And then I was mauled by a dead buffalo

I'm really not a phobic person. I'm actually quite calm, other than that time I found a snake in my bedroom. But I am afraid of buffalo. Actually, as some hoity-toity people have corrected me, they are called bison. But I like calling them buffalo, so will continue to do so. Excuse my incorrectness. I am just as afraid of bison as I am of buffalo. And also dead bison and dead buffalo.

Now, on to the story. Some time in the 90's, my eccentric dad decided that it would be cool to raise elk, buffalo, skunks, and other wild animals. This is probably why I rarely had friends come over growing up. Or maybe it was because I didn't have many friends to begin with, I'm not sure. Anyway, one of the main reasons for keeping wild animals was so that hunters could hunt a trophy animal. And I actually did it. Twice. And I'm not really a hunter. The first hunt wasn't that exciting, other than the super cool picture of me, a trophy elk, and my first love, M.H., that I routinely show off to any guys that think I'm a weeny. The second hunt was more interesting.

First of all, let me tell you about my fear of buffalo. Buffalo enthusiasts, like my father, will tell stories of how buffalo can flip a semi with a swing of their heads and charge faster than a cheetah. Tail up of course. I lived in fear of these large creatures. And let me tell you, they are VERY large up close.

One of the scariest memories in my childhood happened when some seemingly responsible adults drove out into the pasture with a bunch of kids in the bed of their pickup. I was one of those kids. After a buffalo was spotted, the seemingly responsible adults decided to drive over to the buffalo. RIGHT NEXT TO the buffalo. Then the bunch of kids (with the exception of me) decided it would be cool to pet a buffalo, so they hung out of the pickup bed trying to touch the buffalo. I was in the fetal position underneath of a spare tire shaking. All that I could think of was upside-down semis. And never reaching my fifteenth birthday. (One of the adults is a high school teacher in Edgemont!)

Long story short, I survived, entered adulthood, married a 'normal' person, and lived happily ever after. Then one day my dad called me up, and somehow convinced me to be the star of a hunting show that was set at his ranch. So I found myself back on the ranch wearing camo, holding a large rifle and saying things like "There are 5 BIG buffalo, just the other side of that ridge."

Soon I was nearly ready to hunt my first (and hopefully last) buffalo. As I started getting the rifle ready, the producer & video photographer decided that it would be amazing if we did what is apparently called an 'over the shoulder shot' or something simple like that. For some reason it is really hard to get and unique. Soon I realized that this required me to crawl on my belly very close to the buffalo. VERY close. And there were five of them.

Since it would have been awkward to back out at that point, I crawled, terrified, to a fallen tree. I noticed there were no other trees around that I could quickly scamper up just in case. I had no way out. But I did have a gun. I was told that it was essential that I hit the buffalo in a very small area behind his ear, or else the buffalo probably wouldn't die, and would require more than one shot. So I aimed carefully, said the line "It's just you and me now, Big Boy," and pulled the trigger. Then my shoulder was nearly detached from my body and I opened my eyes, I was very pleased to see the buffalo had crumpled to the ground. It was a perfect shot, or so they said. I didn't care much that I had gotten 'the Big Boy,' that I was on a TV show, or that they had gotten the prized 'over the shoulder shot.' I was simply ecstatic that I was not being charged by a wounded, crazed animal. So we walked up to examine the trophy bull.

And then I was mauled by a dead buffalo.

It went something like this:

The guide, producer, and video photographer walked up to the dead buffalo. I was still a bit scared of the buffalo, though it was clearly motionless, and tip-toed carefully about 30 feet behind. Someone decided to poke the buffalo on the head, and it then started grunting and wildly shaking its head and trying to roll around, minus the use of it's legs. I immediately sprinted the opposite direction, really wishing there was more than sagebrush in the near vicinity. The producer yelled to the guide, "THIS THING AIN'T DEAD!! GET THE #$#$&* GUN OVER HERE NOW!" The guide had been smart enough to leave the gun back by the truck, and ran off to get it.

Luckily, the buffalo was mostly paralyzed, and I actually was not mauled by a dead buffalo. The buffalo was then, ahem, taken care of. After much convincing, I was made to crouch next to the buffalo for some post-hunt shots. The buffalo was just like a big teddy bear and I immediately lost my fear of buffalo. NOT.

Disclaimer #1: Yes, this actually happened and yes there was a TV episode made with me hunting said buffalo. Yes, I have watched it, and No I do not have a copy, so No you can't see it. I once had a copy of it, but for some reason it 'disappeared' during our move out of state.