The only thing no one alive today can honestly say is that they were never a kid. And along with that comes a common fact that as kids, we do stupid things. With that said, being an only child is one thing and living on a farm means you have to be creative to entertain yourself. My uncle made me a sling shot out of an old milk bucket handle and a strip of rubber from an old car tire inner tube. I couldn’t wait to try it out, thinking it would be a wonderful and marvelous toy to have. I tried it out trying to hit birds, I tried it on the geese in the pasture and even a cow or two. I practiced on jars when I could find them, but those were scarce, cause grandma did canning with those. I even tried a couple of chickens, but that led to a scolding from dad so I gave that up quickly.
Wandering around, I spied an old range bull that grandpa had moved in with the dairy herd. This old Hereford bruiser did not like people, and he did not hesitate to let you know it. He would charge at the wooden corral poles and hit them with a thud trying to intimidate you. Nasty old bugger had a temper and he didn’t like me.
I was setting on top of the haystack one afternoon, watching him being a bully as he pushed the cows around at the feeding trough. I decided that I should do something about that and dug out my trusty old sling shot. The old bull was headfirst in the trough and busily feeding. I knew he was aware that I was around, but he seemed more interested in eating than messing with me.
I decided to hit him in the butt with a small rock that I had found, ya know just a little piece of gravel. I pulled back and let ‘er fly, but my aim was a wee bit off because I had to lean thru the fence rails to get a shot. I missed his behind by quite a bit but I did not miss the big hanging part between his legs.
When I hit him, he let out a loud bellow and jumped over the feeding trough and busted right through the corral rails. Boy, was he mad! He stomped and whirled around and charged grandma’s newly hung laundry in the back yard. He ran back toward the other cows in the corral, sending them running back away from the hole he left. Then he lashed into the small newly painted white picket fence at the edge of the drive way and finally ran off down the road toward the neighbors with his tail in the air.
About a half an hour later, the neighbor from down the road came driving up to see grandpa. He said that he had an extra bull running around in his back yard and it seemed to him that the bull was quite agitated. Grandpa went with him and between the two of them, they finally managed to get a rope on the nose ring and grandpa walked the old boy back home.
Dad took him and put him back in the newly fixed corral with the other cows and then watched him for a little while. He had calmed down pretty good until my uncle and I came walking up later. Instantly, he ran off over to the other side of the corral and started pacing up and down along the fence watching me closely. It was very obvious that I made him real nervous. My uncle took one look at me and slowly went around the corner of the fence to take a took at the bull from another angle. It didn’t take long for him to see the big red spot in the middle of the hanging part or to put two and two together.
He took me to one side and told me that he suspected I had done something to the bull with my sling shot causing him to reek havoc around the yard. He told me that the last time something stupid like that happened was when he was a kid. He said he had taken his B-B gun and shot another bull in the same place, but that one didn’t raise a big ruckus like this one did. He told me that he doubted that I would be doing anything like that again. After our little talk, the only shooting I did was at tin cans, starlings and stray dogs, there was no more cattle shooting for me.