This weekend the Black Hills area was filled with Native American cultural events, in celebration of today’s Native American Day. This included a parade, celebrating “All Children Our Sacred”. We had to participate! We are very proud to have the opportunity to work along side many of our Native American friends and neighbors. Below are some photos of our crew and other participants. A special thanks to our crew members who were able to participate: Zach, Chris, Jilian, Colton, Isiahh, Aaron, Courtney, Lincoln & Kaitlin! Happy Native American Day!
It's a Baby Buffalo!
Finding the first baby buffalo of the year, in a thousand acre pasture with last years remaining four foot grasses, is a little like finding a needle in a haystack. The new baby was greeted by many of the other buffalo with licks and soft grunts. The mother tolerated a few at a time before pushing them off and welcoming the next bunch. This was a new experience for us and it was fantastic to witness. A close by, Short Eared Owl, kept a watchful eye over the exciting welcoming party. *Short Eared Owls nest in the Great Plains grasses. The mother kept nudging it along as she grazed, until it had to stop for a little nap. She allowed me close enough to get a photo, before she moved it along into the dusky night. Help us welcome Wild Idea’s first baby buffalo of 2015!
2014 REFLECTIONS
Reviewing and sorting through a years worth of photographs to select your favorites, can be a daunting, if not impossible task. So instead, I decided to use my memory of events that stood out to me this past year and then search for the images that would help tell the story. In short, it’s been quite a year! I hope you enjoy the pictorial review. The weather as always sets the prairie stage. We started the year off covered in ice and snow, the base of which started with the freak October 3rd, 2013 blizzard. Warmer than normal winter temperatures kept the land covered in ice and water with repetitive, on and off, thawing and freezing. By May, the melting ice and spring thunderstorms had the prairie running with water, and colored in a beautiful, vibrant green. We were fortunate to escape a little winter to attend a Sustainable Symposium in CA, were we had the privilege of connecting with notable, environmental movers & shakers, such as; Wes Jackson, Yvon & Melinda Chouinard, Alice Waters and Angelo Garro. For a couple of hours we thought we were pretty big deals! We shared stories over meals and re-charged our batteries with new found support from new friends. Later in the summer Dan & I presented at the SD Green Conference with Allan Savory and I made a trip to the Rowe Sanctuary to cater their annual fundraiser. More good times and memories for worthy, necessary events. The spring brought babies, including our first grandson and 3rd generation buffalo rancher, Lincoln Hosler Jones. Wild Idea customers, friends and college students stopped by for ranch tours, to see what we’ve been up to, as well as to get an up close look at where their buffalo meat comes from. Great conversations were had over buffalo meals, and some received a special treat of Native drumming & dancing, put on by one of our own artisan butchers, Cyril White Eagle. Perhaps some of my most treasured times was being out on the prairie, either by myself or with friends, trying to catch the magic of the light, view wildlife or identify plants. Because of all of our precipitation, it made for a great grass year, with wild flowers showing off in abundance. The wild life all seemed content in the prairies bounty too. And the light, if you are patient enough, usually never disappoints. A thank you shout out to Michael Forsberg and Angela & Urle Anderson. The demand for healthy proteins continues to be on the rise and 100% grass-fed/finished, humanely harvested bison meat can’t be beat. Wild Idea Buffalo Company is second to no one in this. In addition to our fabulous whole muscle bison cuts and premium ground buffalo, our in-house artisan sausage maker Valerie Flanagan created Buffalo Bacon! It has been a huge hit with customers and is a favorite in our house. We also perfected our 100% Buffalo Hot Dog recipe – still nitrite free and now skinless! They are fabulous! If you haven’t tried them – you should. A perfect, quick fix for new years resolutions. Dan’s latest book was released, WILD IDEA. A personal memoir, layered with family and the growing of a business, to help save the American Great Plains. His first review came from Kitty Blue. Then there are the bison, the beautiful, curious and majestic bison,to which we owe so much gratitude. Our wonderful summer and mild fall kept the growing season going and going. It was finally stopped with a snowy, polar vortex that moved in in November. It lingered for a …
National Bison Day
