Yellowstone Bison

The two bull bison were grazing calmly, at least 100 yards from us. A perfect picture framed against the deep green of the surrounding forest verge, the brilliant blue sky, and the late summer tans of grass meadows. A telephoto would work to bring the animals into something more than brown dots.

We parked the car and crossed the road. Almost immediately, one of the the bulls began rolling his head back and forth, watching us closely. I snapped a few shots before the oddity of his behavior began to sink in.

"You know, if that were a domestic bull, I'd be heading for the fence." I commented to my husband and blithely snapped a few more pictures. Now the bull began to move. Each step thudding into the dirt. A tiny puff of dust raised under each hoof. Sheer menace radiated from every line of his body. He was heading directly for us, one annoyed step after the other.

"You know, I think we should head for the car." We turned to see a heavy line of traffic bearing down on us in true Yellowstone fashion. We looked back, the bull was nearing the distance where he could outrun us, far too near for comfort.

As one, we darted across the road, preferring to trust to the brakes of the road whale lumbering down on us, rather than continue annoying a very large, very unhappy animal. The road whale braked.

As soon as we were against our car and no longer silhouetted, the bull lost all interest in us and went back to grazing, picture perfect in his human free meadow.