The Last
Prehistoric
Buffalo Hunt
by Howdy-Nocona Fowler
one at the
Bonfire
Shelter
located
n e a r
Langtry,
Texas.
By Ted Lee Eubanks, Jr./FERMATA Inc
I’m talk-
ing about
down-
ison antiquus, or ancient buffalo,
and-dirty hunts: primitive men on foot
were big, 25 percent bigger than
with sticks and rocks trying to harvest
a modern American buffalo.
the meat from an animal the size of a
The bulls weighed in excess of 3,500
modern three-quarter-ton pickup
pounds and were ill-tempered and
truck. Just three or four men with sim-
dangerous – you did not trifle with
ple clubs, maybe an atlatl, and home-
them. From 18,000 to 10,000 B.C.
made spears not much longer than the
these ancient buffalo roamed in abun-
average hippie’s walking stick, hunting
dant large herds, throughout West
and killing an Antiquus bison. Add to
Texas and Big Bend country before
the mix a mammal that is not too keen
they became extinct, ca. 10,000. Back
on ‘donating’ its hide and meat to the
then you didn’t just drive to your local
tribal cause and it was a very danger-
store to get meat; you had to hunt it
ous mixture. Men could be crippled
down and get it yourself.
for life or worse yet, end up dead with
As a kid growing up, I was fascinat-
their families dying from starvation. It
ed by the scientific art renderings done
took tough men to step up to such a
by primitive man regarding hunting
challenge – tough men driven by
these huge beasts with just rocks, clubs
hunger.
and spears. Having worked with and
Years ago I was getting ready for a
grown up around modern buffalo all of
upcoming trip down into old Mexico,
my life, I thought I had a pretty good
so I started walking in the Sacramento
understanding of what those early
Mountains to get into shape. One day
hunters were up against. I’m not talk-
while walking I was thinking about the
ing about the gallant Plains Indian gal-
prehistoric buffalo hunters and I came
loping across the prairie on his favorite
up with a great idea to have my own
buffalo horse in pursuit of modern buf-
bison hunt. Although no buffalo were
falo for his evening meal. Nor do I
around, there were plenty of range cat-
mean the highly-organized tribal hunts
tle!! Soon I spied my first victim, a
surrounding and driving herds over
Hereford cow munching on grass. My
the now-famous buffalo jumps, like the
plan was simple: sneak up on that cow
B
8
Cenizo
Third Quarter 2016
and touch her with my walking stick,
kind of like counting coup. Herefords
were a good breed to start with, since
they ain’t much smarter than a sheep.
So I put the sneak on old bossy and
was doing pretty well, until for some
reason she just walked away. I knew
she hadn’t seen me, but being on foot
there was no use trying to catch up to
her again. My near success made me
even more determined, and soon I was
searching for another unsuspecting
bovine.
It didn’t take me long to get this
‘buffalo hunting’ down. Soon I had
tagged eight or ten head of fake
buffalo with my walking stick over
a week’s time. One day I snuck up
behind a big calf on the edge of an
arroyo, creeping up to him on my belly
through the grass and weeds. I reached
out with my walking stick and pushed
on his hip. He slowly turned towards
the pressure and as he did, he acci-
dently stepped off the edge of the
arroyo. In slow motion he fell into the
arroyo, slid down the wall and landed
in the soft sand below, unhurt. I was
not sure who was more surprised by
the outcome, the cow or myself, as he
galloped off in surprise. The one thing
I had to be careful of when I touched
most of those cattle was getting kicked.
Most cows would jump and kick at my
walking stick or me when I touched
them and counted a coup.
In a very short time I graduated
from slow dumb Herefords to the more
alert and dangerous breeds like Angus
and Brangus cattle. These were guar-
anteed kickers and they would attack if
cornered. One day I spotted my great-
est challenge yet: a big massive Brangus
bull. I did not hesitate to start stalking
him, and because he was in a wide-
open flat with no cover, it made my
hunt even tougher, a real challenge. I
crawled on my belly for about 75 yards,
stopping each time that he lifted his
head to chew. It took forever to sneak
up on that big son-of-a-gun. Then,
after what seemed a lifetime, I was
there: ready to ‘spear’ that massive
‘prehistoric buffalo.’ Grasping my
spear (walking stick) I made my ‘kill.’
That’s when ALL HELL BROKE
LOOSE! The split second I bumped
him with that walking stick, he not
only jumped and kicked that walking
stick out of my hand and sent it flying,
but he whirled around and attacked
me. He had me pinned to the ground.
He blew snot all over the front of my
shirt as I rolled to get away, bellowing
loudly right in my face. The whole
time he had his front feet placed one
on each side of my head, throwing dust
all over me as he raked his hornless
head all over my upper body. As
quickly as it began it was over. He spun
away and took off across that flat in a
dead run!
I lay there for what seemed like for-
ever, taking an extensive inventory of
my body parts. It was then and there I
changed my vocation from ‘Prehistoric
Buffalo Hunter’ to Team Roper. I’m
headed to the store to BUY some
steaks; if ya’ll need me to pick some-
thing up for ya, let me know.