Close Encounters with Bison

“How much is that bison in the meadow?”

He’s rather adorable in this picture.  Reminds me of Macarthur in his younger, eager, puppy days.  That sort of sweet “I’m harmless” gaze that is completely bull in so many ways.

Harmless, perhaps, as long as he stayed on his side of the truck and hadn’t followed me down the road.

Dennis informs me he wasn’t so harmless farther down the road but a foot stomping, snorting, head wagging bull in rut.

From this distance (time and place) I still think he is kind of cute.

“You can’t rollerskate in a buffalo herd.”

Or in the minds of these creatures “you can’t rollerskate in a traffic jam.”

They were so determined, and so completely oblivious to the people in cars and campers leaning out windows to take photographs of the buffalo moving down the road.  An entire herd on the move.

I can hear the bison in conversation ” Pay them no mind.  We don’t acknowledge their existence.  If we ignore them they might go away. They are like flies.  We don’t recognize pests.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above.

Let me wander over yonder till I see the mountains rise.

Don’t fence me in.

This is all I really wanted, a photograph of bison grazing among the prairie dog mounds.

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