Thunder in the Black Hills
Words and pictures by Martin Schäfer

Against the expansive backdrop of Custer State Park, around 1,200 buffalo are herded during September's Buffalo Roundup, an annual South-Dakotan tradition of some fifty years.

The Black Hills envelop a woody, mountainous area in South Dakota’s most precious lands, a stark contrast with the state’s other natural attraction, Badlands National Park, at first sight a pointy, inhospitable area that at sunrise and –set changes into a boundless pink, red and orange cratered landscape.

Custer State Park is South Dakota’s 21,500,000-acre treasure chest of flora and fauna. Fauna mostly, with a clear starring role for the mighty buffalo, that roam freely here, as per the song, which is reassuring.

There used to be sixty million buffalo on these yellow-sloping plains. The indigenous Lakota people consider the buffalo to be holy, providing them with food, clothing and shelter. The state’s version of the Buffalo Roundup is a far cry from the original Lakota ritual. Obviously it’s no longer about survival, but about game maintenance and the walk-in freezers of the many restaurants that feature buffalo prime rib on their menus.

To prepare ourselves, we take the park’s Wildlife Loop to see what the fuss is about, and drive straight into a herd of stoic buffalo, that only reluctantly move at the sight of our blinding canary-yellow car. 2,000 pounds of primeval animal is nothing to sneeze at.

Along the loop I spot small isolated parts of the herd grazing in corrals. Back at the State Game Lodge a governor’s liaison tells us that they’ve already rounded up about 200 animals beforehand, so that the public can watch relaxed buffalo at the vaccination and branding ceremonies the next day.

Even the most experienced cowboys of the posse don’t have a clue as to where the buffalo will run tomorrow, though. The completely irrational behaviour of these animals is easily the best part of the Roundup. And if their indifference towards us this morning is any indication, they’re going to do whatever the hell they want.

On game day, we drive at the crack of dawn along Custer’s access road Needles Highway. When I arrive on the first of two windswept lookouts, about twenty riders are checking their horses in a pasture nearby. They are the lead actors in this Roundup. The cowboys chase the buffalo with shouts, whips and pure guts to the designated corrals down below. This job is invitation-only. Signing up is offered, but absolutely pointless. Only a selected few are allowed to ride with these professionals.

Slowly a ribbon of brown dots appears on the opposite hill, curving south along the slope. The first try looks promising, as the corrals are right behind us. The ribbon steadily swells to a herd, propelled by thundering hooves crashing down the hill. Mixed with the loud welcome of the 12,000 people in the audience – ready and able at the gates at five AM – it’s a perfect soundtrack to the chase, fueled by focused horses and rocking pick-up trucks following the running animals the best they possibly can. Riders at the head of the charging herd try to force the leaders towards the gates. This goes really well for a while, until the herd suddenly splits up. About 200 buffalo follow their initial path, leading right past the ecstatic audience. But the major part stubbornly trucks its way West, where freedom beckons.

By then I’m at lookout number two, nursing a cup of coffee while cheering loudly for the proud renegades. Apparently a Roundup can go on for half a day if the buffalo set their mind to it. But these animals don’t stand a ghost of a chance in the end. Unexpectedly fast, the escapees are directed towards the water within the fences and spread out in the corrals. In an orderly fashion. Kind of.

Celebration time. I decide against raving amid the tasty beverages and snacks at the opulently-catered lookouts and walk over to the corrals, where the rounded-up buffalo are being checked and inoculated. They are ready to be auctioned off, to feed and clothe people all over the country.

Somewhere in the distance, I see an official proudly riding high on his horse and simultaneously flying the state flag and Stars ‘n’ Stripes. The crowd cheers. Once a year man triumphs over the king of nature in South Dakota. Because, you know. Long live the king.

Martin was hosted by South Dakota Tourism: www.travelsd.com
(Click on pictures for larger image)
Full Gallery: