Ayalon knows he should be afraid of the powerful, 1-ton bull named Armando, sired by a water buffalo in Italy.
"One day, he will kill me. He knows it. I know it."
Still, Ayalon walks out to the pasture behind the barn, and stops within a few feet of Armando.
He carries a stick that is no match for a bull.
But as he kneels on one knee and gently sings, "Hell-o, Buff-a-lo; Hell-o, Buff-a-lo," the beast with a ring in his nose calmly stands still, meeting Ayalon's firm gaze, and breathing frosty clouds in the winter morning air.