This subject came up on another chat forum recently and I was encouraged to re-post the story. It was originally submitted on the old AZOD board. Luckily I found the story again, which was archived on another forum (Arrowhead) that I frequently visit. It's a very long read, so grab your favorite beverage, pull up a chair, and keep in mind as you read it, that this event took place on April 22, 2006. There's another chapter to the original story, but I'll save that for later. Anyway... here it is. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I do sharing it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yesterday started out like most days do for me. Coffee, forums, the morning news and my routine email check. I purposely surrendered the computer early, just so I could spread some chemical fertilizer on the yard and give it a much-needed first watering. Once that was done, and although it was already getting quite breezy, today seemed nice enough for me to load up the dogs and make a run out to lower Chevelon Canyon for some "leisure" arrowhead hunting. Hobo and Sheba (two of our dogs) were extremely excited to leave their normal confines of the yard. Both dogs immediately sensed what was up, and they eagerly loaded into the back of the truck. I had contemplated taking my camera for any "In Situ" pictures of arrowheads I might find, but after contemplating on whether to bring it or not, I thought, "Nah, it’s just one more thing to lug around". Making sure I had plenty of water for the dogs, and my trusty .45 Glock with me, we departed for our destination. As is normal during this time of year (in northeastern Arizona), the winds gale pretty strongly, so our ride out that day was extremely dusty. Go figure, as I had just washed my truck two days prior. Anyway, I'd previously decided that we’d run out to a place that the locals around here call "Goat Steps". This place lies about 1-mile south of Territorial Road in Unit 4B, and is located along the lower drainage of Chevelon Canyon, about 3-1/2 miles from its convergence with the Little Colorado River. Goat Steps is a truly magnificent place - riddled with hundreds of petroglyphs left behind by Anasazi Indians who had occupied this region some 700-1000 years prior. This place is the very reason why the current land-owner aptly named his place, the “Rock Art Ranch”. Once we arrived, I parked alongside the fence-line located nearest the canyons edge. The dogs and I took a drink of water and immediately began our short 1/2 mile trek toward the canyon. As we neared the canyons edge, which was still about a quarter-mile away, I noticed what appeared to be a big brahma bull lying in the drought-stricken prairie grass and among some small geologic limestone rock formations. While watching, I saw the bull stand up when we got within approximately 150-yards of him. After he got to his feet, I realized it wasn't a cattle bull, but rather, it was a huge buffalo bull! I immediately thought to myself... "How cool is this - it's not often one gets see any free-ranging buffalo." As we advanced, I soon realized all those rock formations weren't rocks at all. Rather, they were 12 other buffalo, who were also lying down. A few moments later, they all stood up and joined the first buffalo in a concerted "stare down" of me and the two dogs. By this time, the dogs had also noticed the buffalo. Being your typical uneducated city dogs, both of them quickly displayed an intuitive desire to get a closer look at these unfamiliar critters. Not knowing anything about the characteristic behaviors of buffalo, we continued walking (ignorantly) toward them, hoping to get a closer look. I remember thinking to myself... "Darn, I knew I should have brought my camera." After all, who would believe such a story - without any pictures to prove it? As we approached to approximately 75-yards of the buffalo, the entire herd huddled together and began a slow advance toward us. Not knowing any better, I thought they were behaving just like domestic cattle. I convinced myself they were probably thinking I was the local rancher and that I was coming to bring them some much needed dietary supplement. It didn't take me long to realize the buffalo were picking up their pace, and were now displaying obvious signs of aggression. Fear and adrenaline quickly filled my veins, and I could hardly believe what I was witnessing. At about 40-yards away, the entire buffalo herd (13 in total) began to increase their speed! Each one had now lowered their heads with an apparent eagerness to charge. In what seemed to me as a most unusual behavior, they began grouping together into a shoulder-to-shoulder formation. I thought to myself... "Oh, no, this is not going to be good." Much like what happens in a dream, time evolved into a surreal sequence of slow-motion. Realizing that I (and the dogs) are now facing impending danger, and perhaps even death, I immediately began thinking about what the safest course would be. After quickly assessing the situation and realizing we were standing in a wide-open flat, 200-yards from any means of safety, I made a split second decision to draw my .45 from its holster. Remembering that I didn’t have a round chambered, I quickly racked in a 230-grain hollow-point. Clutching my gun in my right hand, I began waving both arms in a jumping-jack fashion, and began yelling and hooting at the advancing buffalo. Well, needless to say, that was a complete waste of time! At a distance now of approximately 25 yards, the herd bull (biggest) made a bold charge ahead of the others. He snorted loudly and lowered his nose to within inches of the ground, indicating he was going to gore me and the dogs. It was then that I fired a warning shot - inches from his feet. BOOM! The dust flew, and for what seemed like only a second, the buffalo momentarily slowed their advancement. (to be continued) Wanna kill these ads? We can help!