BUFFALO, RABBIT AND PRAIRIE DOG ON CHRISTMAS DAY

BUFFALO, RABBIT AND PRAIRIE DOG ON CHRISTMAS DAY

By Raddad

My sister Joy inspired me to be a storyteller. She’s a puppet person and Gerald helped. This, kids, is a gift from us - Joy, Gerald and me. I might add: While he was growing up, I told Josh countless episodes of Buffalo, Rabbit and Prairie Dog before he went to bed. He loved them. “One more, please,” he said.

I dedicate this one to him, who said I needed to write a book about them. So, Josh, here is your ‘one more.’

Thank you for being here for me. And, Amanda, I thank you, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a big snow storm on Christmas Eve at Mama and Papa Cook’s ranch. On the road near the ranch near the buffalo wallow – there’s no traffic – blizzard – BRRRRR!

You remember that all three live in the pasture in that perfect nest. A wallow made by Buffalo’s prehistoric ancestors.

Well, Buffalo is special. No human eye can see Him. He’s an angel. He has many names – Buffalee, Buffala, Buffalie, and Buffaloo - but, good friends call him ‘Buffalo.’

Prairie Dog and Rabbit live with Him. Prairie Dog and Rabbit had their own hole in the ground called a burrow. They played games every day. They never aged and possessed childlike spirits. But, if you saw them at the ranch, you would just think everything’s normal. Even little Jerrod could never kill them. They are invincible. If they did get hurt, Buffalo healed them instantly.

A good friend to have, huh?

Back to the story …

Prairie Dog and Rabbit were subjected to all of earth’s forces like gravity, cold, heat, and hunger. But, not Buffalo. He’s an angel. Every snow fall, rain, sleet, tornado, whatever, makes Him happy. He loves all of God’s creations – good and bad, just like His Maker.

But then came the Blizzard of 2009. Something changed. Prairie Dog and Rabbit could not find Buffalo, only a large drift in the wallow. But they knew that after every snow, big or little, it melted off of Buffalo instantly because He is extremely warm in the cold and very cool in heat. That is why their homes were not deep.

But Buffalo is not to be seen. Should they worry? Did He leave and go back to Heaven? They called out His name many times.

Another animal appeared, a white hawk, and said, “Don’t be afraid. Buffalo is playing a trick on you. You know He is a jokester. That drift is an igloo covered with snow and Buffalo is looking out at you and laughing.”

Then, right at the moment White Hawk flew away, up pops Buffalo and He has been transformed into a WHITE BUFFALO.

And, do you know what He says?

“CHRISTMAS GIFT!”

This is an old family saying with us. The first to say it on greeting family on Christmas Day wins. No prize; just fun competition. It is said to be an old Southern tradition and has been going on in my family for at least six generations.

As with all of my stories, there is a parable.

The White Buffalo is an animal that represents God. God comes every year and tells us that He is a gift from Him. Our families are our gifts, and this story is a gift from God.

I can’t wait for 2010, so Christmas Gift is for me an every day occurrence.

The following excerpt was copied from the
“Old Governor’s Mansion, Milledgeville, Georgia”
Office of Electronic Educational Services
of Georgia College & State University

Federal Union, Milledgeville, January 2, 1855

A Dull Christmas

That unwelcome visitor "Hard Times," has put his finger into the Holidays, and spoiled to a great extent, the long, coveted enjoyment of two classes in our midst, hitherto supposed to be privileged, by the very laws of Christmas. The negroes and children have had a poor Christmas of it. Masters and fathers have found an immediate use for every cent in their possession; hence the "colored population" have not had the customary representation "in town," and doll-babies, toys, sugar candy, and fire-poppers(*), have been permitted to "lie on the table for the present." This is an unfavorable symptom, and augurs badly to the state of the money market. We could desire no better finance thermometer that Christmas, could we keep it by us. If the negroes have no money, and even refrain from the customary salutation, "Chrismas gif, massa," and the little children stay at home, content to play with last year’s presents, then, indeed, the times are hard. But there’s luck in odd numbers, maybe Christmas in 1855 will be better.

(*) A Mr. Roger’s notation: Did they have Jolly Rancher Fire Stix? Ha ha. Hope you all like Margie’s research for the Davis Family.

P.S. I hope Christmas 2010’s “Christmas Gift” will be more of a warm and cozy kind.