The bison used the computer before the library opened, otherwise
he filled the aisle. Let me get some headphones, Arlene said, but when
she rummaged through her supply, nothing fit. He took the largest headset,
looped it over a horn, held one side up to his ear, and listened to a lecture
by a Park Service employee from Yellowstone she wanted him to hear.
“The reports were herds 25 miles across and almost 50 miles long. I know
not everyone agrees,” the biologist said, “but we can build large herds again.”
The man sounded very mild, ready to weep. “I’m a public servant. I’m here
to listen, to have a conversation,” he said to an audience outside of the
camera frame. The bison shuddered, not needing or wanting to hear more.
He went to lie in the children’s area. He picked up the closest book, which
happened to be Wilder’s By the Shores of Silver Lake. He randomly turned to
a page about “buffaloes, the Indians’ cattle.” He closed it quickly and shoved
it toward the shelf. The bison had read that section and knew where it went.
He closed his eyes, awakened to children’s voices at the shelves, and two
little blonde boys patting his flank. The father, wearing a child-carrier,
murmured for them to be gentle. Another family arrived while the father
talked with the librarian at her desk about story time. Soon, the bison’s back
was lined with five children between the ages of three to six. One had a hand
on each horn, his face deep in fur, pretending to sleep. “O.K., kids, let’s climb
down, and give Mr. Bison some room,” it was the mayor’s voice. It took self-
control for the bison to lie still; the mayor scared him. The mayor settled into
a short chair in the corner. “You can lean on our friend, and I’ll read Watch
Out for Falling Iguanas,”1 he said. “Do you know what an iguana is?” The kids
leaned back, and he dozed again. Their cheering woke him. The mayor and
Arlene shepherded him out. That was wonderful, the mayor said. I think
we’re onto something.
1. Edwidge Danticat, Watch Out for Falling Iguanas, 2025.
Ruby Hansen Murray is a citizen of the Osage and Cherokee Nations, and the regular culture columnist for the Osage News. On Sunny Sands is forthcoming from Red Bird Chapbooks in early 2027. Star People will be released by the University of Arizona Press in January 2028. Poetry appears in Sixth Finch, Poetry, Nashville Review, The Hopkins Review, and elsewhere. Her essays have won The Iowa Review and Montana Nonfiction Prizes and Notable Best American Essay 2025. She lives on an island in the Columbia River Estuary.
