Bulls and Railroadin'1
This particular written work, already delayed much too long, can’t rightfully be called a story. The information presented here is more closely related to one of those “special news bulletins.” Actually, my purpose is to sound an alarm, hopefully alerting the fine people of this area to a real and omnipresent danger. A lumbering menace runs amok, posing a threat not only to health and happiness, but indeed to your very existence. These are perilous times in which we live, a fact only fools will deny. Ours is a harrowing “era of ordeals,” trying times filled with anxiety, uncertainty and fluttering hearts beating erratic with fear. One lays his weary head on a pillow each night, never quite certain he’ll witness the dawning of a new day. But even midst the murk and gloom I’m constantly hearing a bit of advice, a message that goes something like this: “Be upbeat, look at the bright side, search for a silver lining.” This, however, takes great effort. How can anyone be upbeat in a world where the negatives so preponderantly outweigh the positives? Is it possible to voice optimism when pessimism reigns supreme? We live on a brooding planet rife with turmoil and indecision. World leaders are incapable of pointing out the right roads and directions. Few know where we’ve been…none know where we’re going. How can one see sunlight when surrounded by dark and ever-lengthening shadows of strife? Is there a faint glimmer of hope amid a morass of despair and apathy? Folks, we need to emerge from our cocoons of fantasy. The human race needs a good jolting that will enable us to face reality. The easiest way to do this is to sit down and read the last chapter of your Family Bible. Good folks who “do unto others” will find the final chapter soothing, even rewarding. But Revelation presents a sticky problem for folks who ain’t good. Revelation is a crystal-ball , allows a clear and unobstructed view of the future ( where the really bad stuff waits for you and I. It’s just around the corner I do believe ) Not liking the predictions in Revelation, mean dudes become uptight, edgy, and speak in quavering voices. Many, many quavering voices are heard these days. Yeah, the quivering trembles are already with us. Just a mite of pondering makes one believe the well-publicized “gnashing of the teeth” can’t be far behind! This latter part of the twentieth century is filled to the brim with real hairy stuff. Hydrogen bombs stockpiled by the thousands. An AIDS epidemic gone wild. Immorality on a world-wide scale that makes Sodom and Gomorrah seem twin cities where church conventions were held ( two “lances of light” streaked across Middle Eastern skies to level that pair of evil cities. And just what do you think those two “lances” might have been? Surely they were a weapon of some type. Nuclear tipped missles? Sorta’ brings to mind Hiroshima and Nagasaki! Sand and soil samples from the location where Sodom and Gomorrah once stood are crystallized just exactly like the earth around those Japanese cities. Like-wise our atomic test sites in New Mexico, Nevada and the Bikini atolls. Exactly alike! ). This dreadful list of dangers to mankind is awful enough, but now another peril must be added. A totally different monster, possibly more terrible than all others combined, is rearing it’s ugly head to bedevil humankind. Bulls! Yeah, male bovines. He cows…
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This literary essay is necessary because of a recent incident in Narrows, Virginia. A most terrifying Saturday morning it was , and only a stroke of unimaginably good luck prevented a catastrophic disaster from occurring. Perhaps a warning is in order here. Readers who experience difficulty on hearing of woe and misfortune should lay this written work aside right now Don’t read these pages! Because here is a factual account that begins on an unhappy note, is filled with trial and ordeal, and ends in shattering tradegy. But then, valuable lessons can be learned from even the calamitous of times and events. Such is doubly true in this instance, for now we can focus several glaring lights on a volatile situation, one that could place oodles of local citizens on that dubious “ endangered species” list. Every person a d beast I’m acquainted with are scrambling to get away from that list. As previously stated, a serene Saturday morning changed quickly to fright and disarray. A huge Hereford bull, drooling at the mouth and seething with evil intent, escaped from a “holding pen” at the Narrows Livestock Market and headed straight for town. Once inside our small rural community the ornery critter went about the business of creating chaos, and leaving a wide swath of destruction and frayed nerves in his wake. This scene is repeated with great frequency in our town, and has lately become a common nuisance, For the umpteenth time in recent years enraged bulls have run loose in our streets, roamed at will down our avenues and alleys. An intolerant and totally ridiculous situation. Hell man, even in Spain where bulls are adored they’re allowed freedom to maim and mutilate only one day per year. Enough is enough, and it’s high time we adopt a policy to eliminate this explosive potential for disaster. Bulls…I’ve always maintained they’re among the most dangerous beasts on earth. This claim can be carried not just one, but several steps farther. Though some