Close Encounters of the Furred Kind, Part II - Stinky Sleepy Buffalo(s)

Many people have likely seen the video of a guy in Yellowstone approaching a male bison near the road. If you remember, when he got too close, the bison charged, lowered his head, and flung the tourist high in the air.

Those signs not to approach the wildlife in national parks are there for a reason.

I have been in similar shoes as that Yellowstone visitor twice, albeit by complete accident. Here are the memories of my two bison encounters.

1. Wind Cave National Park, summer 2005

My coworker Halle and I were charged with the task of monitoring cavity-nesting birds using a small camera, attached to an extendable pole, which could be hoisted and inserted into the trees and the woodpeckers' (or bluebirds') nests. The telescoping pole to which the camera was attached was about 5 feet long and probably 20 pounds, and we also had to carry the battery in a fanny pack which also weighed another 15-20 pounds. When you imagine the types of terrain we were traversing to get to these nests - snags on burned hillsides or rocky outcrops choked with shrubs and deadfall - hauling these things around could be pretty tiresome.

Wind Cave National Park boasts a bison herd, among other things (like the caves); and, like most other herds remaining in the West, the herd was restricted to the bounds of the park by cattle guards and barbed-wire fences. A few nests in Wind Cave were most easily accessible from a road that approached through national forest land to the western edge of the park, and we had to hop the barbed-wire fence to get in.

One particularly hot day during our summer 2005 field season, I was carrying the telescoping pole with camera attached, and Halle followed behind carrying the battery and data sheets. We hopped the fence and proceeded to the first of the nests. We had to "peep" - or check with the camera - each nest twice a week, and by this time we were pretty familiar with the locations of all of them. Thus, I didn't even really need to watch where I was going, but instead looked at my feet to avoid tripping on logs or rocks, with the pole of the camera slung across my shoulders.

I hadn't gone far from the fence when I heard Halle say, quietly but urgently, "Rebecca - stop." I stopped dead in my tracks and lifted my gaze up from the ground, and saw 15-20 feet in front of me a large male bison lying on the ground. I would have walked right into him if Halle hadn't stopped me.

Luckily, this bison apparently wasn't feeling especially feisty, and he remained where he was as Halle and I slowly retreated back to the fence. We crossed back over, walked a few hundred feet downhill, and crossed again, approaching the nest from a different direction to avoid the lazy bull. He was gone when we returned. If it had been a few weeks later (when the rut began), or perhaps cooler, we may not have gotten off so easily.

2. Yellowstone National Park - September 2007

Justin and I were hiking to some grizzly bear locations along a creek called Beaverdam, along the southeast arm of Yellowstone Lake. Having been dropped off at Terrace Point (the lovely locale which comes into many stories, where departure from the boat involves ramming into a rock jutting out from the shore, hopping quickly off the bow, and getting the boat pushed back before the waves dashed it to pieces against the rock), we headed south along the Thoroughfare Trail until it swept east away from the lake.

As we hiked to the GPS locations we were to investigate, Justin jokingly warned that following behind him that day might not be wise - apparently he had eaten some beef jerky that had not agreed with him, and the consequence could very possibly involve the generation of less than pleasant odors. Luckily I didn't notice anything along the hike, and we completed our task quickly and headed back to Terrace Point.

The Thoroughfare Trail, after sweeping south along the Lake for several miles, curves east to avoid a swampy delta at Beaverdam Creek. Where it curved, it cut along a steep hillside, and the grade and curvature cut off the view of the rest of the trail where it followed the shore. Basically, it was a blind corner.

As Justin and I approached this section of trail and prepared to depart the creek and head along the lakeshore, our view of the northward trail cut off by the hillside, I caught a whiff of something decidedly unpleasant. Justin was in the lead, and I took a few seconds to think of a clever quip to embarrass him; but I never got the chance to say it.

Humans aren't the only creatures to use the Yellowstone trail system. Out of nowhere, a huge male bison marched around the corner straight toward us, probably 20-30 feet away. (Apparently a bison's odor can be compared to beef jerky-related flatulence.) Justin and I didn't have much time to react, so we quickly jumped off the trail and climbed up the steep hillside. We watched from above as the bison slowly continued his trek, completely nonchalantly; if he had seen us (and he most certainly had), it didn't seem to bother him at all.

It kind of reminded me of pulling over on a narrow road to let a bigger vehicle pass. After he had passed, we moved on, boarding the boat again at Terrace Point and heading back to camp. I had thought the rut was on, and that it was odd for this big male to all alone (and quite good-tempered) at this time of year.

I told Justin later that I thought he smelled like a bison.