The Hunt
     It was time for the buffalo hunt.  We finished setting up our summer camp three days ago.  I didn't see any of the huge herds Father had described on our way to this camp.  He said it will happen soon enough.  Since I was a small child, I've watched the men come home with their kill.  Everyone is excited because each person will get a part of the buffalo.  We will eat the juicy meat.  The women will make warm blankets from the hides.  Some of the hides will be tanned and used to replace worn-out tipis.  The horns, hooves and tail will be used to make things like bowls, rope and rattles.  When we have the buffalo, our life is truly good.
     Father said that this year, I must watch to see how the buffalo is stalked and killed.  Next year, I will hunt with the other men.  Father left two other boys and me up in a small cluster of rocks on the prairie.  He said it was for our protection, but I couldn't see very well.  My friends kept saying Father would be angry, but I slipped down the rocks and began to creep slowly through the tall grass.  We were on sort of a hill.  When I looked down, all I could see were miles and miles of tall grass gently blowing in the morning breeze.  Father had been gone a long time, and I was anxious to see the buffalo herd.
     As I stared out across the grasslands, I was puzzled. There was a huge dark spot in the distance. It looked like black thunderclouds had fallen from the sky and were resting on the grass. Then my skin prickled, and there was a funny feeling at the back of my neck. The black cloud was moving toward me! There was a sound like distant thunder. It was the buffalo! There was a red sun setting in the western sky, and it made the sea of moving beasts look like a brush fire moving across the plain. They were still far, far away from me, but the sound of their thunder grew.   Songbirds, hawks, sage hens and grouse flew out of the grasses and sailed by me. I could feel the earth trembling under my feet.
     It was then that I realized I was right in their path. There were no trees to climb! So THAT was why Father had said to stay up in the rocks.  I started to run back to where my friends were yelling at me to hurry.  I was startled when a deer ran right by me, running fast and hard. I scrambled up the rocks as the earth shook all around us. We peeked over the edge and stared at the incredible sight. The buffalo moved over the hills like a wide river pouring down a steep cliff.
     As though a single leader had given a signal, the massive herd turned to the right and thundered past our little rock pile. The noise deafened me. I couldn't hear my friends, but they were both pointing. As I looked in that direction, I could see Father. He was riding his biggest and strongest horse. He and two other men had approached the herd from the side. Father rode his horse between two of the huge beasts. The three men worked together to cut one huge buffalo away from the herd. Father dropped the horse's rein and grasped his bow and five arrows in his left hand. In his right hand, he had a heavy whip. It was wrapped around his wrist so it couldn't be dropped. Even though his horse was well-trained, Father had to use his strong thighs, knees and the whip to make the horse move in close to the buffalo. The horse sensed the danger of the buffalo's horns but obeyed father's commands.
     In the winter, Father and the other men didn't use horses to hunt the buffalo. The snow was too deep, and the horses couldn't run. But our people learned that a large herd of buffalo aren't afraid of wolves, so Father would cover himself with a wolf hide, strap on his snowshoes and silently creep toward the herd. Sometimes it would take him an hour to creep the distance without stirring any suspicion in the leaders of the herd. At the last second, he would stand up and shoot the unsuspecting buffalo.
     But now as I watched, my heart swelled with pride as Father moved closer to the huge beast. He had ridden up on the right side so that he would have both hands free for the kill. He set his arrow, drew the bow, and leaned forward. I realized that I was yelling encouragement, but no one could hear me over the thundering of hooves. As Father neared the buffalo's shoulder, he drove the shaft of the arrow into its heart. The huge beast stumbled and fell. Father rode around the beast in tight circles to make sure it wasn't trampled by the rest of the herd. The hunters waved their arms, and the herd flowed around them as a river does around a rock. It took a very long time for the herd to pass. It seemed forever, but gradually, the thunder began to weaken as the moving mass of buffalo disappeared into a valley to the south. The dust swirled, the earth shook, and then it was still. As we stood up, my friends and I could see other men dismounting and claiming their kill. My eyes went back to Father. He raised his right arm and faced me. Now I knew. Next year, I would kill my first buffalo. I will think many times about what I have seen. At night my dreams will come many times. Each time I will see this day. I hope next summer comes quickly.