law went to help out at a neighbor’s branding. Guess what he was doing- mowing the lawn on a riding mower. Wearing his sling with his arm and shoulder full of metal. You can’t keep a cowboy down.
Anyway, I’m home. I’m pretty disoriented from lack of sleep and travel. However maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you why I love Montana and ranch life so much. Like I said, if I’d actually had a brain while I was up there I’d have taken oodles of pictures but my brain was on hold.
Here’s a generic photo of an Angus bull:
Typical Angus Bull.
Yeah, 16 of ‘em. Sheesh!
I’m glad you survived and made it home all right. Bulls are funny creatures, sometimes ha ha funny and sometimes not. They sure are pretty animals, though.
So glad everything is doing well. So glad you’re HOME!!!
They are powerful, Stephanie. Major powerful. My son-in-law’s bulls are actually pretty cute. He wants a very specific body type. Man, they can get crazy.
Thanks, Anny!
Welcome home, Julia!
You went, you saw, you conquered Bully…kind of. Okay, you lived to write about it, and that is a triumph.
And you helped your daughter and son-in-law AND fed the cattle. You’re a hero (I hate heroine) and now you don’t have to take bull from anyone!
Dear Marylin - Oh those bulls! I like hero too. I never know whether to pronounce heroine like heroin or heeeeroine. Thanks, sweetie.
Better you then me!
Welcome home! I’m glad you survived the Bull ordeal.
Even better news about your son in law.
So glad your SIL is doing better. I wish you had a video of your bull-feeding escapade. Hee hee!
Welcome home!
Hmm, Julia and the 16 Bulls. Sounds like a best seller to me.
Welcome home, girlie. I’ve been jonesing for your blog and happy presence.
Wow, what an adventure!
LOL Jaye! Thanks! I’ll try to put on a smiley face!
Thanks, Penny!
Thanks, Amber.
Probably true, Ray. How fast can you run?
It has been, Kat.
Welcome home. Missed you. Glad to see your writing skills and your sense of humor are still intact.
You have more guts than I do.
Well Roberta I guess you do what you gotta do. Even if it’s shovel bullshit!
Something has gone off with your feed - feedburner that is — I was worried that you had fully moved into your daughter’s for the long haul. So you are back in CA? I am relieved that the SIL is improving. At least he will feel better about being a mess if he is doing stuff but a riding mower is a lot like an ATV.
I figured he would still be in the hospital or at rehab. The wild life sounds great.
Huh, weird. I’ll check on it, Steph. Back in CA. He’s improving but it will be a long long recovery. The wildlife is awe inspiring.
reminds of the time I got chased by a bull as I crossed HIS field when I was a kid, fortunately Mr Fat was still many years in the distant future and I was closer to the fence line than him, but I am sure I felt his snorting hot breath on my arse as I managed to get over that fence in the nick of time…..
SIL needs to take it easy but I’m sure he wont, men, what can you do with us - in fact you’d better not go there I know what your stories do with us ……..
At least you know exactly what the situation is which is a help and hopefully will stop you worrying too much, WELCOME BACK MY DARLING XXXXX
Oh God! I’m imagining right now (a horny bull stampede, with you running ahead!) You’re gonna have to put this in a story! LOL!
Yeah, AD - thinking about it!
So Tom, was it a Scottish bull?
Not fast enough!!!
Oh Ray… you’d be surprised!