Back in June: Bison between the lakes

Some Saturdays, the bison bug must be sated. Nancy and I are no strangers to the bison prairie at Land between the Lakes (LBL) National Recreation Area. Aside from a few random farms with a token head or two of bison, it’s the closest place to observe a sizable herd. This year we timed our visit to coincide with the births of this year’s “little red dogs.”

We headed northwest from Nashville,  took the road west to Cadiz, followed the high, narrow bridge above the Cumberland River, and toured the country’s largest inland peninsula, the narrow land between the Cumberland Tennessee rivers. Bison typically have their calves in later spring. The calves retain their rusty fur for a few months, looking starkly different than their parents. Here we could see them inside the fence, albeit inside a car.

Last time we visited, in January 2013, the whole herd congregated around the loop road, some almost close enough to touch. But only a fool pets a bison. Wild, fast and unpredictable, I had no desire for new dents in my Scion, so I gave bison as wide a berth as the road allows. We altered the tour on this visit by starting at LBL’s Woodlands Nature Station, which covers substantial ground in a small space. The interior houses local reptiles and insects.

A “backyard” beyond the station houses enclosures for animals native to the region, including deer, fox, bobcat, and a red wolf. Most cannot return to the wild, and red wolves are critically endangered, living in the wild in a few wildlife refuges.

Before reaching the mammals and raptors, the hummingbirds steal the spotlight. Feeders and wildflowers drew dozens of the thumb-sized birds to yard, flitting and fighting for nectar. Even as a light rain broke out, they buzzed around. At 4:30 most afternoons, rangers parade the raptors through station, offering a quick biology lesson and a close encounter with owls and hawks. Despite permanent injuries, most birds had little patience for the spotlight.

Driving the LBL’s Woodlands Trace, the only north-south road running its whole length, it’s easy to be alone. The only traffic jams lie inside the bison prairie, where we headed next. The rumpled landscape hides more than bison. At least two dozen elk hid in the groves. In summer, a lucky daylight visitor spots one or two. We caught sight of a single elk 15 feet from the road, but all others stayed hidden.

Bison employed no camouflage. They flanked the road west of a small creek, mostly grazing as others sat. A few calves stood close to their parents. Given the yelling and hooting from cars ahead of us, I cautiously proceeded at a brisk 5 mph. “Little red dogs” were plentiful here. They seemed oblivious to the attention, although a few bison cows gave irritated grunts that signaled we were close enough.

Observing any public bison herd is nothing but a snapshot. Those red little dogs will grow into massive cows and bulls. Next year, a different group of little red dogs will bounce and play on the LBL prairie.

 There’s no guarantee any will stay in the prairie for long. These herds are highly maintained and their size capped. The land can only support so many bison; any extra get auctioned off. Life moves on with uncertainty for a captive bison. The only certainty is that the herd will go forward, more assurance than their 19th century forerunners received.