Ten year old Dakota hopped on her bike and rode it around on the family farm.

"This is great!" She whizzed past her mother who was standing on the back porch

watching. "Be careful, Dakota dear." As she raced past the barn, she heard a loud

SNAP!. "Wonder what that was." Dakota stopped pedaling and turned to look. But

she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "Hmm. Guess it was nothing." She

continued riding her bike around the driveway and onto the grass near the big

maple tree she liked to climb.

She had not ridden very far when she heard a loud Z-ZAP! and a horrible sounding

cry coming from behind her. Dakota froze with fright. “Wh-who’s th-there?” She

got off her bike and looked behind her. A bull was heading straight towards her!

It had broken through the electrical fence!

Trying hard to swallow the lump in her throat, Dakota got back on her bike. She

pedaled down the driveway as fast as she could. She glanced quickly behind her,

seeing where the bull was. In doing so, Dakota went airborne, flying over the

handle bars as the front wheel of her bike hit a loose rock in the driveway. This

sent her sliding halfway down the driveway on her stomach. Laying there, covered

in dust and scrapes, Dakota quickly rolled away out of the charging bull’s path.

She screamed as loud as she could, her heart pounding rapidly. She stood up,

racing for the nearest tree as swiftly as her legs could go.

Dakota hid behind the large tree, then cautiously peeked around it. She watched

as the bull screeched to a halt in the driveway, using its huge, sharp horns to tear

apart her bike. She suddenly remembered what her father said earlier. “Bulls are

not fond of the colour red.”

Dakota started to laugh nervously from her hiding spot as she watched the bull

destroy her bike. “He really wasn’t after me.” She paused to catch her breath.

“My bike. It’s red. That’s why he charged.” She looked at the remains of her bike

and watched as the bull snorted and walked away.

The sight before her made Dakota howl with laughter. She quickly regained self-

control and brushed the dirt from her clothing. Checking for cuts and bruises,

Dakota straightened up when she noticed her father was nearby.

“Are you alright?”, her father asked, walking up to her. “I’m fine. My bike isn’t.”

She pointed to the wreckage. She then volunteered to help her father round up

the bull and put it in the barn.

“Thanks to you, I’ll need a new bike now,” Dakota told the bull she shut him in his

pen. The bull looked at her and snorted. “I needed a new one anyway.”

“How about tomorrow we go into town to buy you a new bike,” her father said as

the two of them walked out of the barn together. “We’ll make it a blue one this

time.”

“Sure,” Dakota laughed. She watched her father as he locked the barn doors.

“Now, let’s go into the house and get you fixed up.”

Dakota and her father into the house together. Dakota sat down and watched her

mother get the first aid kit from the pantry. Both her parents helped her as she

cleaned up her cuts and scrapes.