I remember one road trip with my parents, I think it was to Yellowstone, where we came upon a herd of bison. They were strolling down the road, weaving and brushing past a row of cars. All was fine, until one cheeky passenger reached out of their window and gave one animal a slap on the rump. They narrowly missed the impact of his powerful kick. As we followed closely behind the offenders, locked in procession, his angry red eye glared through the widow, inches from my own.
And with that memory in my back pocket, we rode slowly down a winding gravel road to find our own herd of bison in Riding Mountain national park.
As usual, we didn't heed any helpful tips on the best time of day to find the roaming pack of bison that live in this area of the park. Cool and cloudy mornings are best. We arrived around 2. But, luck was with us and it was just the right temperature for these lumbering, beautiful beasts to be strolling around, wading in mud puddles and breaking into the occasional gallop.
We were good visitors who respectfully (and safely) stayed in our car. I didn't get away without a little thrill though. We had a few curious members of the group come by and give us a little rub-rub hello and a few wet snorts on the windshield. Thanks for the memories guys.