CREATURE FEATURE : How Now, Macho Cow

It’s late afternoon in the bullring. The crowd is swamping your ears with “ Ole! “ and 10 yards in front of you, pawing the dust, head lowered, is a bull, ready to charge.

Well, actually it’s a cow. A little cow. A yearling. She’s in here with you because her owners, breeders of fighting bulls, want to see if she has valor, courage, if she’ll mother good fighters. They’d never put young males in: Aficionados say they would remember too much when they returned to the ring.

“Hold the cape out to the side!” yells someone. “Not in front of you.”

Ooompf! Too late. You’re on the ground. Hooves are clattering all over you.

“ Ole! “ yells the crowd.

“Get up, get up!” a man shouts . The cow--she’s only a year old, but she has real horns and real hooves--has turned on a dime. She’s coming back.

This is an annual ceremony at Tijuana’s downtown bullring. Shortly before Cinco de Mayo, bullring empresario Alfredo Gonzalez invites friends, town dignitaries, local beauty pageant winners and fans to a pachanga, a picnic-style party in the shade of the bullring. Fools seeking aficion gather for their turn at one of the beasts. There is no killing. Just plenty of dented dignity.

Kay Scott, a 70-something retiree from San Diego, has been doing it for years. “It adds spice to my year,” she says. “I don’t care about all the bullfight controversy. This is living.”

Meanwhile, back in the ring . . . .

Ooompf!

Suddenly there are people. There are pink capes. There is one confused cow, trying to decide between you and the capes. There are arms helping you out.

Above all, there are cheers. “ Ole! “