The Mighty Bisons

The largest living mammal in North America. One early morning in Yellowstone National Park, my lifelong traveling companion and I found ourselves awake just as the sun had risen in Hayden Valley. As we drove through the mist of a parkway road, this mighty creature suddenly appeared; standing majestically out on the open prairie, thermals rose like smoke along the wide river behind him. So beautiful. So amazing.

It’s hard to describe this incredible species. Their silhouette in the morning light forms like a Remington painted image, digging his hooves into the ground and standing tall and proud. It’s a symbol like no other and a story of survival.

Where there were once millions of these mighty kings of wild lands that provided sustenance to native Americans—furs for warmth and meat for food through the cold winters. They rode by horseback through the mountains and river valleys of Wyoming, Montana and the Dakotas in centuries past only taking what was needed.

But then westward movement of white settlers found sport in killing this symbol of Americana in large numbers. They shot from the open windows of westward trains. Cavalry from Civil War times were assigned to have them removed.

In decades, the Bison were nearly eliminated. All that remained were the large antlers and skeletons along river banks. The Natives were forced to leave their homes, unable to survive themselves. The creatures they had always thanked the spirit Gods for had vanished.

Today, with protection from National Parks and others, they’ve returned in large numbers. On this morning, we simply stood along the road’s edge and gathered in the silence; clicked a few pictures and watched as an entire heard approached slowly from a nearby hillside.

It was morning on the Yellowstone. The spirit winds sang. The king of the western prairies turned toward the rising sun.