When I spotted an ad for a fall sweater with a bison on the front, I immediately added a shopping trip to my plans for the day. Clothes shopping doesn’t usually bring me joy, but c’mon—a bison? It’s like they made it just for me!
I’ve loved bison (a.k.a. buffalo) ever since I was a kid singing “Home on the Range” in elementary school music class. But my fascination with these shaggy giants really took off during college, when I spent a couple of summers working as a naturalist at Northwest Trek Wildlife Park in Eatonville, Washington.
While most of my fellow naturalists were obsessed with our resident moose, I could never decide whether the mountain goats or the bison were my favorite animals to introduce to visitors.
Then came August—and the bison rut.
I’ll never forget driving my fully loaded tram into a meadow and finding ourselves spectators to an epic battle between two massive bulls competing for the attention of the ladies. Apparently, a younger male had decided it was time to challenge the reigning champion. The animals circled, charged, and collided in a spectacular display of brute strength.
Our tours usually ran on a tight schedule, but this was too good to miss. I got permission to keep my group out a little longer so we could watch the entire showdown. I even shut off the tram engine so everyone could hear the snorts and bellows of the battling bulls.
Not a single person complained about the delay!
(And don’t worry. Neither bison was injured. These contests involve plenty of posturing and shoving, though serious injuries can sometimes occur.)
Years later, after I’d become a novelist, seeing wild bison roaming Yellowstone National Park felt like coming full circle.
I’d studied the tragic history of these animals and knew how close we’d come to losing them forever. By the late 1800s, bison had been hunted nearly to extinction. Only through dedicated conservation efforts did they begin their remarkable comeback.
Today, you can hardly drive through Yellowstone without encountering a bison jam—a traffic backup caused by bison wandering across the road or tourists stopping to admire them. Some visitors might find the slow pace frustrating. Me? I treasured every sighting. How could I complain when I was witnessing the descendants of a species that had come so close to disappearing?
Of course, not every bison encounter in Yellowstone has been quite so heartwarming.
On one visit, I joined dozens of tourists watching a herd grazing near the Firehole River. As a former park ranger, I couldn’t help cringing at some of the behavior around me. People turned their backs on the animals to pose for selfies. Others led their young children out into the meadow for closer photographs.
Yikes.
Without the wonderful authority bestowed by a ranger uniform, I hesitated to play wildlife police. Instead, I snapped a few photos of tourists behaving badly. Or ignorantly, at least.
On another Yellowstone visit, however, I witnessed a scene I’ll never forget—and this time, it wasn’t the tourists who made my heart race.
My family and I were watching a herd of bison cross the Lamar River. The water was high, and as the animals pushed toward the opposite bank, a couple of adorable orange calves lost their footing and were swept downstream.
As a mom, I held my breath.
Thankfully, their mothers sprang into action. The cows hurried downstream along the bank, plunged into the rushing water ahead of their wayward offspring, and guided them safely to the opposite shore.
I don’t think I exhaled until those little calves were safely out of the current!
Experiences like these have only deepened my love for bison. I’ve witnessed their raw power during the rut, the fierce protectiveness of mothers guarding their young, and the remarkable resilience of a species brought back from the brink of extinction.
They’re powerful, stubborn, protective, and surprisingly graceful for creatures that can weigh as much as a small car. And despite their imposing appearance, those fluffy orange calves are about the cutest things you’ll ever see.
Is there a life lesson tucked somewhere in all this? Maybe something about passion, perseverance, or protecting the things we love. Or perhaps it’s simply a reminder to appreciate the extraordinary creatures with whom we share this world.
Whatever the lesson, I know one thing for certain.
I’m never passing up a sweater with a bison on it.
What about you? Have you ever had a memorable encounter with bison or another wild animal? I’d love to hear your story!
I do like the sweater!
Thank you! It’s so soft, too. I have a feeling I’ll be wearing it a lot this winter!
Love the bison stories and pix! Thanks for sharing!
When I helped chaperone my kiddo’s elementary school field trip to the National Bison Range in Montana, we learned the official scientific name, genus and species, is bison bison. It made us all think of the Little Caesar’s slogan, Pizza Pizza!, so that is how I say it in my head now, every time I see them referenced.
Also, I was once tasked with bottle feeding one of those adorable orange calves who had been rejected for some reason. Over several feedings, spaced out twenty-four hours while his official caretaker had to be away, I got head-butted so many times. Those little dudes are impressively strong! It was all I could do to stay on my feet!