extreme oddities are surely out there in faraway places, it’s doubtful a more vicious creature exists anywhere in the vast Milky Way Galaxy. Bulls live with only 3 goals to achieve…munchin’ grass, pitchin’ woo to every young heifer in the meadow, and charging into all things that move. Bulls are cantankerous as black bears, dangerous as grizzly bears, unpredictable as polar bears, stubborn as a mule, agile like a leopard, sly as a fox, and strong as a . uh…well, strong as a bull. All these talents combined make him a most formidable foe for any puny human caught in the middle of treeless pasture fields. Never, never cross a barren meadow, especially if your clothing is red in color! Stay away from fields where bulls might be on patrol. Make certain a clump of trees ( for climbing ) are handy. Rambo and Spiderman combined might have difficulty when facing a mad bull. So then, the purpose of these next few chapters is to illustrate the utter futility of a frail human “goin’ up against a bull.” Heed this bit of advice. Don’t try it. The outcome will not be to your liking…
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Toro the bull broke free of confinement at the Narrows Livestock Market and loped to the Norfolk-Southern railroad tracks just 40 yards distant ( odd though it seems, railroad tracks held a deep fascination for this particular maverick beast. A fact which will be proved as our story unfolds ). Though in a highly agitated frame of mind, the ill-tempered 2,000 pounds of “beef on the hoof” paused long enough to give thanks for his newly gained freedom, have a look around to survey the strange landscape, and lastly to ponder his next move. In the dim recesses of his primitive brain a bullish idea quickly formed. “ Ahh, at last,” he snorted while pawing the ground. “I’m free to settle some scores. Let me at them bi-ped creatures who walk upright, especially the ones who have poked me with electric prods. I’ll trample and gore ‘em by the thousands.” A sensible bull would’ve headed for the nearby mountains. Wild and unpopulated, a male bovine might have enjoyed years of solitude and contentment in that vast wilderness called Big Piney Ridge and East River Mountain. Plenty of springs and streams back there, the forage was pretty good too. If push came to shove, a really innovative bull could sneak down at night, smash thru a flimsy fence and head for a cozy barn. Those shelters housed all sorts of goodies. Hay, fodder, feed-bags and a plentiful supply of young heifers in amorous moods. Yessir, old Toro would come down real often. The good life was his for the taking. Sadly, however, the above was a hypothesis, a supposition that just plain didn’t happen. Because this rogue animal neither sought nor desired solitude. This bull would actively seek out the despicable entity called man. He had a mission to fulfill, a whole lotta’ pent-up rage to be vented. With that ominous thought in mind he thundered down the tracks toward a population center called Narrows…
Daniel DeWeese had just departed the downtown area with 300 pounds of apples aboard his wagon. The pulpy fruit were earmarked for his regular customers in Walnut Grove, a sprawling suburb of Narrows just to the southwest. Danny was adjacent to Mill Pond Dam on Wolf Creek, the quacking of 150 ducks ringing in his ears ( every hen and drake waddled up the bank lookin’ for a handout. The ducks of Narrows are, without doubt, the peskiest around. These beggars believe every “people” is totin’ 6 loaves of bread and has 4 pockets filled with corn ). Daniel made a left on Mary Street and found his way to the cool shade of a maple tree at the Narrows Annex. Durn it, the energetic “vendor of produce” needed a rest before challenging the long steep grade leading to Walnut Grove…
Having braked slowly down the treacherous mountain out of Bluefield, Norfolk- Southern time-freight number 84 snaked around the sharp curve at AEP in Glen Lyn. Unlike coal trains that just poke along, time-freights are on a rigid schedule. This one was hauling 1400 new automobiles, and anxious car-lovers all over Dixie were waiting to take ownership of their new wheels. This train had priority over all other rail traffic. An engineer opened a throttle, the black behemoth responded by gathering momentum. And Norfolk-Southern time-freight number 84 sped eastward toward it’s ill-fated date with destiny…
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Our renegade bull made fine progress down the tracks till he happened upon a trestle, the engineering marvel just west of Narrows Depot. Bulls ain’t very adept at walkin’ cross-ties, especially those laid across bridges. Nothing to offer solid footing. Only empty space below, assurin g a fatal plunge to huge boulders jutting from shallow waters way down yonder. Bridges…possibly the world’s most reliable “buffer zone” against enraged bulls. Even a dim-witted male bovine , half blinded with blood-shot eyes, insanely mad and carrying a giant chip on his broad muscular shoulders, instinctively knew such an obstacle presented a challenge too great ( a sure-footed goat would not have hesitated. Takes more’n a bridge to stop a durn goat ). But it sure enough halted the bull. That’s why the vindictive devil veered off onto the spur metal rails which so long ago allowed steam engines to chug into Shumate, Penvir, Chapel, Round Bottom, Rocky Gap and other bustling cities to