Fishel and Faivish were finding camp more fun than they’d expected. Of course it wasn’t quite Miami, and there was no asking Bubby to make their favorite suppers and ply them with homemade pastries. But on the other hand, there were lots of other boys around for company and a fun program that kept them constantly busy.

After enjoying a fabulous fun fair with rip-roaring roller coasters one day, the country walk that appeared next on their schedule seemed rather tame by comparison, but Fishel and Faivish were thoroughly imbued with the camp spirit by then, and decided to make the best of it.

Walking with a group of friends, they swung their arms vigorously as they walked down a long country lane, enjoying the fresh air and exercise.

All was well until a short while after. It was Fishel who first spotted the obstacle up ahead.

“Look! There’s a herd of cows in the road,” he cried. “How are we going to get past them?”

“No problem. I’ll get them to move out of the way,” responded Faivish confidently.

“Eek! What if they’re bulls?” squeaked one of other boys.

“These are no bulls,” declared Faivish airily. “Look, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll wave a red rag at them, and you’ll see they won’t do a thing.”

Faivish suddenly realized that he didn’t actually have a red rag, but one of his friends pulled off a red baseball cap and handed it to him instead.

“Phooey. I read that cows and bulls are color-blind,” interjected a boy with glasses. “It’s the waving of the rag that infuriates the bulls, not the color.”

“Well, I’ll wave the cap. You’ll see they won’t give a hoot.”

The other boys watched curiously. It turned out Faivish was right. The cows just stood there placidly munching and paid no attention to the red cap being waved in front of their noses.

“Told you so,” he remarked smugly.

“Yeah, but they’re still blocking the way,” pointed out one of the boys. “What are you going to do about that?”

“Watch me,” Fishel announced airily.

“No, watch me,” declared Faivish.

“I said it first.”

“I thought it first.”

“Thinking doesn’t count.”

“Does.”

“Doesn’t!”

“Cut it out,” ordered another boy. “I don’t care who does it, just get those annoying creatures out of the way.”

Fishel grabbed a stick from the ground and waved it at the cows.

“Shoo! Go away!” he instructed loudly.

(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 722)