Happy National Bison Day! This Saturday, November 1st 2014 is National Bison Day. For the third straight year, the U.S. Senate has set aside this day to recognize and celebrate the historic and legendary American Bison, commonly known as the Buffalo. So, we thought we would take some time to reflect on the majestic Bison and let you know why we feel it is important for us to treat and raise each of our Buffalo with care and respect. American Bison, also known as the Buffalo, have played an enormous role in America’s history, much of which is overlooked. Bison were huge in number roaming across much of the American landscape prior to the arrival of Euro-American settlers in the 1700s. Native Americans revered the Buffalo as a symbol of their culture and used all the animal’s parts for a variety of purposes. They believed that every part had a purpose and this included forming the bones, horns, and hide into everything from utensils and weaponry to clothing. Over the next couple of centuries, the once dominant Bison herds rapidly declined to the point of near extinction due to excessive hunting. Historians believe that more than 4 million Bison were slaughtered during this period. Fortunately, before this important species was completely exterminated, the American government stepped in with measures to protect the few remaining animals. What followed was what many consider to be America’s first conservation success as the American Bison was slowly brought back from the brink of extinction. With the declaration of National Bison Day three years ago, Americans are finally paying homage to an animal, that is as much of an American icon as any other. Today more than 50 other organizations, businesses and tribes, supports National Bison Day as a way to celebrate the Bison.” All of us at Wild Idea Buffalo Co., LLC are thrilled that the Bison/Buffalo is finally getting the attention it deserves. Bringing Buffalo back to their native homeland on the Great Plains has been at the center of our preservation efforts. Wild Idea Buffalo Co., LLC was created in 1997 in an effort to support the preservation of the Great Plains and to offer consumers an alternative to the industrialized food system. The idea was simple: supply delicious, healthy, 100% grass-fed meat to consumers interested in sustainability. The Wild Idea continues today because of Americans like you who care about the food you eat and the world we share. We truly appreciate your continued support of our mission to provide America with this healthy red meat alternative. Wild Idea Buffalo Co., LLC Raised Better, Tastes Better
Spring On The Ranch
Spring is showing itself all around the ranch. Birds are pairing up to nest, flowers are pushing their way to the warming sun and our seasonal ranch tours have begun. Our first Wild Idea Buffalo customers arrived early last week, from Hawaii. They are all “Purium” sales associates and believe in healthy foods to complement the line of wellness supplements they represent. Although the weather was not very cooperative for our warm weathered friends, once we bundled up, we had a great time. We so appreciated their sensitivity to the land and the animals. They spoke to all, thanking them for being and for allowing us to be amongst them as we passed through. It is typical for all the other ranch animals to want to get in on company tours too. They posture and pose in hopes of receiving an extra pet, a handful of oats, or a little extra sprouted chicken feed. Most often – they get their way. Guests were expected later in the week, but in between I took some time to replenish myself and sit in the herd. I moved at a snails pace in the 4-wheeler and stayed positioned for long stretches of time, observing and listening to the language of their occasional soft grunts. Suddenly out of the corner of my camera lens, I noticed a tail, and my ears filled with hundreds of loud buffalo grunts. Buffalo tails raised to the sky as a coyote passed through, uneventfully. He was moving to fast to get a good photo, but I thought he looked very strange with a red fox like face. Later I was explaining this to Dan and when I showed him the photos, he figured it out. The coyotes face was covered in blood, evidence of its last buffalo meal, from a cow that had not survived giving birth. We have a natural approach in raising our bison and respect their wildness. All seem to understand that this is another layer in the circle of life. Calmness returned a minute after the coyote had passed. The calves nestled into their mothers, with some taking advantage of a little snack before their afternoon nap. Our next group of guests arrived and had tours of both the Cheyenne River ranch and the Conata Basin ranch. It is a great pleasure to be in the company of others that care so passionately. They energize our greater environmental mission. In addition to enjoying the ranches beauty, they were treated to a special mini powwow, put on by one of our artisan butchers at the Wild Idea Buffalo plant, Cyril White Eagle and friends. Our prairie spell was intensified by the hypnotic beat of the native drum. The children sang in their Lakota language and all danced with pride. The week moved quickly, and was filled with the steady sound of laughter. Meals were shared and savored, ideas were pondered, and new relationships were formed under the vastness of the setting prairie sky.
