Short but true stories
Mid West Nebraska - the quest for little bull
It was still very dark out, hardly a moon at all. 2 am is a tough time to crawl out of bed, especially when it's cold outside. The quiet in our usually chaotic house made me all too aware of how early it was. I stepped across the hallway to the two younger girls' room. There is something about a sleeping child that always makes a parent stop and stare. Still, I had promised "Boo" that she could go along on the "adventure" as she called it this morning. I gently russled her from her slumber, as she sat up in bed, eyes half open, she cracked a toothy grin, gave me a hug, and grabbed her clothes. The most beautiful moments in life are always ruined by words, and this was too good to taint. I rubbed her bed head and gave her a quick pat on the back. She made her way down the hall towards the bathroom light and I headed downstairs.
Coffee is a must every morning, and this one more than most. As the pot brewed I put a cup of water in the microwave - Boo was going to need some hot chocolate to keep me awake this morning. I slipped my coat on and snuck out into the cold to start our little SUV for the drive ahead. Tom, Jeff j., and I had bought some buffalo out by Calloway Nebraska, and today was the day we were going to pick them up. The cold calm nights at our little farm always take my breath away and this was as good as they come.
Back inside Boo was at the front door as I made my way back in, white stocking cap on, scarf and hand me down winter coat. Her blue eyes and wisps of blond hair were barely visible under all her getup. She was 5 the past summer, and had started school this year. She grew up so much in the two months that she had been in school. She was almost a different kid, my shy little girl had caught the social bug. I pulled the cup out of the microwave and started mixing her hot chocolate. She peered just barely over the counter and smiled. I handed her the cup and she slid her scarf down and took a sip. The twinkle in her eyes was all the thanks I needed. We headed out the door to meet T and Jeff in Grand Island.
The 3 hour drive went quick. A kid on a sugar rush is just what the doctor ordered for the early morning drive. Most of the time Boo hopped from subject to subject, mostly before completing a thought, but her energy was contagious. We pulled into the truck stop and I took a quick look around. T was not here yet, so we had time for a quick nap. The sugar had worn off and Boo's eyes had gotten heavy. I took my coat and covered her up, we'd leave the engine running to keep the rest of the cold out.
I was sure that I had just closed my eyes when the purr of Tom's diesel right next to my door woke me up. As I picked my head up off the seat Jeff waved from the passenger window and his face lit up with a smile. This was the first buffalo run that Jeff was going to be in on, and T had talked him into buying a few with us. He was like a kid on a field trip. As Boo slid in the back seat with him I climbed in shotgun as T idled his truck towards the interstate. We had no more than pointed our noses west and T lit the fire under the hood when Boo started in on Jeff with her new found confidence and flirtaciousness. She started by poking him in the ribs once, bit her bottom lip, and then laughed when she knew he was in the mood to play. After that the only thing that held her back and saved Jeff was her seat belt. She tickled and poked and giggled the next hour away as Jeff teased her about boys and making her ride in the trailer. She ate up every minute of it and the twinkle in Jeff's eyes just egged her on.
As we headed west the purr of the diesel and humm of the wheels on the road proved too much for me, and I dozzed off again. T woke me up somewhere off of the interstate as we got back into the sandy hills of Custer county on HiWay 40. I had a general sense of where we were going and how to get there, thank goodness for the internet maps! Turns out the map was a little off though and we went flying past our turn. We back tracked quick and made our way to the first of two stops.
"Breezy" as he was affectionately known was a bear of a man with snow on top. He was the spitting image of St. Nick only a little thinner and a lot taller than I ever pictured Santa. Boo must have been thinking the same thing because her mischief stopped instantly and she got very quiet. Breezy went right to making us feel at home and welcome. He had an impressive set up for his animals and one of the biggest buffalo I had ever seen. Turns out it was a steer that he had tried unsuccessfully to tame. He was a magnificent animal. We were there in search of bull calves and a cow though, which he had sorted off and waiting for us. We loaded them uneventfully and headed further west for our last stop. We were in need of a heard bull for our aspiring group and had found what we hoped to be just such an animal a few miles up the road from Breezy.
Now Breezy lived just off a paved road in the sandy hillside, the ranch we were picking up little bull from was way off the beaten path. As T headed the truck and trailer onto the dirt road we were both glad the weather had been dry. The road was rough, we hit a top spped of 30 on the 6 mile trip. The ruts on the side of the road told a silent tale of how unkind this path would be had there been rain.
We pulled on the ranch to pick up our prize, which turned out to not be much to look at. Little bull was barely half bigger than the cow we had just bought, and the monstrosity of a corral system that he was in made him look even smaller. Still we loaded him anyway - we hated to make the trip for nothing - and struck up a conversation with the previous owner. Not knowing a lot about bison at this point we had a lot to learn and any info was always appreciated. As usual with our group the conversation went from serious to jovial in a hurry. By the end of it we had the option to trade little bull off for a step stool and a guarantee that it would put Jeff in the perfect position to inseminate our herd. We liked the odds with the new bull a lot better - no offense to Jeff! With that we all piled back into the truck for the rough ride to the hiway and then the interstate and home. The rest of the trip went uneventful. We stopped at Grand Island to get diesel and Boo and I hopped back into our SUV. While we waited for T and Jeff I got to wondering how many people had ever had the experience that we were a part of. I looked around at the calamity of the truck stop and thought to myself that it's too bad you can't see into dad's featherlite. I would have put high odds on us becoming the center of attention had people known what our cargo was.
We scrambled towards our home - trying to get there while there was still plenty of light. We had a herd of ten prior to the new additions. Having not raised buffalo before we weren't sure what to expect when you started mixing groups. Our cattle raising experience told us that there would be some head butting and pushing to figure out who was in charge and then all would be good. Having raised hogs as well though made us leery. Pigs will kill off other pigs that smell different - are introduced into their group with insufficient numbers to defend themselves. Buffalo were neither, so we figured if we had to put any down or chase any back in from the fighting that we wanted to do it by sunlight not in the dead of night.
We got home and decided that the best way to find out was going to be to pull the pick up right into the pasture and throw the door open and just let whatever happens happen. As we pulled in the driveway my house came to life. Kids that were half dressed in their coats and hats and gloves came runnning out into the snow to see the spectacle. I opened the gates and let T in as the other buffalo stood on the hill noses in the air smelling what I would presume to be a strange and yet familiar scent. I handed Jeff my loaded '06 in the event that things got out of hand and climbed up the side of the trailer. T made his way to the back and threw open the door and scampered out of the way. The buffalo stood still frozen in place for a moment, and then they all flowed towards the open door. Like Santas deer at Christmas they lept from the back of the trailer and sailed through the air - it was over 10' before they touched the ground I later measured out. Up the hill they went to the rest of our herd and I took a deep breath.
Turned out it was for nothing. As developed and "manhandled" as America and the world has become, the bison have been able to avoid that for the most part. They have a very natural herd or family instinct. Something that is very evident when culling animals. Something that is also evident every time that we have brought new animals home. Our new animals got a dose of "Southern" Nebraska hospitality as a few grunts were exchanged and everyone started eating in our newly formed herd. My best guess is that they visually size each other up and as long as the winner is clearly defined no fighting takes place and the pecking order is just agreed upon. It would make sense because fighting takes energy and could cause injury, both which could jeopardize the survival of the animal in the wild. A matter that takes intelligence which has been bred out of domesticated stock animals. With our new group getting along marvelously we all headed in for a bite to eat and a warm place to nap!