YellowStone Park, WY, August 31st

The usual...

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Click for 3rd group of photos...

I felt that Yellowstone should not be muddled with commentary, pictures can tell the story better. But, before leaving the park, an incident occurred which left me speechless and, candidly, a little frightened. It will remain forever vivid in my memory.

Driving the narrow winding road, I noticed a cloud of dust up ahead, what seemed like a car pulling off to the shoulder to take pictures. As I neared the scene, I noticed a car, coming from the opposite direction, had stopped and was waiting for some animals to cross the road (from an angle, and in the direction of my right front to my rear left). This was the cause of the dust.

I slowed up, probably horses I thought, but as I drew closer, they looked more like free-range cattle, common in these parts. I was still moving, more slowly now, as the last one crossed when suddenly, from my right came the rest of the herd, moving at a very deliberate gallop and heading on the same path, a path my car now partially obstructed. I hit the brakes and, as they veered to avoid me by just a couple of feet, my heart leaped to my throat. These weren't cattle. These were bison!

Big, huge, dark, horned, ornery-looking bison. No fences, no bison tamer, no nothing except bison doing what they do, which is just about anything they feel like doing. The same bison the park warns you about everywhere you turn. The park is their home and here was Tenderfoot Joe driving right through their living room without so much as ringing the front door bell. I thought this is the end, end of car, end of trip, damn, there's never a cavalry around when you need one. I had a feeling that "good boy, down bison" was not going to work.

Just then, a huge bull that stood about a head taller than the rest stopped and placed himself a few feet in front of my car ( between me and the galloping bison) in such a position where he could keep one eye on the traveling herd, and the other eye on me.

I'll never forget that eye. It had a sense of command , and a 'knowing' to it. A knowing which could speak to me, and it was saying, "Move that car one more inch, pale face, and you'll learn firsthand the meaning of those three little words 'film at eleven'."

I pulled the emergency brake up another notch and decided it would be a good time to start breathing again. I watched with awe as these wondrous beasts galloped across the road and headed up the bank and into the forest. There must have been close to a hundred. They are powerful indeed, can run at 30 mph, and can turn on a dime while giving several cents change.

I've been replaying this scene in my mind for the last couple of days. The mental images may fade with time, but I know I will always be able to recall that sense of excitement I felt.

Heading East. Happy Birthday, Mom!