Uranium Mining
We love the Black Hills region of South Dakota. Anyone in touch with their senses is struck with the majesty and enchanting charm of these hills and prairies. The land and water are precious, and should be cherished and honored. Some, however, see this beauty and only think about what they can take – what is in that water and ground that can be extracted – how much money is it worth? A foreign-owned corporation, Powertech (one of 8 known uranium companies prospecting the region), is posed to start new uranium mining in the Black Hills near Edgemont. Powertech has applied for the first ever in-situ leach (ISL) uranium mining permits in the state of South Dakota. They seek (and very close to getting) permits for 12.96 million gallons of water per day ($0 per gallon) from Black Hills aquifers. To put that into perspective, this is much more than Rapid City (second largest in the state) uses daily. South Dakota remains in long-term drought. Our water is precious and finite. It should not be given away. The waste-water from this operation would be disposed by both pumping it back into the ground and spray irrigation over 1,000+ acres of prairie. Powertech has applied for exemption from the EPA Safe Drinking Water Act because the water cannot be returned to baseline conditions. Though they would “treat” it, the water would still contain elevated concentrations of dissolved uranium daughter products like radium, arsenic, selenium, etc., which are harmful to wildlife, grazing animals and humans. You may be interested to note that two years ago, in response to Powertech’s lobbying, the SD Legislature abdicated the state’s responsibility for underground water regulation. In addition, Powertech’s project plans also include two on-site processing plants to serve as regional processing mills to concentrate uranium into yellowcake. The Black Hills would then become a hub for trafficking uranium product. Accidents on these sites are expected, not to mention natural disasters. A little about ISL uranium mining: ISL uranium mining is a process of pumping a solution through numerous bore holes to dissolve the uranium and other heavy metals, leaching it out of ore-bearing rock. It is then pumped to the surface to be processed. Uranium mining is a boom and bust business, prioritizing short-term extraction and exploitation for foreign gain, over the lives of people and resources. We can live without uranium. We cannot live without clean water. If ISL uranium mining is allowed to take root in the Black Hills, the process would deplete local resources with little or no benefit to our local economy, community, energy production, and agriculture – while ultimately posing risks to all mentioned. It threatens natural resources, quality of life, public health, local economy, tourism, and agriculture. -Dakota Rural Action, Black Hills Chapter Campaign Statement It would seem like a no-brainer to deny permits allowing a corporation with no history of uranium mining to open the first ISL mine in South Dakota. However, they are very close to being granted, and would have been already if hundreds of people didn’t object. The Large Scale Mine Permit hearings start on Sept. 23 and the Water Permit hearings start Oct. 7, 2013 at the Ramkota Hotel in Rapid City. Please help us protect the water and life in the Black Hills. Sign the tourism petition (you don’t have to be local) and learn more at DakotaRural.org. http://org2.salsalabs.com/o/5706/p/dia/action/public/?action_KEY=13710 If you are local, attend the hearings. The board will hear public comments the morning of Sept. 23 – be there and make it clear this is a very bad idea. DRA is a grassroots …
Moving Buffalo
This past June we moved the Buffalo from one pasture to the next. Buffalo are roamers and have come to understand what an open gate means – new digs to roam and fresh grass. We believe in a gentle approach of simply opening a gate, offering a little incentive with cake (a small cube of pressed alfalfa with some minerals), and having a subtle presence on the back end. When babies are little we are very careful to guide in a very slow manner. The lead herd cow is usually the first to approach and once she has moved through the herd will start to follow. The babies stay close to their mothers and instinctively shoot to the outside. The wind was blowing on the day we moved them, which added extra excitement for the babies who frolicked, leaping through the air, bucking and kicking. A few stragglers held up the back end with the largest herd bull completing the move. They quickly joined up with the herd, and found their way to their new pasture. They other day we moved the buffalo again. What struck me, was not only their calmness with the babies now two months older, but the beautiful healthy pastures, still green and plentiful with grass, thanks to continued summer rains. The baby buffalo are now kids, in a varying stages of golden to black, with sprouting new horns. They are gaining independence, but will stay close to their mothers and remain in the family group until they are two years of age. They vocalized their happiness with their soft grunts and grazing noises. Listening to 300 buffalo eating grass is pretty amazing! We wrapped up our task under a pink sky of a setting South Dakota sun.
