One night in January, while house sitting for sculptor, Veryl Goodnight, I returned back to her home after going to a movie. Charlie, the almost three year old buffalo, was oddly quiet. At that time, he was kept out in the arena. Luke, the German Sheppard, was quiet also, and missing for some reason. He usually met me when I'd drive in. Now mind you it's late on a winter’s night with no moon. Very dark. Thankfully, I was familiar enough with the house to just make out the gravel driveway and walkways to the house and around the garden. I really didn't need a light to the door. Twenty feet away I could see the yellow glowing button to the studio door bell. Fresh cool crisp air filled my nostrils.

Veryl and her husband's, Roger Brooks’, place is located north of Tesuque, about 15 minutes north of Santa Fe. It looks directly West towards Los Alamos. The lights of Los Alamos and the stars were the only light that broke up and silhouetted the hills and trees around the property.

I stood out by the garden for a moment, attempting to look around, wondering what was going on. Not that I could see much in the blackness, but I could hear better in the direction that I was facing. I was listening for signs of the dog. Just then a deep snort from behind me. I flinched as chills ran up and down the back of my neck. I quickly regained my composure realizing it was just Charlie. I returned his greeting with my own version of a snort. He snorted back, acknowledging my response, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”, as if we knew what each other was saying. Unfortunately he had broken out of the arena through the fence.

The arena was only meant for horses. Charlie was now too big and strong to be kept in it. He had a full grown set of horns and a head as hard as a brick wall. Weighing close to 2000 pounds, he didn't understand why he could not come in the house anymore. He had gone looking for me, because earlier that day I had been out in the arena with him running around, throwing orange traffic barrels at each other. Of course he couldn't direct them at me with his head as easily as I could toss them back at him. That didn’t spoil his enjoyment. Playing with him during the day wasn't that difficult as long as you kept an eye on him and didn’t turn your back to him for too long. You have to be ready to dodge him like a bull fighter without a cape. (I am no bull fighter.) I know he had fun that day, but he must have wanted more.

Charlie hadn't been as close to me as I thought. I found him on the other side of the garden, about thirty yards away, by the back door.
The garden was tiered with bushes, trees and an assortment of mostly dormant flowers. It ran along and hugged the back side of the studio and house, up to the back patio. It contained a three level koi pond, with a large volcanic rock fountain and narrow sandstone pathways. Not the kind of place for a large buffalo.

I walked through the garden until I noticed the large black mass that was Charlie, standing on the small patch of lawn on the other side. Luke was lying on the back patio keeping an eye on the escapee. I approached Charlie slowly and let him smell my hand. He nudged and licked it thinking a treat was forthcoming. I sighed and grumbled annoyingly. I walked back to the arena and opened both gates wide; one into the arena, the other to the small pasture off to the side. I noticed while opening the gates he had taken out a section of fence in the back. He wouldn’t be staying in the arena that night. I walked the path around the back of the garden where I was going to need to lead him. Luke was sitting by the back door still keeping watch. The closer I came, the more Charlie snorted. I snorted back. He'd responded. The conversation continued. "What the hell are you doing out?" I snorted.

“I was bored and wanted to play.” He’d snort.
“It’s too cold and dark, mister.” I re-snorted.
Snorting hopefully, “So.”, he said.
“I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Let’s go back to the arena, I’m too tired. Look at me yawning.” I faked a long yawn.
Defiant snort, “NO!”
Your mind can imagine anything under stress.

I tried a few times to lead him back with a rope. He wasn’t having any of that. I think he loved the little patch of grass Roger kept as a sanctuary from the New Mexico desert. This is where Roger and he would play when Charlie was a calf.

Knowing he loves carrots, I went into the house taking Luke with me. A good dog, but when I start leading Charlie back to where he belongs, Luke is more likely to chase Charlie in all kinds of directions. Grabbing a carrot I headed outside, turning on the back porch light, and thinking it would light part of my way through the garden. (In hind sight, I should have left the light off. Now, my eyes would have to adjust as I made my way through the lit part of the garden into the dark arena.)

Hiding the carrot behind my back, I touched his nose. He snorted and nodded his head upward. As I brought it to his nose for him to smell, he reared and snorted. I slowly began backing away in preparation for him to casually follow, keeping the carrot in view. He tossed his head around wanting his treat. He lurched towards me in full stampede mode. My feet slipped as I reacted like a shot gun blast. I can’t remember if I yelp, but I was off, frightened out of my mind. I ran through and around the trees, in semi-frozen mud, wood chips and snow. I was not prepared to run through this. Bolting slipping and sliding, keeping my feet under me, listening to the thunder of buffalo hooves and his chest beating volumes of air out his nose like a locomotive, behind me. My eye sight got better, I think because they were now bugging out of my head.

I flew, not because I was in shape to do so, I wasn't, but because I was running for my life.

I made it through around the back of the garden and dashed through the first gate with Charlie close behind. The arena didn't have snow or mud to run in, but it did have that very loose soft sandy dirt, that's like running on the beach. Trouble for me.

I, as if in a nightmare, made it through the second gate and I turn sharply around, reaching to pull the gate closed, Charlie was hot on my heels. He turned so fast I couldn't close the gate. Back out into the arena I went and Charlie followed. His breath propelling me in one direction and then the other. Through the gate I went three times, but he was always there close behind.

He was having fun, I was not. Out into the arena again, then in a brilliant stroke, I ran to the back of the pasture through and around some low trees, losing Charlie huffing and puffing as I closed the gate.

Alternating between hanging on the gate for balance and doubled over with my hands on my knees, I realized I was the one huffing and puffing. More accurately, coughing and wheezing.

Charlie walked up to me and I gave him his well deserved carrot through the gate. I couldn't really talk or complain, from of the constant congested coughing and spitting. The cold air and physical exertion left me with fluid in my lunges. I stood there for a few minutes trying to catch my breath, keeping company with this 2000 pound kid. “They aren’t paying me enough for this.” I thought over and over.

I said, “good night”, to Charlie. I rubbed his nose, he licked my hand and then I staggered back to the house, feeling light headed, dizzy and the sore overly strained muscles in my legs as the adrenaline began to wane. Inside, I collapsed on the couch and turned on the TV to the cartoon channel.

Everything is true, except for the cartoons. I can't remember what was on TV. I probably passed out. Too tired to remember my dreams the next morning, I wonder if I was still running from my friend Charlie.

Jerry Van