Yesterday I could hear Farmer John’s bulls making a heck of a din, up the northern end of the vineyard. So I took Taja, and the camera, and went to investigate.
The young bulls (steers, actually, as they’ve been castrated) were on one side of the fence, in Smitty’s paddock, pretending to be fierce, bellowing as bulls are meant to do, but really only managing a squeak. They tried to intimidate me, and they look fearsome, but really they are just curious cowards and take flight at the first shoo.
On the other side of the fence, however, were the real bulls – big, black pure Angus prime – and I was very pleased the electric fence was between them and me. They were objecting loudly to being confined in the holding paddock (not sure why they were there) and kicked up a fuss all day and night. Over the road, an older brother was storming around the paddock, so maybe they were resentful of his comparative freedom.
I took these shots, and even though these bulls are seriously scarey, they are still quite beautiful in their magnificence.