About
Bruce Roseland
Poems
The Last Buffalo
Contacting Bruce Roseland
About Bruce Roseland
Bruce Roseland was born in 1951 in central South Dakota, where he has spent his entire life except for attending college. After two and a half years at South Dakota State University in Brookings, and a year and a half at the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks, he obtained a bachelor’s degree, then remained at UND to pursue a master’s degree, which he received in 1980. About that time, however, he made the decision to return to the family farm and become the fourth generation operator of it. He and his wife Barbara (Logan), who is from Devils Lake, North Dakota, have spent their lives and raised their two sons, Aaron and Adam, on the home place in Seneca, South Dakota, which includes the original homestead site of Bruce’s great-grandparents, G.T. and Elizabeth Roseland.
Since winning the Wrangler award from the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City for “outstanding poetry book of 2006” (The Last Buffalo) Bruce continues to write, as time permits, and continues the daily, sometimes hectic, operation of the ranch.
Just Another Day at the Ranch
The calf was being presented
upside down and backwards.
Experienced vets say, “Rotate,”
a difficult maneuver at best.
But if you try pulling calves out the wrong way
they just don’t come.
So I pushed the legs back
into the womb,
twisting and turning,
trying to get what was wrong
back to right.
Finally the legs pointed the right way
for a wrongway breach calf,
a hard pull from the get go.
The cow went down
as I pulled the calf through the birth canal
and I heard and felt something snap.
Dead on delivery,
a big one, at that.
I should have done better.
But another cow had just calved a set of twins.
I would split them
to give this cow a second chance.
I picked up my stuff
and threw the puller over the gate,
but somehow in the toss
my left index finger got ripped up.
Bleeding badly, I stuck my hand
under a cold running hydrant in the barn.
Crouching down, cold water running over a hurting finger,
a cow down in the headgate,
a dead calf on the straw,
I could only hope no neighbor,
friend, or stranger would show up.
Nothing I wanted to explain or discuss.
I wrapped up my finger,
dragged the dead calf out of the barn,
got the cow up and out of the headgate,
penned her with her foster calf,
had my supper and went to bed.
Next day the mother and calf
walked out together
like they were meant for each other.
© 2006, Bruce Roseland, from The Last Buffalo
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's permission
Branding Cattle
Branding cattle sounds like Western mystique.
It's more like a dirty chore.
The brand I use is electric,
plugged into the end of a 100-foot cord.
Each animal is caught in a headgate,
bouncing and banging
against the chute walls.
The iron hits the hairy hide
in a big puff of heavy smoke,
burning my eyes.
I try to breathe
in the in-betweens.
Only then can I see
what I'm burning,
trying to put something readable
on a half-grown cow jumping up and down.
Like bushels of grain
most cattle look the same.
but if they roam
a brand helps them find
their way back home.© 2006, Bruce Roseland, from The Last Buffalo
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's permission
Premature Calf
If the head lifts up
and the body flops around
soon after being born,
no plaintive bawling
coming from deep inside,
that’s a good sign.
A newborn calf, especially a premature calf,
should be silent and breathing easy.
A row of front teeth, even if just nubs,
all of these are good signs.
Some want to live,
some don’t seem to care.
The ones that do,
fight to get to their feet,
their backs a straight line,
a light in their eyes.
Bunting and nuzzling around
looking for a teat,
sucking on a finger stuck in their mouth,
all are very good signs.
Mother cow steady in the head gate,
her calf steadied on my knee,
teat in mouth
rhythmically sucking,
then standing on its own,
getting its fill.
Best sign.© 2006, Bruce Roseland, from The Last Buffalo
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's permission
Remember Me
My dad, his brother and their father
were hauling yearlings to early pasture.
I was along for the ride.
As the pickup pulled the cattle trailer
along a stretch of road
My 82-year old granddad, every half-mile
would point and say
who had lived there.
Little remained of the homesteads
he had known—
a few foundation rocks,
a bit of disturbed ground,
the buildings for the most part gone.
He recalled another name
every half-mile to a mile,
few my father or his brother recognized,
people who came and left
years and years ago.
Arriving at the pasture
my father and I swung the gate open wide.
The entrance was soggy.
My father’s brother gunned
the pickup through the gate
making a big arc,
trying to end up pointing the right way,
facing back out again.
There, standing on the trailer bumper,
in the spring’s blue sky air,
along with the mud and the grass flying,
a buggy whip in one hand and
holding on with the other hand,
half a cigar clenched in his teeth,
was my granddad.
He hadn’t said a word
but had simply climbed on,
showing he was part of this outfit still.© 2006, Bruce Roseland, from The Last Buffalo
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's permission
Bruce Roseland comments on his book:
The title, "The Last Buffalo," is meant as a metaphor. Just as the wild buffalo have disappeared from central South Dakota, so, it seems, in the last 40-50 years, has our rural human population been on the decline, along with our rural culture.
The Last Buffalo is a book of free-verse poetry that I think of more as a series of little stories that pay tribute to those who settled my area and also to those who continue calling this place home.
I have often referred to The Last Buffalo as a book of themed poetry, and I would like to think that someone in the future will be able to say to themselves after reading it, "Oh, so THAT'S how things were.Bruce Roseland's book, The Last Buffalo received the prestigious 2007 "Wrangler," the Western Heritage Award, from the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City.
[photo courtesy of the National Western and Cowboy Heritage Museum: "The coveted Wrangler, a stunning bronze sculpture of a cowboy on horseback, is presented by the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum in 14 categories of music, film, television and literature in the Western genre." ]
includes:
Introduction
The Butterknife
Elizabeth
Mother
Gennie
If You Could Choose
Momentum
Remember Me
A Mark of an Honest Man
The Last Generation
Otto
I Regret
Jackrabbit Baby
My Jungle
Dick and Queen
The Slingshot
The Smell of Earth and Grease
Sacred Ground
The Big Empty
A Hundred Years of Dreaming
Hard Luck
Children's Graves
Inez
Farm Wide
Times Have Changed
They Can't Stop Us
What Do You Say?
The Lament of Youth
Reply: The Old Man's Blues
A Proper Burial
Teepee Rings
Cloud Riders
Fencing
Moving a Fence
Before They Put Cabs on Tractors
The Walking Wounded
The Bachelor Farmer
These Old Tractors
Scenes at Sale Barns and Auctions
Spring Dance
The Soul of a Prairie is Grass
Birthing Calves
Just Another Day at the Ranch
Premature Calf
Branding Cattle
Dust
Deep in My Bed
A Rebirth
Hay Raker
Early September Haying
Neighborhood Feud
More Quiet Than Silence
Red Fox
False Spring
Pelicans
Ducks in Flight
I Own the Moment
Crane
It is the Least That I Can Do
November
The Beast in the Window
Coup Counting
Retirement Auction
A Special Day
Country Night Lights
Dated Stone
Plain Folks
Magic Times
The Prairie Rose
The Next Wave
The Last Buffalo is available for $11.95 plus postage from:
The North Dakota Institute for Regional Studies at the North Dakota State University in Fargo. Read more about the book at their web site where you can order by mail or phone 701-231-8338.
And the book is available online at Barnes & Noble.com.
Contacting Bruce Roseland
Bruce Roseland
16894 SD Highway 47
Seneca, SD 57473
(605)436-6770
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