In the camp are several campers staying in tents. I would just sit in the car before I would go out there and lay down in a tent with 900 buffalo! One couple was even on their honeymoon! A bunch of boy scouts came in on a school bus and stayed all night.

We didn’t hear a word about the danger but campers told us at Custer State Park that seven horses had been killed by buffalo there.

I scampered safely back in the red truck and we drove to the top of the hill and saw the hundreds of buffalo all over the place. We didn’t get out but it was a wonderful sight.

The Ranger came down to camp and stopped to talk to us. He said, "I was down here earlier and a big old bull was laying about 50 feet behind your trailer."

Ed and I didn’t know a thing about it. I am glad we didn’t get up during the night to go out and see about the horses.

"Buffalo can run up to 50 mph. They can run 35 mph all day long," the Ranger told us.

"Our horses can’t outrun a buffalo then," Dale said.

"I don’t have to outrun a buffalo. I just have to outrun you!" I told Dale.

Dale laughed and said, "I guess you do. If that old buffalo gets me and my horse, he is going to get us in the backside, cause I’m going to be running as hard as I can!"

"We don’t herd the buffalo with horses. We use trucks mostly and some times ATV’s. They know what the truck is and run out of the way," the Ranger continued as he got up to go.

"What do you do about keeping your herd the right size here?" Eddie asked.

"Sometimes we round them up and call the Indians to come and get them. They bring those big aluminum trailers over and fill them up. If you get one of those mean old bulls in there though and they start fighting, he won’t quit until everything in the trailer is dead. They tear a trailer all to pieces. We can’t hardly get anyone to come get them any more," the Ranger added.

"I hear that," Dale said.

"Is it always windy in the park like this?" Eddie asked again.

"We don’t call this windy. We don’t pay any attention to 10 mph wind. This is about 20 mph. Sometimes it gets up to 25 mph. It is windy about all of the time, Well, I had better get going," he said.

"When you leave, why don’t you take your truck and run these buffalo off that are close to our camp?" Dale suggested.

"I’ll do that," he said as he got in the truck.

He drove that white truck right at a bunch of buffalo and they got up and ran off back over across the road. With a wave of his hand, he was gone.

"I don’t know about you all, but I’m gonna ride," Eddie said.

"I’m going," Dale said.

"Me too," I said following the men back to the trailers. I wasn’t going to drive all the way to South Dakota and not ride.

It was so cold that we were digging out insulated under ware, heavy jackets, hats and gloves. Then we put the big outback coats over all of that.

Dale got on first and took off alone to try to get his horse settled down into a smooth gait. By the time Eddie and I were mounted, Dale was back at camp.

I took off first down the foot wide buffalo trail through the dry grass and cacti, thinking the buffalo probably didn’t walk on cactus either.

"Look at that mare, Dale. What is she doing," Eddie asked Dale as they followed me.

She's walking!" Dale said. He recognized a good walking horse gait since he had owned walkers for about 20 years. That made it all the worse for him to be riding a hard pacing horse.

"I don't understand it. This horse used to walk when I first got him. I have changed his shoes and everything and I can't get him back into a smooth running walk," Dale said as his horse twisted and worried. Dale brought him around and rode in front in an attempt to get him settled down.

Dusty was racking beautifully and his flaxen mane and tail flashed in the sun as his tale bobbed up and down. Eddie was content to be riding the big, strong sorrel gelding.

The Ranger had told us that the water in the creeks was thick and the horses would not drink it. The buffalo did, but our horses would not.

We came to the six foot wide creek and went down the eight or ten foot bank buffalo trail. Dale was now in the front and he put Scooter through the soft gray mud, through the thick water and up the other bank. Teege followed and then Dusty.

The next thing we knew we were in a prairie dog city. There must be a dozen holes in a 20 foot square! Those holes were big enough for a horse to step into and maybe break a leg!

I heard what sounded like birds chirping and looked around and there were prairie dogs with their heads poking up out of holes, half way out of holes and some sitting beside their hole.

I realized I was listening to the prairie dogs barking at each other. They scampered around like rats. Our horses were twisting and turning and we were making every effort to guide them around the many holes everywhere!

Let's go up higher. We've gotta get out of this," Dale said as he turned his black gelding up the hill covered with brown grass and short brush and cactus.

