Bison Coming


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The plains have been empty for far too long. Tall grasses, as far as the eye can see, sway gently in the breeze. A few birds fly far overhead, now and then lazily swooping in for a closer look, then heading skyward again. Insects now then are seen, briefly, then all is empty again. The plains cry for the lost ones, and the cry, silent as it is, echoes loudly across the land.

Ah! There, in the distance! A small black, no, brown, dot appears over a small hill. The grasses sway in response, for they know who comes and they rejoice. The dot grows larger and larger and now it is more than a dot, for it is a hump, a hump with horns, and that can mean only one thing: the bison are coming. The bison are coming!

One by one, two by two, herd by herd, the bison swell back into the land, once again reclaiming their rightful place as masters of the plains, rulers of the grasses. Proud and noble they come back to the land and their rightful place. It is as it should be, once again.

This bison is in Antelope Island State Park, Utah. He may be alone, for now, but the bison are coming.

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