Photo courtesy of Cyndi Bennett, Northern Design.
When I came across these bison last week, I thought I'd repeat my impromptu cow pasture party. But the keepers of these animals gave me a stern warning: I would be trampled in short order if I tried it. Particularly since a new baby had been born the day before.
I was driving along a Washington State country road when I spotted a pasture dotted with grazing cows. And a wild impulse struck me.
I pulled my car over to the side, jumped out and ran towards the fence that contained the lowing beasts. Sprinting a short distance into the field, I spread my arms wide and cried out: "Come to me, cows! Come on over. You're safe with me. I'm a vegetarian!"
And lowing behold, one by one their heads began to turn my way. Slowly they started trudging in my direction. Before long, about 50 cows had formed a circle around me. They even left a comfortable safety zone, a six-foot radius that allowed me to stand amidst them.
I was surrounded by a sea of wet noses and big brown eyes and soft velvety fur. The occasional "moo-oo-oo" floated above the crowd, but other than that, the gathering was quiet.
We stood there for a few moments, taking each other in -- majestic, powerful beasts versus a wimpy, curious human being. They could have crushed me if they wanted to, but their gentle nature caused them to come over and greet me instead.
Then, sensing it was time for us to part ways, the cows began dispersing with their slow, determined gait. A few lingered behind, and I rubbed their noses before saying goodbye.
Apparently this animal looks much more easy-going than he actually is.
Cyndi Bennett (on right) has always been enamored with animals.To this day, Cyndi Bennett despises shopping.
That's how her mother coaxed her away from the family's ranch when it was time to slaughter the cows each week.
Finally her father tried to put an end to Cyndi pleading for their lives.
"If you can name all the cows in the herd, I won't slaughter any of them this week," her dad told her.
There were 300 of them.
That didn't deter the fifth grader. She set up a computer spreadsheet noting all the cow's ear tags alongside the names she had given them.
When the time came, Cyndi was ready. One by one, her father pointed to a cow or yelled out an ear tag number. Cyndi recited each name from memory.
"No cows died that week," she said. "And that's why I hate shopping to this day -- because it reminds me of my mom taking me away so I wouldn't see the cows being slaughtered."
There was one cow who always escaped the table, though. Bessie was Cyndi's favorite, and became a family pet.
Northern Design owner and photographer Cyndi Bennett and I were out on a shoot together this week when we came across this St. Bernard named Barney who loves the ducklings growing up at his house. When the ducks come out to roam, Barney follows them around the yard with utter fascination and focus.
Photo courtesy of Joe Bryska and the Winnipeg Free Press.
The floods submerging the Prairies have stolen hundreds of homes and lifetimes of possessions.
But the waters have also claimed voiceless victims: the animals.
Specifically, it is the herds of livestock that are in grave peril.
With drainage ditches plugged with ice, and water spreading unpredictably over flat land like an overturned glass of water on a table, it took just one day for the conditions to turn from potentially dangerous to full-out disastrous.
In Manitoba, hundreds of bison were stranded this week on the plains, miserably standing in cold water for days. The animals were forced to navigate muddy waters ranging from a few inches to five feet.
When floods roll in, people can bundle their dogs, cats and hamsters into carriers and get them out of danger. But what do you do with hundreds of massive animals? Full-grown bison can grow as heavy as 2,200 pounds.
"We have no opportunity to move them away from the area," said Balmoral farmer Bo Wohlers, who keeps a herd of 250 bison about 45 minutes north of Winnipeg, Manitoba, in the center of Canada. "The roads are in such bad shape that we can't bring trucks in, and we can't load them in the water. The animals are trying to stay in the shallow parts just to survive."
Feed is being brought in to the animals each day, but they continue to lose weight, Wohlers said.
Some have already succumbed to the harsh conditions.
"I know there's a couple dead for sure, and as the water goes down it wouldn't surprise us to find more," said Chris Murphy, another bison farmer from Balmoral.
It is only because of the bisons' hearty constitution that they have survived this long.
"These animals are constantly in the water," Wohlers said. "If this was cattle, they would be dead by now. It helps us that bisons are resilient getting through tough times, but time is running out."
Bison seek out the shallowest patches of water in an effort to survive. Photo courtesy of Joe Bryska.
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