This was not big, tall cactus, it was what we call prickly pear cactus. It was from three inches to ten inches tall. It lay flat on the ground sometimes and it was not easy to locate in the short, crisp grass. It had cactus spines on it about an inch long. It seems like I now remember someone referring to taking wire pliers with them to pull the cactus needles out of the horses feet and legs.

Gosh! Durn! I didn’t want any needles in my mare's legs! Eddie did have some all purpose folding tool with him, but I didn’t want to need that!

"Those western movies are crazy. Nobody ever robbed a bank and went running out across this land. Before they could even make a movie out here, they would have to fill up all of these holes and dig up all of the cactus," Dale shouted.

We got almost clear of the prairie dog holes up on top of the hill but we could look over and see the bottom land beside the creek was all pock marked with hundreds of holes and scurrying prairie dogs!

You can't imagine how quickly you can develop an intense hatred for prairie dogs! The Ranger said they stretch from North Dakota to Texas. It is against the law to poison them in parks now. Hunting Clubs come in and have a shooting season where one hunter can kill a couple of hundred a day. But that is only a drop in the bucket! They are all over the place.

Unless you are on top of a horse trying to ride through the little buggers, you have no idea of the depth of the problem. We saw people out of their cars with cameras at prairie dog cities lying on the ground taking close up pictures of the "cute little things".

This was different. All I wanted was to get back to the trailer. I did not consider this a fit place to ride a horse!

Let's ride around this way and see if we can get over in that area," Dale said.

I was glad not to be in front any more. I didn’t like it anywhere! We could still see the campground. There were no trees or green grass, only short scraggly shrubs, crispy brown tufts of grass. And cactus.

We rode up hills and down gullies and finally across some more fields and hunted for a place that we could get down the fifteen foot banks to the creek.

Then we saw the campground down in the valley.

"We don't want to go back now," Dale said.

"I do," was my reply. "You all go on and ride all you want. I can see the trailer and I'm going back."

"Be careful," Eddie said, "We can see that you get back. Me and Dale are going to go on up this way."

Quite joyfully I set off across the desert-like ground. As far as I was concerned, the riding wasn’t any fun in such circumstances. Teege also saw the trailer and we were off at a good running walk to camp.

Janice met me with the camera and took my picture. I unsaddled the horse and tied her up to the high line. After putting up all of the tack, I settled down to do some writing.

After a little while, I decided I could concentrate better if my horse was safe, so I went out and put her in the trailer with some hay.

Later I went out to talk to Janice when she saw the riders skylined on top of the hill. I got my video camera and recorded them. It was so beautiful seeing the horses. In the distance Dusty’s flaxen mane and tail flashed like sunshine as his wavy hair danced as he gaited across the barren terrain.

The men enjoyed their ride but Eddie had a story to tell.

"We were riding and Dale was in front. He rode up the hill that was a razorback. Just as they topped the sharp ridge, Dale's horse jumped straight up in the air with all four feet. When he hit the ground, he was going back down the hill. A big bull buffalo was laying down just over the top of the hill. It also jumped up and ran down the hill on the other side," Eddie told. "Dale had to be a pretty good rider or he could not have hung on to that horse."

That's right. That horse and buffalo both spooked at the same time. I'm glad that old buffalo ran off the other way," Dale agreed. Eddie teased me about my horse being in the trailer, What's the matter? Are you afraid a buffalo will get her?"

"They won't get her if I can help it," I insisted, not a bit ashamed I had loaded her back up.

Eddie and Dale rode the next day too, but they went across the road and out a different trail. They thoroughly enjoyed it, but I didn’t mind at all staying behind.

Janice and I went into town to the laundrymat. We drove the long way around the edge of the canyon rim on the scenic route. It was so rough but it was beautiful. Where we were staying it wasn’t anything like this. It didn’t look like a billy goat could travel this country.

When we left camp the next morning, Janice and I urged the men to also take the long route in order that they could look at the amazing scenery.

We stopped beside of the road in places where the Badlands were at their worst. Eddie and Dale got out and shaded their eyes with their hands as they stared at the scene.

"Look at that," Dale said.

"Yeah. That is where they took those moon shots," Eddie said.

"Probably was," Dale added.

Wild, Wonderful West Virginia