Crawling on my stomach through the grass, concentrating only on keeping my presence unknown and not damaging my Nikon camera, I temporarily forgot about my fear of snakes. It was a misty South Dakota morning and the sun had just started to push through the washed-out prairie sky.
Earlier, I had been out with Dan, gathering a group of renegade bison that had crossed a downed stock-dam fence. It is on these rare gatherings that I am discouraged from bringing my camera. I’d been busted a time or two before, but decided to risk it, and had tucked it safely inside my bulky jacket.
There were a few mothers with spring calves in the group of escapees, so we took extra care and swung out far behind them, hoping they would accept our subtle encouragement and turn back the way they had come. They took the hint and headed toward home.
Other than my vehicle breaking down, the event was a success, lasted a couple of hours, and I had the opportunity to sneak in a couple of shots.
Dan picked me up when he saw me on foot, and gave me an “aha” look when he saw my now exposed camera hanging around my neck. I reciprocated with a smile and a wink. We trailed behind the buffalo, and as we passed through the gate we noticed the “maternity ward,” a group of expecting and new mothers, about a quarter mile to the south. Tucked behind a plum thicket even closer, was a mother giving birth. Dan quickly turned in the opposite direction to remove any pressure she might feel. “Wait! I want to see this,” and asked him to slow enough so I could roll out. With his famous half grin he said, “What about all of the snakes, and how will you get back?” This time I threw him a winced ha-ha smirk and said, “I’ll walk.”
I reached the edge of the plum thicket just as the calf was being delivered. My breath was heavy, and my heart sounded as if it was beating out of my chest. The sun was bright and high now and hit last year’s straw colored grass with a glare that made it difficult to see.
I hadn’t been invited to this new union and felt a bit like an interloper. But, I was there, and I had an opportunity to take a photo of the prairies newest arrival. I crawled deeper into the thicket, thorns clawing at me with every wiggle.
I sensed that she sensed me, so I started talking to her very softly. The words were just a murmur, but I believed she could feel them. “It’s all right little momma. Good job. You’re so beautiful. I love you.” I watched with delight as she licked and nudged the little golden ball of fur up onto its legs.
My heart was still pounding and my face stung as the tears rolled over my thorn-scratched face. I needed to gather my emotions. I took a couple deep breaths, steadied my hands, blinked my eyes a few times, and propped myself on my elbows to take a couple of shots.
The new mother looked my way, so I stilled myself and buried my head into my coat. I waited, peaking out only occasionally for a glimpse. After the baby had nursed, the mother buffalo laid down for a well-deserved rest. The baby buffalo moved out in front of her and tried out its new legs, making small attempts at a leap and a kick before she grunted it back close to her side.
I slowly slithered out backwards toward a low crevasse. The ground had started to puddle so I rose up onto my hands and knees. Suddenly I noticed movement in the grass and froze in a panic. “Snake,” I thought. Simultaneously, as my mind was telling my body to leap 20 feet in the air, a Great Plains Toad exposed itself from the sandy soil. I collapsed back into the earth and allowed the dampness to fill my lungs, before moving away ape-like as if I too were coming out of the earth.
A version of Jill's story was printed in the May 2016 Patagonia catalog.
The Regeneration Continues! Meet some of 2021 new arrivals and their dear, sweet mums!
51 comments
The touching reminder of how nature and all things wild fill our souls like nothing else can. What a special moment you shared – thank you for sharing with us.
WoW! What an inspiring moment to have witness, to see this firsthand must be a very precious moment. Thank you for sharing this with us all…makes me feel like I was next to you and had the special privilege to see as well.
Who knew you have such gifts for illustrating in riveting fashion your own marvelous experiences in prose.
Nice story and pics. Really enjoyed it. Thank you. Bob
Thank you Jill for sharing this incredible experience. I began buying bison and following the tales and trails of the ranch after I read Buffalo for the Broken Heart and subsequently all of Dan’s books!
I was born and raised in Buffalo, NY and my first experience with bison was at the Buffalo Zoo. Even as a young girl I knew something was terribly wrong with what I was seeing. I began reading everything I could about bison. As an adult I finally saw my first free-roaming bison at the National Bison Range in MT. I cried. I visit SD yearly and have been to the Buffalo Roundup 6 times now. I would love to visit your ranch someday. All the best to you, Dan, and all at the ranch. Warm regards, Barbara
Beautiful reminder about Mother’s Day….forever.
Having been born and raised in NE it makes my heart want to come home. At 74 my memories of the open prairie, freedoms to hunt (when you ask promission) and gentleness of the majority of the people leaves me happy I lived those days.
WHAT A GREAT ARTICLE JILL!! Thanks for the memories……
Thank you SO much for sharing this moment with us!
Thanks for sharing this!! So beautiful!
Thanks for risking the snakes. Your poignant story and the photos were worth it!
I am in awe of the pure love and beauty of nature whenever you so graciously welcome me to your ranch. Jill, these pictures are absolutely amazing! Have you considered submitting this article and pictures to National Geographic (or- closer to home, South Dakota Magazine)? I hope you are all doing well, and give my regards to my dear friend Erney! I am healing up from yet another surgery, but the good news is that I am CANCER FREE!! I look forward to stopping in one of these days, Good Lord willing and if you don’t mind! Best Regards, Jim Peacock (the rugged rock-picker of the plains)
Love your adventures. Appreciate you being able to record them for those of us who love nature too. God is so good!! We are very fortunate to be able to participate in all His wonders. Thank you. Judie
What a beautiful a touching story… I have tears in my eyes just reading the article. Your truely do live a in a vastly different enviroment than here in New England. The Bison is such a majesic animal. Your fear of the Mother’s rejection of the calf and for your own safety is heartpounding!
Thank you Jill.
This brought tears of joy to my eyes, and how wonderful that you could get the pictures and share in the birth of your newest buffalo child. I am just dying to get up there and actually walk on your land and see the buffalo too. I am retired and my IRA is running low now, but I am working at getting a business going, so here’s hoping I will be able to meet you and Dan and Jillian and her husband in person one day. I have been eating your buffalo every day for 8 years now I think, and I might start buying it direct from you soon if Natural Grocers is not going to carry the buffalo stew meat any more. I was talking to the gal at your factory about that the other day, and she was telling me that you and Dan are often at the factory too. So my best to all of you, and keep up your joyful and wonderful work. Love, Don
What an honor to be given this experience,Jill. I share your tears at the joy of it. Thank, you.