Breakfast with Bears (and Twelve Angry Wolves)

American Buffalo - Pre-Carcass Edition

They stood there in the morning mist: a Nikon, a 500mm lens, and a tripod—fastened together like a three-legged soldier at attention. I crouched behind them as if they might shield me from catastrophe. Which, of course, they wouldn’t. Trying to hide from an attacking grizzly behind a tripod is like trying to dodge a freight train by ducking under a paper towel.

Not that it mattered. The three grizzlies and a dozen wolves across the meadow and up the side of the hill were far too busy feasting on a rancid buffalo carcass to worry about me. And boy, were they into it. If you were a carnivore, you’d be into it too: tenderized with maggots, aged to just the right stench, marinated in decay. Beats gnawing on a stringy old human like me who smells like Cheetos and Patagonia. Gross.

The Carcass Buffet (As Seen from a Safe Distance)

I’ve heard buffalo is best raw. Actually, I haven’t heard that. But I’ve read how Native Americans prized the fresh liver—sliced warm from the kill, drizzled with bile. Mmmmm. Then, presumably, one would dab politely at the corners of the mouth with a fringed buckskin sleeve. Decorum is important, even in carnivory.

Meanwhile, the wolves and bears dined together. A bearded old-timer next to me—who claimed he’d been studying bears for forty years—swore he’d never seen that kind of sharing before. National Geographic should’ve been rolling. Then I glanced around for the baby bear that had been part of the melee. He appeared to be missing so I started to panic. Had they… eaten him too? Maybe he just plopped down for a nap behind some bushes.

Baby Bear Watching the Feast (He is on the hill on the left)

Eventually, the truce ended. The wolves loped up the hill, clustered in sagebrush, and began what sounded like a heated committee meeting. Yips, barks, snarls—then full-throated howls. It was like Mozart’s Requiem, if performed by very opinionated huskies.

Wolf Pack - Clustered on Howling on the Hill (on the right)

Anyway, I’m rambling. The point is I dragged myself out of bed at some cursed hour for this. And it was worth it. Twelve wolves, three bears, a cloud of lurking ravens, and one very dead buffalo. Nature’s buffet with front-row seating. This is why I came to Jackson Hole,

Yellowstone, and the Tetons. To see something like this. And I did.

God is good that way—always slipping us little surprises, always waiting for us to notice and whisper, “Thank you.”