Some days I don’t know what in the name of Gertie’s garter goes on around here.
It started out as a normal day. My husband was working on a shed he was building, when his phone rang that afternoon – as it does at least a gazillion times a day.
I’d go batty.
Pretty soon he sauntered up to the house with a small power tool and asked if I would take it over to our son, who had just called asking to borrow it.
“He said the bull has his head stuck in something,” my husband said.
So as farm wives do, I dropped what I was doing and headed over to where our son was to give him the tools to set the bull free from his bondage.
As priorities go, freeing a bull trumps mending blue jeans, even though there will probably be more of those to mend after the emergency bovine rescue attempt – whether the mission succeeded or failed.
Mission control had officially been notified.
I was halfway there when our son called to say he didn’t need the tool anymore, that the bull was free. I turned around and went home, and everyone went about their day.
Later that evening the lady of the farm where the bull was staying was telling me how funny it looked seeing the bull with his head stuck, and said she would send me the video she took while out surveying the situation with the guys.
Turns out, unknown to us, the bull had his head stuck in a tree trunk.
Yes. A tree trunk.
I’m certain I would have been the ‘Doubting Thomas’ back in biblical days, where I would need to see it to believe it.
But there he was in living color – a bull’s big, bulky body sticking out from a tree trunk, his tail swinging as if it was just another day out in the pasture.
It was funny to sit at the computer and watch the video of the guys working together to free the bull’s head from such a ridiculous make-shift trap.
Actually, he looked very Winnie-the-Pooh-like.
Trying to imagine what he had been thinking to get himself into this ridiculous situation, we guessed he was investigating what a hole in a tree trunk could offer for food or excitement, and perhaps he got a little more than he bargained for.
It had to be hard on his ego.
I’ve heard of people with their heads stuck in the sand-and even in specific anatomical locations – but even this was more than I could believe, seeing it with my own eyes.
We watched the brief video with fixed fascination and muffled giggles. We gazed at the two guys working on the tree, carefully monitoring the bull’s reaction, and working slowly and mechanically to open up the part of the tree that enveloped the bull’s head.
Inventors continue to improve the way we catch household mice today, but Mother Nature came up with her own way to catch a bull – and without a rope.
Our other son posted a picture of it on Facebook with the caption, “This is the luck we have.” And he’s right – if your last name is Schwaller, you’ll find yourself in some of the damndest situations. It’s a guarantee that comes right along with the name.
Just as humorous were the comments that came from others who saw the photo.
One said, “I hope his offspring are smarter, or you’ll be busy next summer.” Our daughter commented, “I think the herd genetics could use some attention.”
It was just another typical day at the Schwallers’. And that’s no bull.
Schwaller is a Farm News correspondent from Milford. Reach her by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org and at www.karenschwaller.com.
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