I once knew a rancher that had a huge brahma bull and he named him Fence Post. I, being an inquisitive young person did what others had not. I asked him why in the world he had named his prize bull Fence Post.
The rancher was nice about it all. He stopped what he was doing and said, “Son, let me tell you a story”. He started out as he motioned to a place on the top rail of the fence where he broke wild horses and pulled out his plug of tobacco, bit of a chew and this is what he said:
Son, when that bull was a young bull every time we put him in a pasture that he thought was too small for him, he would find a fence post and ram it with his head until he had the post and the fence broken down. Then he would start on the next post and the next post until he had the space he thought he deserved.
He would stand and watch us put the fence back up making a larger space for him and snort the whole time. As he got older, bigger, and wiser, he figured out other ways to get what he wanted. It was all about him. The rest of the bulls stayed away. We had a hard time convincing the heifers to get in the same space as him.
After many years he was alone, roaming around there in his big pasture. He would just mope around and we thought his time was short. One of the hands said he had an idea of a way to get him to move. I said do it. The hand went into the pasture and right in the middle he sunk one fence post. He used the post hole diggers to plant the biggest post he could find as deep as the handles would allow. Once he was done we all gathered around to see what would happen. Well, old Fence Post got up, shook himself off and lowered his head. He rammed and rammed the post until blood was running down between his eyes.
After what we thought would have killed any other bull, Fence post just stopped. He looked at us and walked over and stood by the fence where there had grown quite a large crowd. Fence Post did something we had never seen before. He knelt on his front legs as if he was asking for help. I called for some of the hands to get the first aid supplies as I slipped through the barbed wire. As I tended to the cuts on the old bull’s head, it was if he had changed. After that the post stayed right where it was. Fence Post became one of our finest breeding bulls on the ranch and now has many sired offspring.
You see son, sometimes being hardheaded, sticking to what’s “all about you” takes some time to learn that when you seek to help and not to hinder your life becomes worthwhile. So, you see, old Fence Post taught us all that being alone, wanting it all you own way all the time will only get you a fence post to ram in to.”
The question for you son is, will you be like old Fence Post and take a bloody head to learn the lesson or will you remember this story and decide to change right now?
What are you banging your head against?