I reckon y’all have figured out by now that I am a country kinda gal. It’s just who I am. Purely as a joke, I tell others that I am bilingual (now before some of you get you panties in a knot, let me say that I know that I am not bilingual. I just talk a little different at home than I do in college). However, I am fluent in both redneck and English. I am also bi-cultural. I can go from the redneck ways of the mountains to the more sophisticated ways of the city in three minutes flat. I am adaptable, changing the way I act depending on the company. I am brave (some may say fearless) when it comes to animals. I learned as a small child that the only way an animal can get the best of you is if you let it.
Over my spring break, I had an encounter with a certain animal. That animal was a 2,000 pound bull. My bull had gotten into the field with my neighbors heifers. (for those of you who don’t speak cow, a heifer is a cow that has not been with a bull). With his new-found girlfriends, there was no way my bull was going home. My mother, my neighbor, my fourteen year-old niece, my neighbor’s grandson, and myself ran that poor bull all over that field for two hours straight in an attempt to get him home. However, he just wasn’t gonna go. At one point, my niece, my neighbor’s grandson, and my mother were a human fence to herd the bull into the gate. My neighbor and I were attempting to run him up the real fence into the gate. The bull, GOD love it, was so exhausted he just didn’t have it in him anymore. He stopped running. No amount of hollerin’, pokin’, or prodin’ was gonna get him to move. So I eased closer. The bull, feeling threatening, turned on me. He lowered his head and started that snorting. I knew it meant he was going to head-butt me. I knew that if I ran, he would come after me. If I stayed, I was certainly a dead duck. For some odd reason, staying just seemed to be the right thing to do. He first knocked me down. I laid there thinking as he came down for his second blow “I am going to die. This is the moment I am going to die. But dad gum, I ain’t going out of here without a fight.” I punched him in the nose. I suppose the bull realized that I wasn’t an easy target because he turned and ran at that point. Yes, I could have died, but I escaped unscathed, minus the six stickers I got in my hand when I fell into a brier patch.
And that, my friends, is the Southern way of livin’. We are a people that takes whatever situation is presented and make the best of it. We are also the type of people that when we get knocked down, we come up swinging. Just a friendly reminder to all who are out there, if you are datin’ a Southern lady and you decide you want to beat up on her a little, buddy, all I got to say is you better make the first lick count cause she’ll come up and kill you with whatever she just happens to get in her hands next.