the west. Just a short distance up the abandoned track he espied a concrete structure blocking the creek. Through blurred vision the outlaw beast was looking at Millpond Dam. Upstream the blue-green waters calmed and widened considerably. What the devil were those floating objects down there? Multi-colored and makin’ a terrible racket. Well, made no difference. They wuz living…they wuz moving. And that made ‘em a legitimate target! Down a muddy bank slid 2,000 pounds of fury, plunging into Wolf Creek with a force that displaced as much water as an aircraft carrier being launched at Newport News. Bellowing somethin’ awful, the huge brute swam toward the nearest ducks. He’d show ‘em a thing or two! But unlike stupid geese, ducks are a sensible waterfowl. The dominant drake surveyed the impending debacle, then quacked urgently to his flock: “Let’s git our tails outta’ here. We’ll fly down to New River till things calm down.” In a matter of seconds the skies above downtown Narrows resembled one of those migratory bird flyways, darkened the entire business area for a full 30 minutes” Which conclusively proves one fact; ain’t no duck anywhere gonna’ stand up to a mad bull. But then, who can really blame Huey, Luey and Dewey? And old Toro? With all targets hastily departed the slobbering animal just swam to the opposite shore , cloven hooves touching solid ground where Mary Street intersects with route 61. The surrounding earth trembled with his cumbersome weight and bellowing rage…
Daniel, feeling refreshed after a brief rest , would rely on sheer muscle to pull 300 pounds of apples up Mary Street at Narrows Elementary School. Just a few minutes previously he’d wondered about the sudden and mysterious mass exit from Millpond Dam. But he quickly forgot that trivial matter. Now his chief concern was managing a loaded wagon up a steep grade. A vehicle which, by the way, was painted a bright red. A fiery red!! Easily detectable from afar by his customers. Easily detectable from afar by a wild beast seeking revenge!! At that very instant the shrieking blast of a diesel engine sounded at a railroad crossing in Lurich. A young “Casey Jones,” having satisfied another requirement of his job, reached to open the throttle even wider. And Norfolk-Southern time-freight No. 84 rolled faster still through a murky and foreboding morn…
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Every person living on planet Earth has one inborn instinct that’s truly beneficial, a “warning device” which lets a fella’ know when a runaway one-ton bull is barrelin’ down on him. And it’s good that humans come equipped with this particular safety-gadget. I believe it’s one of the better tools in mankind’s “arsenal of defense.” Past history has proved (let there be no second-guessing here ) that homo-sapiens and male bovines have never blended well together. Thousands of farmers, livestock dealers , and just plain ordinary folks from all walks of life are being maimed and gored annually , innocent victims trampled to unrecognizable globs neath the slashing hooves of beasts gone mad. One doesn’t hafta’ be a seer to make the following prediction…our world will never know a truce between man and bull! The two simply cannot share the same space without somethin’ goin’ haywire and all hell breakin’ loose. However, I don’t think bulls have singled out man as their chief enemy, probably don’t even regard the feeble two-legged entity as a worthy foe. This belief is based on a single fact…bulls just plain don’t like nuthin,’ nobody or anything ( Well now, let’s back up here. The cantankerous brutes do have an affinity for “young heifers in season,” meadows of lush green grass, streams of cool water to dip parched muzzles in, and a good sturdy fence-post to use fer scratchin.’ For decades I’ve listened to animal lovers: “Isn’t that a cute kitten.” Ten thousand times I’ve heard: “Have you ever seen a more loveable litters of pups?” Every group, animal lovers included, have their freakish oddballs: “Them little polecats are the sweetest.” But never, not even once, have I heard anyone say: “That there bull is so damned adorable.”…
Daniel DeWeese has led an adventurous life. Working as a cook in ship’s galleys, the Narrows native has sailed the seven seas and walked across as many continents. This man has traveled in the most exclusive show-biz circles, including the “blue unit” of Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus. Time after time Daniel has escaped those “gaping jaws of death,” often by the narrowest of margins ( Daniel DeWeese has truly led a charmed life ). This has been possible because of one fact…his instincts for survival are honed far more keenly than are yours and mine. These acute senses recently served him well on Mary Street at Narrows Elementary. Daniel looked over his shoulder just in the nick of time…
Time-freight no. 84 sounded another shrill whistle, this one at Robertson’s Crossing just east of Lurich. It’s long been my belief that some trains, like many un fortunate people, have the accursed gift of precognition. This train “sensed” something it’s human crew could never know. Twin steel rails were sending “messages” to this engine. An engine on it’s creepiest run ever. The whistle of this machine sounded the high-pitched wailing of a banshee, mournful and forlorn, Much more eerie than usual…
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