Asides

Chapter 1 – Bucky is found

Rawhide Creek was lined with willows that were just beginning to show the tender shoots of spring foliage. The pale green contrasted with the silver gray of the Wyoming sagebrush to make beautiful coverage for a young mother antelope. The tall grass provided soft bedding underfoot. A hollowed place under the sagebrush near the edge of the willows was the natural place for birth.

Twin pronghorn antelope are not uncommon on the Wyoming sage prairie, but the events that were soon to take place may well have been very uncommon. The young mother had carefully chosen her spot. The first baby had been born and was standing when kid number two came into the world. This one seemed weak and unable to hold its head up. No amount of prodding from his mother could get him to stand.

Suddenly a rustling in the brush across the Rawhide frightened the mother antelope. She held her head up, cautiously listened and looked around, fear caused her nostrils to flair. She quickly tried once more to prod her tiny new son into action. Try as he would, he would not muster enough strength to put his long spindly legs under his body. Front legs spread out awkwardly in front of him, he frantically fought with his back legs to pull himself up. Plop! He fell in a heap, panting from the exertion.

As the coyote’s head appeared visible to the mother antelope’s eyes, she nudged the babe back into bushes for hiding. She prodded her elder, stronger son and he jumped into action. Soon, mother and son with white tails standing high from fear, were flying across the sagebrush. The tiny one was left completely at the mercy of nature. The coyote bounded off in pursuit, a totally lost cause for him, but part of a day’s fun anyway.

Back in the sagebrush nest, instinct warned the tiny new antelope to remain quit for a time. As he lay quietly in the underbrush, he felt strength coming into his legs. When all seemed quiet, he began to miss his mother and decided to stand up again. By now he was feeling hungry and wanted his mother even more.

Once again, the tiny one awkwardly placed his long spindly front legs up and with a huge grunt of effort, pulled his wobbly back legs under himself. At long last he was standing! All four feet were planted firmly under him, his body shaking from the effort. For a moment, he stood there, poised and sniffing the air for the warm scent of his mother. Carefully he took a step forward, the another until he could feel strength surging through his body. He practiced his newfound walk, being careful not to stray far from his mother’s smell that remained in the grassy nest under the sagebrush.

After a short time, he tired and fell in a tiny heap back in the nest. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Many miles away, the mother antelope and her stronger son stopped from their flight near the shadows of a cottonwood tree. The coyote was now out of sight and danger was past, so the mother munched on grass and sagebrush while nursing her young. She had forgotten about her younger and weaker offspring.

Some distance away along the bank of Rawhide Creek sprawled the Newell Ranch, with the main ranch bordering the rich meadowland to the west and the hired man’s headquarters called the Snow Ranch along the east meadow. The big white house of the hired man’s quarter’s seemed to burst at the seams with the Scheer children, four in all, ranging from nine year old Don, to tiny Loreen and Joan and Sandie in-between.

Believing all these girls were a pain, Don spent nearly all his time when not in school, roaming prairies on “Patches”, his pinto Shetland pony. Today, however, he was on official ranch business. He was riding the brush along the Rawhide in search of cows or newborn calves that may be in trouble. This was perfect work for a small boy on a pony since the could navigate through the willow brush in places an adult would have to go on foot. Don loved the feeling of responsibility and Dad was never far away if a problem developed. Best of all, he had a legitimate excuse to stay away from the house and those girls! They were always wanting to ride Patches, especially Joan, and if he said “No!”, she’d howl and Mom would come out and make him take her for a ride.

Don loved weaving in and out among the willow branches and sagebrush. He could imagine himself to be a young Indian Brave. His eyes were ever alert for the wildlife along the Rawhide. A busy beaver was working on his underground water home. An occasional muskrat or otter slithered along the bank. Sometimes he’d stop and catch a frog or two to put in his saddle bag for future use. Patches seemed to know his way through the willows without much guidance from the boy, so he was free to observe all that was going on around him.

