A long time ago, in a place full of plains and animals, where there was no break in the tireless tune of nature, there was a lonely buffalo.
While most of his family traveled the plains, chasing the greener grass, he stayed behind. Even when they returned and told him the tales of strange animals and salty water, he was alone. Even when they all stood around him, talking and eating, he was alone.
Year after year the buffalo family wandered around the plains, and yet, he never followed. And year after year, when the buffalo family returned, the found him still there, not far from his favorite tree.
Sometimes a bird would land in his tree, and sing the lonely buffalo a song. And sometimes a family of dear would come, and rest in it's shade, and try to cheer him up. But he was still lonely.
Even the howl of a pack of wolves would not break his lovelyness, and when they came close, and saw how lonely he was, they would laugh at him and tease him, but they didn't want to eat him. "He must taste terrible, to be so lonely." They would say, and then they would leave.
And so the lonely buffalo spent his days, wandering around his tree and eatting what grass he could find.
And then something strang happened. He died.
And when the wolves came by to tease him, they said "The lonely buffalo died. I bet he still tastes bad."
And the birds that landed in his tree to sing him a song saw that he was dead, and they called their friend, a loon, to come and sing for him instead.
And when his family came back they saw that he had died and they said. "The lonely buffalo has died. Perhaps now he won't be so lonely." And they continued to wander the plains.
And when his favorite tree saw that he had died, it began to weep for him, for he had been it's only real friend. The buffolo had eaten the plants that had tried to steal the trees food. The buffalo had fed the tree, and most of all, the buffalo had stayed with the tree, even when all the other animals had left for the winter.
And when, many years later, a man came to that tree he sat below it and it's still weeping branches and he sang a song, telling the story of the lonely buffalo.
