Golden Autumn, Moscow’s annual livestock show, is a glorified petting zoo. Families walk the aisles petting sheep, rabbits, geese, chickens, ferrets, goats, and more.

At this year’s fair, the animals seemed to be handling the attention in stride. Except for the sheep. They’d had enough of wool-pulling and had sequestered themselves in the farthest corner of their pen. But children, undaunted, stretched their arms through the bars in what looked like a scene out of a zombie movie.

I backed up across the aisle to take their picture. And that’s when I felt it: something cold and slimy pressed against my neck. Startled, I spun around and came face-to-face with a Black Angus bull. I like to think that the bull was