August 2010 River Ranch Diary

One of the most fascinating things I have found while working on this buffalo ranch is serenity. It does not come around like a pet dog and more likely remains obscure if actively sought. Serenity comes in stillness between the grunt of a cow for her calf and the movement of that calf toward its mother. It comes when my horse steps into the Cheyenne River and picks his way across the submerged stones, his hooves splashing and his concentration to keep from stumbling.

Serenity drops down when the last wire is tightened, the last staple hammered into place, the last wire clipped to the last steel post, and the last tool rattled into the bed of the pickup truck. My hand rests on the open door of the pickup while I drink some water and appreciate the shade of an old cottonwood tree and the cooling breeze pushing through the shade. The fence posts are straight; the wires are almost tight enough to tune. There is always noise in serenity: leaves rustling, birds whistling and chirping, gravel crunching underfoot. Movement abounds as well: rabbits, birds, insects, reptiles, antelope and deer, having been disturbed and move toward safe havens, even though not in danger from me.

Serenity slips into vistas, with the morning and evening light on the bluffs. The badlands reflect the sun and turn it into the amazing colors on the underside of clouds. Serenity slides from a distant view, across the herd of buffalo, and focuses on a calf nuzzling its mother. It is a Crocus peeking through the snow in late February, a summer morning with a Crested Prickly Poppy or a Bush Morning Glory in full bloom. It is the smell of sage rising as my horse’s legs brush against the leaves, the coyote lying in wait on the edge of a prairie dog town.

Serenity happens mostly when I am alone or a little ways distant from whomever has accompanied me on some job, errand, or mission. It happens almost always in the relative quiet of a someplace unsought; it comes quietly and usually by surprise. I sense it or happen to look up and see it resting along the top wire of a perfectly straight fence stretching away, or a flock of wild turkeys crossing peacefully in front of me, or the shadow of a Red-tailed Hawk silently crossing the sun above me. There is no anxiety then; there is no rush to whatever judgment may have been pending. There is no hurrying frantically to the next task, as it will come soon enough. For the moment, serenity is the color of a buffalo taking a dust bath in the sun even though all the others in the herd are moving past. Have a great day in whatever is your wilderness.