Yes, I know it's Mother's Day - I'm ignoring it beyond this post; I hope you aren't.

No, she's not alive - it's been a while now.

No, I did not have a "bad" mother nor a bad childhood.

Both her homes are gone, my old home is gone, the town I grew up in is "gone" - buried in suburbia.
It's all a long way away both in distance and time.

It's just another Sunday ...

The Confederacy lost one of - if not the best - general on this date ... and perhaps the war itself. With the possible exception of Robert E Lee, Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson spent his part of the war confounding Yankees. Accidentally shot by one of his own men (with a .67 caliber bullet) on May 2 while returning from a night patrol during the battle of Chancellorsville, he died in this building at Guinea Station, VA on May 10. He was 39yo.

"He was martial and stern in attitude and profoundly religious, a deacon in the Presbyterian Church."

"Presently a smile of ineffable sweetness spread itself over his pale face, and he said quietly, and with an expression, as if of relief, 'Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.'"

Harper's Weekly reported his death:
"General "Stonewall" Jackson was badly wounded in the arm at the battles of Chancellorsville, and had his arm amputated. Jackson initially appeared to be healing, but he died from pneumonia on May 10, 1863."

Nothing is left of Guinea Station except the railroad, nor anything of the plantation except this outbuilding and marker where Jackson was cared for and died.

We Homo sapiens learn by telling each other stories. Abstract theories and calculations are one thing, but those only come alive and change our lives when we hear it in a story.

I was camping on Catalina Island off the coast of Los Angeles. Back in the 1920 and 1930s buffalo were introduced to Catalina by a silent movie company and by the Wrigleys. They have been there ever since, and the herd size and health is managed by the Catalina Island Conservancy. A bit of a contradiction that, buffalo on Catalina are exotic, and prior to white men running things, there were no large grazers on Catalina. The Conservancy wants to keep the Island in its pure and natural state. Yeah, and they also need tourist money, and the romantic pastoral sight of buffalo herds is one of the things that bring the folks from the mainland.

Since their introduction the buffalo have evolved. The forage on Catalina is poor, the fresh water is scarce, and like many island-bound species, the Catalina buffaloes are runts compared to the majestic creatures of the plains.

I was camping on the west end of the island. There is a fence at the Two Harbors isthmus to keep the buffalo out of the west end. During the day I had duties, so my only real time to get out of camp and explore was very early in the morning, walking and running the hills and trails by myself. That year a couple of buffalo had hopped the fence, or somebody left a gate open, and were wandering around the west end. One had made it into the area where I was, because there is a small trickle of a stream in the canyon coming down from Silver Peak that mostly runs year-round.

If you know what to look for, and know what to smell for, there are plenty of signs buffalo are about. It’s sort of a sweet livestock smell, not unpleasant. And they make dust wallows along the trails and dirt roads, large and shallow craters of fine dust where they roll around on their backs and sides.

One morning I got up particularly early and headed up one of the steep truck trails towards the island crest, hoping to make a long loop and come down by another route. Ahh, such good times solo trail-running in the early morning twilight, the first glimmers of the coming day lighting the sky in the east, the west sky still dark, the early-rising birds beginning to chirp in the trees and brush, the world waking up.

In the canyon it was still dark. I had been on this trail before, I knew the way. No flashlight was needed. And suddenly, right in front of me as I turned a curve in the trail, there loomed a deep-black shadow that cut off views of the trail and the landscape ahead. The shadow was motionless. No one knew where I was, I had told no one about my plans and route for that morning.

Well, I stopped. Stared for a bit into the bottomless black, and then began to silently, as best I could, backtrack down the trail always keeping my eyes on the shadow. Backing down until the shadow was out of sight. Then turned and began trotting down the trail, still silently, and looking back often. I said to myself, “I think I’ll go another way today.” They may be runts, but when you are by yourself in the wide world, that was still an awfully big shadow.

And in all the times I’ve been to Catalina since, I have never gone out on the trails while it was still dark.

Tourists at Yellowstone (and other areas) seem to love getting close to fluffy buffalo. Traffic jams are regular occurrences; buffalo go where they want ... and stop where they want - often in the middle of the road. And tourists turn into looky-loos.

Then get the idea that a selfie is a good idea.

Even Griz stands back for fluffy buffalo.

"According to the National Park Service, a Cape Coral, Florida man was attacked after getting too close to the large animal in the Lake Village area of the park. Medics treated the man for minor injuries, park officials said."

He was lucky. Bison have injured more people in Yellowstone than any other animal; they are unpredictable and can run three times faster than humans. They will kill you - intentionally.

So one day, I'm wandering not far off road in Yellowstone one day - edge of the woods but clear visibility. No serious wildlife nearby, nice day ... so there I sit, enjoying the view and sunshine.

Then this guy comes wandering by. Wa-a-ay too close - within 20 ft (what I get for not paying attention. Dozed off a bit) - but there I was; there he was. Best thing to do? Stay put, stay calm, no sudden moves - let him do his thing. (While I kind of slo-o-owly scoot over to the other side of the truck). He was aware of me but pretty much ignored me.

I didn't have a telephoto lens on when I got this shot.

He wandered on by, found himself a sunny place in a field maybe 100' away, then settled in to do the same thing I was doing (I emphasize "was") as I decided there was a different spot where I'd be more comfortable.