A grey, misty drizzle hung over the Lamar Valley as we slowly drove towards Mammoth Hot Springs. The wet bushes and trees glowed in robust tints of green. Kat and I were scanning the landscape outside our windows for any sign of wildlife. We were only a few minutes into our journey and we had already seen elk, pronghorn sheep and bison from a distance. Now we were hip-deep in the Yellowstone Park ritual of trolling. Every few hundred yards we would find a row of four or five parked cars, a huddled mass of khaki pants and binoculars. I would slow the car, then nearly stop as we passed in the hope of catching a glimpse of whatever distant object they were following. Occasionally, our snooping would result in a find. We were anxious to get to the visitor's center and didn't stop, however, because we were eager to investigate the poop issue we had going back in camp.
The rain began to fall heavier and I notched up the windshield wipers. As we rounded a sloping curve, our headlights rested on a trio of bison. I slowed the SUV to a crawl and watched the bison lope across the road and down a narrow trail. Seeing large, wild animals is a surreal experience for the Urban/Suburban dweller. Abstract references are shoved aside by the reality of the living, breathing thing that stands before you. It is even more so with something as large as a bison. It is an intimidating and humbling moment to see a creature with such presence in its native environment.
A short distance down the road was a turnoff and I took it. There was a small, gravel clearing and a park map for one of the many nature trails. We both, immediately recognized that the bison had been following the hiking trail and were headed directly our way. I shut off the engine and we rolled down the windows so that we could watch and listen. The bison approached and I was struck with the thought that the bison might be tame. I'd heard stories of over-friendly bears and coyotes. I suddenly became worried that they would walk up to the car window and solicit us for a food handout. Instead, we watched as the bison passed in front of the SUV, inches from the front bumper, with complete indifference. I could hear their heavy breathing and the crunch of their footsteps on the gravel and got a chill.
As the bison passed, I noticed that a fourth member had joined the party. Wielding a $2,000 digital camcorder in his right hand and a keg-shaped can of Heineken in the other, a thirty-something touron closely followed the retreating animals. Behind him, a sporty car crept along with it's passenger-side door hanging open. A heavy-set man leaned over the steering wheel and videotaped his buddy walking behind the bison.
The buddy turned back to the car and shouted, "Isn't that great?!"
"Yeah," the driver laughed in reply.
The buddy pumped his fist then raised his video camera and mini-keg above his head in triumphant celebration of his bravery. He took a swig of beer, then scrambled back to the car and slammed the door shut. The car swerved back onto the road and sped away.
Nature buzz... killed.
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1 comments:
Sartre said "L'enfer, c'est les autres" (Hell is other people).
I loved the "feel" of the begining of your experience, though, so evocative, as always!
P.S. I _love_ "touron". Gotta remember that word! :)
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