return of the bison

I can’t remember how many days I spent in Yellowstone in August of 2019. I do remember, on my last evening, I went and sat in Lamar Valley. Lamar Valley is a popular tourist destination for bison sightings in Yellowstone, typically with bison being the most active during sunrise and sunset. In the height of summer, long lines of cars form to see the bison graze in the meadows and roam around the valley. Wanting to veer away from crowds, I found somewhere a mile past the other tourists to park my car.

The spot was by a cliff, next to a small boulder field that I climbed down and set myself up on a rock overlooking the valley below. I spent a few moments reflecting on my time in Wyoming and in awe of how vast the valley was, how the hills rolled on as far as the eye could see, and the sky above existed endlessly. I can not imagine anything that could come close to describing the infinity that is a Yellowstone sky.

As I began to feel present in my surroundings, my eye caught a bull bison emerging from the treeline ahead. I watched as he steadily crossed the river and slowly began grazing the valley below me. He was alone. Herds of bison were a mile or more down the valley, and he roamed alone. I know this isn’t uncommon for bull bison, that a lot of times they are independent creatures, and still, I found it fascinating. Weirdly, I loved that we were alone together. Other bison and tourist congregated further East in the valley and him and I found ourselves here. I sat and watched him gently make way through the valley, grazing on tall grass and ritualistically making way through the evening. I watched the sun melt into the valley around us and felt overwhelming, almost serendipitous feelings of my existence here on this rock, in this valley, at this time, with this bison. How special and unique it is to feel connected to a moment.

September 2021, two years later, and I find myself back in Lamar Valley. Out of comfort and familiarity, I end up parking in the same pull-off, climbing down the same boulder field to find solitude in the overpacked valley. As my partner and I make dinner, I tell of him of the lone bison. How quiet and connected the evening felt. Moments pass, and the next time my eyes drift into the valley, I see a lone bull bison.

Watching as the bison grazed the valley up to the cliff’s edge, my mind wondered if this was the same bison. If grazing here had been an evening ritual for him for the past two years, and how the valley stayed so lush despite the daily feeding. How am I so lucky to witness and experience this moment twice? And like that, time felt still. Highlights of everything I’ve done in the past two years since I was last here quickly played in my mind and this bison, while my world rushed around me, rested in the treeline, and grazed this same valley.

hygiene on the road

under a stary desert sky