My debut as a matador - A recollection

When I was a young lad, I sort of adopted our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Schalger as surrogate grandparents. They were very old and lived two doors down. Mr. Sclager raised a few cows on his farm and they still got their water from an outside hand pump.

I must have been maybe seven or eight years old when I watched a calf being born. So, I sort of adopted him, too, and would go down there and brush him and feed him.

Sometime that summer, he had grown up to be a rather big heifer with some wicked horns. It was a Sunday and my married brothers and their families had come over for dinner (which they normally did). So, I had the bright idea to show the heifer to some of my nieces and nephews. I don't remember who all exactly, but I know my sister Anne and my niece Donna were there.

Anyway, he was out in the field, so we all climbed over the fence and walked over to check him out. I'm still not sure why, or what spooked him, but he put his head down and charged us!

I yelled to everybody to run back to the fence and then I ran towards him, to distract him. He spun around and started chasing me. I zigged and zagged all over that damn field until I finally got back to the fence with just enough time to climb it. I was exhausted and scared shitless!

Needless to say, my affection for that particular cow was over...