The Beautiful Art Of Bull Leaping

Unlike bullfighting, bull leaping has no body count — and it’s way more insane.

My relationship with animals is rife with contradictions. I identify as an animal lover, but I’m not an animal activist. I have a rescue dog that I love more than most humans — but I still eat meat. I support hunting for food, but not sport. I understand that zoos are problematic, but that hasn’t stopped me from visiting them.

I do have some hard lines that I refuse to cross. I’ll never eat veal or wear fur or go to SeaWorld. I won’t wear makeup that’s been tested on animals. And I would rather die than go to the rodeo, run with the bulls or attend a bull fight.

My husband knows this about me, but that didn’t stop him from tormenting me mercilessly on our first trip to Spain. As we rode the train from Paris to Barcelona, he swore up and down that I told him I wanted to go see a bull fight. He told me he bought tickets months ago and they were so expensive and it was going to be such a culturally enriching experience. It was only after I started to cry that he copped to the joke and apologized profusely.

I stand by my overreaction. Regardless of its deep entrenchment within Spanish culture, bullfighting is horrifying. The Humane Society International estimates that bullfighting kills 250,000 bulls every year; Spain is responsible for 24,000 of those deaths. And Spaniards are by no means aligned on their feelings for the bloodsport — an online poll…