I was up and out early Saturday, my goal for the day Cody. I took a side trip on a nice little back road through a small canyon the Gibbon River has cut through volcanic rock. I stopped at Virginia Slides, the main attraction, descended a user trail on some slippery volcanic pebbles, slipped, slid, lost my balance and fell face-first downhill, sustaining three cuts on the soft base of my right thumb, one perfect stigmata in the center of my left palm and two cuts high on my right cheek that added to my dissolute if not menacing look.
After a stop at Canyon for a shower I headed out toward the East Entrance and had a real Yellowstone experience. Approaching Fishing Bridge (no fishing allowed) over Yellowstone River, I saw a large number of bison of all sizes mingling about on the bluff to my left. A few people mingled as well, but that big annoying crowd had not yet formed so I decided, well I guess I decided to help set that crowd in motion. I drove on over the bridge and parked in a nearly empty lot, then strolled back along the bridge toward the scene, enjoying the river up close and the cavorting bison from a respectable distance. They were all over the place, a mixture of bulls and cows and kids. I kept a good distance, too far for useful picture-taking, enjoying the scene while looking for some spawning trout below, of which there were none.
Gradually the inevitable crowd began forming and the bison started getting feistier. Some large males were strutting about trying to galvanize the troops, and soon a large number crossed the road and headed up the bluff on the other side. This of course blocked traffic and brought the people out of their cars, and so the fun began. I was still way out of the way on the bridge, but the congestion sent one big bison down the narrow bridge in my direction. I was standing near a father and a maybe seven-year old girl and we are all a little excited that this big bison was coming our way. Except that as it came closer we saw that this was the meanest, ugliest looking animal ever. Gunk was coming out of his eyes, his ears, his nose, and he seemed as irritable as could be. I presume this is the state he enters in the depths of the rut, and it was rather scary. We were halfway trapped, inasmuch as one way was blocked by the bridge, the other the road, and at this point you didn’t really want to move the other way. Anyway, he strutted by us and then turned around and strutted back past us and at this point the little girl declared she had seen enough buffalo today daddy.
The big guy returned to the fray developing on the far end of the bridge. It was a real mess now. Bison were stretched out all over. The move up the south ridge hadn't taken so they were coming back across the road. Traffic was backed up pretty good in both directions and people were out with their cameras and didn't realize how close they were to bison coming up behind them. People get gored by buffalo and this was shaping up as the sort of situation where it could happen.
By now the west bound lane of the bridge where I was standing had backed up completely while the east bound lane was empty as all those cars were blocked back on the other side of the commotion. So down the open lane came three more bison, a mother and her youngin’ leading the way with an enormous male just a couple of strides behind. I was on the sidewalk behind the backed-up vehicles and I figured this was a good chance to get a close shot. I was closer than the legal 25 feet but I hadn't moved. They were coming toward me. A line of cars separated me from the bison, and my back was to the Yellowstone River. Strictly speaking, I guess, I should have moved correspondingly away as they approached, but I figured the line of cars would serve as a buffer, not the soundest of figuring, for when I stepped up to take a shot the male made an abrupt move toward me. He didn't charge and I don't know if he could have negotiated the 18" divider, but if he had he would have driven me over the railing and into the river. Presumably this was just a bluff charge and it worked, as I darted behind a big red pickup to the enormous amusement of the five big guys crammed into the cab.
That was enough for me. I headed back to my car, which luckily I had parked on far end of Fishing Bridge and drove off for Cody.
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