On 600 acres south of Prince George you walk along the well-worn winding path at October Farm and look to the crest of the hill. Standing there in silhouette are the majestic beasts who once roamed the Earth wild and free. You take a breath, your heart skips a beat, and you blink twice because it’s not every day you see a herd of bison, 70-strong.
Del and Eileen Myers, owners of October Farm, have chosen to let the bison “do bison things.”
Very little is curated, so questions like “How many babies will be born this spring?”, “What are their names?” or “Do you have a favourite?” go unanswered — they aren’t pets.
Wondering whether it’s wrong to call a bison a buffalo? Here’s a quick lesson: North American bison belong to the Bison bison species. Buffalo are either water buffalo from Asia or African buffalo — different animals entirely.
The Myers’ bison journey began around 1994, when a shift in Canada’s mining industry prompted Del to pivot careers.
At the time, Del is working as an exploration geologist. With Eileen’s support, he decides to buy a farm.
“He thought he would be a farmer, and he had seen bison when he was a kid, so he thought he would do that,” Eileen says, speaking as Del has a tracker installed on his tractor — it had recently been stolen and recovered.
Eileen, then a teacher at Harwin Elementary, has only one condition for the farm purchase: it must be close to town and a school.
She transfers to Pineview Elementary when they buy October Farm. It’s just a short drive from the school and home. Eileen teaches there until she retires 11 years ago.
As we wander the property, a friendly flock of chickens scoots in and out of their coop, wings flapping and cooing.
“They are free-range chickens in every sense,” Eileen says. “The other day, I saw one over by the shop. They just wander.”
But usually not far — predators like hawks, owls, coyotes and foxes keep them close to shelter.
“So they’re locked up at night, just to be safe,” she explains.
A padlock now secures the chicken feed freezer after a bear broke in, leaving a mess and sadly ending the lives of a few chickens, Eileen adds.
October Farm is also home to barn cats, and once a beloved dog — lost to a moose that frequented their front yard one spring. Eileen says she doesn’t have the heart to get another pet right now.
They’ve also had deer drop by, and beavers once set up camp in the pond.
“But not so far this year,” Eileen says.
The Myers start with 10 bison.
“Then they had babies, and the herd kept growing. We got up to about 100, but that was too many for us,” Eileen says.
They now maintain a manageable 70.
Eileen says she’s seen some surprising behaviour from the animals.
“They are more agile than you’d think and can wheel their bodies 180 degrees in an instant,” she says.
“And they jump straight up in the air with all four feet off the ground. They just go boing, boing, boing. It’s kind of neat to watch.”
What’s the best part of raising bison?
“The meat is really good,” she says, smiling.
When it’s time for butchering, the herd is guided into a smaller pasture with a handling system that includes a 200-foot corral and a 100-foot corral. The animals move through alleys.
“At any point, we can decide we want that one and not that one,” Eileen explains.
“Then the bison are diverted, loaded into a truck, and shipped to the butcher just down the road. They take care of that part — inspected, butchered, cut and wrapped.”
The Myers work with Kawano Farms, a fully licensed Class A abattoir in Prince George.
“Del decides which bison go by look, by age, and whether they are boys or girls,” Eileen says.
“We like to keep more of the girls than the guys.”
Breeding isn’t curated — nature takes its course. Some females have calves every year, others every other year.
“It can depend on the weather, how much grass there is in the spring, when they’re breeding, who’s the boss at that time. We usually get between 10 and 17 calves, depending on the year,” she says.
The bison selected for meat are usually two or three years old.
As we approach the herd, the bison scamper lightly across the field, climbing to higher ground. Surprisingly nimble, they move as a group — led by a stoic alpha whose subtle shift in stance causes the herd to reposition.
The bison are rotated between large pastures and are contained by electrified fences — though the current isn’t always needed. “They’re smart enough to know better,” Eileen says.
Solar panels help power parts of the farm.
With warmer weather, the bison begin shedding. Eileen gathers their fur to give to a local spinner who uses it to make wool.
“They’re being very calm today,” she observes.
Del catches up with us near the far pasture, where the bison graze.
The couple has no plans to stop anytime soon. Del reflects on why.
“I would get the newsletter from my old company, and there were so many death notices in it,” he says.
“People would retire and then a few years later they’d die. They’d sit in front of the television and die of a heart attack. That’s not for me.”
Supporting local food is central to the Myers’ farm philosophy. Thriving farmers, Del says, are part of a healthy community.
This spring, the B.C. government launched the Premier’s Task Force on Agriculture and the Food Economy, calling on farmers to share their insights on food security.
“All British Columbians want reliable access to healthy and affordable food,” Premier David Eby says in the announcement.
“We must protect our food sources and our agricultural sector in the face of the threat of unfair and damaging tariffs.”
Eby says task force members will offer government direct, practical advice on preparing for and responding to such challenges.
The Myers do their part by raising bison, processing the meat locally, and selling it at the Prince George Farmers’ Market, 1310 Third Ave., year-round.
“Every year we see more confirmation of how important it is that we not forget how to take care of ourselves and take care of our neighbours,” Del says.
“We knew from the start that we would be selling the meat locally.”
“And we like to know who we’re selling our meat to, and we like that they know where they’re getting it from,” Eileen adds.
“I’m a pretty lousy gardener — that’s what the Farmers’ Market is for — but we’re pretty independent when it comes to our meat. We have the bison and chickens.”
“But we’re still dependent on the big chain stores for most of our food,” Del says.
He recently researched how Indigenous Peoples have lost access to much of their traditional food sources, though many could still live off the land.
“But can we?” Del asks.
