Burger Buffs : Jack and Betty Saunders would like to see their hybrid herd at home on the kitchen range.

For Jack and Betty Saunders, who make their home high in the rolling hills above Fillmore, serenity in part is achieved thanks to the other wandering 150 inhabitants of the ranch.

“One of the reasons we brought them on was to let ‘em do most of the work for us,” said Jack Saunders as he looked out over the hilly grassland to a township far below.

The Saunderses abandoned urban life in 1981 to become caretakers for the nearly 3,000-acre ranch owned by a man who resides in Ventura.

Besides keeping a long, winding dirt road free of encroaching flora and maintaining a few simple iron gates, the couple kicks back and lets the others do the rest of the work for them.

“Fire is a big concern up here,” Saunders said. “They keep the brush and weeds down. They’re our fire protection.”

“They” are an interesting breed. Part buffalo. Part bovine. Beefalo to be exact. A hybrid first contemplated by an entrepreneurial-minded Montana cattleman back in the late 1940s.

And Jack and Betty would have you know the next time you barbecue that beefalo burgers are tastier--and healthier--than your grocer’s hamburger.

When beefalo became somewhat of a fad during the early ‘70s, the Saunderses--and many others--were curious enough to investigate.

“We just wanted to go see what a beefalo looked like,” Shirley said, standing over a sizzling patty she was preparing. “We didn’t intend to buy any.”

The beefalo craze started, Jack said, when a California cattleman sold a beefalo bull--one of the first ever sold--for $2.5 million. The buyer was a cattle breeder from Canada.

“It was in the Guinness Book of World Records as the highest price paid for a domestic animal,” he said.

One of the initial attractions of the beefalo was that the hybrid animals are relatively inexpensive to raise. No need for pricey grains; they feed off the range.

“The cattle eat whatever they can find,” Saunders said.

So while many got into the beefalo breeding business--including the marketing of bull semen for artificial insemination--the Saunderses had a different idea.

“We had a few extra bucks, so we bought a couple,” Jack Saunders said, and in 1974, while residing in Chatsworth, they set forth to explore beefalo product sales.

(Jack Saunders said the USDA defines a beefalo as 3/8 bison, 5/8 beef. These results come from crossing a 3/4 bison- 1/4 beef bull with domestic beef cattle.)

“The farmers markets came about then and we figured we’d explore the market possibility,” he said. “It gave us a lot of exposure and a chance to experiment with different products,” such as sausages, variously flavored beefalo sticks, jerky and burger patties.

Their move to the expansive ranch above Fillmore provided the perfect opportunity to raise beefalo. Their herd--today numbering about 150--has been multiplying steadily, getting their fill of grasses and other plants at no cost to the Saunderses.

From their small abode--a mobile home complete with an outhouse around back--the Saunderses have continued selling beefalo.

Thrice weekly, Shirley treks down the dusty meandering road to offer their “Circle J Beefalo” products at the Ventura, Oxnard and Santa Monica farmers markets (and possibly soon at the Thousand Oaks outlet). Still available are the flavored beefalo sticks, sausages and burger patties.

The beefalo sales pitch?

“Beefalo has much less fat and higher protein than regular beef,” Jack said, and you can expect to get more for your money. He says certain beefalo cuts can be up to 98% fat-free--an asset attributable to the bison side of the family, as bison are lean animals.

“There’s hardly any shrinkage when you cook it up because there’s so little fat,” he said. Saunders also said his animals are raised without the use of growth hormones and antibiotics.

The frenzy, however, that drove the curious to try beefalo during the early ‘70s has since subsided in California.

According to Saunders, the meat is still popular in parts of the East and South. “We’re trying to popularize it again here in California,” he said.

While the regular consumer couldn’t distinguish between a beefalo hybrid and a bull--the appearance is so similar--would-be customers still have reservations.

“Some will want to try it out of curiosity,” Saunders said. “Others say ‘beefalo . . . buffalo . . . yuck!’ They figure there’s something wrong with it.”

An informal taste-test of a pan-fried beefalo burger patty proved to be quite satisfying.

“This meat has a sweet, beefy flavor,” Saunders said. “It doesn’t taste gamy.”