Nov, 23, 2003
Today was that beautiful day that comes after two or three days of overcast, cloudy, snow-filled skies that reveal little or no sun, that features wind and low visibility all the while creating hazardous conditions for vehicle travel and anyone not prepared for that annual, rude introduction to a South Dakota winter. At times like this I marvel at the hardiness and resilience of the native wildlife.
In early October, as I was helping Sam Hurst move part of the buffalo herd (a splinter group that had not moved with the larger group) into another pasture, I watched a two-year old bull playfully romping with a calf of about 3-4 days old. A two year old bull can weigh upwards of a thousand pounds; the calf might weigh 60 pounds. The result of this romp is a broken bone, either the tibia or the fibula in the calf's right hind leg, just above the ankle. Since then I have watched the calf for signs of weakening or weight loss, and for the healing of the fracture. It is now late November, and the calf has grown in kind like the other calves his age. He stays close to his mom and keeps up with the herd when it is on the move. Of course he favors the leg but has learned how to accomodate the injury into his ability to survive with the herd. I saw him two days ago and think he may have re-injured the leg. He just doesn't give up.
The other day, perhaps 10 days ago, I noticed an older cow carrying her left foreleg. She lurched and hobbled along at the rear of the herd, losing ground as the rest of the herd walked away. I think the shoulder tendons and ligaments are injured; so the leg, which is not solidly connected to the rest of the skeleton, like for example our own shoulders, cannot support any weight. Well, I saw her two days ago and even though she still lurches and hobbles at the rear of the herd, she no longer loses ground and she can put a little weight on the leg so that the lurch and hobble are much less obvious. That's the hardiness and resilience and herd-bonding instinct of this most amazing animal, the American Bison.
But there are other animals that deserve our respect for their hardiness and resilience, also--actually all of them , but here is another example. The turkeys that hang around the ranch roost every night, no matter what the weather, in the tops of the cottonwoodtrees that help to shelter the ranch house from the severity of the weather. The trurkeys just seem to sleep through the storms and cold. In the morning about dawn they sail out of the trees into the driveway and begin foraging for food. It's as if it were summer to them. At least that's the way it looks to me. I hate to think of what it would be like spending a night up there in the topmost branches of the cottonwoods. There would be no sailing down to the driveway. I fear there would be a straight, dropping, forty foot descent followed by a sickening thud at the base of the tree. As my friend Erney says, "That would take the fun out of farming."
We sometimes neglect to consider what those creatures endure. We often don't see them under these conditions, particularly injured. But when and if we do, I hope we have a new-found appreciation for what they are. Perhaps we could learn, with more than a little help from LLBean, Eddie Bauer, or North Face, to be a little more like them, not quite so squeamish nor unduly threatened by the adverse conditions we encounter on an almost daily basis.
I hope the buffalo calf survives the winter; I'm almost certain the turkeys will. I will keep an eye on the cow and the calf and let you know how they fare.
Today was that beautiful day that comes after two or three days of overcast, cloudy, snow-filled skies that reveal little or no sun, that features wind and low visibility all the while creating hazardous conditions for vehicle travel and anyone not prepared for that annual, rude introduction to a South Dakota winter. At times like this I marvel at the hardiness and resilience of the native wildlife.
In early October, as I was helping Sam Hurst move part of the buffalo herd (a splinter group that had not moved with the larger group) into another pasture, I watched a two-year old bull playfully romping with a calf of about 3-4 days old. A two year old bull can weigh upwards of a thousand pounds; the calf might weigh 60 pounds. The result of this romp is a broken bone, either the tibia or the fibula in the calf's right hind leg, just above the ankle. Since then I have watched the calf for signs of weakening or weight loss, and for the healing of the fracture. It is now late November, and the calf has grown in kind like the other calves his age. He stays close to his mom and keeps up with the herd when it is on the move. Of course he favors the leg but has learned how to accomodate the injury into his ability to survive with the herd. I saw him two days ago and think he may have re-injured the leg. He just doesn't give up.
The other day, perhaps 10 days ago, I noticed an older cow carrying her left foreleg. She lurched and hobbled along at the rear of the herd, losing ground as the rest of the herd walked away. I think the shoulder tendons and ligaments are injured; so the leg, which is not solidly connected to the rest of the skeleton, like for example our own shoulders, cannot support any weight. Well, I saw her two days ago and even though she still lurches and hobbles at the rear of the herd, she no longer loses ground and she can put a little weight on the leg so that the lurch and hobble are much less obvious. That's the hardiness and resilience and herd-bonding instinct of this most amazing animal, the American Bison.
But there are other animals that deserve our respect for their hardiness and resilience, also--actually all of them , but here is another example. The turkeys that hang around the ranch roost every night, no matter what the weather, in the tops of the cottonwoodtrees that help to shelter the ranch house from the severity of the weather. The trurkeys just seem to sleep through the storms and cold. In the morning about dawn they sail out of the trees into the driveway and begin foraging for food. It's as if it were summer to them. At least that's the way it looks to me. I hate to think of what it would be like spending a night up there in the topmost branches of the cottonwoods. There would be no sailing down to the driveway. I fear there would be a straight, dropping, forty foot descent followed by a sickening thud at the base of the tree. As my friend Erney says, "That would take the fun out of farming."
We sometimes neglect to consider what those creatures endure. We often don't see them under these conditions, particularly injured. But when and if we do, I hope we have a new-found appreciation for what they are. Perhaps we could learn, with more than a little help from LLBean, Eddie Bauer, or North Face, to be a little more like them, not quite so squeamish nor unduly threatened by the adverse conditions we encounter on an almost daily basis.
I hope the buffalo calf survives the winter; I'm almost certain the turkeys will. I will keep an eye on the cow and the calf and let you know how they fare.
Reproduction of this material without written permission is strictly forbidden.
© Wild Idea Buffalo Company. All rights reserved.
Wild Idea Buffalo Company • P.O. Box 1209 Rapid City • South Dakota • 57709-1209 • 1-866-658-6137 • 605-716-0572