“That’s not possible.”
“It is documented.”
“Mr. Crow, we worked with that animal for two years. He attacked handlers. Destroyed equipment. Failed every management adjustment we tried.”
“What kind of space did he have?”
A pause.
“Standard breeding facilities.”
“How much space?”
“His primary pen was twelve by sixteen.”
Silas almost laughed, but there was no humor in it. “For a bull his size?”
“That is industry standard.”
“Maybe industry standard was the problem.”
Holden did not answer.
Silas continued, “Here he has forty acres. He has distance. Weather. Trees. A view. Nobody forcing him into chutes. Nobody crowding him. He’s not the same animal you described.”
“You think we caused it.”
“I think you saw what happened when an animal like him had nowhere to go.”
Holden’s voice cooled. “I would like to see the evidence.”
“I’ll send video. Vet notes. My daughter’s observations.”
This story touched a part of me that has hurt underneath several careers and 65 years of life. I'm 71 now. My family is a long established name there. My memories of ranching, accidents, rodeo stock, flash floods and family loss are different than the way life is lived today. This story is magnificent, thank you for sharing it. And maybe there's hope for some of us humans that just need space and understanding. It's been 40 years since I became a civilian after 11 years as a
U.S. Marine. This story and that bull have more meaning than some will ever know. Thank you once again. Job well done.