April 9, 2002

April 9, 2002 - Tuesday

Sunday afternoon brought a resumed search for the Virile Bull. After a quick trip to Watseka to pick up Art, our first destination was Brook, IN to find Andy's friend Joe Wilcox. As can be expected with sudden plans such as this (Joe had no foreknowledge that we were coming), he was not home. We attempted to find other friends of Andy's in Brook, but were unsuccessful.

Our search brought us to a place called "The Bio." The Bio is a man-made pond in Brook that was created as a place of recreation and wildlife study. We took a quick walk around the pond, then became interested with the forest behind it.

With all the recent rain, and drainage from the Bio, the forest had turned into a good sized swamp. From our vantage point at the edge of the swamp, we could see a hill, roughly 15 feet in height, near the center of the swamp. We looked carefully for dry paths, and made our way to the hill.

Standing on top the hill, we could see the rusted out hulk of a vehicle laying off a few hundred yards further into the swamp. Once again we trekked deeper into the swamp. The rusted vehicle turned out to be an old Volkswagon schoolbus. Strewn about the bus was a huge trash heep or rusty metal and siding from a house. We took a group photo.

From the swamp, we drove south to find the Virile Bull. Andy had previously guessed on our last expedition that the monument was located in a patch of trees in the middle of a farmer's field. I had brought binoculars, and from the road we could see what looked like a large white tombstone in the middle of the patch of trees. We circled the area twice in my car trying to find a road leading up to it, but could find none. We briefly considered asking the farmer who owned the field - and thus the monument - if there was a way in, but decided to just park the car on the side of the road and walk through the field.

We had to trudge roughly a quarter mile through the field before coming to the grove of trees. Andy's memory proved true and the white stone was the memorial to the Virile bull.

You can't tell from any of the pictures, but the stone has the dates "1903 - 1920," and broken lettering in ceramic inlay that can barely be read. I could make out the first part of the name as "Perfect," but the second part was too broken to read. Atop the monument is a bronze base with a rusty pole extending roughly thirty feet or so into the air. It looks as though it was once used as some sort of flag pole.

We could see further off into the trees an old silo which looked like the tower of an old castle. It was about an eigth of a mile from the monument. We decided to have a look, since it looked very interesting.

The "Bone Tower," as we called it, is a dilapidated concrete silo that probably hasn't been used in decades. Through a hole in the side of the tower, you can see the dirt floor at the bottom is littered with the bones of dozens of small animals. My guess is that the animals fell in and couldn't get out, because the floor is about a six to eight foot drop from the hole we used to look inside. The foundation surrounding the silo further adds to the eerie feeling of the place.

The barren trees and crumbling concrete walls gave off a sense of haunted desolation that made the "bone tower" and memorial one of the most interesting places I've been. We ended our day's events with a trip to the cemetery north of Kentland on Highway 41. We found the grave of the first settler in Newton County - Mr. Bassett Timmons.

On our way back to Andy's house, we ran into Russell. You remember Russell, the guy who used to live with Andy? I haven't seen him since our last and final barn party. He was just cruising around with his lil' woman and a friend of theirs. We invited them to follow us to Andy's so we could get caught up on old times.

At Andy's, Art and I sat on the roof of his house in true redneck fashion and shot at trash laying out in the yard with my .22. It began to rain, so we climbed back in the window and visited with our guests, which may have turned out to be a mistake.

Andy had previously told me the seemingly impossible story of Russell's psycho girlfriend having slept with seventy guys and over twenty girls. I assumed it was merely an exaggeration, although she readily admits to it, but after speaking with the woman, I'm no so sure.

We began the conversation downstairs in Andy's living room. The psycho - Karen - was sitting on both Russell's and Art's laps with her arms around both men, and began petting Andy's cat. She remarked "I like this cat, I could really get used to it. My mom won't let me have pets though."

Me: Why not?

Psycho: When I was little I buried my cat up to its head and ran over it with a lawnmower.

The room became awkwardly silent.

Me: How old were you?

Psycho: I was six.

More silence.

Aunt Claire: We'll I'm sure you've learned your lesson since then... ?

Psycho: Not really. After that I hung our other cat.

More silence.

Psycho: We'll he scratched me!

I was very happy that I still had my gun.

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