Under the Wire

I am constantly amazed by animals. Their superior intelligence is a constant wonder to me. I keep trying to figure out just where we humans went wrong. We probably started out as smart as other creatures. Somewhere along the way our group began to fall behind. Recently I made a startling discovery that reminded me of this.

The day began like most late spring, early summer days. I awoke about daylight, consumed enough coffee to get my heart pumping, pulled on my boots and headed outdoors. After feeding the horses and changing my irrigation water, it was time to head off on the day’s projects. So far everything was going OK. I seemed to be the master of my domain, superior to all other beings. Boy, was I wrong.

First on my list of “to do’s” was swing through the pastures and check the cattle water. This also was the time of year to see if the bulls had stayed in the pasture with the cows they had been assigned to or decided to “dine out.” The horse in the trailer behind my pickup and I both hoped they had decided to behave themselves.

We hadn’t traveled more than a mile when we found evidence old “Toro,” who was suppose to reside in the pasture we were checking, had escaped. Not only had “Elvis left the building,” he had taken the whole darn side out of the structure in the process. Fence posts and tangled wire made it obvious he was gone with no forwarding address. Then I saw it. A cloud of dust on the top of the next hill. Old Sorrely and I headed toward it. We arrived to find our red bull and the neighbors black bull engaged in a fierce battle. It is hard to describe the mayhem created by two thoroughly ticked off, 1,800-pound, testosterone-charged bovines. At this moment, thoughts of these being intelligent animals were the farthest thing from my mind. My horse was hoping his rider of inferior intelligence wouldn’t do something stupid like try to interfere. He needn’t have worried. I’d learned not to, but only after trying about 100 times over the past years. Finally, I had learned it was best just to wait out the battle. My horse and I waited a safe distance from the tremendous battle that raged. They pushed. They shoved and banged their heads together. My horse and I watched and followed the wandering fracas as it probably covered a good mile over the next 45 minutes.

Finally, as if on cue, it was over. They separated and our red bull took off. I had been so intent on watching them fight I now had no idea where we were. The important thing was our bull was moving and that was a good thing. Sooner or later we’d get somewhere I recognized. Then we could set a course for home. My horse and I followed the big creature as he trotted off across the hilly pasture. As bad as his head must hurt, it was hard telling where we would wind up. Suddenly, we popped over a rise and there in front of us was the very hole in the fence we had all entered earlier that day. This old red bull, eyes half swollen shut, ears ringing and nose bleeding, had returned exactly where he had entered two hours and 39 rounds of fighting earlier. I, on the other hand, had been lost the entire time.

How did we humans get so dumb?