“Bear!” My sister screamed from the middle seat of our family minivan. We had just left a grassy meadow near Fishing Bridge where we had spent most of an hour viewing a large grizzly bear and now, just a couple miles away, there was possibly another bear. My dad screeched the tires and pulled the van off the road. I hopped out before the van came to a complete stop and was half way down the rocky slope that separated the highway from the Yellowstone River by the time the rest of the family had even gotten out of the car.
My dad grabbed his camera and met me on the river bank while my sister and mother remained on the highway. As he approached, I pointed silently to the opposite bank. There, standing on a fallen tree, looking intently into the river, was a large grizzly bear. The bear seemed oblivious to our presence as he began to thrust his head into the river. My dad and I glanced at each other in puzzlement but then, at virtually the exact moment, we both saw it. A buffalo carcass in the water appeared to be wedged under the tree the grizzly bear was standing on. After several plunges into the water, the bear pulled the head of the dead buffalo from the water. Quickly, he tossed his head from side to side attempting to free his meal from the tree that had claimed it.
On the opposite bank, my dad and I stood in amazement hearing the bones in the buffalo’s neck breaking as the grizzly continued to wrench on the carcass. After several minutes, the bear finally freed his prize only to loose his grip. The mangled buffalo was swept into the river current. Without a second’s hesitation, the grizzly jumped into the river and began following the carcass downstream. We continued to watch the bear bob up and down in the water until he vanished around the river bend. I don’t know if he ever caught up to the buffalo, but I do know that bear taught me something of persistence and that was the day I fell in love with Yellowstone.