Bucolic Plague 2

Farmer Broon has been preparing the fields for the herd. Posts have been driven in and pastures dressed. When we arrived some years ago the herd was grazing. We spotted a very large bull. It was impressive, with huge shoulders, but perhaps rather too thick round the middle and rear, reminded me a bit of John 'two cormorants' Prescott. That was not the reason we called him John the Bull. It was probably the faded English quality of doing one's duty that he dragged around with him servicing the cows.
Two years later and half a ton of not so prime hamburger gone, replaced by a younger, more active, and who knows if you are a cow, a more attractive proposition. This beast had the look of a Spanish fighting bull so, of course, we called him Pedro! He pranced about very full of himself pursuing the cows but would then stop with a pathetic look. One of the older cows with a huge udder got fed up with this and showed him what to do. She mounted him and gave him what for with her udder!
I have never been to a bull fight. I'm not interested in making a sport out of cruelty to animals. That aside one of the things that I have thought about it is the basic unfairness of it all. Even if the poor beast gets his retaliation in first and tramples all over the matador or spins him a few times on its horns it still gets taken off and slaughtered!
If the English had invented bull fighting, and they have done worse, at the point where the fellow in the funny hat and tight trousers lies bleeding on the sand a man in a long white coat festooned with caps, sunglasses and white pullovers would come out and cry "Over!"
The crowd would clap politely and rise for tea and the bull would be led off to live the rest of his life in green pastures, stuffing his strut, with a small herd.