Waiting for Summer Rain
Last night the wind woke me about 12:30. It whipped the cottonwoods and I lay there hoping to hear it mix with the eerie, welcome lashing of rain against the roof. It has been a good summer but if we could just get another couple decent rains – just another inch or two while the days were still sweltering – there would be grass as the ranch moved into autumn, there would be excellent winter grazing for the buffalo, and enough old grass next spring for the grouse to find safe nesting cover. Jill and Henry, our English Setter, were in bed with me and they moved when I spoke. “Just a little rain,” I whispered to the dark bedroom ceiling. I wasn’t praying for rain, just asking the rowdy northwest wind to give us what she could. “Just an inch.” Enough to ease the threat of prairie fires and give the wild flowers another couple weeks to die a natural death. I’d spent most of the day talking to people all over the country on the telephone and in each conversation the topic of rain had come up: too much on the east coast, cold and gray; not enough in Texas, hot and dusty. Picnics had been spoiled and fans distributed to the guests at outdoor weddings. Everyone was concerned, but I wondered if anyone that I had talked to was laying in their bed talking to the ceiling and hoping that the wind was listening. At three o’clock there was still no rain but the wind continued to buffet the house and I thought I heard the rumble of thunder. But if it was thunder it was a very long way off. By three o’clock I was wide awake and straining to hear raindrops or, at least a clap of thunder. I turned on the BBC. But when I suspected that the sound of the broadcasters was covering the patter of rain drops, I turned it off to listen. Nothing. But through my closed eyelids, I felt a very distant flash of lightening. I counted to twenty-four and thought I heard a rumble. “Was that thunder?” Jill spoke from the darkness. “Or Henry’s stomach,” I said. “Is it raining?” “Not yet,” I said. We lay, breathless, in the dark. Between us, Henry rolled onto his back. The spring rains had come late but they had come. The grass had thrived and the land was mellow. But we were thinking of the year to come. Rain can be saved in the soil like money in a bank and the sounds that we strained to hear could not have been more important to us. It was three-thirty in the morning and all our senses were tuned to know if it would rain or not. We were not talking about a rained out picnic or an uncomfortable wedding. Last night nothing was more crucial than what the wind might whip up. Another flash of lightening and a definite crashing of thunder. “Closer,” Jill said. “Hush. Is that mist against the window?” Then there was lightening in all directions. We rose and went to the screen door to sniff at the thin smell of rain. We looked at our electronic weather station. “Four one-hundredths of an inch,” Jill said. “But it’s still coming,” I said as we went back to bed. The house filled with white light and the thunder roared. One, two, three lightening strikes in a row. Tree limbs broke and the electronic rain gauge …
A Day on the Fence Line
Heading east leaving Rapid City, High Way 44 shoots through the middle of a valley that lies at the base of the Black Hills. There are driveways every half mile that are accompanied by little houses with big green yards. The road ditch is kept mowed and the grass around the mailboxes that line the asphalt is always kept neatly trimmed around. Continuing down the highway past the turn off for the airport, the houses become more scarce, as do the driveways, big green yards and mailboxes. Instead, the landscape is punctured by a different kind of man made contrivance. A line of fence that races the blacktop extends beyond the horizon. In 1892 the birth of barbed wire fence sculpted today’s ranching practices. Consequently it also became a physical representation of private ground versus public ground, one individual’s property versus his neighbor’s property. For over a year now I have been working on a fencing crew that consists of two other gentlemen. Dusty Smith, a shy soft spoken kind of guy that stands about 6 foot tall and 200 lbs. His teeth glow white (when he actually does smile) due to his darkened sun tanned face that border his ivories. Terrance, Jill’s nephew, is the elder of the crew as he is nine years older than Dusty and me. He and I share a similar stature of about 6′ 2″ 220 lbs. He has jet black hair and a friendly face which is composed of jaw bones chiseled from stone. He is responsible for turning Dusty and me into his “competitively efficient” two thirds of a three man crew. We all wear the same apparel to work this time of the year, cowboy hat, white t-shirt, jeans, boots, and leather gloves. The three of us are currently tearing out miles of old barbed wire fence and replacing it with standard 5 strand barbed wire buffalo fence. Before the pretty new wood posts, shiny steel posts and tight wire are sunk in the ground and clipped up; the splinters of the old wood posts must be detached from the rusty wood staples in order for the kinked and tattered wire to be rolled up. We work down the fence line from one H brace too another in a consistent frog leap pattern that ensures that every steel and wood post is freed from the wire for removal. As we move parallel with the three strands of drooping roan colored wires, we read a sort of story put together over generations from members of each side of the fence. Rusty old style Hamm’s beer cans, Copenhagen lids tacked into the tops of wood posts, and an old steel tractor wheel that someone had tied to the fence to pull the wire down in a steep draw.These are all signatures of multiple generations contributing to the effort of keeping the fence erect. The process is tedious and tends to get boring. About the time we get to the quarter mile H brace I realize how silent the three of us have been so I usually try to implement a joke; “Terrance, why don’t we use fancy clips like these? I asked holding up a piece of old telegraph wire that undoubtedly ran the width of this country at one point and time but was currently being used to hold up a single strand of old barbed wire. They both look up at me with sweat weeping out of their bronze foreheads, they smile and chuckle and then return to their hunched over position of removing the wire from the post. All three …
"FIFTY" (This got a little long, but you only turn 50 once.)
