Animal News: The Chronicles of Newman and other Stories
The Battle of the Bull
It was an unusually warm December morning. The sun was shining and melting all the snow. A few animals trudged around through the now-soggy ground to pick at bits of old grass poking through, but Mr. Newman Goat was lounging in the barn where the sun was streaming in, luxuriating in the thick layer of straw, stretching his fine physique for all to see.
And then, in an instant, he was up. A terrible chase began, humans and sheep scattering to the sides as two great beasts, two large, dark, bellowing beasts rammed and whammed and cracked against each other. It was Bullwinkle, the black bull (OK, so he's an ex bull but it sounds better the other way), finally making his open challenge to the Newman Regime.
We all knew this was coming. For weeks now Newman avoided the food trough whenever Bullwinkle approached (very un-Newmanly if I do say so), Bullwinkle occasionally jumping into bronco boogies (if you have never seen a steer dance, you really must buy some tickets to this show), knowing that his blossoming maturity was bringing size, strength, size, immense weight, some fearsome, fearsome horns, and did we mention the size part? The problem with Bullwinkle is his baby face and penchant for kissing people. I'll bet not many people know that cow tongues are rough like those of cats - sandpaper kisses. They're especially nice if he is on one side of the fence and you are on the other, because when you let a cow kiss you, he thinks it automatically can lead to other things. Anyhow, my point is, those milky brown eyes and long lashes, that downy soft black fur, that dish face that will make Bullwinkle look like a calf all his life, are all Big Fat Red Herrings. Bullwinkle, plain and simple, is a pistol.
The battle techniques of goats and cattle are quite different - although I confess to having experienced a degree of horror at this display of might, it was so fascinating I didn't dare run for my camera (sorry folks). Mr. Newman Goat wanted to meet Bullwinkle head on. Horn to horn, skull to skull, bring it on, baby. Bullwinkle, on the other hand, danced to the side, and clipped Mr. Newman Goat on the flank numerous times (DAMN that must have hurt). Mr. Newman reared up to his approximately 7 foot height, and with all his heart charged this 600 pound bovine over, and over, and over again. He didn't dare try the side maneuver because cows have a remarkable flexibility in their necks that goats don't possess - they can swing those 100+ pound heads around almost to their haunches in a second, the most ancient version of the medieval single ball mace. I don't know about you, but I don't ever want to get in the way of that head.
Much to the relief of the highly alarmed sheep flock, as the battle progressed, the warring males moved out farther in the pasture; Newman soon learned that Bullwinkle had only one or two tricks up his sleeve, whereas Newman is ingenious in discovering new ways to do things. This intelligence was what won him the battle in the end. For Mr. Newman Goat decided to bother Bullwinkle to death. He just kept up the harrassment, chased him hither and yon, all they way down to the ancient Mulberry tree. Again and again Bullwinkle said, "look Dude, I'm bigger than you so give it up" and again and again Mr. Newman Goat said "tough molasses cookies, I'm not done with you yet".
Even after Bullwinkle ran away in utter amazement to the upper pasture, Newman wanted to keep it up, and I finally restrained him. He's an incredible, determined, resilient goat, that Mr. Newman is. The next day a very sore and limping Newman received a visit from two of his most loyal supporters, amazingly cute little boys named Sebastian and Tobias. Word has it that on more than one occasion they have head butted their mother and tried to eat her pants legs. I think that if more of the younger generation came to knew Mr. Newman Goat, our world would be far more interesting. Don't you?
Till next time,
Farmer Anne
Star Gazing Farm
http://www.stargazingfarm.org
© 2005 Star Gazing Farm, All Rights Reserved
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