Cultural Institution Blesok • Established 1998
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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 32 | volume VI | May-June, 2003



                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 32May-June, 2003

Everything You Need

p. 1
Richard Gaughran

     They said black plastic would do the trick. That it would look like a solid wall in front of them and they would clomp up the ramp and into the back of the truck. So there we were—my boys, my daughter and her boyfriend Rick—holding one of the rolls of plastic I had left over from mulching tomatoes back in the spring. We stretched it in front of us about chin-high, formed a circle, and slowly moved in around one of the females. Easy, slowly, hardly doing more than whispering to each other. She was scared, so she kept shuffling sideways like a huge crab or hopping up off her front legs like you sometimes see goats do. I tell you it took some nerve to keep the plastic steady.
     She sure wasn't moving up the ramp in any big hurry. I gave up hope that it would work. But I wasn't prepared for the way it wouldn't work. I thought she would just lean into the plastic wall until one of us lost nerve and got out of her way. I didn't expect to hear her grunt a time or two and then leap like a bulky deer over Joni's head. But that's what she did, just as we had closed in to where she felt squeezed, I guess. And wouldn't you know that she would pick the part of the wall held up by the shortest of us. She stretched herself and more or less glided over Joni, though her hind legs looked less straight than a deer’s look, still kind of crooked, and one of her hooves seemed almost to whack Joni in the head. My daughter let out a high screech, then the buffalo calf landed on the other side of the wall with a snort, then we heard her hooves pounding out a rapid beat. We dropped the plastic and watched her run toward the fence line where the other two were waiting, then the three of them leaped over the fence one at a time, even sort of stepping aside for each other, looking as pleased as can be. It was as though they were playing with us.
     “Well, I guess that doesn't work.” My son Chris was the first to speak, matter-of-factly and wryly, as usual. “Now what should we try?”
     “I almost had a heart-attack!” Joni said. She started to laugh,

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