Life along the Rawhide was always full of surprises for a boy who knew how to watch for them. Today was no exception. Don noticed a slight movement in the sagebrush ahead. Moving carefully, he dismounted Patches and quietly dropped the reins, a signal between boy and pony to stop and rest. Don moved cautiously, not wanting to frighten what was probably a new calf. As he carefully parted the brush, Don drew a quiet breath of surprise to see a tiny newborn antelope. This was a treat he had not expected! It seemed to be very weak. Its tiny sides were barely moving. Don’s father had taught him never to disturb a baby animal or get too close. This would leave the smell of a human around and frighten the mother away, then a newborn would be left to die. So, he carefully pushed the branches back without disturbing the sleeping antelope and returned to the waiting Patches to continue his search for calves. But his mind was no longer on his work or searching for other wildlife. There was something unusual about the baby antelope. Where was its mother? Why did it seem so weak? He vowed to return after he had finished his ride for Dad.

Sometime later, Don met his father, who was in the process of vaccinating a calf and marking its ear. The boy waited quietly until his father had finished his work and turned the bawling calf loose to go back to its mother. Then he reported that he had not found any calves, but desired to go back and look at the baby antelope.

“You may go back for another look, son, but it will probably be gone. They don’t usually stay in one place very long after birth. Its mother was probably nearby watching you and they’ll be gone.”

The words were discouraging, but permission was granted. Dad understood Don’s need for adventure and his great love for wild life. Soon, Don and Patches were racing toward the secret sagebrush nest. As they began to get closer to the spot, Don slowed the pony to a walk. The pony seemed to understand and carefully place his hoofs as quietly as he could. Dad was probably right, it would be gone. He was usually right about these things, but…what if the baby antelope was still there? What would that mean?

He decided to scout around the area for other antelope or maybe some tracks first. He was really avoiding the moment of reckoning. Why does dad always have to be right? A mother would never abandon her baby, would she?

As he studied the soft ground around the nest, he could see no tracks, but then he didn’t really expect any. A mother would not be so careless as to leave tracks near the nest of her young.

Next, he scanned the horizon for antelope, even one would tell him the mother was near. He saw none. Back in the sagebrush he heard a rustling noise and a soft thud. Don’s heart skipped a beat! Was it still there? He hurried back, but before he could reach the spot, he was surprised to see a very wobbly antelope moving toward him. He looked brand new. Don’s experience with calves told him this one had not yet been fed. Its tiny sides were sunken. Stranger yet, its hair was matted together as though it had not been properly licked clean after birth. Something inside Don, told him this baby had been abandoned!

Moving slowly forward, hand outstretched, Don cautiously approached the baby. Gently and quietly, he touched the animal with the tips of his fingers, allowing the creature to sniff at them and put out a tiny pink tongue for a lick. Suddenly the baby’s mouth was around his finger and sucking fiercely. This baby was hungry.

Leaving his finger in the antelope’s mouth, Don gently ran his other hand along the back of the baby antelope as he had seen his father do to a new calf. Slowly, he brought his hand down along the rump. Then he removed his finger from the mouth and took the baby in his arms. It was heavier than he had expected, so he whistled for Patches to come. The pony obeyed quickly, but quietly as if trying not to frighten the baby antelope. With a mighty grunt of effort, Don placed the baby antelope across the pony’s back in front of his saddle. Using the reins of the rope, he tied the antelope in place until he could get on himself. Then he looped the reins around the saddle horn giving Patches his head as he held the baby in place on the saddle in front of him with both hands. Patches knew just what was expected of him and he headed for home when the boy signaled with a gently pressure from his knees.

Until now, Don had not given much thought to where his actions were leading. He was only concerned with getting food for this baby so it could survive. Mom had let him nurse birds and other small animals, surely, she would not object to a baby antelope! The ride back to Dad was much slower than before. He had precious cargo.

As he saw his Dad approaching, Don began to wonder if Dad would really go along with the idea of caring for this new baby. He practiced in his mind how he would explain all this. Dad did not always approve of disturbing animals in their natural surroundings. When Don met his father in the open field, there was a look of understanding on his dad’s face and an expression of determination on Don.

“The mother’s gone. I’m taking him home, he’s hungry,” were Don’s words.

“Do want me to carry him for you?”

“I can do it,” was the firm reply.