When steamships replaced the smaller keelboats that fur traders used to transport their traded goods on the inland rivers west of the Mississippi to the Rocky Mountains, some men called the ships’ booming whistles “the sound of civilization,” a blast so long and loud that it startled birds and all wildlife, setting their hearts racing. Then came the sharp cracks of the passengers’ firearms followed by the smell of gunpowder, killing or wounding practically every living thing within range.

They called this sport hunting, but it required no skill, no “fair chase.” Such was the culture of white male settlers who equated wanton killing with masculinity and wealth. Clearly, the herds knew when the white man was near. They smelled the soot from the steamer’s smokestack, were frightened by the deafening whistles and gunshots. If they survived, they learned to move away from the river onto higher ground. 

In the open prairie of the Great Plains, along the Kansas-Pacific railroad line, buffalo heard the chugging of steam locomotives. They heard the iron horses screeching to a stop. An explosion of gunshots came next. Throughout the 1870s, when a passenger train would encounter a huge herd of migrating bison, the conductor would slow the train down just enough to allow the passengers time to pick up their rifles, take aim, and fire through open windows before continuing on their journey.