A cold wind blew across the high top of Bull Mountain, bringing with it a message. Soon. Soon winter would be arriving. But tonight the moon was rising. By the time it cleared the saw toothed tree line the wind had fallen off until even the stirrings of the voles could be heard in the profound stillness. Each open park on the high top was its own theater and each meadow a stage as the sky and the earth welded themselves together into a ragged sharp edged seam.
Elk were everywhere. The bugles of the bulls and the mews of the excited cows were an undulating chorus in the quiet alpen glow under the waxing moon.
The Monarch reigned supreme in this fantastic show. He commanded the largest park with the best water and the best escape routes. His harem the largest, he kept it in a loose but consolidated group. Lesser bulls screamed their frustration around him, but few dared challenge the mighty stag. His broad back seemed silver under the wash of night light. His antlers flashed their white tips like diamonds. He stood alone and regal like a monument in the open park.
His stature and his composure were enough to save him precious energy and time. Often, he only had to turn his massive and muscled body toward an intruder who in their impatience dared to venture too close to his cows. The upstart would slink back into the protection of the dark timber, unwilling to make a stand against such a dominating presence.
Sometimes however, a bull would arrive that was large enough and brash enough to make a serious challenge to the Old Bull. The bull from Snaggle Tooth Creek was one such challenger and it didn't take long for his arrival to be noted by the mighty Monarch. Here was an animal to be taken seriously that was certain and the Old Bull watched him clock his cows in an ever tightening circle. Closer, closer the new bull came to the Monarchs harem of cows. Closer he came, testing for the distance that would finally grant him a reaction from the Giant.
It didn't take long.
The Snaggle Tooth bull came closer to the mighty Bull and seemed at least as large. But in his youthful temerity the newcomer failed to note how his path would bring him broad side to the motionless Monarch. Closer the younger bull came. Tighter his circle closed on the nervous cows watching the two bulls assess each other. Narrower became the distance between him and the Monarch. The Monarch didn't bugle. He did not display any of his growing and fierce displeasure. The Snaggle Tooth bull took this silence as fear. As he came broadside he turned his head away from the Monarch in disdain, chancing a glance at the cows he coveted. It was a mistake. The young bulls flank was a target in the moonlight and the Monarch recognized his opportunity. The Snaggle Tooth bull felt the earth tremble under the heavy rush of the Monarch and as he turned his head toward the sound he saw an antlered nightmare already upon him. The Snaggle Tooth bull tried to step away and aside from the charge, but the Monarch had chosen well his moment and he committed himself totally to it. It was all or nothing. His might was completely focused on one thing, the moonlit flank of the intruder. His muscles corded into knots under his fantastic coat of tan as he plowed into the Snaggle Tooth bull and knocked him off his feet. The thud of the impact resounded like a drum and the Snaggle Tooth bull grunted in pain and fear. He desperately tried to regain his feet, but the Monarch was quicker and he drove his mighty antlers again into the younger bull, who still suffered from the initial impact. The younger bull was knocked down a second time onto the black dirt of Bull Mountain. The Monarchs eyes were embers of red as he pivoted and the intruder struggled to find his footing. He again drove his tines deep into the flank of the big challenger, pushing him sideways. The Monarchs intent was clear and the bull so recently sure of his success only knew fear and pain. He sounded a pitiful whine as he finally made his feet. It was a vanquished and terribly wounded animal that limbed away from the Giants domain. A bugle of total triumph, terrible in its intense fierceness, followed the limping stag up into the black timber...
Topic: The Monarch of Bull Mountain --DONE!-- (Read 4656 times)