It’s been said that life is about the journey and not the destination. I’ve always been kind of a destination girl myself and am often accused of burning the candle at both ends. As a friend of mine once said, “You are always trying to pack ten pounds of shit into a five pound bag”. I do not dispute either charge, they often remind me of a Jack London poem that I am fond of. “I would rather be ashes then dust! I would rather that my spark burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dryrot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of a man (woman) is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time”. My natural talents are in creating, in making people happy and in entertaining. Since I was a kid, I have been a participator. I knew that I would be a part of something, and hoped it would make a difference. After a brief unfulfilling modeling career, I turned my attention to what I knew best, food (now you know why my modeling career was so short); and started learning the in’s and outs of the hospitality business. For research and pleasure, I dined at some of the fanciest of restaurants where the food was marginal and ate in some of the dirtiest beer joints, where the food was exceptional, and vise versa. My entrepreneurial spirit caught fire and I soon took off trying to create/make my own life. Although it was often at my expense, it was a great ride. I have had the opportunity to cater all kinds of events, from Baby Showers to Weddings to Film Sets, for Senators, Actors and Cardinal’s. I have owned/operated 3 (at the time), cutting edge restaurants, each with their own successes and failures. All of this seemed to fit with my plan. What I did not ever think, was that at the age of 50 I would wear a hairnet, a hardhat and butchers frock. But don’t let the outfit fool you – this is important stuff. Being a dairy farmers daughter, big landscapes and hard work were part of my genetic make-up, so it was easy to join Dan in his quest to restore/preserve our ranch back to health, and hopefully impact others to do the same. Although this too has often been at our expense, it has been worth every penny and has also been quite a ride! I’ve had the opportunity to: move buffalo on horseback, assist in creating a moveable harvester that would provide humane harvest of animals, develop cooking techniques for grass-fed meat, open a processing plant, get to know some of the coolest conscious carnivores on the planet, and watch the transformation of what care of environment and of animals can do for a landscape. It’s good work – if you can get it! In addition to all the above, I have a great family, a handful of good friends, two kids and a son in-law that I’m crazy about and who are crazy about me too. And, I’ve had the great adventure of running around with Dan O’Brien. Dan has also loved my children and has been a true father in every sense of the word. Thank you Dan. This Father’s Day, on the 16th I will turn 50! Woop, Woop! And before I blow out the brilliant blaze of 50 birthday candles, I will …
Frog Symphony
I have heard Chorus Frogs every spring for my entire life, but I never saw one until the May of 2008. I was following Mike Forsberg around southeastern Montana in search of stories and photographs for Mike’s book, GREAT PLAINS, America’s lingering wild. I can’t remember what our objective was but we were in the middle of an enormous pasture and we were walking. It takes a long time to walk anywhere with Forsberg because he stops and looks at everything. When you walk with any good photographer what you are really doing is wandering. So I was wandering around southeastern Montana with Mike Forsberg on a beautiful spring afternoon taking pictures of flowers, clouds, rusty barbed wire fences, and windmills when the faint sound of Chorus Frogs drifted over a hill. The vocalization of a Chorus Frog is a little like a variety of small frogs known collectively as “tree frogs and their allies.” The Chorus Frog must be an “ally” because they are often found where there are no trees for miles. That was the case that day in Montana – no trees, just grass and a little wind. The sound of the frogs blended in with the rustle of the wind and the songs of prairie, ground nesting birds that were newly back from their winter migration. Male Meadow Larks, Bobolinks, and Buntings were setting up territories and serenading the females with all their hearts. Probably the singing of the Chorus Frog had been blending with the ambient sounds for a while before we even noticed it, but as the afternoon wore on, the sound intensified until Mike couldn’t stand it. “Have you ever seen one of those little devils?” I shrugged. “No. I’ve never even looked for one.” In fact, Chorus Frogs are such a commonfeature of the Great Plains that I had never even thought much about them. Since I could remember, they were a constant in the soundtrack of my spring existence. When we walked over the hill and found a small stock-pond created by adikebuilt across a little draw. Spring runoff had filled the pond and the Chorus Frogs were doing the amphibious version of what the birds were doing. Their shrill voices seemed to rise from the water’s edge of the entire pond. My Peterson Field