The old scarred bull now stays within his home range, moving less often and always with some degree of pain. He has forgotten the battles, but not the scars. His cow loves him and endlessly dotes on her mate. The grazing is good. No one messes with the old bull.

The familial unit of his youth still resonates within him, but the reverbs are muted and indistinct. One echo that still rings fairly clear is when his siblings first began showing signs a new order was emerging. Each were moving on, or had moved on, to creating their own herds. The bonds that previously held them close were loosened. For some time the old bull was drawn to shared feeding grounds and partook in engaging activities, but month over month, year by year, all drifted from their familial herd origins, and their bonds.

During this transitional period the bull took to bachelor groups for contests of heart and spirit. Bachelor groups tend to persist well beyond other groupings, even surviving through periods when bulls pair with a cow. Over time he found a cow and together they created their own herd. On occasion the old scarred bull feels a tug from his youth, but his days are his own and they are good, though less eventful. He sees not of his siblings. He heard Mustafa once say, “Simba, this is the circle of life.” At the time, he thought this was funny as all get out! These days, he finds no humor in such banal generalities.

(Well this is a depressing start to my day …)

Wint