From Issue ?, ?

The EnCOWnter

by Fred Beeman (Las Vegas, NV)

From 1989 to 1992, my wife, Joanne, and I lived on the Hawaiian island of Maui, the second-largest in the 122-island chain. What? You didn't know that there are 122 islands in the state? This is the first thing one learns in Hawaiian real estate school

One fine summer day (there are no other kinds of days in Hawaii), Joanne and I decided to explore the back roads of the island. This is very easy to do, as one quickly discovers that there are no "front" roads on Maui. All roads on Maui are off the beaten path and rural in nature, but there are roads that are less traveled than others. So, we decided to explore our new home one weekend morning.

Driving down a lonely dirt road in the countryside, we noticed more than a few cows contentedly grazing on the lush mountain greenery. Rounding a curve, we were surprised to find our passage blocked by a very intimidating-looking Brahma bull. Evidently, he had found an opening in the fence and decided to do some exploring of his own. He stood in the middle of the single-lane roadway, staring right at us and quizzically eying the strange "creature" that dared to challenge his territory. I imagine that he considered us to be some kind of meal that our car had eaten.

If you've never seen a Brahma bull "up close and personal," they are indeed impressive and imposing: quite different from what one is used to seeing in picture books or on television. You certainly would not wish to meet one in a dark alley at midnight. And you would not want to have traded places with us, either.

Joanne, slightly in a panic, grabbed my arm and said, "Slowly back up the car."

"Nothing doing," I replied, "we have a right to be here; he doesn't."

"Please keep in mind what happened to John Wayne in 'HATARI,' and act accordingly," Joanne cautioned, her voice laced with stress. "I do not wish for those horns to poke holes in our car!"

Patting her hand, I calmly reassured her by saying, "Do not fear, Fred is here!" She displayed a look on her face resembling morning sickness. Summoning up all my courage (and insanity), I opened my car door and stepped outside.

"Are you nuts?" Joanne asked.

"After 11 years of marriage, you still have to ask?" I replied. I closed the car door behind me and stared at the bull. He stared back. So far were were "even"; we tied each other in the staring contest. I slowly walked to the front of the car and leaned against the grille. Without taking my eyes off the bull, I removed a candy bar from my shirt pocket and deftly unwrapped it, then placed the wrapper back in my pocket.

"Want some candy?" I asked the bull, extending my hand. The bull continued to stare at me, unimpressed by my peace offering. Then, I suddenly remembered my childhood experiences on my cousin's farm in Brookville, PA. My cousin raised dairy cows and I recalled what happened when I approached the cows in the pasture, trying to pet them.

With my hand still extended, holding onto the candy bar, I slowly walked toward the Brahma. He backed up. As I walked toward him, he continued to back up because he didn't know me or the identity of the item I was clutching in my hand. To his eyes, my candy bar could have been some kind of "weapon." He finally turned around and ran away from me, as I knew he would.

I smiled and ate the candy bar as I turned back toward the car and got in. Joanne, a "city" gal, was amazed that I "challenged" the bull and got him to "back down." Little did she know that all bovines instinctively back off when "confronted" by strangers who display no fear (and who appear to be holding "weapons"). That's why I could never pet the cows in my cousin's pasture; they would always run away from me, a stranger.

The bull knew that he was no longer in his "territory," and that he wasn't protecting any members of his "harem." Otherwise, he would have acted differently, to be sure.

Now that I've shared another bovine experience with you, please do me one favor: Don't show this article to my wife. She still thinks of me as her "hero," and I don't wish to destroy the illusion.