Guide to Western Reptiles and Amphibians describes the sound of the Chorus Frog as prreep, prreep, but that description does not do it justice. It is an insistent sound when you concentrate on it but has the ability to recede in your consciousness until it is barely noticeable. The pond was alive with singers and we crept, shoulder to shoulder, up to the water where one particularly boisterous frog was sounding off. We moved like a pair of blue herons, very slowly, raising high and planting gently one foot at a time. When we got to the edge of the pond the sound was gone and I looked carefully, expecting the frog to leap into the water and disappear. There was no leap and splash so we bent over and squinted along the grassy edge. Still nothing. He must have heard us and took off, so we split up and started off in search of the next frog. But we had only gone a few feet when the first frog started up again – exactly where we had been looking. We went back but still saw nothing. Other frogs were singing just a little way along the water’s edge so we moved off again in opposite directions. I was intent on sneaking up on one before …
Spring Time Chorus
Last Saturday evening my parents, Colton and I took the time to drive through the buffalo herd. Words cannot describe how incredible that hour and half was. Little buffalo calves were scattered throughout the pasture. It is always a joy to see those little orange balls of fluff running and bucking at their mother’s side. We sat in silence to take it all in. The setting sky, soft buffalo grunts, and the actions of the little calves could easily hypnotize someone for hours. One thing that was out of the ordinary was an amplified chorus of frogs from the nearby dam. It caught me by complete surprise as spring has just finally settled in at the Ranch. Much needed moisture has filled the dam and has in turn, brought life back to it. This dam sat silent all of last year due to lack of moisture which left it dry. The noise coming from the community of frogs was a symphony of spring arrival. In talking with Dan we believe that the Western Chorus Frog (no bigger than a thumb nail) made up the spring symphony. Below is a short video – meant more for audio and a picture of this incredibly tiny but vocal frog.
Baby Buffalo & Blizzards
Last week we were lucky enough to get a blizzard. It’s very dry here and at this point we aren’t too particular in how moisture comes. We were also expecting to see our first calf at anytime and although we received 20″ of snow we weren’t too concerned. Bison evolved in this country and are well adapted to weather extremes. There is a theory that bison can hold off giving birth until after a storm has passed. We’re unsure if this is fact, but the morning after last week’s blizzard, we got our first glimpse of this year’s first baby. Mother and baby are doing well. Dan brings hay to supplement the lack of grass. I tag along to get photos of the herd and a glimpse of the new babies. The new mom’s remove themselves from the main herd and set up what we call “the maternity ward”, complete with new and expecting mothers. Within a few days we had 5 baby calves, and another blizzard on the way. The snow came heavy last night without wind, frosting the landscape all the way to the horizon. I grabbed my camera gear this morning and headed out with Dan for the morning hay feeding. The weight of the snow quiets the ranch to where all you can hear is your heart beat and the soft grunts of the buffalo. They seem undisturbed in their warm down, wooly coats. While Dan rolls out 2 tons of hay, I go off in search of the maternity ward to insure that all is ok. I find them content in a shallow wooded draw. Babies close to their mothers, until the little ones take off, leaping occasionally on their new wobbly legs! The mothers stay close behind, nudging them further into the draw and out of my view. A great morning!
Free Roaming Buffalo
Two weekends ago, I took these pictures while a group of us were guiding a respectably sized herd of buffalo back to pastures that lie between the Cheyenne River Ranch and the Cheyenne River itself. For the last five and a half months these animal’s temporary home has been an ever changing landscape, comprised of windy creeks, badland buttes and open prairies surround by walls of steep hills that are peppered with cedar trees. As we moved the herd, we watched them float across the landscape. They knew where every creek crossing and green patch of grass was. Although some of the older cows didn’t seem to be in a hurry to head back to the other side of the river, they still moved at a pace that showed purpose. These cows will soon begin to gather in maternity wards in preparation for spring calving. The new calves will spend the early months of their life in pastures that lack the buttes, creeks, and steep draw banks. Instead, they will take their first shaky steps on land that seems to extend to the horizon. As spring turns to summer, the new calves will venture around the wide open country as they follow the rest of the herd. Just as they start to become familiar with the terrain, the time will come for them to head out with the rest of the herd for life on the other side of the river.
