Contributing editor Jim Richardson is a photojournalist recognized for his explorations of small-town life. His photos appear frequently in National Geographic magazine.
Following on last week's image of gentle eggs winning the prize, I was somehow drawn to this image of bison in South Dakota, quietly grazing their way across the grasslands, munching their way into the evening in their ungulate ways, alternating between chewing and thinking, a short walk, a bit of a rest, and then when the light is gone, sleep until dawn. I have often wondered, when looking at this picture, why this congregation of bison doesn't like the congregations on the distant hills (and why those worshippers-of-the-grass appear not to like each other). Some differing opinions on bison dogma? Or are we just seeing the natural affinities of kinship playing out on the rolling hills?