The Ferdinand Complex

When my brother and I were little, my mother bought The Story of Ferdinand, by Munro Leaf, likely as an outgrowth of her anti-war, Women Strike for Peace convictions. It's the story of a young bill who preferred to sit under a cork tree and smell the flowers instead of head-butt with the other bulls destined for the bull fights. But all that changes when Ferdinand accidentally sits on a bee and they see how fierce he can be. Taken to the ring in Madrid, instead of fighting he sits and smells the flowers much to everyone's disappointment . . . except his, of course, because he is brought back to the cork tree where he belongs.

I loved the story; I loved the illustrations by Robert Lawson. Like all children, I needed the message that we should be true to ourselves and our own nature.

I bought the book when my children were little and read it to them over and over again--enjoying it as much as ever. It never occurred to me what a long lasting effect this story had on my life until recently.

I met a bull at the La Purisima Mission (and State Historic park).

I remember the first moment I saw him, I was entranced by his gorgeous horns. We flirted. I called him Bully.

As the months went by, I would visit him at the Mission. He always seemed to take notice of me, and I would always stop by to admire his . . . horns.

But one day BigTea called while he was on one of his expeditions in the hills around the Mission. He had stopped by to say hello to Bully for me and he had noticed something he thought might upset me: Bully was really a steer. (And yes, BigTea had to explain what that meant.)

Well, it didn't make a difference to me, of course. Bully was beautiful with or without . . . his . . . you-know-whatsis.


Just this last Christmas, I bought The Story of Ferdinand for my granddaughter when I discovered she didn't have it. Not long after at a family dinner, BigTea and I were talking about our beautiful Mission, and I brought up my bull. My daughter-in-law looked at me wisely and summed it up in one word: Ferdinand.

Yes, I do have a Ferdinand complex. I have fallen in love with a bull (it doesn't matter what he doesn't have, he'll always be a bull to me). More importantly, I fell in love with and married a man who would much rather grow flowers (so I can smell them)* than participate in bull fights in Madrid.

Thank goodness for my mother's taste in children's books.


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* while known more for their beauty than their fragrance, irises do have a light floral aroma--at least this one does!