Bison
Created | Updated Dec 5, 2007
The big female rolled around in the dust wallow like a playful calf. The pleasure of scratching all those hard to reach areas on her back and dislodging the irritating flies and ticks that were feeding there, took all her attention for a while. She was content. The small herd of mature females, mixed juveniles and young had spent a peaceful morning grazing in the isolated valley. She pushed her huge head backwards into the dirt and scraped it from side to side, making deep furrows with her horns, her body bending this way and that and her hoofs kicking in the air in an unmatronly display of ecstasy. Finally she finished her 'bath' and clambered ponderously out of the wallow.
It was getting hot. A few solitary trees by the bank of the shallow river offered shade. She ambled towards them. Her son was play-fighting with the calf of one of her older daughters, at the water's edge. They were chasing each other, occasionally butting their heads together. The soft thud of one of these clashes made her look round. She watched them placidly for a while. He was a fine, sturdy little bull. She remembered his father - simple memories of his scent, his massive size and strength. The scent of her little bull stirred the memory of her mate of last year. He had a similar smell. The memory and observations of the handsome little calf, combined to generated a feeling of satisfaction.
She would not mate with that male again. Vaguely, she was aware that he had gone. Something had happened to him shortly after their mating. She remembered the incident, which had involved the whole herd, more clearly than she remembered him or what, specifically, had happened to him. The weather had been getting colder. Driven by instinct, they had tried to migrate across an area that smelled strangely unpleasant. There was an attack. A puny species that seemed unlikely predators, but mounted parasitically on the backs of another sort of swift-moving herd animal, had pursued them. She remembered the smell of blood and fear, the thunder of many hooves and loud detonations that confused and terrified the herd. Many fell in the cold, slippery, blood-soaked mud. It was a strong memory of violent motion and the scent of death. The survivors had been turned back.
They had spent the cold season in the area where they had spent the hot season. It felt wrong. The food in the area had been depleted. The herd was small but the food was so sparse that they had to spread out thinly in order to find enough to eat. They were big, powerful animals, but their predators hunted in packs and could pick them off more easily if they could separate individuals out from the herd. It made her feel vulnerable. The size of the herd dwindled even further. Bulldozing the frozen drifts of deep snow, she found enough to sustain herself and the calf she was carrying through that hard time.
He was born in the warming season. She had secreted herself in a quiet, well-hidden little dip in the land, between a hillock and a stand of trees when she felt the first twinges of his arrival. The birth made her tired but she didn't rest until she had cleaned him and removed the birth waste that might attract unwelcome attention. They stayed there together for a while and she didn't introduced him to the herd until he was steady and able to run. Conditions were good. Food soon became plentiful. He grew quickly.
And now hot season had returned. He was becoming quite independent and she would soon be ready to mate again. She turned and walked slowly towards the trees. As she reached the cool shadows a large bull ambled towards her, sniffing the air. She ignored him and he walked away. But he didn't go far. He grazed nonchalantly a short distance away, biding his time. There wouldn't be long to wait. As the shadows lengthened, she left the shade to find a good spot for grazing. He looked up. She was more aware of him now. He was very big and strong and his scent was somehow making him seem even bigger and stronger. A younger bull approached but the mature suitor snorted and stamped. That stopped the young fellow's progress, but he didn't leave until he was chased. She watched all this with growing interest.
Her calf ran up the hill to join her. He wanted to suckle. She forgot about the big bull for a while. She would be ready soon. But not yet.
It was getting hot. A few solitary trees by the bank of the shallow river offered shade. She ambled towards them. Her son was play-fighting with the calf of one of her older daughters, at the water's edge. They were chasing each other, occasionally butting their heads together. The soft thud of one of these clashes made her look round. She watched them placidly for a while. He was a fine, sturdy little bull. She remembered his father - simple memories of his scent, his massive size and strength. The scent of her little bull stirred the memory of her mate of last year. He had a similar smell. The memory and observations of the handsome little calf, combined to generated a feeling of satisfaction.
She would not mate with that male again. Vaguely, she was aware that he had gone. Something had happened to him shortly after their mating. She remembered the incident, which had involved the whole herd, more clearly than she remembered him or what, specifically, had happened to him. The weather had been getting colder. Driven by instinct, they had tried to migrate across an area that smelled strangely unpleasant. There was an attack. A puny species that seemed unlikely predators, but mounted parasitically on the backs of another sort of swift-moving herd animal, had pursued them. She remembered the smell of blood and fear, the thunder of many hooves and loud detonations that confused and terrified the herd. Many fell in the cold, slippery, blood-soaked mud. It was a strong memory of violent motion and the scent of death. The survivors had been turned back.
They had spent the cold season in the area where they had spent the hot season. It felt wrong. The food in the area had been depleted. The herd was small but the food was so sparse that they had to spread out thinly in order to find enough to eat. They were big, powerful animals, but their predators hunted in packs and could pick them off more easily if they could separate individuals out from the herd. It made her feel vulnerable. The size of the herd dwindled even further. Bulldozing the frozen drifts of deep snow, she found enough to sustain herself and the calf she was carrying through that hard time.
He was born in the warming season. She had secreted herself in a quiet, well-hidden little dip in the land, between a hillock and a stand of trees when she felt the first twinges of his arrival. The birth made her tired but she didn't rest until she had cleaned him and removed the birth waste that might attract unwelcome attention. They stayed there together for a while and she didn't introduced him to the herd until he was steady and able to run. Conditions were good. Food soon became plentiful. He grew quickly.
And now hot season had returned. He was becoming quite independent and she would soon be ready to mate again. She turned and walked slowly towards the trees. As she reached the cool shadows a large bull ambled towards her, sniffing the air. She ignored him and he walked away. But he didn't go far. He grazed nonchalantly a short distance away, biding his time. There wouldn't be long to wait. As the shadows lengthened, she left the shade to find a good spot for grazing. He looked up. She was more aware of him now. He was very big and strong and his scent was somehow making him seem even bigger and stronger. A younger bull approached but the mature suitor snorted and stamped. That stopped the young fellow's progress, but he didn't leave until he was chased. She watched all this with growing interest.
Her calf ran up the hill to join her. He wanted to suckle. She forgot about the big bull for a while. She would be ready soon. But not yet.
