On October 4, 2013, the weather forecast in western South Dakota called for some rain that would eventually turn to snow, accumulating up to six inches. It was early autumn, and the prairie grass was still green so most of the ranchers in the region figured the snow would fall, melt, no big deal—certainly no reason to roundup the cattle and drive them to shelter. But during the night, the light snowfall transformed into a raging blizzard with 70 mile-per-hour winds and a tsunami of snowfall. Temperatures plummeted. Many areas lost power. And the cattle began trying frantically to escape the melee.

In all, some four feet of snow fell that evening, with drifts as high as six feet. As ranchers dug themselves out, the devastation dawned upon them. An estimated 20,000 cattle lay dead, some in the middle of the roads and highways, legs outstretched behind them, revealing their desperate attempt to flee. Some ranchers lost everything. But some lost nothing. Looking upon the devastation was a buffalo herd, still standing strong. Rather than fleeing the storm, they turned and faced it.

Bison bison, indigenous to North America alone, is perfectly adapted to the Great Plains of the continent. Neither weather nor predators ever had much of an effect on them, as they could withstand nearly any threat or challenge. On the eve of contact, there were an estimated 25 million buffalo, ranging from northern Canada to southern Texas.

To be sure, the buffalo’s resilience was put to the ultimate test in the 19th century. As Euro-American settlers arrived and began moving westward, they brought along their cattle, which although adapted to the relatively mild climate of Western Europe, could, with care, flourish on the North American Plains. However, the cattle, along with an explosion in horse herds, quickly stressed the buffalo’s prairie habitat. But even more profound, was the opening of the Oregon and Santa Fe Trails and, eventually, the coming of the railroads. These developments dovetailed with East Coast fashion trends that exoticized the bison, leading to a craze for buffalo robes and salted bison tongue. Wild-eyed, profit-seeking buffalo hunters flocked to the Plains, and it wasn’t long before one of the most far-reaching slaughters in the history of North America was underway. Some hunters reported killing 100 animals in a single day. According to historian Richard White, one small hunting party took 28,000 bison in just a couple of months in 1873. The skinners who accompanied the hunters took the buffalo’s hides but left everything else to rot in the sun. One observer reported, “For 30 or 40 miles along the north bank of the Arkansas River there was a continual line of putrescent carcasses.” Between 1872 and 1874, 4,374,000 bison—from the southern herd alone—were killed.

Of course, there were other nefarious forces at work as well. Many saw the eradication of the bison as the surest way to force the Native nations of the Great Plains onto reservations, opening the region to cattle ranching. General Phillip Sheridan, the man who led so many campaigns against American Indians, stated coldly, “If I could learn that every buffalo in the northern herd were killed I would be glad.” It appeared that his wish was coming true. As Richard White so starkly put it, “In the fall of 1883, many outfitted themselves as usual. But there was nothing to hunt except piles of bones bleaching in the sun and wind.”

Yet despite this massive effort, they didn’t quite completely eradicate the buffalo. A museum expedition in the late 19th century found fewer than 200 animals in the entire United States while a larger, yet still small herd persisted in northern Alberta. From that nadir, the ever-resilient bison would mount a comeback that is still in the making. A century later, tribes launched myriad programs and enterprises, such as the InterTribal Bison Cooperation, that have populated the Plains again with thousands of buffalo. Today, the National Bison Association estimates that there are half a million animals, a number that is growing daily.

The history of the bison in North America is inextricably connected to and parallels that of Native peoples of the Plains. And like the American bison, Native nations have risen from a nadir so low that many observers thought their recovery, even their survival as distinct cultures, impossible. Yet today, despite all the odds and dire predictions, Indigenous peoples throughout North America are rejuvenating, revitalizing, rebuilding, and reflecting their resiliency. At the fore of this effort are tribally controlled colleges and universities.

At Cankdeska Cikana Community College in the Spirit Lake Nation, the COVID-19 pandemic presented a challenge that would have crushed any other college that size and that underfunded. But like all tribal colleges, CCCC was both resourceful and resilient. Pivoting to online and hybrid instruction and utilizing funds to support its students both technologically and with more immediate needs, the college not only weathered the storm, but expanded its enrollment. Find out more in the feature article, “The Dakota Way.”

To the Southwest, Diné College likewise demonstrated its resilient spirit despite the incredible losses that the pandemic inflicted on the Navajo Nation. “Ta’nadiingo—All 20!”, meaning all 10 fingers and all 10 toes—everything you have—served as the college’s rallying cry. From 2020 to the present, the college created new programs, invested in new technologies, pursued new economic development ventures, and established an enviable research office. Read all about it on page 38.

Any discussion of resilience at tribally controlled institutions of higher education, would be incomplete without including the story of Red Crow Community College on the Blood reserve in Alberta, Canada. A longtime international member of AIHEC and the First Nations sister college of Blackfeet Community College, RCCC traces its roots to the closure of the St. Mary’s boarding school, where for decades Western educators sought to assimilate Blackfoot children. Working tirelessly to turn the tide of colonization, Red Crow nearly collapsed following a devastating fire that destroyed not only its campus, but many of its most cherished Blackfoot cultural artifacts and archives. But like that last buffalo herd in the far reaches of Alberta, “Niitsitapiiysinni – To Be Blackfoot,” means to stand strong and face adversity even when it seems impossible.

The stories in this issue of Tribal College Journal underscore the resilience at tribally controlled colleges throughout North America. It is our hope that they inspire and encourage you to persevere no matter the odds.

Bradley Shreve, PhD, is editor of Tribal College Journal.

REFERENCES

Braun, S.F. (2008). Buffalo Inc.: American Indians and Economic Development. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.

Hunhoff, B. (2014). The Cattleman’s Blizzard. South Dakota Magazine. Retrieved from https://www.southdakotamagazine.com/cattlemans-blizzard

White, R. (1991). “It’s Your Misfortune and None of My Own”: A New History of the American West. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.