that bull grazing in a pasture of possibility

Sitting on the edge of the barbed wire fence with my head propped on my elbow for what seemed like an hour, but in reality was probably only ten minutes, my brother and I discussed the situation in the pasture. Horses, cows, and other livestock roamed the acreage of my grandparent’s small farm where livestock was raised for meat and dairy. It’s a fun thing to visit the country when you are a child being raised in the suburbs. Both of my parents had grown up on small farms in the Asheville, North Carolina area and country meant “freedom” to me.   

On this farm were good things – animals, country breezes blowing over fields of grass, the scent of the barn, the coolness of the creek at the back of the property, grape vines growing, apple orchard overflowing in goodness, freedom to roam, and a whole lot of peace and quiet. 

One afternoon after feeding apples from my grandmother’s orchard to the horses, I was restless. There was a bull grazing down the pasture, minding his own business. Yet that bull intrigued me. My brother and I had tried to get him to eat apples, even threw them out to him, but he continued to ignore us. 

As I watched that bull, and wondered why he was ignoring us, and why we had been warned repeatedly not to go anywhere near the bull when he seemed so harmless standing there swishing his tail at the flies, my adventurous spirit took over. With my parents nowhere in sight, I decided that there could be no harm in venturing into the pasture while keeping close to the perimeter.   

“I’m going in” I spoke confidently to my brother. Though I had not thought long and hard about what I was going to do when in the pasture with the bull, primarily, I wanted to prove that I could do it.  Taking a chance to me meant something good to try, and not something that could possibly be regretted, something to prove one’s stupidity. Yes, I took a chance.  Lesson 1, arrogance often leads to danger. 

Crawling under the barb wire fence, I first walked two feet out, then two more feet out, and then moved to about ten or so feet from the perimeter and began to taunt the bull in the pasture, saying something like  “hey, you over there! Come and get me!”  At first the bull continued to eat grass as if he couldn’t hear me, but as I kept on laughing about it with my brother, it was as if a switch had been flipped and then that bull charged toward me at a super speed.  Screaming as a little girl, and that I certainly was, I turned and ran and have never been more frightened.  

Ahead loomed an old, rusty, barbed wire fence. Thinking quickly I dove for the bottom of the fence, and hoped that my body, hair and clothing would not get caught on it and be torn to shreds, and I rolled under it until certain the dangerous situation had passed. When I stood up, the bull was at the fence breathing heavily and my father was running toward me yelling about how dangerous it had been to go near the bull.  

It had been a close call for sure, but after the knee-knocking wore off, and after I vowed to listen to my parents from then on, a different feeling emerged deep within me, along with a surge of adrenaline. “I can’t believe I did that!” I had bravely gone out into the expansive openness of the pasture with a dangerous bull in proximity, confronted it, and survived.”

In writing this I’m reminded about that “expansive openness” from my childhood. The great pasture of possibility. Somehow as we age, we may see our pasture of possibility as shrinking, or even as being non-existent.  It’s true danger can lurk where we least expect it, yet the freshness a life of adventure can be invigorating, whether you choose to venture into a pasture with a bull, move to a new country, or start a business. 

Perhaps the most valuable lesson from the event taught me that courage is a key component to succeeding in life. There will always be a bull in the pasture and we must not fear it yet at the same time we must not let pride take over and cloud our ability to make wise decisions. Preparation is crucial to any endeavor. Confrontation doesn’t always bring success but with the right plan anyone can venture into the great pasture of possibility, and if needed, clear the barbed wire fence to safety. 

An excerpt from “This Local Thing”, a collection of writings about people, culture and life from the context of living “local” - wherever that happens to be at that moment.  

Lisa Cornwell Rourk is a Realtor and Relocation Specialist, business-owner, writer, native South Carolinian, and a graduate of Clemson University. A passion for people, interesting places, culture, nature, culinary delights, and more drive her to write about real life from the context of her experiences. Uncovering a subtle “art” in the way that people live across America and abroad, her desire is for people to live joyful, authentic, more productive lives and to always feel “at home” wherever they choose to live in the world.

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