April Can Break Your Heart
The month of April always gets me thinking about T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Wasteland. Well, not the whole poem. All I can ever remember of The Waste Land is the first four lines. It is the part we all know: April is the cruelest month. Breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain It is easy to visualize those lilacs coming to life, the dried-out roots swelling with the rain. Anyone who ever had anything to do with a garden understands what Eliot is getting at. He’s saying that the weather in April can break your heart. You get to remembering how wonderful spring can be and – BANG – you get a foot of snow. That’s what I figure the first four lines of T.S. Eliot’s famous poem are all about. I have no idea what the next four hundred and thirty-two lines mean but they seem to be describing a land and a life that I do not know. Because I am a rancher on the Great Plains I know about longing for rain in the month of April and I know that, in the spring of 2013, the lack of moisture out here is a matter of life and death. All winter long we knew things were dry and we knew that we had to get some rain this spring. There was very little rain last summer and nearly no snow all this winter. People keep trying to laugh it off. “She’s going to break loose this spring – wet snow, rain. Hell we’re only one good storm away from banner year.” I didn’t sleep much all winter. I’d go to bed early and sleep until midnight or one o’clock. I’d get up, have a cup of tea, then go out onto the cold deck and look up at the sky. Every night my uplifted and hopeful face would be met by a billion stars. I don’t recall anything but clear, cold, cloudless skies. Some nights I’d read until three or four in the morning. When sleep finally came it was short-lived and fitful, loaded with visions of brutal winds driving the dry and dusty pastures that the buffalo absolutely need. I worried that the stock pond where the buffalo drink during the months when their calves are born held only a few inches of water. I rolled on the couch, looked at the ceiling, and promised myself that I would go out the next day and check the water level but when I awoke, groggy and a little sick to my stomach, I would be too sluggish to even leave the house. I had a hard time working and ate everything I could find. March came in like a lamb and went out like a lamb. We don’t have ground hogs out here and the prairie dogs were no shows. No one wanted to predict what the spring and summer would bring. We got some wind and an inch of very light snow that was dry as talcum powder. By the time April arrived I was a wreck, pale white, ten pounds overweight, and no relief in sight. All winter long I knew that there was a terrible crunch of work ahead of me. We started bringing the buffalo in from their winter pasture in the last week of March. I was on an ATV all day long for five days in a row and we got seventy-five percent of the buffalo rounded up before it became apparent that there would no spring runoff and so no …
Bison Tenderloin Steaks at the White House
Because South Dakota bison steaks were the center of the plate for the 2013 Inaugural Luncheon, I was asked by a local newspaper to re-create the Bison portion of the menu. After reviewing the menu and the recipes, I decided to give the whole menu a try. Below are each of the recipes in their original form, with my notes in italics. It was great fun and a wonderful learning experience. I hope you enjoy some of the recipes too and have the opportunity to create your own Inaugural Meal, presidential or otherwise. Cheers! Jill Bison Steaks (serves 4) Due to a blizzard, outdoor grilling was not an option. I prepared steaks as listed below, but replaced minced garlic with garlic powder, because it will burn. I seared the tenderloin steaks in a 500*+ cast iron skillet for 3 minutes each top & bottom, and seared the sides until just brown, about a minute total. Remove steaks and cover, allowing to rest for 5 minutes before serving. I did not use hickory, as indoor cooking did not allow. Although I have not tried hickory smoked tenderloin, with the other flavors would not probably use. Ingredients 4 each bison tenderloin, 5 oz 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil 1/4 tablespoon garlic, minced 1 tablespoon rosemary, fresh, rough chopped 1 tablespoon kosher salt 1 teaspoon cracked black pepper 1 quart hickory wood chips, for grilling Preparation Marinate bison steaks overnight with oil, garlic, rosemary and black pepper. Remove the steaks from the refrigerator, remove the large pieces of rosemary and then season with salt and pepper on all sides of bison. Allow the steaks to sit at room temperature for 20 minutes to allow the salt to dilute and penetrate the meat. For grilling of the steaks, you will need to soak the wood chips in warm water for 30 minutes prior to grilling. The wood chips should be added to your charcoal 5 minutes prior to grilling to allow them to burn and produce the necessary smoke you will need for the flavor in the steaks. Grill steaks on each side for approximately 5-8 minutes for a medium rare steak, depending on thickness of the pieces. Remove from grill and allow to rest for 5 minutes prior to serving. Wild Huckleberry Reduction I made my own demi glace, used blueberries instead of huckleberries (very close to the same), but otherwise followed the recipe. The recipe states to use the blueberries when cooking and when finishing, I used them when cooking, but would add a few at the end for presentation. In making other like fruit sauces, I have found that tarter fruits such as chokecherries or plums, complement the grassiness of the meat a bit better, allowing the real meat flavor to shine through. I would also omit finishing the sauce with butter and chocolate. Although the sauce was very good, I might save it for a fuller bodied roast or cut. Ingredients 4 ounces veal demi glace, can be purchased at gourmet markets or online 1 cup huckleberries, fresh (when in season) or frozen 1 teaspoon bitter chocolate 1/2 tablespoon butter 2 cups port wine 1 cup mirepoix, (medium dice of carrot, celery, onion and leek) 1/2 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil Preparation In a heavy sauce pot, sauté mirepoix for 8 minutes on med heat. Add the port wine, 1 cup of the huckleberries and demi glace allowing this to reduce by half. Strain through a sieve and return to a clean sauce pot. Prior to serving bring sauce to simmer and add the chocolate, huckleberries and butter. Serve Pureed Butternut Squash This dish turned out very nicely. I followed per instructions and seasoned with a little more salt and a squeeze of lemon juice to …
Wedding Pictures!
