To Kill a Bison…
What follows are my recent recollections, observations and images of one of the most incredible and exhilarating hunts I’ve been fortunate enough to be a part of. It was far from the most difficult, but it was pure magic and I’d not do much different knowing a little more now than I did going in.
I traveled from Boston to Alaska to hunt what many rightly consider to be the classic and quintessential American big game animal, the American bison. Also known as buffalo, it’s an indigenous North American animal forever entwined in the history and mystique of America, her pioneers and the expansion of same into the North American interior.
The bison played no small part in the history and the cultures of many Native American plains Indians, as everyone knows. The once vast bison herds were at the forefront of some early Americans moving into the heart of the continent, and ultimately led in part to the ‘taming of the west’. Many Indians I suppose will decry this incursion of the white man as the trigger of the death knell for their cultures, but I’m not here to delve into that. I’m just aiming to tell my bison story with a little background. I’ve been enamored with this great beast since childhood. Hell, I’m old enough to remember feeling lucky upon receiving an occasional buffalo/Indian head nickel in change from candy stores in the 1970s. I still have a bunch of them.
The bison is living American history and a symbol of America. I’m quite sure some members here like Shrapnel are much better qualified to speak on bison history and the early American western pioneers, but I’ve been in awe of them and have often dreamt of them over the years. To actually have the opportunity to hunt one, a wild one, was until very recently been but dream fodder.
Perhaps five years ago, member Sitka Deer out of Anchorage suggested I start applying for some non-resident game tags in Alaska. At the time we’d been corresponding for a number of years on 24HCF and got to know each other via PMs, emails, phone calls and ultimately had us meeting in Florida. He told me long before then that if I hit any of the draw tags, he’d help make the hunt happen for me. Our talks were mostly about fishing, guns, hunting, travel, food and the like, and we came to form a friendship, one I’ve been glad for and happy to embrace.
The emperor goose, caribou and moose tags SD he had me applying for had reasonable odds for success and for a number of years I paid my money and took my chances. In five odd years of donations to AKDFG I’d had zero luck. Alaska is one of the states that require a big game license to apply for draw hunts, so coming away with no banana after a few years was a bit disappointing, but I kept at it, ever hopeful.
When I’d originally asked SD exactly which tags he thought I should be putting on in for, he opined that if I was the gambling sort, in addition to the emperor goose, moose and caribou, ones he thought I had decent odds of hitting within a few years, if I was feeling froggy, I’d maybe want to start putting in also for a coveted bison tag. Odds were decidedly poor for that one. I think 2000:1 were the approximate odds I read. Like picking a single marked ace of spades out of 35 decks of playing cards in one try or something. Despite the odds, I agreed with SD that *someone* had to win one of the few bison tags that AK offered every year. Fugg it, I'm in.
The call came sometime around noon. I was napping and when I looked at my phone was a little surprised to see it was SD, as our standard chat time was from about midnight to 4am, EST. Yes, I am a night owl. “Hey man. Weird time for you to call. Is everything OK?”, I asked.
“Sure, everything’s just fine here. What are you doing?”
“Napping, actually, but no worries. What’s up?”
“You haven’t seen it then, obviously” he says, somewhat cryptically.
“Seen what, exactly?” I asked, a bit confused and still dopey from my nap. SD started laughing quietly a bit and then explained that today was the one where the AK game tag lottery results were released online. I sat upright and immediately understood that I‘d won something in the AK hunt draw for 2022.
“Wait a sec… Oh man, wow, I hit a lottery tag, didn’t I?”
A bit more of snickering was followed by, “Why yes, you did, actually”
“Holy sheet! I got my emperor goose tag?”, I asked not a little excitedly.
He paused a bit, then said, “Uh, no. Try again.”
“Wait, oh man, I got a moose tag!”
“Negative”
“Huh. Then caribou! YES! Oh man, I can’t believe…”
“Wrong again.”
It took a couple of seconds being a bit confused, sitting on the edge of my bed and thinking about what I’d applied for it before it hit me. I blurted out, ‘you can’t be serious. I didn’t actually hit… the BISON tag, did I?”
“Why yes, actually you did, you unbelievably lucky SOB. I’ve been trying for that one for only about 40 years ”
Much hollering and carrying on followed. I was five years old on Christmas day once again.
