I don't know how to do this. So many memories floating around up there, so many photos to display and tell the story behind. Over 800, and that's just from this weekend. Still gotta finish up the first trip to Yellowstone this month (That's never happened to us before... two Yellowstone trips in one month. Not sure if we've ever even had two trips in one year before!) I must have written six or seven entries on the drive home, but nothing's down in electrons yet.

We flew this morning, starting the spring antelope trend count for this spring. Maybe that's why my brain is adled.

Anyway.

The first photo (or second, if you count yesterday's shot of the wife waiting for me on the second floor of the Old Faithful Inn (Waiting because she got out of the restrooms faster than I did. Important tip, if you ever go to that place during the busy season. Use the restrooms on the second floor. Most tourists don't even know they exist. No waiting, and much cleaner. Worth the extra effort of climbing stairs when you really, really gotta go.))..

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yes (can you tell I flew this morning?). First photo.

This...

..is our favorite activity in the geyser basins. And it should be a long entry in and of itself, but isn't. Leastwise, not yet.

This entry is not about the Denver woman, or the asian tourist family, nor the sunrise, nor the Pakistanis, nor the new Chinese restaurant, nor the power flush toilet, nor even the wolf hunt.

This entry is about this idiot.

Or more exactly, his wife.

The Old Faithful area is occupied by bison. Bull bison. They are ubiquitous, as in everywhere. Not a lot of them, but they get around, and wander as they will. And do a wonderful job of ignoring the stupid tourists. 99.99995 percent of the time.

So it is wise to still give them a wide berth. Yeah, you may not be doing anything to piss them off, but for all you know, the kid up the trail was throwing rocks at them, and now this wild animal has decided to lash out. At the next available biped.

So, we met this stout fellow on the way back to the Inn, just past a fork in the trail.

Both forks will take you to the same place.

We wisely opted for the right (non-bison) fork. Immediately behind us were two classic tourist families. Young dads, each with a child on his shoulders, followed by young moms wheeling the second near-baby child in the standard fare strollers.

Wise Dad sees the bison I am photographing, and immediately veers right, telling his son on his shoulders "I think we better go this way."

Dumb Dad sees the bison, but continues blithely up the trail, bearing his genetic future on his shoulders past the potentially fatal beast.

Okay, lots of tourists do that. I'm gonna get a picture of one getting gored yet, I just know it. Whenever I see people doing this, I get the camera up and wait. Someday I'll get the shot.

Well, the Dumb Dad makes it past the bison just fine. Like I said, 99.99995 percent of the time, you will.

So I eventually become aware the two moms have stopped on my left. And pull my eye from the camera to acknowledge their presence.

They are not concerned about the bison. Just being courteous, not wanting to step into my photograph. Thinking I'm after yet another bison picture. Dumb Mom asks if it is okay to go now.

Yeah, I'm just waiting for somebody to get creamed.

Yeah, I told her that. In those words.

She's a little taken back. Wise Mom pales, and skirts around me to follow Wise Dad up the right trail. Dumb Mom pauses. She really doesn't know what to do. But she sees Dumb Dad standing there, on the other side of the bison, waiting for her to catch up.

She takes the left fork.

Rather than follow the example of their wise friends, she follows that of her spouse. Even though you could tell she didn't want to.

No drama here, folks. Dumb family is alive and well, as far as I know. Dumb Mom skirted as far to the right on the bison's trail as possible, wheeling her youngest offsping past the grazing beast at a fairly rapid pace.

Who placidly ignored them.

As they do, 99.99995 percent of the time.