By Craig Strong
Tough, untameable, and with energy and personalities unlike any other hooved animals, buffalo were the first grazers of the open plains. Slaughter of the great herds in the 1800's mirrors the decimation of the two legged tribes that depended on buffalo for food, shelter, clothing, and deep relation to the land. We white people have a terrible and tragic legacy to bear.
Rather than wearing this legacy as a psychic burden, Devon Strong embraced the native Lakota traditions, learned the language and songs, and carried on his own version of deep relation to the land, including the keeping of a buffalo herd. Tribal elder Dave Chief made him an honorary member of the tribe, and he became a pipe carrier and leader of ceremony at many lodges and events.
Part of Devon's enthusiastic and rebellious abandonment of American middle-class values included organic farming, which soon led him to biodynamic farming in keeping with the teaching of Rudolph Steiner. The spiritual nature of biodynamics merged with native traditions in my brother, and he broke new ground in connecting the spirit energy of animal, soil preparations, and human relation to our mother earth.
The alternative lifestyle and creative construction at Four Eagles Farm did not match or mix well with the cattle rancher neighbors or the state. Often the Buffalo Man found himself on the wrong side of the law when his headstrong herd were on the wrong side of their home-made fence. He always got them back (with bison lives lost on a few occasions), but fines, threat of lawsuits, and uneasy relations were ever present elements at the farm that refused to conform — to anything!
Devon spoke to his buffalo in ways beyond words. Sometimes with a drum, sometimes in song and voice, and sometimes in ceremony. Kills were made on foot with a spear following 4 days of preparations and prayers for a shared understanding of what was to pass. Always aware that death is an inevitable part of life, the Buffalo Man made the crossing in the same way as his animals, consciousness suddenly flowing out of his body with the life blood. His only regret being the mess left for those of us still living. One knows these things.
A cataclysm in my heart and soul has passed through me twice, leaving me changed forever in finishing my life without my brother. Once on hearing the news, and again the following night at Four Eagles Farm, alone. Now the tears come and go at irregular intervals, appreciated for the pain, accepted for the time, and set aside to face the impossible task of addressing the chaos left behind. No one will ever carry on the path he led, and no one should try, but we still must pick up the pieces.
The biggest and most pressing pieces are 17 animals whose combination of strength, speed, and independence is unmatched by any other animal that humans have called 'livestock'. They respected the fences my brother made as much by agreement as by actual containment. The buffalo knew their man was not on the farm anymore, and began 'acting out' by breaking out. Our good caretaker Jeff was run ragged chasing after them and returning them to Four Eagles Farm. Fortunately they respected Jeff, and knew where home was, and so were easily pushed back into their pasture - for awhile. Meanwhile, ranchers were getting irate and risk of collision with cars was growing; the local agriculture inspector was on our case, but considerate enough of the situation not to levy hefty fines on a daily basis when the animals were on the loose. Something had to be done and soon! Calls to nearby buffalo ranching operations informed us that the easiest, and perhaps only, solution was to kill them all and harvest the meat. While we seriously considered this, especially for the older and more dangerous individuals, it was clear to all our family and those close to the ideals of Four Eagles Farm that this would be horribly dishonorable to everything my brother stood for and believed.
I started a fundraising site to place the animals, my father invested in a lot of really good feed so the buffalo might be more content to stay home, Jeff put in extra effort to find the weak spots in the fence and repair them, and the rancher neighbors met and decided to help out for everyone's benefit by trying get the buffalo into their corrals for moving. Meanwhile, halfway across the country, Lakota buffalo herdsman Ed Ironcloud began a 1,500 mile trip out to Four Eagles Farm.
Then the buffalo stayed in their pasture for a week while we assembled and held a very real ceremony for the Buffalo Man. He was honored well in full Lakota tradition led by tribal elder Jeff Ironcloud.
The next day, after Ed Ironcloud arrived following a grueling trip including breakdowns and bad weather, we reviewed ideas for moving the herd to a corral two miles away. Panels were placed and plans laid on how they would move through the corrals into the trailer. There was concern that cow calf pairs might be separated if we did not get them all in the trailer, and concerns of older animals fighting or trampling the young. Still with many unknowns, at least we had a plan, at least there was something to try for. No one slept well that night.
