Stumbling upon sitting bull

I felt I had stepped back into time seeing vast, rolling hills and prairies. My heart soared as I imagined millions of buffalo, horses, stags, and such roaming these plains only a hundred years or so ago.

Just across the river in the photo is where Sitting Bull and Sacajawea (of Lewis and Clark fame) are buried. Monuments to their memory are somewhat out of the way and a bit run down but they still stand tall in their stead. I was humbled and amazed to have the wind bring me their way by coincidence (or otherwise?). Sitting Bull’s site was replete with animal skins and various offerings left behind so he is not quite forgotten here by his own brothers and sisters.

I will remain what I am until I die, a hunter, and when there are no buffalo or other game I will send my children to hunt and live on prairie, for where an Indian is shut up in one place his body becomes weak.

Sitting Bull