Vacations Blog

The 2009 Harley Street Glide that we rented, with the Grand Tetons in the background.

If you have yet to visit the Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming, I suggest that you hasten forthwith and plan a trip as soon as possible.  For it is within this park that you can witness a story like the following unfold before your very eyes.

My husband and I stayed for several days at Teton Village, which is just south of the boundary into the Grand Teton National Park. We rented a motorcycle for two of those days, and had an incredible experience exploring all corners of the park. At the end of one particularly long day of riding, we were heading back toward our hotel via Rt. 26/89/191, along the east side of the park, north of Jackson Hole. All of a sudden, my husband’s helmet-muffled, “Hey!” and pointing finger turned my attention to the right side of the road, where we saw this:

A small herd of buffalo – less than a dozen in all – were grazing peacefully in the late afternoon sunshine. We pulled into the turn-off that was serendipitously placed directly alongside the herd. We dismounted and de-helmeted, and I dug my camera and telephoto lens out of the motorcycle’s saddlebag. I walked up to the fence and snapped away, while my husband stayed by the motorcycle and chatted with other excited viewers who were now pulling into the turn-off and gathering to watch the herd.

Hint: If you’re looking for wildlife, keep an eye out for cars pulled off to the side of the road. We stopped on a couple of occasions without even knowing what people were looking at, and were treated to some great wildlife views.

At any rate, we stood and admired for a while, when suddenly I heard my husband call, “Hey, Laura! Take a look at this!” I turned and looked where he was pointing, and saw this guy, all by his lonesome and moo-ing fit to be tied, on the other side of the road:

It seems that when the herd crossed the road earlier, this guy was either napping or not paying attention, so he was left behind. He seemed rather perturbed by his predicament. The small group of people that had gathered by this time at the turn-off all speculated about whether or not he would cross to join his herd (who, I may point out, were remarkably indifferent to his situation). Since we were standing between him and his friends, he would have to cross very close to us indeed.

I stood, camera at the ready.

First, he approached the fence:

Then, he checked for traffic. First he looked right:

Then he looked left:

Then he made his slow and steady way…

…across the road…

…to the other side and past the watching crowd of people…

…to the gap in the fence, where he was reunited with his friends.

We all held our breath – we were so quiet during the whole thing that we could clearly hear the clop-clop of his hooves on the pavement, then the thumping on the turf, and the swish of the grass against his flanks. He must have been maybe 40 yards from us. Upon reaching his friends, he immediately flopped down and rolled in the dust, then regained his feet and grazed placidly among the herd.

I was grinning from ear to ear for hours after we got back on the motorcycle and headed back to our hotel.

Photo Credits: All photos property of Laura Charon.