I bring you a short and sad update today.
He is gone.
The beautiful bull we told you about a couple days ago – defiance in the face of danger, protective of the herd. Lone bull daring to spend his time near humans, and hunters, and hazers.
Killed. After eight shots and a short-lived run for his life. Eight. Shots.
The bull had been hanging around the area of private homes for nearly a week. After his friend was killed on Tuesday, he left with the rest of the herd, but returned that very night to be where he liked, despite the danger. He spent the day in the area Wednesday, risking danger and gaining the attention of hunters. This morning, the hunters, or maybe the bull, decided they’d had enough.
Early in the morning we saw hunters throwing rocks at the bull while in the no hunt zone. Aside from angering the bull, it only chased him further away from the kill line.
But a bit later, drawn, perhaps, by the remains and memory of his friend, he walked past the imaginary line and was gunned down. After eight shots.
He died as he lived, bold, unafraid, and going where he chose.
People here are feeling his loss. The buffalo allies, the neighbors who had been living with his presence, some international visitors who happened to be in the area for both kills, and even the press covering the story – all heartbroken.
And of course this doesn’t tell the whole story – that the vast majority of the buffalo killed this year (and still to be killed this year) died away from the land they are a part of, afraid, confused, and contained, in a slaughterhouse in Helena.
But it is the danger of being on the ground with the buffalo. You get to know them, you personify them, and you feel their loss deeply.
Rest in Peace wild friend.
