Drinks and a Show

Or you could do it that way . . .

There was no lawnmower in the early days on the Berg Ranch.

When the grass got long, the hay-mower could be used, but in smaller areas, this proved impossible.

One had to get creative.

The four-footed lawnmowers were brought out.

Usually, the well-trained saddlehorses would take care of the problem—filling their bellies and tidying the area at the same time.

But one year, three angus bulls were given the job. They spent their days tethered out among the trees, contentedly munching the long grass and growing fat in the cool shade.

For water, someone would untie them, lead them across the yard to the trough by the barn, then take them back to continue their ‘work’.

It worked well. Till the ‘incident’.

Anyone who has lived on (or near) a farm can tell you that there is no such thing as a ‘normal’ day.

Usually the dust-ups and uh-ohs are just something to laugh at.

And that was the case here.

One evening, several of my Berg uncles were leading the three members of their lawn maintenance crew to water. Grampa Berg happened to be standing there beside the trough as they approached.

Meanwhile, across the barnyard, two salesmen in a car slid to a stop. Seeing Grampa out in the yard, they started toward him.

All went well to this point. Bulls. Uncles. Grampa. Salesmen.

Now the bulls were used to their Berg attendants. And knew all of them by sight.

But these salesmen were new.

Strange.

The bulls decided they were worth investigating.

At a run.

Towing the boys.

The salesmen were understandably alarmed. And decided, individually and collectively, that their best course was to run.

Which they did.

Right into each other.

Resulting in two stunned salesmen trying to crawl away along the ground.

The bulls stopped short and stared. Yep. Here was definitely something new . . .

I know you'll agree with me that there is all sorts of entertainment for us humans at our local ‘watering holes’.

Turns out it’s the same for the four-footed variety as well.