Last week we had a couple of journalists at the ranch. They had attended the “Custer State Park Buffalo Round-Up” about a month prior and were back out in “buffalo country” checking out how other bison ranchers operated. They arrived early at 7:00am with the Wild Idea harvesting crew, to witness the whole process. After 4 hours out in single digit temperatures, they came in for a visit over a nose to tail tasting of buffalo cuts. We talked about our beliefs and policies, our passions and motivators, and our greater mission of environmental sustainability, as we made our way through the buffalo dishes. They told us about their experience at the Custer Park Round-Up. Dan & I have never attended, but have heard that it’s really something, with over 10,000 people from all over the world in attendance. There is an art festival, and food vendors. Cowboys on horseback, in pick-up trucks and helicopter, are must to ride over the 71,000-acre park in search of the 1,300 head of buffalo. Whoopen’ and kia’en’ sounds fill the air as the cowboys bring the stampeding buffalo into the corral grounds. It’s really quit a spectacle! After they left, we buttoned up in full winter attire and headed out to move our herd of 300 bison from the 500-acre harvest pasture, into our biggest pasture of 1,000 acres. This pasture runs from the high flats, down through the old cottonwoods and along the river, then back up to the flat again in sort of a horseshoe shape kind of way. It is the pasture that leads into their 25,000-acre winter pasture, on the Buffalo Gap National Grasslands, where we would be moving them in a few days. During these last few days, we like to ride through the herd regularly, reminding them of who we are and where home is, before we open the gate that leads across the river. The polar vortex continued to linger. Snow fell in the stillness of the night and on the day we moved the buffalo onto their winter grazing grounds, the wind blew with blinding gusts of 35 miles an hour. Through the swirling white and with the aid of binoculars, we could see the buffalo gathering on the bottom ground, a perfect opportunity to lead them through the gate. We were concerned with drifts and getting stuck, but thought we would give it a try. We loaded the back of the pick-up truck with a bag of alfalfa cake (a hard compressed concentrated pellet of alfalfa and minerals), two cameras, and piece of cardboard for me to sit on. As we approached the herd I climbed in the back and Dan banged on the side of the truck in a native drum like fashion and called the buffalo; “Come buffers, come buffers.” I tossed the alfalfa cake out from the truck in a parade candy kind of way, as we slowly moved forward and watched the buffalo come. Dan would occasionally stop the truck to allow the buffalo to gather and if I could still myself from shivering, I would snap photographs as fast as I could. The buffalo trotted through the gate and got busy eating the grass that runs along the river. It must have been pretty good, as heads stayed down for sometime, before they seemed interested in continuing to the river. We arrived at the river and moved away to give them some space as they approached cautiously. There was no whooping or kiaing, only the muffled hum of the truck, and the click of a camera shutter, whirling together with …