No Beef with Bull

“SLOW it down, don’t speak and don’t look it in the eye” whispers ghillie Mitchell Partridge. As we gingerly approach the beast, its breeze block of a skull lifts from the grass buffet. Beside it are big bellied charges. As we encroach, they emit booming complaints, amplified in this amphitheatre of hills. “That was interesting,” I remark when considerably clear of the hardy grazers. “Now you know why I ask guests to avoid bright clothes,” he responds, unshaken.

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