"The buffalo owes his extermination very largely to his own unparalleled stupidity"
I saw that quote and instantly thought someone from FoxNews must have said it. Hannity? O'Reilly? I mean the guys who think Global Warming is fiction could have easily been bashing the harmless buffalo. Turns out the quote is from conservationist William T. Hornaday and written in 1887. Hornaday wasn't just making fun of a furry animal. It's true. The buffalo would literally stand around waiting to get shot.
For some reason this new bit of information has made me uncharacteristically sad. I mean, I saw the movie Dances With Wolves. I know I know, it's the last movie Kevin Costner actually acted in (he's faked it in all of his other movies since). Beyond Costner the main character of that movie was the buffalo. He didn't come off dumb to me -- granted he didn't have a lot of lines.
I've really begun to look inside and try and figure out why the buffalo being stupid has affected me so much. I think it begins with stereotypes. It's too easy, right? The big, beautiful animal is just like the large football players who used to roam my high school -- mindless and only worried about their jock strap. Yeah, I'm saying it...the buffalo is the Biff (Back To The Future Movie reference) of the early American west (McFly!!! Come On McFly!)
Didn't we learn in school that the buffalo lived this symbiotic life with the Native Americans that roamed the Great Plains? And when I say symbiotic I mean, the buffalo ate grass and then the Native Americans ate the buffalo, but not before removing their skin and using it to make their teepees. Ahhh Tatanka!
That's not it. What is it? What made me so sad about some dude in the 1800's calling the buffalo dumb. Because they can't defend themselves? Perhaps the buffalo could have had a better reputation if they would have hired a better PR firm. I mean Hopalong Cassidy had Clarence l. Mulford working for him. Mr. Buffalo probably had the same firm the Native Americans had.
I guess what it is, is that I am just sensitive about my wild west myths. General Custer turned out to be not such a nice guy. We lost at the Alamo. Butch Cassidy killed himself. Wyatt Earp's mustache wasn't real!
And yeah -- the buffalo is stupid. Don't hate me Tatanka.
I spent some quality time recently with a very likeable Cactus. It's true, by the way, the Cactaceae family are a super pleasant bunch. The reason I connect with the prickly plant the most, is because he is a great listener. I know, I know it's counter intuitive. You think because of his gruff physical appearance he wouldn't be receptive to people -- but that is so wrong.
Mr. Cactus was born to listen. Because of the spartan-like existence he lives in the desert he's not around a whole lot of other beings, so when he gets a chance at some interplay, he's all in.
If a creature takes a chance, he or she is usually at bit intimidated by the cactus' height and all of his spines. And, lets just be honest, he's got a reputation as a bit of a bruiser.
But here's what I know about the Cactus that I just met -- he just wanted to listen. I talked, he gave good audience. He looked me in the eye. He nodded when he thought I needed some encouragement. He didn't monopolize the conversation. He made me feel like what I was saying was important.
What most surprised me was that he was fully present. Never looked over my shoulder to see if there was a more important passerby that he should go schmooze with. And here is what I just couldn't believe -- he never picked up his phone. No joke! Not once did he take a call. Check a text. Google something. Facetime his mom. Tweet his feelings or post on Facebook that he happened to run into me.
Our conversation was in real time. I guess you have to say Cactus is an old fashioned kind of guy. His time in the desert must have given him perspective.
Something in my gut tells me that Cactus is the type of guy who goes away on a weekend trip with his buddies, and he turns his phone off. Like, he brings it and checks in with the wife from time to time, but generally leaves it in his bag.
I'm sure there's a piece of him that wants to keep a real-time dialogue going with his spouse about her day at work, or how the kids are treating her.
There's got to be a nagging feeling to check that email and see if everything is O.K. at work.
And his favorite team, The Pokers, might be in a big series with their rivals, The Splinters, and you'd think he wants to keep tabs on that.
But I guess that desert perspective reminds him to be where he is. If he's on the phone, he's somewhere else. He's socially cyber-commuting. Half of him is away, and half of him is back in the desert. Nobody in either place is getting the full Mr. Cactus.
I know, I know, but Mrs. Cactus wants to be checked in with and not forgotten. Yeah, but Mr. Cactus knows if he gives his wife his full attention every day that he's with her, she will let go and let him give his full attention to everyone else when he is away from her.
Can't be done. These days we're all expected to be plugged in all the time. If you're not on, you're off. You miss a day of someone's life, and you can't get it back. It's never worth knowing every album Paul Anka ever made.
I think what it is, is that the desert has taught him to take his experiences earnestly. Like if it's raining, he'd better drink up some serious water because he might not get any for a while. If a person walks by, he'd better be a good listener, because making friends in the desert is brutal. I know, I know he could just check in on everyone through Facebook, but then he's just socially cyber-commuting from the desert.
