Bringing Buffs Home by Colton Jones

A couple weeks ago, we started the annual process of bringing the herd home from the 30,000 acre Forest Service lease that the buffalo spend the fall and winter on. The buffalo’s circadian rhythm and maternal instinct draws the herd back across the Cheyenne River where some of the older cows have been having their calves for over 20 years. It’s not unusual to look down onto the river bottom on a March morning sunrise and see several hundred buffalo standing at the main gates that separate the government land and the ranch. 

The ideal situation is to get the entire herd home before the first calf hits the ground, which is typically sometime during the first week of April. That doesn’t always happen, and this spring was no exception.  

Following the first few days of giving birth, the cows tend to become recluses. And oftentimes, they exist in groups with other birthing cows and maybe even yearlings born the previous spring. The Forest Service land offers a bounty of rugged terrain consisting of  steep drainages, badland buttes and grassy sidehills peppered with cedar and pine trees. This year, a few cows had their calves early while on the Forrest Service (FS) lease. Our grazing permit with the Forrest Service determines when the herd goes out and comes off of the allotment. Our “off date” was nearing, which meant it was time to start combing through that rough terrain for those who didn’t come home on their own. 

Dan taught me years ago that handling buffalo Cows with new calves requires a great deal of patience and caution. He taught me to watch their body language for hints as to what might be too much pressure, possible escape routes and when it might just be time to stop and try another day. 

Because of how slow we handle the buffalo when moving them, it may take all day just to go a couple miles. I try to make that time an opportunity to learn something new, or observe something in nature I hadn’t noticed before because I’m in a hurry. Sometimes I will stop and turn the four-wheeler off and just listen and watch. What always amazes me is the tenacity of a calf that might be less than 24 hours old, and the intention in which the cow gives care to the calf. She is constantly checking in with her calf, smelling it to be sure its hers, guarding it with such purpose if it decides to lay down to take a rest, letting other buffalo know when they are too close.

As sandhill cranes kettled in the blue spring sky above, admiration for the mother buffalo washed over me. The unwavering dedication they have for the herd’s next generation was something that made me think of my boys.

After the herd made its way across the river and through the main gates leading to the ranch, I headed home to find that Jilian and the boys were thinking the same thing as I was. They had fishing poles and tackle boxes in hand. There was laundry to fold, a house to clean and e-mails to be written. But instead, we dedicated the rest of that evening to fishing with the next generation.