'Next time they won't load me so easily' he said, in the quiet way of a bull.
He is testy as bulls often are. He steps out quickly, half expecting the shouts of people and the flurry of activity when they try to push him where he doesn't want to go - and he will fight (they don't doubt it).
Down the ramp now and through the narrow race and out into...
Ahh. Merciful spacious pen and the soft turf underfoot. But wait, he can hardly believe it, there is another open gate and beyond it open pasture and the distinctive smell of cows.
He won't rush. It would be unseemly to rush.
He is Claudius Beef, he rushes for no-one. So he saunters, briskly, toward his open gate.