Below are a series of photo’s from Jilian & Colton’s wedding that we wanted to share with you. It was a fabulous ceremony and reception, but certainly not without it’s glitches or unexpected events, (like the 70 mile an hour wind that came through). Luckily we had mostly everyone in the barn by then, and carried on into the early morning hours. The pictures capture a few of the highlights, including the ominous sky that brought the wind. Photo Credits: Bonny Fleming – BonzEye Photography and Jessica Hanson
The Caring of Buffalo
On December 28th, 15 buffalo arrived at the ranch. There was one older cow, nine just turned yearlings, and five orphaned orange calves. The youngest was only a couple of weeks old. They had come from a farm that kept them as a novelty item to their operation. The prices were high for their mothers, so they sold them off, leaving the babies and yearlings motherless. Our friend Duane Lammers had heard about them, and told Dan. And as if it were 15 years ago, Dan said “I’ll take em’.” (Dan started his herd 15 years ago with 13 baby buffalo). Much like before the large trailer pulled up to the corrals and the buffalo, trickled out one by one. They looked real tough, a few emaciated. The yearling’s coats were scruffy, and their bones stood out from beneath their prematurely shedding fur coats. It would be a big job to keep them alive, and offering them a chance at life on the prairie.
Wild Idea Buffalo Featured on NPR
After a long hiatus, we are bringing back the Food and Land blog on the Wild Idea Buffalo site. Please come back and visit this space regularly and we promise to entertain and enlighten you with news from the Great Plains, photos from the Cheyene River Ranch, relevant stories in the news on food politics, and some delicious recipes. The first post we wanted to share in the re-launched blog was about a story that NPR did right before Christmas. South Dakota Public Radio did a story on the booming buffalo market, which featured Wild Idea Buffalo with interviews of Dan and Jill. The story ended up being picked up by NPR nationally, and we started getting calls from around the country from old customers congratulating us, and new people who wanted to learn more of the story about the little buffalo company on the prairie. For those of you who did not hear the story, here is a link to it on the NPR web site. South Dakota Buffalo Farmers Relish Bison Meat Boom
Driving through South Dakota
I left the ranch early Sunday morning for my trip across the state to join Dan in Northfield MN, where he is teaching at Carleton College. Driving out I took in the latest of what spring had brought to the ranch, the scent of plum blossoms, 3, 2” tulips and a bunch of yellow daffodils waved goodbye. The buffalo were close to the road, and it gave me on more chance to glass them to check for the first baby buffalo. There were none in sight. The morning light was spectacular though on the Cheyenne River Breaks and through the Bad Lands. A stop at Wall Drug for the best donuts ever, (I am very serious about my donuts), and I was off on I-90 were the road flattens and the prairie stretches out for miles. The snow fall and the rains have been good to the prairie grasses, and the animals grazing in them looked quite content. Just as you become satiated with the prairie, you are treated to the intermezzo of the great Missouri River. My god, this is beautiful country, I thought. Dropping back down into the mixed grass prairie, the landscape becomes a patchwork quilt of farming and grass, still beautiful in the colors it offered. The grasslands lessened the closer I got to Minnesota. Farm ground had taken over, leaving only .1% of the native tall grass prairie intact. But, Minnesota can really grow stuff. Although the crops are not yet up, this is evident in the 3’ high tulips. We have settled into the charming little town of Northfield and the peaceful Carleton Campus.We communicate daily with Wild Idea Buffalo and ranch happenings. Our latest update …….5 baby buffalos! Can’t wait to get home!
Fall Bird Hunting & Prairie Harvest Green Chili Stew
I always look forward to this time of year. Our temperatures have dipped below 20*, and there is something about cold mornings that make me hungry for breakfast sausage and a stack of pancakes, with REAL Maple Syrup. Breakfasts like these are consumed at our house on mornings before Dan goes bird hunting, for Grouse or Pheasant. One of our favorite dishes from falls hunting, is my rendition of Green Chili Stew. Although I use grouse, pheasant or partridge – chicken can be substituted. Enjoy!