What is life: It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the winter time; it is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.
–Crowfoot
He stood there patiently for over an hour, looking toward the spot where a pickup would drive through the gate and drop off a large square bale of hay. The bulls are fed every few days. There is one that is much smaller, and I’m not sure if he is younger, but this fella in the picture is the big guy. He acts like he knows he doesn’t have to throw his weight around – he just walks slowly and deliberately. He chowed down a little while after this picture was taken.