The Cattle Kids from Cypress Springs

Chapter 1 — The Discovery

In the quiet town of Cypress Springs, Florida, where the fields stretched wide and the Black Angus cattle roamed, lived three siblings: Koltin, the oldest at 10, a wiry boy with a quick grin; Davis, 8, sturdy and curious; and little Kadin, 6, with bright eyes and a fearless heart. Their family ran a cattle farm, the kind where the air smelled of hay and the lowing of cows was a constant lullaby. Life was simple, tied to the rhythms of the land and the clear, cool waters of Cypress Springs that bubbled through their property.

One sticky summer afternoon, the kids were poking around the springs, fishing for crawdads, when Davis spotted something glinting in the shallows. It was a rusty metal trap, the kind hunters used for small game, and inside it thrashed a tiny, squirming baby alligator, no bigger than a loaf of bread. Its jaws snapped weakly, and its dark eyes gleamed with a mix of fear and defiance. Kadin knelt down, unbothered by the mud staining her overalls, and cooed, “Poor little thing’s stuck!”

Koltin, always the leader, grabbed a stick and carefully pried the trap open while Davis held the contraption steady. The alligator tumbled free, hissing softly, and instead of scurrying off, it just sat there, staring at them. “He’s kinda cute,” Davis said, tilting his head. Kadin clapped her hands. “Let’s keep him! We’ll call him Magic.”

Chapter 2 — Raising Magic

And so they did. They scooped Magic up in an old feed bucket and carried him back to the farm, setting him up in a plastic kiddie pool behind the barn. Their mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t fuss, and their dad just chuckled, figuring it’d be a short-lived adventure. The kids, though, were smitten. They fed Magic scraps of the best beef from their Black Angus herd—prime cuts that’d make a butcher jealous. “Only the good stuff for our buddy,” Koltin declared, tossing him a chunk of sirloin.

Every day after school, they’d race to the barn, plop down beside the pool, and rub Magic’s scaly head. He’d close his eyes and lean into their hands, making a low, rumbling sound that Kadin swore was a purr. Over the months, Magic grew—fast. The beef and the kids’ affection seemed to work some kind of alchemy. His head got broader, and two bony ridges started sprouting above his eyes, looking for all the world like tiny bull horns. “It’s the Angus in him,” Davis said proudly, as if they’d bred a new species.

By the next spring, Magic was too big for the kiddie pool. He’d splash water everywhere, and the barn started smelling more like swamp than hay. Their dad, a practical man with a soft spot for his kids, finally put his foot down. “He’s a wild thing, not a pet,” he said one evening, arms crossed. “He’s gotta go back to the springs. It’s what’s right.” The kids begged and bargained, but Dad was firm. With heavy hearts, they lugged Magic—now nearly four feet long—down to Cypress Springs in a wagon. They rubbed his head one last time, those horn-like bumps rough under their fingers, and watched him slip into the water. He turned back once, as if to say goodbye, then vanished into the crystal depths.

Chapter 3 — The Return

Life marched on. The kids grew up with the farm—Koltin learning to drive the tractor, Davis tending the herd, Kadin bossing them both around. Magic faded into a fond memory, a story they’d tell at family gatherings. Ten years passed, the seasons blurring together, until one hot March day in 2025.

The siblings, now 16, 18, and 20, were fixing a fence near the springs when Kadin squinted at the water. “Y’all see that?” she asked. A massive alligator, now an imposing twelve feet long, was basking on the bank. Its head was broad and scarred, and atop it sat two unmistakable, horn-like ridges, grown to an impressive 20 inches, curving like a bull’s. Koltin dropped his hammer. “No way. Magic?” Davis laughed, half-disbelieving, but Kadin was already inching closer.

The gator didn’t move, just watched them with ancient, knowing eyes. Kadin reached out—cautious but fearless, like she’d been at six—and brushed her hand over his head. He rumbled, low and familiar, leaning into her touch. Koltin and Davis joined her, grinning like kids again, rubbing those horned ridges. Time had taken them far from that summer day, but the springs had brought Magic back. Their bull-horned buddy hadn’t forgotten them after all.

Chapter 4 — The Rescue

A few days later, the siblings decided to cool off at their favorite spot on Cypress Springs, where an old rope swing hung from a sturdy oak. The sun blazed overhead as they took turns launching into the deep, clear water, laughing and splashing like they were kids again. Kadin was midair, soaring toward the springs, when Davis shouted, “Wait—look!” Two wild alligators, lean and mean, had emerged from the reeds, their eyes locked on the swimmers. Koltin grabbed the rope to pull Kadin back, but she’d already hit the water with a splash, and the current tugged her farther out.

The wild gators lunged, tails thrashing, jaws snapping. Kadin kicked toward shore, but the water churned as the gators closed in fast. Davis and Koltin yelled, helpless on the bank, and then leapt in after her, determined to help. But the wild gators turned on them too, cutting off their path to safety. Just as hope seemed lost, a thunderous splash erupted from the depths. Magic exploded into the fray, his twelve-foot form cutting through the water like a freight train. His 20-inch bull horns gleamed in the sunlight as he barreled toward the intruders.

With a bellowing roar, Magic slammed into the first wild gator, ramming it with his horned head. The impact sent the attacker spinning, dazed, into the shallows. The second gator lunged at Kadin, but Magic was faster. He swung his head like a battering ram, those Angus-fed horns goring the wild gator’s side. It thrashed and retreated, blood trailing in the water. The siblings, now treading water together, stared in awe as Magic turned toward them, his massive head dipping low. With a swift, gentle motion, he angled his 20-inch horns beneath Kadin, lifting her from the water and onto his broad, scaly back. Before Davis and Koltin could react, Magic swung his head again, scooping them up one by one with his horns, placing all three kids securely atop his twelve-foot length.

Magic surged forward with powerful strokes, his tail propelling them through the water like a living raft. The kids clung to his back, Kadin perched near his head, Davis gripping his midsection, and Koltin steadying himself near the tail. Magic’s immense strength carried them swiftly to the bank, his horns raised proudly as he delivered them to safety, cutting through the waves like a bull charging home.

They tumbled onto the grass, gasping and soaked, as Magic floated just offshore, his horned head high, watching over them. The wild gators were gone, driven off by their old friend’s might. The siblings collapsed, hearts pounding, staring at Magic in disbelief. “He saved us,” Davis whispered, awe in his voice. Koltin nodded, still catching his breath. Kadin, dripping wet, crawled to the edge and stretched out a trembling hand. Magic swam closer, letting her rub his head once more.

“He’s still our Magic,” she said, tears mixing with spring water on her cheeks. The bull-horned gator rumbled softly, a guardian forged from beef and love, bound to them forever by the clear waters of Cypress Springs.