Dan Flores

Then if all went well, and it went well enough times in the past to accumulate a bone layer five feet deep at the base of the cliff I'd climbed, the runners who led the herd to the cliff edge would escape, if they could, by darting aside at the last moment, dodging the relentless brown river of animals hurtling into space in a dream of wild, frozen action.

Then if all went well, and it went well enough times in the past to accumulate a bone layer five feet deep at the base of the cliff I'd climbed, the runners who led the herd to the cliff edge would escape, if they could, by darting aside at the last moment, dodging the relentless brown river of animals hurtling into space in a dream of wild, frozen action.

Where I've begun my run is a half mile back from the cliff, and soon enough I cross to descending benches and realize I am on the point of no return in this bison jump. Get the animals here and have them running, and the downhill pitch steepens so quickly, there would be no way for the herd leaders either to stop or turn aside.

Where I've begun my run is a half mile back from the cliff, and soon enough I cross to descending benches and realize I am on the point of no return in this bison jump. Get the animals here and have them running, and the downhill pitch steepens so quickly, there would be no way for the herd leaders either to stop or turn aside.

Where I've begun my run is a half mile back from the cliff, and soon enough I cross to descending benches and realize I am on the point of no return in this bison jump. Get the animals here and have them running, and the downhill pitch steepens so quickly, there would be no way for the herd leaders either to stop or turn aside.

I'm running harder now, pulled faster by the angling slope, and I register that out in the valley, dawn color has arrived. Chrome yellow light cast by the rising sun is lighting the white cliffs on the far side of the river, a scene of great beauty. One last soothing sight of earth, perhaps, as the lip of the plunge is scarcely 120 feet away now.

I'm running harder now, pulled faster by the angling slope, and I register that out in the valley, dawn color has arrived. Chrome yellow light cast by the rising sun is lighting the white cliffs on the far side of the river, a scene of great beauty. One last soothing sight of earth, perhaps, as the lip of the plunge is scarcely 120 feet away now.

I'm running harder now, pulled faster by the angling slope, and I register that out in the valley, dawn color has arrived. Chrome yellow light cast by the rising sun is lighting the white cliffs on the far side of the river, a scene of great beauty. One last soothing sight of earth, perhaps, as the lip of the plunge is scarcely 120 feet away now.

Beyond that is windmilling motion and the silence of 40 feet of free space, then the jarring stop amongst the boulders. I slide to a stop a few feet from the cliff edge and stand panning for a few minutes, looking down on the slope below. By modern standards, the scene would not have been pretty. In 1797, the British trader Peter Fiddler described such a concluding set piece.

Beyond that is windmilling motion and the silence of 40 feet of free space, then the jarring stop amongst the boulders. I slide to a stop a few feet from the cliff edge and stand panning for a few minutes, looking down on the slope below. By modern standards, the scene would not have been pretty. In 1797, the British trader Peter Fiddler described such a concluding set piece.

Beyond that is windmilling motion and the silence of 40 feet of free space, then the jarring stop amongst the boulders. I slide to a stop a few feet from the cliff edge and stand panning for a few minutes, looking down on the slope below. By modern standards, the scene would not have been pretty. In 1797, the British trader Peter Fiddler described such a concluding set piece.

The young men kill the crippled animals with arrows, bayonets tied up on the end of a pole, and etc. The hatchet is frequently used, and it is shocking to see the poor animals thus pent up without any way of escaping. However pod-like their behavior as classic herd animals, all these bison were individuals, of course, and that is the way they died.

The young men kill the crippled animals with arrows, bayonets tied up on the end of a pole, and etc. The hatchet is frequently used, and it is shocking to see the poor animals thus pent up without any way of escaping. However pod-like their behavior as classic herd animals, all these bison were individuals, of course, and that is the way they died.

The young men kill the crippled animals with arrows, bayonets tied up on the end of a pole, and etc. The hatchet is frequently used, and it is shocking to see the poor animals thus pent up without any way of escaping. However pod-like their behavior as classic herd animals, all these bison were individuals, of course, and that is the way they died.

Slanting sunlight, throwing morning shadows hundreds of feet long across the Madison Valley of Montana, lights my face. Over the mountains I see a jet glinting silver, a mobile diamond slicing through the blue, its motion fetching me back to my climb down to the car, back to my commitments. But before I start, I stand for a moment, thinking of the bison that died among the boulders below.

Slanting sunlight, throwing morning shadows hundreds of feet long across the Madison Valley of Montana, lights my face. Over the mountains I see a jet glinting silver, a mobile diamond slicing through the blue, its motion fetching me back to my climb down to the car, back to my commitments. But before I start, I stand for a moment, thinking of the bison that died among the boulders below.

Slanting sunlight, throwing morning shadows hundreds of feet long across the Madison Valley of Montana, lights my face. Over the mountains I see a jet glinting silver, a mobile diamond slicing through the blue, its motion fetching me back to my climb down to the car, back to my commitments. But before I start, I stand for a moment, thinking of the bison that died among the boulders below.

Humans drove buffalo off cliffs in America for 12,000 years. And despite knowing something about it, I find it a shock to be in this space where it happened, this close to how it worked. I visited Head Smashed End Jump in Alberta and absorbed archaeologist friends' accounts of Bonfire Shelter Jump in the gray limestone canyons of the Pecos River in Texas.

Humans drove buffalo off cliffs in America for 12,000 years. And despite knowing something about it, I find it a shock to be in this space where it happened, this close to how it worked. I visited Head Smashed End Jump in Alberta and absorbed archaeologist friends' accounts of Bonfire Shelter Jump in the gray limestone canyons of the Pecos River in Texas.

Humans drove buffalo off cliffs in America for 12,000 years. And despite knowing something about it, I find it a shock to be in this space where it happened, this close to how it worked. I visited Head Smashed End Jump in Alberta and absorbed archaeologist friends' accounts of Bonfire Shelter Jump in the gray limestone canyons of the Pecos River in Texas.