Harvey Curranhall Plains Bison (& Gaucho) Note Card
ON THE BACK OF THE CARD:
Harvey Curranhall Bison is a bit of a gypsy. He loves to roam the countryside with all of his buddies. They don’t travel to arrive somewhere; they just love the journey, meeting new friends and exploring different communities along the way. Often, Harvey’s absolute best friend in the whole wide world, Stella AlmaGamela, would join the herd. But, because Stella was a tiny little Javelina, you can always spot Harvey in the mix. Across the North Rim plateaus thunder the hooves of hundreds of bison; a tiny turquoise-and-sunshine hang glider drafts and purls, keeping perfectly in sync with her special one.
The pair often pauses for a picnic lunch, dipping down from the Rim, through the forest, beyond the Roaring Springs, at a breathtaking little spot where the towering, saturated rusty-red Canyon meets the babbling Bright Angel Creek. Here at the water’s edge, between bites of their favourite treats, they talk and giggle and plan and daydream.
So, when a devil of a sliver that had lodged itself deep in Harvey’s hoof, laying him up for what seemed like an eternity, Stella AlmaGamela felt absolutely lost - an odd feeling for the one time the herd came to a full stop and could pin on a map exactly where they were. Harvey slept most of the day, for most of the first week. And when he wasn’t sleeping, he wished he was: the intense throbbing rippled relentlessly through every cell in his body. Stella, looking for some way to comfort Harvey - and for a bit of preoccupation from her worry - took the time to stitch a magnificent quilt. Each square was a pattern special to them, from one of their stories, or a culture they had explored, or an area they had visited, or a place they wanted to see. The second and third week, Harvey slept. A lot. His entire body still ached. Cozy in bed, he dreamt of Stella and of all the journeys the quilt represented.
Finally, in the fourth week, release. His body had worked the sliver out, taking the pain with it. Harvey was absolutely elated that he could get out of bed, up and running, and back to his Stella. She missed her Harvey so much that, for now, the hang glider is in storage. She looks like a little pink stowaway, tucked into the quilt which, in turn, is tucked into the soft thick shag hair across his shoulders. Harvey felt her comforting presence, but not her weight. Life can be so fragile: the tiniest thing can bring one down at any moment. Fortunately, the tiniest thing can also lift one up.