field, land, fresh green grass and warm shade. The paradise for any living being. A life placid, quiet, and sleep where grazing was first. Where being happy was not anything crazy.
The blue sky, clouds, skimming the sun, playing with him in a delicate dance of masks, while the oaks are shaking with the soft spring breeze. Summer season begins, where the fun and joy are common in any town in this country that I love my Lord insists on calling "Spain." I, a bull, I prefer to call it world. The world is bigger than a country more peaceful and happier.
The world is all I need. No flags, no anthems, no shields. Single field, land, fresh green grass and warm shade of an oak.
But the days become night, night day passing the time. Soon, my lord come back love. Every year at this time, brings us all for anything that needed congener. Then, we return to the field, to continue grazing, jumping and growing in the wild.
A big man, square-shouldered calls. My laziness forces me to think about it twice before, with a strong roar upset, I go. Bring your truck, and comes with a couple of other men. As every year. He begins to tell
to check each bull, watching the ears, tail, back, fur, snout ... Everything. I get to do with tenderness, while my colleagues are left with more or less reluctantly.
Soon my turn came to me. The man smiles at me. I have to lift his head, staring into my eyes. Buffet, but he did not flinch, as I touched the pins, checking the strength of them.
proud and arrogant as I am, I raise my head even more, teaching my regal, king my temperament, my temper iron. A general of adult cattle. A bull.
But something was wrong. Suddenly I feel like I put something around his neck, a noose that strangles me, despite not being strained. I hate it, especially when pulling me through that rope, soon to be tight, crushing my thick neck.
But I refuse, I will not go anywhere I want to take. No, no! With a loud roar, a couple of snorts and various cooking, looking back, watching my country, my land, my fresh green grass, my shade under the oaks. I will not go! Mujo. I will not go! Groan. I will not go! Bufo. But to no avail.
From the bars of the window of the van, I can see away from the oaks, their shadows, the clouds dancing with the sun ... and my teammates, grazing peacefully, another year, until the coming festival season.
Days pass, and do not get out of here. I'm dizzy, confused, scared. I do not know where I find I do not know what to do. I just know I'm a bull that will not stop looking out the window. Suns does not see an oak, and warm shades or fresh grass. Only soil too barren gray everywhere. The bellows are useless. Am I condemned to live here forever?
But something changes in the drab gray landscape, and I start seeing very strange trees and tall. Instead of glass, have a flat top, the smoke sometimes, as if inside the trunk was a terrible fire. In the roots there is a huge gap, perfectly defined, as in the upper trunk, but smaller. Of these holes, look out men, such as squirrels. Men trees appear again and again, ever higher and more bizarre, with more men, squirrels everywhere.
more I get scared. Where am I? Lowing my multiply.
Still, we reached a very strange tree, even more than those of men-squirrel. It is circular and very white. The van enters the giant tree, and takes me to a tree hollow, more bars and straw.
I'm angry. I am very angry. But that does nothing but increase the pleasure of my lord master and his crew of men who have leaves of various colors, which are valuable for these humans (how rare they are!). Then, feel how someone hits me a blow from behind with a stick, and I'll get him, pins in hand, ready to threading it deserves.
While out there, I hear cheers and shouts of jubilation. And that makes me more and more angry.
Suddenly, someone opened a gate. The light blinded me, but I do not care. I'm a bull, and I'll make him pay dearly.
With a mighty roar, I run to the cage, to find me squarely in the center of a large clearing, surrounded by thousands of men leaning out of the course, which is surrounded by the gigantic tree. Jump, shout, clap ... a man who really scared me. He was dressed in a ridiculous and strange, with a stupid hat and a red cape. And a skewer.
But I would not deterred, no. The bulls like me, men do not scare us silly. He raises his arms as imitating me, making fun, trying to make those arms look like stunted my imposing horns, which pitted him while I scratch the sand, so the threat. Bufo, feeling my nose hover my breath, before embarking to destroy this miscreant who had dared to mock me. I will insert my two horns, just in the womb, so you know. I'm very close to killing him, I'm getting closer to revenge, to make you pay what I have suffered ... But it goes! I avoided!
and acute pain, the most horrible, grotesque and agonizing that I felt in my life, through the back, starting to feel my warm blood dripping from the wound. I do not know what I have in the back, but I am at a crossroads: new onslaught against the man who had driven me that the wound would hurt me even more: I can barely move from the pain. I feel like that skewer poke under the skin, my muscles looking up my spine. Mujo, anger and helplessness, but I do not give up.
faced him again and this time with hate more massive beating in my eyes, I look over his body, swearing that this time, not escape me. I can feel his flesh hit my head, notice how my horns tear your skin to get through. I can feel safe only after it ... But I fear that this moment would never come, because once again, the man is beyond me, digging another knife, just in the same place as before. Blood flow is multiplied, and with a sharp pain, an agonizing roar and the unfortunate but very certain that I will die, that I will not see my country, my land, my green grass and warm dry and my shadow under the oaks that quiver in the summer breeze, I'm beginning to lose mobility on my hind legs, how I tremble ankles. Mujo pain, and feel that the soul is tearing me apart when riding a horse, I see that man again bring me with the joy of victory in his eyes shining proud, proud, arrogant, mean and cruel. I see him with a sword, sharp and perfectly polished. My sad eyes reflected in its underside.
So its edge once again crosses me back, and definitely lose mobility in my whole being. And, quietly, languid and exhausted I fall to the ground, bleeding. The man steps out of his gallant horse, and I look into my eyes. In them, I see only pain, cruelty and sadism.
Gradually, I my lungs, not take orders from the column as dead and withered, are shutting down. My heart just pumps blood. My muscles no longer hurt, but I know that if felt, would not stop moaning with pain. But no matter, because, little by little, and luckily, I fell into a deep peaceful sleep, remembering my country, my land, my fresh green grass and my warm shade under oaks, while a burning question I mind, barely conscious, Why?
A ray of light illuminates my head with a clear answer: Ah, yes! Because I am a bull.
This is bull lucky not to arrive alive at the time in which they cut the ears and tail. Some bulls are alive during the slaughter in which they feel how they tear parts of it, how they are carried through the square as Hector did Achilles after humiliating him in front of all Troy. You do not see how the real animals cheer the bullfighter, or how they boo to the bull. Luckily for him, suffering is over.
But there are many more innocent animals have to suffer this hell, and that insurance will not be so lucky.
Say no to the bulls, this party bestial, taken from the Roman persecutions of Christians.
TORTURE IS NOT CULTURE! What foreigners do not see Spain as a third world country in question to animal rights! That is not the most brutal festival in our country an international symbol of our land!
Each year, the government spends 564 million euros for the bulls. With that money, you could maintain for an entire year ten operating rooms in a hospital emergency room. English each year pays for 47 euros to keep this aberration, over 70% being the passing oblivious to this "party" sadistic.
FELIX RODRIGUEZ DE LA FUENTE, the most beloved English biologist and naturalist, who made love nature thousands of young people from Spain, to which hundreds of cities have dedicated a statue, once said "Ni as a naturalist or as a biologist I can be a supporter of bullfights. Carnivores kill because they can not eat otherwise, kill because they need to live. It is amazing that there is an audience that you enjoy and feel pleasure watching a man kills an animal in the bullring. The so-called national holiday is the highest exaltation of human aggression . "
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