I crossed the one-lane bridge and caught site of the enormous black bull who lives in a bucolic field next to a lake on Hunters Road. Walking up the hill I wonder, What is your name, Big Bull? In rhythm with my steps, I roll over possible names for him. He needs a regal name. A big name for a big guy. A name for the ages. Abraham. That’s your name. You’re Abraham! Standing at the split rail fence I call him bravely but sweetly. “Abraham! Abraham! Come here honey! Come on boy!