Buffalo Soldier

During the summer on Catalina Island, the interior can get really dry. When the plants all go brown and the only succulent things left to eat are cactus, the bison come down from the interior and visit us at the lab.

His name is Wilson.

Patrick is excited because this means he doesn't have to buy gas for the lawn mower.

The real pain is when we are walking around late at night. There are very few lights here, and it is usually light enough to see, so I don't bring a lantern. Guess what? Bison have dark fur! They blend in against a background of darkness. Usually the only warning you have is some heavy breathing, maybe a snorting noise.

You can't get much more American than a bison on a volleyball court.
Everyone appears unconcerned.

It's the most luscious patch of grass around.

The non-native but charismatic bison were imported in 1924. They are small and scraggly. My memories of bison in South Dakota, North Dakota, and elsewhere on the Great Plains are of majestic beasts with thick, luxuriant, glossy coats, snorting and stomping their hooves and galloping around. This is not the Catalina bison at all. Their coats are rough, and they don't grow very big (by bison standards). I guess this is island biogeography in action. 

Some days I like to dream that the bison are a remnant Pleistocene population of pygmy bison, the size of terriers, just like the pygmy mammoths on nearby Santa Rosa island.