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the stakes of the round-up and for our horses against the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains. We stumbled across a much larger herd of grazing buffalo congregated around Duke. As was often the case prior to the charge, we spent two hours plotting strategy. As I stood on the top of a sandy knoll, I found myself daydreaming about what it was like to be an Indian over a hundred years ago. While waiting, I joined the cowboys in smoking cigars and chatted about polo with a group of excellent riders, who had only heard of the sport before. After waiting and having been in the saddle for most of the day, we were all anxious to get a start to yet another adrenaline rushed stampede behind these massive and occasionally dangerous animals. I noted we were at least a four hour ride from home base. Finally, Duke gave the word for us to move into formation and we split into our respective squads, armed with buffalo whips. I was told the whip would be “necessary this time round,� because there were some feisty bulls in the herd and a long way to go. Silently in formation, like a modern-day cavalry, we began our assault on the massive herd. However, the terrain was more difficult and was littered with medium-sized brush, scrubs and flowing rivers between us and the white flag. Maintaining our formation at great speed on horseback was going to be a challenge. Hundreds of years ago there was little brush across the Great Plains 106 | PQ

PQ international | Spring Issue 2012 #79  

The English Polo Magazine

PQ international | Spring Issue 2012 #79  

The English Polo Magazine

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