Some Mean Birds

 This is a chapter from a novel I wrote called Freedom Weed set during the rise and fall of the medical marijuana dispensary system in Spokane, WA. It is based on a story I covered as a journalist about a buffalo farm in northern OR.

It smelled like a pet store everywhere. Shawna was glad she wore the right clothes and boots to the interview. She felt uncomfortable alone out in the open expanse with nothing but some thin electric wires between her and the 2000 lbs beast not more than 50 yards in front of her. The male buffalo stood, breaching the pile of girl buffaloes. His chest puffed out - all muscle with strands of clumped up fur hanging down.

    In her research, she learned buffalo can jump six fee in a single stride, remembering that fact, Shawna took a hefty step back from the wire fence as the bull eyeballed her. The eyes were big and motionless. Where is he, she thought. Looking around, she saw nothing but an old shed with overgrown grass and shrubs at the corner of the buffalo fence. Shawna walked over to the shed, a hand painted sign reading CAUTION! ELECTRICITY! was on the door. She checked - it was locked.
    Down the road Shawna heard the rumbling of car on dirt - a sound she’d recently grown used to - it was a brown Buick spraying bits of gravel and mud. The man inside had bulging eyeballs and a bulging gut. By the looks of it, he cut is own hair and didn’t own a belt since in the 10 steps or so he took to reach Shawna he pulled his pants no less than twice.
    “I’m Walt, you the gal from the paper?
    “Yes. Shawna Finnin.”

“Nice to meet you.” he grabbed her outstretched her hand and shook it. His hand was clammy and unwashed. Shawna waited until he turned his body away to rub off her hand on her tan Carharts.

“What do you do there at the paper.”

“Quite a bit actually. I’m the main reporter and editor.”

“Yeah?” Walter said doubtfully.

“Yes. So these are your buffalo?”

“These are them.” Walt started to walk over to the to the shed, pulling up his pants every other pace.

“Is it true they can leap six feet?” Shawna asked, “I read online about how most of the buffalo’s muscle mass is in it front legs.” Walt didn’t answer. He was searching for the right key. “I also read that they can run up to 30 miles per hour.”

“I don’t know about that online stuff. There’s a lot of weird stuff on there. I don’t think I trust it.” Walt looked up from his keys with his beady round eyes looking suspiciously. He found the key and turned off the electric fence.

“You just need to know how to use it.” Shawna said.

“Well okay then. so the fence is off. You wanna go in?”

“What?!”

“You wanna go in, take some pictures?” he asked, pointing to the camera slung over her shoulder.

    “I wanted to ask you some questions.”
    “You can ask me in there,” Walt said as he pushed down on the wire and stumbled into the field. Walt strafed slowly toward the bull in the distance. The massive beast slowly and carefully stepped out of its harem. Walt had a wide stance either to keep his pants up or to be able to react quickly. Looking back at Shawna, Walt motioned for her to come forward. She noticed the bottom of his jaw was slightly off kilter as if it had been broken once and never set properly. Inside the fence, Shawna decided to play it safe and stay close to the perimeter.
    “You go ahead,” she said, unstrapping her camera and tossing her notepad into a dry spot in the ditch.
    “Sometimes,” Walt whispered, his eyes two balloons squeezed to brink of popping, “you can get in real close.”
    “I’ve got a pretty good zoom,” Shawna fumbled with the setting of the newpaper’s camera, cursing herself for not toying with it more - one of the perks of the job. She also cursed Walt for not waiting just a moment.
    “I can hear em breathin,” Walt said, crazed with adrenaline, hunched over and inching towards the beast of the American west. Walt found the bull’s eyes, his crooked grin growing more crooked with each step, he looked back and waved Shawna to come closer. Years of “Just Say No” Training could never have prepared Shawna for this kind of peer pressure. Camera in hand she baby-stepped forward with morbid curiosity.
    Less than 25 yards from the Bull, Walt started making a grunting sound. Shawna was still close to the fence, walking the perimeter, trying to find a shot where she could capture both man and the bull without Walt’s uncovered ass crack showing as his paunch pushed ever more down on the front of his sagging, worn jeans. He looked back to wave Shawna in again and just as he broke eye contact the Bull leapt what must have been more than six feet towards him, clearing two female lying on some uneaten grass.
    “Look out!” Shawna cried waving her free hand frantically. She scurried to get out of the fence and when she was safe she looked up and saw Walt running with both hands holding up his jeans, knees kicking high like an athlete - behind him, the bull quickly sped towards 30 miles per hour. Just as Walt was close to the fence he stooped to jump through the wires, the bull lowered it’s head and almost delicately whipped its neck to the side and upwards, catching Walt by the cuffs of his jeans and flinging him like he was a rag doll through the fence. Shawna saw the thin string of metal disappear into the flesh of Walts bicep and come out vibrating like a plucked sting of a guitar, dripping with a thin coating of read liquid. The bull stopped, grunted out of his nose, and trotted back to his awaiting pile of cows, proud of his handiwork.
    “Dang, Som of a bitch got me pretty good,” Walt hoisted himself up and out of the muddy ditch holding his arm. Blood was streaming out under his other hand.
    “Oh my God. Are you okay?” Shawna stood still.
    “Yeah, he’s a quick bugger,” Walt limped over to his car, opened the back door and grabbed a dirty white t-shirt to press against the bleeding wound. When he bent over to grab the shirt, half his ass was on display - the hairs all pointed toward an awful unwashed dark pit. “Did you say you wanted to ask some questions.”
    “Do you need to go the hospital or something? You might want to get some stitches.” She grabbed her notebook.
    “Nah. Shoot, you think that’s bad you should see what he done to me a couple weeks ago.” Walt turned around and lifted up some hairs on the back of his head to show a Shawna a gash which looked as though had not healed properly. “I woke up in that ditch when he gave me this one.” Walt turned around and talked without looking up from his wound, “Did you get some good shots.”
    “Yes,” Shawna lied.
    “So,” he looked up at her, squinting at the sun finally coming out from the clouds, “you said you had some questions?”
    “Umm. Yes.” She rearranged her tools - put camera back in bag, pulled pen out of pocket. Flustered she asked slowly, “So - What is the benefit of buffalo meat over say beef or even other alternatives such as ostrich or elk.”
    “You know I used to own an ostrich farm when ostrich meat was supposed to be the next big thing. I’ll never do that again. Those are some mean birds.”