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ran for the fence. This time the bull didn’t jump. It shoved its stubby horns under the lowest strand and lifted the whole fence — stakes, barbed wire, and a mass of brambles — into the air.
I looked at the damage. I was now a much wiser Englishman. What if it had tossed, not the fence, but me?
.Joe and Harry came over when they got the message from their mother. I stood there while they drove around in the Buick to check up on the bull and the herd. If push came to shove, this second hole in the fence was not their problem, because it was more my fault than the bull’s. But the brothers were good about the incident. They fixed the new gap with stakes and wire. Then, just to be safe, they ran an extra strand of wire all along the top of the fence.
My neighbors were surprised at what I had done. They told me I might have been trampled, tossed, gored or worse. I suppose the bull was surprised at what I did too, and that is why I had been successful, at least this once.
Of coiirse, I do not plan to try the tactic again.
I don’t know whether it was Joe and Harry’s high sixth strand, or whether it was the sight of me and the hayfork, but to this day, even though the herd continues to pasture on the other side of the fence, I have never had any more trouble from that rogue bull.
Dr. Gerald Hawkins lives outside Woodville. An internationallyrecognized astronomer and author, he credits among his books “Stonehenge Decoded" and “Beyond Stonehenge."
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