making a ring around the smaller animals, protecting them.
The stallion decided to stop and speak to the great bull, the one who appeared to be the leader. “My name is Cherokee. This is my friend, Sunee. We are following the sun in search of my vision. Are you what is called ‘buffalo’?”
The animal stomped one hoof, lowered and
shook his head.
“We mean you no harm,” said Cherokee, backing up several steps. “We only came to get a drink, if you will permit it.”
The buffalo coughed once, then twice. “Get your drink, then go quickly. Man is near. When that is so, he chases and hurts some of us. Be ready to run,” he added gruffly.
“Thank you,” said Cherokee. Sunee didn’t think he was being kind, but followed Cherokee down to the river. Just as they lowered their noses into the water, they heard terrible yells and shouts. A great thunder of hooves began, kicking up dust and blinding them.
Just as the old buffalo had warned, Man had arrived! A buffalo can run nearly 40 miles an hour, so with tails up and heads down, they ran as quickly as they could. Cherokee and Sunee were forced into the water by the large brown bodies. Bumped from all sides, the horses slipped into deeper and deeper water, trying to get out of the way.
Cherokee and Sunee heard sharp, cracking noises, like branches breaking from trees during an ice storm. The only other sound was the thunder of hooves as the buffalo raced away. It was a long time before the valley was quiet once again.
The young stallion and his mare were still standing in the water many hours later. They could not tell if it was dark because of the dust from the ground, stirred up by the hooves of so many animals, or if night had fallen. Cherokee lifted his head, and turning his body from side to side, he read the scents of the woods and plains, just as his father had taught him. He smelled blood.
“I want to get out of the water,” whispered Sunee.
“Stand still a little longer,” warned Cherokee. “There is still danger.”
Soon a half moon rose and lighted up the night sky and he could see a little better. The young stallion snorted. What he saw was very disturbing. He saw hundreds of mammoth brown bodies lying on the ground. Many of the animals they had seen just hours ago, eating and drinking and caring for their young, were dead. There was nothing else to see. Not even Man.
“Come, Sunee,” whispered Cherokee
Sunee was very sad. “Why does Man kill, Cherokee?”
“Perhaps someday we will find an answer,” he replied. “Follow me now and we will try to find a place to rest until morning.”
Slowly they walked toward the dark wall of trees, trying not to look at all the destruction Man had caused.
“Who-whooo-Whoo,” they heard.
“Who is there?” asked Cherokee.
“It is I, your friendly owl,” came the reply. “Remember we just talked a little while ago.”
“Oh, yes,” cried Sunee. “I am so glad you are here. Where are you?”
“Up in this tree, just ahead of you. I am on the lower branch. See?”
“Yes, I see you,” said Sunee. “Are we safe
now?”
“Man will be back,” replied the owl.
“But I thought he was gone,” she said.
“Only for the night,” answered the owl. “He will come back tomorrow to cut up the buffalo. He will take the parts he wants and leave the rest to rot.”
“But why does he kill?” she asked.
“It is a source of what Man calls money. The buffalo hunter cuts out the tongue of the buffalo, dries it and sells or trades it at trading posts. They take off the skins to make robes and blankets.”
“But what of the rest of the buffalo?” asked Cherokee.
“It is left to rot on the ground,” answered Owl sadly. “It only happens twice a year. Once in the spring and once in the fall.
“For thousands of years,” he continued, “the Indians have had a close relationship with the buffalo. Legend has it that when the Indian treated the buffalo with respect, they allowed themselves
The stallion decided to stop and speak to the great bull, the one who appeared to be the leader. “My name is Cherokee. This is my friend, Sunee. We are following the sun in search of my vision. Are you what is called ‘buffalo’?”
The animal stomped one hoof, lowered and
shook his head.
“We mean you no harm,” said Cherokee, backing up several steps. “We only came to get a drink, if you will permit it.”
The buffalo coughed once, then twice. “Get your drink, then go quickly. Man is near. When that is so, he chases and hurts some of us. Be ready to run,” he added gruffly.
“Thank you,” said Cherokee. Sunee didn’t think he was being kind, but followed Cherokee down to the river. Just as they lowered their noses into the water, they heard terrible yells and shouts. A great thunder of hooves began, kicking up dust and blinding them.
Just as the old buffalo had warned, Man had arrived! A buffalo can run nearly 40 miles an hour, so with tails up and heads down, they ran as quickly as they could. Cherokee and Sunee were forced into the water by the large brown bodies. Bumped from all sides, the horses slipped into deeper and deeper water, trying to get out of the way.
Cherokee and Sunee heard sharp, cracking noises, like branches breaking from trees during an ice storm. The only other sound was the thunder of hooves as the buffalo raced away. It was a long time before the valley was quiet once again.
The young stallion and his mare were still standing in the water many hours later. They could not tell if it was dark because of the dust from the ground, stirred up by the hooves of so many animals, or if night had fallen. Cherokee lifted his head, and turning his body from side to side, he read the scents of the woods and plains, just as his father had taught him. He smelled blood.
“I want to get out of the water,” whispered Sunee.
“Stand still a little longer,” warned Cherokee. “There is still danger.”
Soon a half moon rose and lighted up the night sky and he could see a little better. The young stallion snorted. What he saw was very disturbing. He saw hundreds of mammoth brown bodies lying on the ground. Many of the animals they had seen just hours ago, eating and drinking and caring for their young, were dead. There was nothing else to see. Not even Man.
“Come, Sunee,” whispered Cherokee
Sunee was very sad. “Why does Man kill, Cherokee?”
“Perhaps someday we will find an answer,” he replied. “Follow me now and we will try to find a place to rest until morning.”
Slowly they walked toward the dark wall of trees, trying not to look at all the destruction Man had caused.
“Who-whooo-Whoo,” they heard.
“Who is there?” asked Cherokee.
“It is I, your friendly owl,” came the reply. “Remember we just talked a little while ago.”
“Oh, yes,” cried Sunee. “I am so glad you are here. Where are you?”
“Up in this tree, just ahead of you. I am on the lower branch. See?”
“Yes, I see you,” said Sunee. “Are we safe
now?”
“Man will be back,” replied the owl.
“But I thought he was gone,” she said.
“Only for the night,” answered the owl. “He will come back tomorrow to cut up the buffalo. He will take the parts he wants and leave the rest to rot.”
“But why does he kill?” she asked.
“It is a source of what Man calls money. The buffalo hunter cuts out the tongue of the buffalo, dries it and sells or trades it at trading posts. They take off the skins to make robes and blankets.”
“But what of the rest of the buffalo?” asked Cherokee.
“It is left to rot on the ground,” answered Owl sadly. “It only happens twice a year. Once in the spring and once in the fall.
“For thousands of years,” he continued, “the Indians have had a close relationship with the buffalo. Legend has it that when the Indian treated the buffalo with respect, they allowed themselves
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