When I was little we owned a nice house at the lake and we would go there for weeks at a time. Dad would leave us on Sunday night, sometimes Monday bright and early, to head home to work for the week and return on Friday. One Friday he returned with a wild tale about seeing Buffalo on his drive down. Now you have to remember that to drink and drive in the '70s wasn't a bad thing yet. So my sister and I smiled at Dad and nodded, rolling our eyes behind his back while he swore up and down that he saw real live Buffalo. After twenty minutes or so we told him we believed him so we could get back to swimming and laying out, we were after all at the lake for crying out loud.
"Get ready girls it's right up here on the right. Are you looking? Get ready here they come."
We jumped up on our knees, (seat belts are a new safety feature too), and fought each other for the window trying to get the best place to view the buffalo. We roll down the window, we stick our heads out, we strain our necks, and then...Cows. Really? Cows? How many beers were sucked down on your drive down here?
"But I swear there were buffalo there on Friday.:"
Sure, sure tell your story walkin pops cause we don't believe you.
A few weeks later we are back at the lake. Didn't see any buffalo on the way down that time either. It had been another work week and we anxiously await the return of our Father with his nephew and niece. It's always a treat to have company for the weekend. They finally arrive, after what seems an eternity and what's the first thing our cousins tell us?
"We saw Buffalo! We saw a whole heard of them!"
Dad really? How sad that you had to involve you sister's children into this charade. I lean into my niece to smell her breath. Nothing, unless you count the bazooka bubble gum smell.
All weekend they tell us how they were amazed at how big the buffalo were. We began to wonder if our city slicker cousins had ever seen any cows before? We decided they hadn't and later that night we took them snipe hunting.
Finally after a summer of buffalo hide and seek we did, one day, finally see the buffalo on a farm mixed in with the Angus. My dad had finally been vindicated. A few years later down at Gravois Mill they had more buffalo and a buffalo burger stand to go along with it. That, I must admit, was pretty weird.
So all weekend I was subjected to the taunts and teasing that we had years earlier put my father through.
"Hey look over there is that a bald eagle? No I think it's a duck, No it a buffalo!" Buhahahha. So funny.
The drive home took us through Gravois Mill. I hoped that perhaps the buffalo burger stand was still there and I could salvage some of my credibility.
But to no avail. It to had gone the way of the 18 foot boats and summer camps.
Out on Highway 65 heading north towards Sedalia there is a farm that has llamas. I was keeping a look out for them while a couple of the girls were talking and one was sleeping in the back. If I couldn't find a buffalo by God I was going to pull a Llamma out of the air! I spied the farm and what looked like a llama.
"Hey guys look. What is that on the hill over there?"
We all crane our necks and what to our wondering eyes should appear but a heard of CAMELS. I kid you not. Of course we can't convince the girl that was sleeping in the back. She smelled our breaths and said,
