(Written May 16)

Driving home across South Dakota last summer, I was suddenly seized with determination to find a buffalo. I hadn’t been particularly interested in them before, but some of the best longings come out of the blue. I failed in my search, mostly because we were drifting along the far east ledge of the state, and didn’t think much about it afterwards.

When we set out across the plains this week, I was suddenly interested again. Plenty of skins and heads were strewn in tourist traps, but I didn’t find a live one until we hit Wind Cave National Park, which has a free-roaming herd. We pulled over, and I stood on an overlook watching four or five of them lazing about in the sun. The land below them was covered in prairie dog holes, and the prairie dogs were sunning themselves, scritching around in the grass, and holding spontaneous conferences between the holes. There were so many den openings that one wonders how stable the ground is, since it must be a honeycomb underneath. Acres and acres of prairie dogs.

The next day we visited Scouts Rest Ranch, and the guide told me they had just brought the buffalo in the day before. Four skittish young buffalo were in a corral on the far side, alternately huddled together and chasing each other around. They certainly wanted nothing to do with people.

Later on, I was going into a gas station when I saw out of the corner of my eye a buffalo about 60 feet out back, and people standing next to it. A pettable buffalo! I didn’t think there was such a thing, given all the park warnings. But when I actually went out and looked at it, it turned out to be made out of barbed wire.