Story

Crossing Paths.  Gradually delving deep into the heart of Yellowstone, my eyes anxiously scanned distant tree lines searching for a single sign of the elusive wolf pack.  Stepping out of the car the calm, cool breeze of winter washed the warmth from my face, sharpening my senses, reminding me that I am both predator and prey in this harsh environment.  One step after another, my feet crunched through the brittle icy surface into the soft, fresh powder that quickly melted beneath my feet. Watching the horizon, the peaceful snow covered plains of Lamar Valley began to shift.  Immense brown figures slowly emerged from the warm embrace of their cocoons.  Shifting back and forth as they stood-up giant white blankets fell from their fur onto their bed of golden straw below.  One by one the powerful beasts began to lumber in my direction, carving deep tracks through untouched land.  Cautiously, I backed away as the mighty herd overtook my position.  With the protection of my home on wheels just a stone’s throw away, curiosity and the urge to capture this moment overtook me.  The cold, sub-zero winds quickly froze my hands to the unforgiving metal frame of my camera while I watched each bison clumsily sink into the cavernous snow banks that lined the road.  I couldn’t help but laugh as they regained their composure, hurling their enormous bodies into the air towards the promise of fresh pastures hidden ahead.   I knew that feeling all too well; when hunger calls, nothing stands in my way.