Mooving

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Weird. Those cows seem to be creeping nearer to me every time I look away.


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Hang on. They’re not cows, they’re bulls! I climb back over the stile to exit the field.

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The bulls creep closer and closer, staring at me the whole time.

Why are they staring?
Do they know their fate?
What do they want from me?
Should I set them free?

Ignoring my questions, they continue to stare except for one who moves away from the fence. In my haste to photograph him I trip, crying out, and he panics, jumps forward, then glares at me.

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“How can you be scared of me?” I ask him, laughing.

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