Bad day in the park for Bison

One of the treasured responsibilities for Yellowstone and its rangers is to give refuge to the bison, yes?  Maybe not so....  A planned slaughter is in the works, postponed only by the voices of concerned people, organizations, and a federal judge's injunction.  Read more here:  Bison slaughter on hold as park reviews lawsuit  and Plan to slaughter stray Yellowstone bison ignites furor . 

When Bison experience a hard winter (cold, deep snow, diminished food supplies), they begin to move to lower elevations north of the Park.  North of the Park is right where I'm sitting at this moment, in the Cowboy's Lodge & Grill on 2nd Street in Gardiner, MT.  Good Moose Drool beer, great pulled pork barbeque, and scrumptious sweet potato fries.  And, thanks to the Cowboy's wi-fi, I can write and post on this fine afternoon from the comfort of my table, while sipping another slobbering brown ale moose.  Not bad, eh?

Good for me, not so nice for 'dem buff'lo.  When I first approached the Park last Saturday afternoon (came down south from Livingston on Hwy 89 and passed through Gardiner) I was amazed to see an assemblage of bison and elk grazing, frolicking, foraging and roaming the streets and yards of this little community whose life-blood is the Park's tourists.  "How cool," I thought.  And it is.  But then, over the past few days here, I have noticed how the elk and bison many times use the roadways as their own paths for navigating their days, which most frequently in winter's heart are focused on sur-VIE-vul.  "Where is the grocery store for the wildlife?"  Covered by snow.  Look at this bison digging under the snow to graze  <click>

Yesterday I ventured out from the greater Mammoth area into the one part of the Park where the roads are plowed and people can drive--the Lamar Valley.  The further I got from Mammoth, the deeper became the snow cover, and the more wild and stark the landscape.  White, grey, black is the backdrop:  mountain-weed-snowcoveredlandscape, sky-tree-snowfall is awlllll the eye can take in.  For ever.  And ever.  Without end, save for the mist-clouds of the distant snowfall.  Amen.  And sharing the ice-covered blacktop road with Lucille (my car) and me were elk, bison, and a pair of opportunistic coyotes who looked up plaintively to Lucille's windows and asked if I would like to help them find their next meal.  [bison photos coming soon to these pages--promise]