The Buffalo at Mount Rushmore
The Buffalo at Mount Rushmore
In the shadow of the Black Hills, where the granite faces of Mount Rushmore gaze over the Paha Sapa, a story unfolds—one woven from stone, spirit, and the sacred buffalo. This is a tale of Gutzon Borglum, the sculptor whose heart beat for the wild beauty of America, its native peoples, and the buffalo that roamed its plains. It’s a story of art and history, etched not just in rock but in murals, glass, and the oral traditions of the Lakota, who have revered this land for centuries.
Gutzon Borglum stood on the windswept slopes of Mount Rushmore in the late 1920s, his eyes tracing the rugged contours of the granite. To him, this was no mere mountain; it was a canvas for a “Shrine of Democracy,” a monument to the nation he loved. Yet, as he envisioned the faces of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt, his heart wandered to the vast plains below, where buffalo once thundered and the Lakota lived in harmony with the land. Borglum’s love for America was not just for its presidents but for its untamed spirit—the buffalo, the eagle, the sacred stone of the Paha Sapa, and the people who called it home.
Borglum’s connection to the Lakota deepened during the Great Depression and Dust Bowl of the 1930s, when despair gripped the nation. The Pine Ridge Reservation, home to the Oglala Lakota, suffered acutely. Crops withered, cattle starved, and the buffalo herds that once sustained the people were nearly gone. In October 1931, Borglum toured Pine Ridge and was moved by the plight of its six thousand residents. He wrote to President Hoover, describing a people “helpless and in dire want,” marooned on a barren land with no game or water. Not content to wait for aid, Borglum acted. He donated five of his own cattle to a herd of one hundred that were delivered to the reservation and he later orchestrated the transfer of surplus buffalo, elk, and deer from Yellowstone National Park. For his compassion, the Oglala honored him as “Inyan Wanblee”—Rock Eagle—a name bestowed by Chief Mato Naji (Henry Standing Bear), reflecting Borglum’s vision that soared like an eagle and endured like stone.
The Stand – Mt. Rushmore National Memorial – 1996
On The 20th Anniversary of The Stand the National Park Service starts “The Bison Bellows”
2016 – Bison Bellows – National Park Service
This love for the buffalo and the Lakota found echoes in the art that adorned Mount Rushmore’s visitor spaces. In 1957, the Mountain View Building opened, housing the first Buffalo Dining Room. Funded by the Rushmore Society through donations and franchise fees, the building cost over $800,000—far exceeding the estimated $500,000. It was a testament to the community’s commitment to honoring the mountain’s legacy. That same year, artist David Humphreys Miller, a man whose life was devoted to preserving Native American stories, completed a mural titled Buffalo Hunt in the Buffalo Dining Room lobby. Commissioned by Kay Riordan, who oversaw the park’s concessions, the mural stretched six feet high and twenty feet long, capturing the raw energy of a Lakota buffalo hunt. Miller, who had spent decades researching Plains Indian culture and learning it’s language, painted not just a scene but a history—one that echoed the petroglyphs and winter counts* of the Lakota, who recorded their lives on stone and hide.
Miller’s work was no mere decoration. Born in 1918, he was a chronicler of the Plains Indians, painting 72 portraits of Little Bighorn survivors and advising on films like Cheyenne Autumn. His 1948 arrangement of the last gathering of Bighorn survivors at the Crazy Horse Memorial dedication spoke to his reverence for their stories. At Mount Rushmore, his Buffalo Hunt mural honored the Lakota’s sacred relationship with the buffalo, a bond rooted in the legend of Pteskawin, the White Buffalo Calf Woman. According to the Wapostan Gi winter count*, around 901 AD, she gifted the Lakota the Sacred Buffalo Calf Pipe, a symbol of their covenant with the land. Miller’s mural was a modern winter count*, a visual record of a people whose history intertwined with the buffalo and the Paha Sapa.
Decades later, in 1996, the visitor center was rebuilt, and the Buffalo Hunt mural gave way to a new masterpiece: The Stand by artist Scott Prentice. This 20-by-40-foot glass etched window, set in the new Visitor Center Buffalo Dining Room, depicted a majestic white buffalo facing Mount Rushmore. Prentice, inspired by Borglum’s vision and the Lakota’s reverence for the white buffalo as a sacred symbol of renewal, crafted a work that bridged past and present. The white buffalo, rare and holy, stood as a beacon of hope, its gaze locked on the carved presidents through the expansive viewing area provided by The Buffalo Dining Room, as if reminding them of the land’s deeper history. The Stand was not just art; it was a dialogue between the Lakota’s oral traditions, recorded in winter counts* like those of Wapostan Gi and Wasicun Thasunke, and the monumental ambition of Borglum’s shrine.
