On a bus with my daughter, an elk, and a bison,
And about two dozen other humans.
My daughter was about 12, and I was about 44. We decided to do what we’d discussed doing a dozen times. We drove about 100 miles through Pennsylvania, +/- ,to a wildlife park.
Our “safari vehicle” was a yellow school bus, cut off at the bottom of the windows. The door was completely removed. The late September day was sunny and warm but not hot, under cloudless skies a robin’s egg blue.
We greeted other passengers and settled into our seats. The first 45 minutes were a pleasant but bumpy ride across the fields, punctuated by sightings of white tail deer, mule deer, and a couple of moose. It was fun.
The guide announced that around the approaching turn was a “watering hole” where we might see a few other species.
We did. The sandy road we were riding on split, one side arcing upwards to the right, and our path continuing straight with the pond, maybe two hundred feet across, to our left.
A half-dozen bison stood knee-deep in the water, paying us no mind. The bus rolled to a stop and we sat there for a few minutes, watching the bison, 6 ft high at the shoulder, splashing serenely. My daughter said, in a mildly surprised tone, “Oh!”
I followed her gaze and saw 9 or 10 elk, their height and widely spreading antlers impressive as they passed us at a quick trot.
I can’t tell you if the elk and the bull bison had a beef before this encounter, but it didn’t take them long to work up to it.
We went from smiling at the bison to realizing we were parked square in the path of a bison/elk fight. If you’ve never been in that position, I’ll tell you it’s a bit stressing.
These are BIG animals. The elk’s antlers are long and heavy, and the bison is just heavy. The bison came up out of the water with its head low, the short hooked horns pointed at the elk, who dropped his head and clouted the bison hard, but not hard enough to rock the bison.
They stomped and snorted, maneuvering at the front of the bus, until they were facing off right at the doorway with no door. The bison hurled itself at the elk, who started backing up the steps. The bus lurched under the weight, and the few spectators who were standing, sat down.
What a curious position to find yourself in. The bison never got ON the bus, just on the steps, and the elk was seriously irritated. Who knew elk and bison fought?
The bus driver, no spring chicken, discovered he was quite agile after all, and crawled up the back of his seat and then into the next one. Then he started saying, quietly, “Move to the back, everybody.”
It seemed a brilliant idea and we all complied.
I don’t know what started the fight, and I don’t know what ended it. The bison backed down off the steps and the elk leaped off, again rocking all of us in the back.
The driver inched back up the aisle. The bison and the elk made a few more snorts, which I am sure meant, “oh, yeah?”
The elk trotted back to his friends and all the other bison came out to their pal, and the species separated into their own sandy path, moving calmly, because nobody wants to admit they are running away.
The driver turned the key with a shaky hand, made a U’turn, and headed back to the barn.
If you had ever told me that I would someday be ten feet from a fight between a bison and an elk, on a school bus, in Pennsylvania, I would have been skeptical.
My daughter was about 12, and I was about 44. We decided to do what we’d discussed doing a dozen times. We drove about 100 miles through Pennsylvania, +/- ,to a wildlife park.
Our “safari vehicle” was a yellow school bus, cut off at the bottom of the windows. The door was completely removed. The late September day was sunny and warm but not hot, under cloudless skies a robin’s egg blue.
We greeted other passengers and settled into our seats. The first 45 minutes were a pleasant but bumpy ride across the fields, punctuated by sightings of white tail deer, mule deer, and a couple of moose. It was fun.
The guide announced that around the approaching turn was a “watering hole” where we might see a few other species.
We did. The sandy road we were riding on split, one side arcing upwards to the right, and our path continuing straight with the pond, maybe two hundred feet across, to our left.
A half-dozen bison stood knee-deep in the water, paying us no mind. The bus rolled to a stop and we sat there for a few minutes, watching the bison, 6 ft high at the shoulder, splashing serenely. My daughter said, in a mildly surprised tone, “Oh!”
I followed her gaze and saw 9 or 10 elk, their height and widely spreading antlers impressive as they passed us at a quick trot.
I can’t tell you if the elk and the bull bison had a beef before this encounter, but it didn’t take them long to work up to it.
We went from smiling at the bison to realizing we were parked square in the path of a bison/elk fight. If you’ve never been in that position, I’ll tell you it’s a bit stressing.
These are BIG animals. The elk’s antlers are long and heavy, and the bison is just heavy. The bison came up out of the water with its head low, the short hooked horns pointed at the elk, who dropped his head and clouted the bison hard, but not hard enough to rock the bison.
They stomped and snorted, maneuvering at the front of the bus, until they were facing off right at the doorway with no door. The bison hurled itself at the elk, who started backing up the steps. The bus lurched under the weight, and the few spectators who were standing, sat down.
What a curious position to find yourself in. The bison never got ON the bus, just on the steps, and the elk was seriously irritated. Who knew elk and bison fought?
The bus driver, no spring chicken, discovered he was quite agile after all, and crawled up the back of his seat and then into the next one. Then he started saying, quietly, “Move to the back, everybody.”
It seemed a brilliant idea and we all complied.
I don’t know what started the fight, and I don’t know what ended it. The bison backed down off the steps and the elk leaped off, again rocking all of us in the back.
The driver inched back up the aisle. The bison and the elk made a few more snorts, which I am sure meant, “oh, yeah?”
The elk trotted back to his friends and all the other bison came out to their pal, and the species separated into their own sandy path, moving calmly, because nobody wants to admit they are running away.
The driver turned the key with a shaky hand, made a U’turn, and headed back to the barn.
If you had ever told me that I would someday be ten feet from a fight between a bison and an elk, on a school bus, in Pennsylvania, I would have been skeptical.
