For no reason, I spazed on this thread http://thehighroad.org/showthread.php?t=157136 and posted about an experience I had.
While deer hunting in the Texas hill country a few (around 10, which makes me feel old, so I will stick with a “few”) years ago I had a run in with a Bovine. I have had many run-ins with Bovines in the past, but as we shall see this particular run in was one I do not care to repeat and has caused me to seek to educate other hunters to the dangers of plant eaters.
The thesis here is that plant eaters are stupid. When I say that I mean, judgmentally they are incredibly stupid and will rarely do that, which an animal of more substantial intellect would do. In that they are like criminals. Single minded and optimistically stupid in a singular manner.
Anyway, it was around say, 8:30 am on an otherwise wondrous Texas deer hunting morning on the 4th of December in the unnamed above year. The temp was hovering at 38 – 40 degrees, crisp with the overtones of fall that Texas experiences during the winter in other states and a light wind coming from the north, northwest. There was a tremendous stand of oaks (live, red, mossy cup) so dense that the sun didn’t penetrate the canopy, so there was virtually no undergrowth. There was no action in there at that time and you couldn’t walk through the area without creating a large ruckus, so I skirted the outer edge of it and preceded along a game / cow trail further on a northward heading into the pasture. In front of me was Mesquite, random trees and brush with rolling hills and riverbeds (mostly dry at that time) common to the hill country.
Through the brush, 400 – 500 yards ahead I saw some movement. So, checking my weather gauge to ensure the wind was in my face, I began to move quietly, slowly, but inexorably forward toward my quarry. The previous day I had stalked a deer using this same method to within 4 – 5 feet. That is a funny story, but I will spare that here, suffice to say I was confident in my ability to use my prodigious ninja skills to close ground with enemy and engage him eyeball to eyeball. So again, creeping forward as I was, with eyes fixed on the location of “Charlie” I saw more movement. With the curvature of the path, and the earth and the above described intermittent flora, I couldn’t positively ID the target, but was confident in my manner and methods. I didn’t have binoculars….
The trail at this staged curved around what my grandfather would have called a “big ol’ honkin’ mesquite”. I mean it curved around and virtually picked up in a straight line after the curve so exactly, you wondered if TXDOT hadn’t designed it to spare the mesquite from being chopped down. As I rounded the curve, the quarry I had so carefully stalked became plain, as I was virtually in the middle of a cow herd. They all stupidly looked up at me, with that blank ignorant expression that us experts know betrays surprise. I decided to move through the herd (which constituted only a few cows, say 20) cursing the rancher’s lackluster handyman skills. We had patched more fence that trip… Anyway, the cows were in the pasture, I THINK, because they had trickled in from Pasture 2, which at the time was designated COW PASTURE, by the “intel” guys. Sheep pasture, was Pasture 1. Pasture 3, in which I was standing was deer pasture. Very clever.
After my brief look around and decision to move through the herd, I put eyes forward and took one step and stopped. Virtually blocking my path was a large and quite possibly the most cravenly ignorant looking cow I have ever seen.
“Wow, you are a large cow” I said to the Bovine Buffon that was staring at me with a look of idiotic menace. “What large horns you have…. What large neck muscles you have…. What large shoulders and such well proportioned muscles you have… What a large… HOLY SMOKES, YOU AIN’T NO COW!!!”
The Bull, being angry that I guessed his identity whilst so cleverly hidden took two steps forward; the distance between us that this point was no more than 30 feet and we were quite literally eyeball to eyeball. Not liking his intentions, I started scraping the ground with my feet and waving my arms around. Mr. bull did same, waving his horns around. Deciding that I needed to run a better bluff, I started scraping dust, rocks forward in his direction, waving my hands around and no adding vocalization. Mr. bull did same. At this point I stopped and considered my situation. Mr. bull took two steps forward and continued his previous call of my bluff.
I then remembered that I was armed. I don’t have to take this from any stupid bovine I thought. Guns are magic and I have dominion over the earth and THAT INCLUDES STUPID BULL PASTURES. The bull took too more steps forward, continuing with the call of my bluff, now with prejudice. Discretion is the better part of valor, so I turned and walked down the path I had began on. After 5 steps I hear something behind me and turn around. Mr. Bull had closed the distance between us. We were now about 12 feet from one other. Our eyeballs were merging…
I decided then that discretion is still the better part of my continued existence, and readied my weapon and began walking backwards so as to avoid having Mr. bull get the drop on me. Cows in general don’t have the best eyes; however when the blundering bovine bull buffoon saw that I was moving backward, he scraped and hollered with abandon, lowered his horns and I thought… Well I thought a lot of things. Number One, I had a .243 and it wasn’t looking to “adequate” right then. I mean a deer is about 150 pounds. This Bovine Bull monster was about 1,600 lbs… Yeah, .243, tomorrow I am brining my 30-30.
Number two, I thought
“Oh $H%T”
I fired over his head. The bull didn’t even blink, but he did allow me to retreat out of there.
Talking with my uncle, we both cursed the owner for not advising us about the bull in the pasture. Seriously, had I shot that idiot bull I would have been out a LOT of cash. More than I had or am likely to have.
The moral… Self Defense is a right, but it does not extend to bulls. Don’t shoot a bull, ask about the bull, don’t try to bluff plant eaters. That are too stupid to bluff.
