When our career Navy father was traveling the world, he did so with an 8mm camera. Upon his return, all those glimpses into faraway places would be captured on reels and then spliced into one long travelogue. Although it was the latest technology for the time, there was no sound. Every so often we would gather as a family in what we called our TV room and our father would set up the projector, close the curtains and we would explore the world through his eyes. His narration would cover the foreign locations and traditions. We learned the difference between Asian and African elephants, saw how Geishas looked with their makeup and costumes and experienced the excitement of bull fights. I remember how the matadors were dressed in brightly colored outfits. I can recall the stadium being full with cheering crowds yet we heard nothing. I don’t know if my conscience was developed enough at the time to become upset by the treatment of the bulls. Those mighty animals were aggravated for sport and at this point in time I don’t see the entertainment value in the activity.

In reality, I was aware of the strength and power that bulls possessed. I didn’t grow up on a farm but I had friends who did. I recall one afternoon two of us found ourselves in a barnyard with the resident bull. We took our plight seriously. I remember inching toward the fence in a painfully slow manner as not to trigger the bull. We made our way out safely but obviously the memory remained. The reality was frightening and it was a far cry from watching the humorous cartoons featuring Ferdinand the Bull.

All these memories came to me as I recently made an observation. Those of you who follow me know that I live in a rural area. I am comfortable living among crops and livestock. Recently I noticed a bull had taken up residence in a nearby pasture. What I found so unusual was that, although there was plenty of acreage available to him, he chose to stand at the corner of the field which runs alongside the road. He appears to remain there for extended periods of time. It has become the norm to ride by and see him stoically standing there with little evidence of movement. I questioned the strength of the fencing if he would become agitated by something on the other side from where he was confined. I also question why this creature, the epitome of strength, has a title that is likened to lies or untruths or anything negative that falls under the category of bull.

I have often read articles admonishing people who apply human emotions to animals. Those of us who live with domesticated pets often fall into that habit. We can’t read a pet’s mind but their reaction to events and activities do give us a clue to their mood.  There is no argument that they all possess different personalities. Yet they have no cause to defend or be offended by the random descriptions that are added to their name. If we attached human feelings to the animal world would they be upset by the fearful being called a “scaredy cat” or a “chicken”, an unbearable hot day considered a “dog day’ or something bordering on the side of falsehood labeled as “bull”?

The majority of us find it easy to care for animals as they have no voice and are reliant on us to meet their needs. The affection our pets return show us the purest form of unconditional love. I tend to believe that even livestock would choose not to bite the hand that feeds them. Animals don’t possess the ability to spread lies or slander and it is easy to have a soft spot in our heart for them. So much misinformation is perpetuated these days that I find I am offended on behalf of the bulls. The production of manure is a necessary commodity for fertilization but I have yet to see any reason to spread bull.