| Life
with Buffalo Nations injects life into my veins! After
atrophying the fall away at college, it feels incredibly great
to do productive work, saving buffalo, every morning by strapping
on my skis. I squeezed onto morning ski patrol the first
morning I was here, and have since fallen in love with the routine.
Waking
up at 5 am... putting on all the warm clothes I own... skiing
out to the park boundary line in the dark... running in place
to keep warm as we wait for the sun to rise, while squinting
into the trees for the unmistakable silhouette of bison.
Then there's the horror in the pit of my stomach and adrenaline
rush when we realize bison are on unfriendly private land
and susceptible to the Dept. of Livestock's guns. I
was petrified the first time I had to haze bison with clacking
ski poles into the park. I had never been so close to
buffalo and was sure they would turn around and charge me
(the park brochure tells me so). But no, the buffalo
are too calm (or exhausted) to bother with charging us.
I've
still got a lot to work on, especially my nerves. It's
hard for me to function when the DOL is zipping around shooting
the cracker rounds right next to us.
Witnessing
the grace and dignity of the buffalo every day really crystallizes
how sick the DOL's agenda to herd the buffalo like livestock
to slaughter is, and how noble is this troupe of raggedy volunteers
who come to use their bodies to save the last wild herd.
Kristin
M. |