As Hank the Cowdog said, “… just because that are stupid doesn’t mean they can’t hurt ya.”
While deer hunting in the Texas hill country a few (around 10, which makes me feel old, so I will stick with a “few”) years ago I had a run in with a Bovine. I have had many run-ins with Bovines in the past, but as we shall see this particular run in was one I do not care to repeat and has caused me to seek to educate other hunters to the dangers of plant eaters.
The thesis here is that plant eaters are stupid. When I say that I mean, judgmentally they are incredibly stupid and will rarely do that, which an animal of more substantial intellect would do. In that they are like criminals. Single minded and optimistically stupid in a singular manner.
Anyway, it was around say, 8:30 am on an otherwise wondrous Texas deer hunting morning on the 4th of December in the unnamed above year. The temp was hovering at 38 – 40 degrees, crisp with the overtones of fall that Texas experiences during the winter in other states and a light wind coming from the north, northwest. There was a tremendous stand of oaks (live, red, mossy cup) so dense that the sun didn’t penetrate the canopy, so there was virtually no undergrowth. There was no action in there at that time and you couldn’t walk through the area without creating a large ruckus, so I skirted the outer edge of it and preceded along a game / cow trail further on a northward heading into the pasture. In front of me was Mesquite, random trees and brush with rolling hills and riverbeds (mostly dry at that time) common to the hill country.
Through the brush, 400 – 500 yards ahead I saw some movement. So, checking my weather gauge to ensure the wind was in my face, I began to move quietly, slowly, but inexorably forward toward my quarry. The previous day I had stalked a deer using this same method to within 4 – 5 feet. That is a funny story, but I will spare that here, suffice to say I was confident in my ability to use my prodigious ninja skills to close ground with enemy and engage him eyeball to eyeball. So again, creeping forward as I was, with eyes fixed on the location of “Charlie” I saw more movement. With the curvature of the path, and the earth and the above described intermittent flora, I couldn’t positively ID the target, but was confident in my manner and methods. I didn’t have binoculars….
The trail at this staged curved around what my grandfather would have called a “big ol’ honkin’ mesquite”. I mean it curved around and virtually picked up in a straight line after the curve so exactly, you wondered if TXDOT hadn’t designed it to spare the mesquite from being chopped down. As I rounded the curve, the quarry I had so carefully stalked became plain, as I was virtually in the middle of a cow herd. They all stupidly looked up at me, with that blank ignorant expression that us experts know betrays surprise. I decided to move through the herd (which constituted only a few cows, say 20) cursing the rancher’s lackluster handyman skills. We had patched more fence that trip… Anyway, the cows were in the pasture, I THINK, because they had trickled in from Pasture 2, which at the time was designated COW PASTURE, by the “intel” guys. Sheep pasture, was Pasture 1. Pasture 3, in which I was standing was deer pasture. Very clever.
After my brief look around and decision to move through the herd, I put eyes forward and took one step and stopped. Virtually blocking my path was a large and quite possibly the most cravenly ignorant looking cow I have ever seen.
“Wow, you are a large cow” I said to the Bovine Buffon that was staring at me with a look of idiotic menace. “What large horns you have…. What large neck muscles you have…. What large shoulders and such well proportioned muscles you have… What a large… HOLY SMOKES, YOU AIN’T NO COW!!!”
The Bull, being angry that I guessed his identity whilst so cleverly hidden took two steps forward; the distance between us that this point was no more than 30 feet and we were quite literally eyeball to eyeball. Not liking his intentions, I started scraping the ground with my feet and waving my arms around. Mr. bull did same, waving his horns around. Deciding that I needed to run a better bluff, I started scraping dust, rocks forward in his direction, waving my hands around and no adding vocalization. Mr. bull did same. At this point I stopped and considered my situation. Mr. bull took two steps forward and continued his previous call of my bluff.
I then remembered that I was armed. I don’t have to take this from any stupid bovine I thought. Guns are magic and I have dominion over the earth and THAT INCLUDES STUPID BULL PASTURES. The bull took too more steps forward, continuing with the call of my bluff, now with prejudice. Discretion is the better part of valor, so I turned and walked down the path I had began on. After 5 steps I hear something behind me and turn around. Mr. Bull had closed the distance between us. We were now about 12 feet from one other. Our eyeballs were merging…
I decided then that discretion is still the better part of my continued existence, and readied my weapon and began walking backwards so as to avoid having Mr. bull get the drop on me. Cows in general don’t have the best eyes; however when the blundering bovine bull buffoon saw that I was moving backward, he scraped and hollered with abandon, lowered his horns and I thought… Well I thought a lot of things. Number One, I had a .243 and it wasn’t looking to “adequate” right then. I mean a deer is about 150 pounds. This Bovine Bull monster was about 1,600 lbs… Yeah, .243, tomorrow I am brining my 30-30.
Number two, I thought
“Oh $H%T”
I fired over his head. The bull didn’t even blink, but he did allow me to retreat out of there.
Talking with my uncle, we both cursed the owner for not advising us about the bull in the pasture. Seriously, had I shot that idiot bull I would have been out a LOT of cash. More than I had or am likely to have.
The moral… Self Defense is a right, but it does not extend to bulls. Don’t shoot a bull, ask about the bull, don’t try to bluff plant eaters. That are too stupid to bluff.
As Hank the Cowdog said, “… just because that are stupid doesn’t mean they can’t hurt ya.”