The buffalo’s presence at Mount Rushmore extends beyond art. In 1951, the National Park Service unveiled its arrowhead logo, designed by historian Aubrey V. Neasham. Featuring a buffalo alongside a sequoia, mountains, and water, it symbolized wildlife, scenery, and history. Authorized on July 20, 1951, and first used in 1952, the logo greets visitors and guides them through trails and history at Mount Rushmore, a quiet nod to the buffalo’s enduring place in America’s story. For the Lakota, the buffalo was more than a symbol; it was life itself, providing sustenance and spiritual meaning. Petroglyphs in the Black Hills, dating back to before 700 AD, bore witness to this bond, their carvings as much a record of events as Miller’s mural or Prentice’s glass.
Borglum’s own story wove into this tapestry. As he carved Mount Rushmore, he saw the Paha Sapa not just as a site for his monument but as a sacred place. The Lakota had roamed these hills since at least the late eighteenth century, their winter counts* marking their arrival—some, like the Wasicun Thasunke count, pinpointing 1775. They followed the buffalo, their lives dictated by the herds’ migrations, just as traders like Jean Baptiste Trudeau described in 1796. The Protohistoric period, from 1600 to 1874, saw the Lakota adopt horses and European goods, yet their core remained tied to the buffalo and the Paha Sapa, a land of petroglyphs and oral histories passed down through generations.
Borglum’s monument, Miller’s mural, Prentice’s window, and the NPS logo all shared a common thread: the human need to record history through pictures and graphics. From the Lakota’s winter counts*, which chronicled events on hide, to the petroglyphs etched in stone, to the modern art adorning Mount Rushmore, these works were more than images. They were stories of a land, its people, and the buffalo that bound them. The white buffalo in The Stand, facing the carved faces, seemed to whisper of Pteskawin’s promise—a reminder that the Paha Sapa’s history stretched far beyond the granite presidents, into a time when the buffalo roamed free and the Lakota thrived.
As visitors stand before Mount Rushmore today, they see Borglum’s vision of democracy, but they also feel the pulse of the buffalo, the Lakota, and the artists who honored them. The mountain is a shrine not just to a nation but to the wild heart of America, where stone, spirit, and story converge.
Previous Story – Nearly 30 Years – The Stand at Mt. Rushmore
*The Winter Count: A Living Record of Native American History
In Native American communities of the Northern Great Plains, history wasn’t written in books—it was spoken, remembered, and passed down through generations. This oral tradition, rich with language, culture, and stories, relied on the power of memory to preserve a community’s identity. Among the Nakota and other tribes, one remarkable tool, the winter count, helped keep their histories alive, weaving together time, memory, and art in a unique and meaningful way.
Unlike the calendar year we know, which runs from January to December, these communities measured time from the first snowfall to the next—a period they called a “winter.” At the end of each winter, community elders gathered to reflect on the year’s events. Together, they selected one defining moment to represent the year, giving it a name that would echo in the community’s collective memory. This event was then entrusted to a special individual known as the winter count keeper.
The keeper, often a role passed from father to son, had the sacred task of painting a pictograph—a symbolic image—onto a buffalo hide to capture the chosen event. Each year, a new pictograph was added, creating a visual timeline of the community’s history. This buffalo hide, known as the winter count, became a cherished record, carefully maintained and, if worn or faded, meticulously copied onto a new hide, or later, paper or cloth, to ensure its stories endured.
More than just a record, the winter count was a storytelling tool. The keeper, a skilled storyteller, used the pictographs as a mnemonic device, sparking memories of not only the named event but also other milestones—births, marriages, or the rise of new leaders. Much like a family photo might evoke a flood of memories today, a single pictograph could unlock a wealth of stories, connecting the community to its past and reinforcing its shared identity.
For tribes like the Nakota, preserving history through oral tradition was a responsibility approached with deep respect and care. The winter count was more than a historical document; it was a bridge to their ancestors, a way to honor who they were and where they came from. These vibrant records remain vital today, offering a window into the rich, resilient histories of Native American communities and reminding us of the power of memory to unite and inspire.
This post celebrates the ingenuity of the winter count and the enduring strength of oral traditions in Native American culture.
