We were supposed to change planes in Salt Lake City and fly into Jackson. The first flight was delayed and we missed the connection. The next flight wasn't until after 8pm, almost 8 hours later so we decided to rent a car and drive. Technically, it would only take 6 hours to drive there, so we would arrive at the same time or a bit earlier and be able to see some countryside.

We did; we saw northern Utah and southern Idaho, and a bit of Montana. We got to the entrance to the park quite late, maybe 11pm or so, with another hour and a half drive in front of us to get to the hotel.

It was dark. The road wasn't lit, and the moon wasn't really up yet. The road signs said the speed limit was 45 mph, but I was doing 60 when a park ranger passed me going the other direction and blinked his lights. Slow down. Fine, OK. I slowed to 45.

The road started winding back and forth. Pine trees were visible on one side, and on the right the land dropped away. Mist flowed up and over the road in spots from the warm water of a stream below.

Approaching a curve in the road, I saw headlights ahead. Several of them. It was mighty lucky I had those headlights shining toward me because as we rounded the curve I could also see dark shapes silhouetted. The headlights ahead were stopped. There was something wrong, so I hit the brakes.

Good thing, too. I would have plowed into a herd of bison wandering down the road. Those suckers are huge, and hitting one would probably not only have wiped out the bison, it would have wiped out our rental car.

This herd was wandering slowly down the road, meandering along nonchalantly. We all stopped and waited for them to leave, glad we were protected by the composite plastic and glass of our cars. As we sat and watched this odd spectacle, it became clear these bison viewed us as the intruders. Ack! They were unhappy about our presence. Especially as there were several calves with overprotective mothers.

I edged forward, hoping to urge the beasts to clear a path. They weren't impressed. In fact, I think a couple of them edged forward themselves, urging me to clear a path for them. Righty-o. I sat still. Then suddenly realized I needed to take a photo. As one of the mother bison menacingly approached the driver's side door, I scrambled for my camera, wondering if this would be the last image the rescue party would find in the camera when they found our mangled remains the next morning.

Caption in the Yellowstone Gazette: Above you see the ironic image of bison taken by hapless tourists just moments before being dragged from their cars and trampled to death last night on state route 20.