A sharp November night thinned out into a grey November dawn over rocky Utah. The broad reaches of Great Salt Lake caught up pale sunrise colors. On desolate Antelope Island in the Southeastern corner of the lake the buffalo* herd slowly bestirred itself to test the morning air. Like shaggy brown mounds they looked in the dim light, lurching up lazily from sleep: here three cows and their calves in a grassy pocket gulch; here, in the broader valley, a scattered group of yearlings and dry cows; there, proudly alone, a burly...
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