I looked back at the herd of buffaloes in the distance and could not help but be amazed.
Three friends and I decided to take a road trip to the Midwest. It took us two weeks to drive from Philadelphia to South Dakota, and back. Along the way, we stopped at popular tourist attractions, however, the highlight of our trip was completely unplanned.
Through the grassy hills and valleys of western South Dakota, there was not another soul in sight. When we arrived at the gates of a farm, a man, dressed in ripped jeans with a cowboy hat and boots, greeted us. He invited us onto the back of his pickup truck and said, in a thick midwestern accent, “It’s feeding time. You girls can go into the field with me, just don’t fall off.”
With that, my friends and I were driven into thousands of buffaloes. We held on for dear life as they ran away from the truck, shaking the ground. The wind was gushing in my hair and face as I tried to sustain balance and aim my camera. The buffaloes were set on running about as fast while staying as far away from the truck as they could. When the cowboy stopped the truck and filled their feeding basins one by one, each buffalo stood and watched from a distance. When the truck started to drive back, moving away from the basins, the herd of buffaloes ran speedily toward their food. I heard a friend scream as one buffalo headed for her seat, only to turn at the last second before collision. I got a closer look at them, with their hunger triumphed fear, every buffalo had tags on their ears, and fur seemed coarse to the touch. I did not have the guts to reach out my hand to test if it was true.
Upon departure, I looked back at the herd of buffaloes in the distance and could not help but be amazed that some people spend their whole lives surrounded by such adventurous wonderment.
Article written by Panarat Anamwathana.
