Buffalo Bob took the call on his cellular
phone. I caught the last of the conversation, “and if that don’t work
try a shot. No . . . not a tranquilizer, a 30-30. At least you’ll be
able to eat the meat.”
“Escaped
buffalo pose a problem,” he said after hangin’ up. “That fellow was
callin’ from West Virginia. I told him a trick that worked for me . . .
trolling.”
Bob explained that a few
years back he and Dave bought 12 head of buffalo from a grain farmer on
the plains of Colorado. Bought’em over the phone. The price was right.
They arrived in the small town of Flagler and took a motel room. Three
days later they were still tryin’ to gather the twelve head.
The
first day they built a trap out of panels in the 1/4 section pasture.
The trap was big enough to fit the U.S.S. Eisenhower. They baited it
with alfalfa and spent all afternoon tryin’ to coax, drive and trick the
suspicious buffalo herd into the trap. They ignored it like fat trout
in a well-fished stream.
That night
they called a noted wildlife veterinarian who had buffalo experience.
The vet arrived the next day armed with a tranquilizer gun and enough
ammo to put Yellowstone Park to sleep for a fortnight. They drove out to
the herd and re-enacted the stampede from Dances with Wolves, but hit
nary a buffalo. Concerned with the expense of the tranquilizer, Bob and
Dave built a buffalo blind outta tumbleweeds. They parked the vet with
his trusty musket behind the tumbleweeds and chased buffalo by him for
two hours. Unfortunately ‘Dr. Dead Eye’ couldn’t hit the top of his head
with a chafing dish. Not one bullseye.
The
third morning found Bob and Gary making excuses to the grain farmer.
“Well,” he said, “do what you can. They’re yours. I’ve got to go to
dad’s place and haul a dead calf to the dump.”
A light flickered somewhere in Buffalo Bob’s desperate brain...
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