The buffalo knew the land well from their many breakout experiences, but what they did not expect is to be chased out of their pasture, having always been put back into the pasture by the two leggeds. Jeff Ironcloud's prayers for a good day were cut short by some of the buffalo getting trapped by a partially closed gate, followed by the busy whine of the rancher's quad runners trying to round up the animals as if they were cattle. I knew we were off to a wrong start. Finally the buffalo left their pasture through a different gate and a procession of buffalo and herders started up the road, with vehicles parked at all the intersections to keep them on the route to the corrals. All seemed well until the herd was near the corral, where they could not see there was an opening into the corral since there were several rows of corral fence behind the open gate. The ranchers treated them like cattle in trying to push them too quickly and the animals responded by breaking through a barbed wire fence out to a rangeland beside the road. The cattle men were good on their quads however, and diligently got them back on the road, now coming from the other direction, but the same problems remained in them not seeing a way into the corral, and they panicked under pressure from the ranchers. The rest of the afternoon included several more fences torn out by the great beasts and a growing sense of failure among the people and anger among the ranchers. There was no agreement on what was to be done. By late afternoon we had given up and began a long, slow walk back to Four Eagles Farm. Everyone was cold, hungry, and discouraged by the time the herd peaceably made their way back to the land. The good elements of what appeared to be a hopeless situation is that no one was killed or hurt, the ranchers learned that these animals could not be handled as cows are, and the buffalo appeared well in spite of the fence breakouts and strange behavior of the two leggeds around them.
There was more talk that night of trying to load the buffalo from the dilapidated round pen on the farm, of moving them to a different corral, or of butchering the animals after all. We needed the Buffalo Man to show us what to do.
The next morning I drummed and spoke to the buffalo as they munched their morning bales of sweet grass hay, with no indication of trauma from the day before. A new plan had been laid by Ed to walk the herd to a different corral. I had strong doubts, but stopped short of losing faith. The ranchers were calmer today, and everyone worked in unison, everyone had their role. About the time the herd left their pasture I realized what mine was. I walked out into the field, sacred drum in hand, and began speaking to them in a language I did not know. The rhythm changed in accordance with the herd movements, and at times it was directed at the ranchers to slow down, but mostly it was to let the buffalo know that this was right. There was no pressure, only movement. I did not know where this new corral was, and for a long time the procession was hidden from me behind a hill. I followed a path I had never been on before, and knew I could not stop drumming. A Northern Harrier hawk accompanied me across the field, and showed me the direction they were going. I knew this to be my brother, who has visited me as raptors from time to time ever since that first night at Four Eagles. When I saw the buffalo and people again on a road a half mile off I knew they could hear me, and I realized that, for the time, I had become the Buffalo Man. The beat guided them in their slow pace along the road, around a corner and into the corral. I could not see the corral, but the rhythm changed entirely when they were in, and finally I stopped and walked slowly to rejoin my kind.
The ranchers looked at me like I was crazy, but said nothing when I used the drum to stop the animals in their desperate run around the corral perimeter and look at me. The corral setup was perfect for loading; when the buffalo ran through a wide chute looking for an escape they went straight into the waiting trailer, all 17 of them. Jubilation and congratulations radiated from the men, and drumming again calmed the buffalo as panels inside the trailer were closed to keep them from having too much mobility and hurting one another.
After that it was all business of moving them. Ed had set up a checkpoint in eastern California which could hold the herd for legal inspections before travelling on to Pine Ridge reservation. The weather had given us a two day break for this event, but heavy snowfall and ice have prevented their going farther, had the legal barriers not done so already. Fortunately, the human carriers have all made it back to their homes safely now.
And this, dear supporters, family, and real people of the land, brings us to the present. The buffalo remain in safe custody at Diamond Mountain Ranch, where the owners raise buffalo and have excellent facilities for holding them. The rest of their journey awaits both the weather and vet inspections, and is expected before the year is done.
Many of you are wondering what has become of the donations you have so generously given to this cause. I first thank you for what is nothing less than a miraculous unity in honoring Devon and what he believed in. I know he travelled far and wide in the west shearing sheep, shoeing horses, carrying native ceremony, and helping out all kinds of people in need. I did not know what a legend he was even in life, or how many circles of people he shared his time, energy, and spirit with. Anyway, in a nutshell, here is what has become of your contributions:
Total contributions to date (12/20/2015) $ 16,110
Take by GoFundme and payment processing, 5% -$ 805
Burial costs and Jeff Ironcloud travel for ceremony -$ 3,847
Travel costs buffalo Truck/trailer, fuel and repairs -$ 3,566
Truck / trailor rental use fee -$ 3,200
Travel costs for backup truck/ logistics -$ 1,000
Honorarium 'thank you' payments to ranchers -$ 1,200
Balance remaining $ 2,492
Remaining funds are to be expended in paying for vet fees and getting the herd back to Pine Ridge. Cost for their upkeep at Diamond Mtn. Ranch is $10/head/day or $170/day. Cost for transport back to Pine Ridge is likely to be more than we have, judging from the cost of getting out here and roughly a 2,200 mile round trip from South Dakota to Greenville CA. We will do it, somehow.
Others of you have asked what is their fate to be at Pine Ridge, after all this incredible effort to get them out there? I have never been to the reservation, but what Ed has told me is they will join a herd of about 80 animals on many hundreds of acres. Individuals will be taken in a way similar to what my brother did, with ceremony for the animals and for the herd, without bullets, and using all parts of the animal taken. We all die, it is the means and ways and relation that makes the difference between agribusiness feedlot unconscious death and one of my brother's herd. Health and help.