The closed windows and doors of the car blocked little of the uproar or putrid smell created by the many herds of bison to the right and left.To the right, an expansive valley stretched for miles, covered in golden fields dotted with hundreds of bison drinking at a sapphire lake near the center. To the left many hills lined the road, with bison everywhere on them. It was a perfect day; the sun was low in the sky causing the lake to sparkle as if made of diamonds and the sky was a beautiful clear blue. I checked the clock. It was 1:30. “Oh great,” I said. “We’ve only been in the car for five hours this time.” My sister rolled her eyes.

“Do you always have to be so sarcastic?” My mom asked.

“Of course. It’s who I am,” was my reply.  My family’s vacation had, so far, been magnificent, since every day had been as this one… naturally, that means that it had been long, with lots of days with 5 (or more) hours in the car. Suddenly, a massive, chocolatey brown bull bison lumbered to the center of the road and became stagnant. It was about 10 feet long, 6 and a half feet tall and at least 2000 lb. Our car stopped with a squeal of rubber on asphalt. Soon after, a second, equally as monstrous bull came onto the road. However, its pace was faster than the previous bull and as it neared, the tension built just as rapidly. Like a thunderstorm brewing, chaos was about to erupt. The aggression in their eyes was as clear as day.

The second bison’s pounding feet quickened as it drew ever nearer to the first, which seemed to sense the opposer and charged at the competitor, miniature earthquakes spawning where their feet met the ground. Their heads met with a bone jarring crack that made me wince. Holy cow, I thought. Glad I wasn’t there. I told my family that I remembered reading in a pamphlet that it was in fact mating season for these massive creatures and they were naturally more irritable and dangerous than ever. “Oh great,” my sister said sarcastically. “That’s just what we need. More potential violence.” We began debating about whether I needed my sister’s sas. Our debate grew heated when an almighty roar jerked us back to the colossi fighting and as soon as I turned my head, the second bison landed with a crunch--mere inches from the hood of our car. My mouth dropped at the raw power of the first bison: it had thrown the second beast nearly 5 feet, which was no small feat, as the thing had to have been at least a ton. The bison slowly and deliberately turned toward our car. It must have thought that we were a threat too. “Crap,” I said. My sisters agreed wholeheartedly. Dread filled our car, because between a car and a bison as big as this, we had no doubts about who would win. And it would not be us.

The second bull got to its feet. I could practically feel the pure hatred toward the first massive beast radiating from it. The bison parted ways and I could hear the unspoken message, “We’ll finish this later.” As I gazed at the other bison grazing peacefully nearby, I thought of how purely dangerous these creatures must be. I checked the clock again. This time, it said 1:40. I swear, I will never get close to one of these things, I thought to myself. In 10 minutes one almost crushed our car. Joy. We continued on our way with caution, hoping and praying that no more bison would fight, or near us in any other way. The terror remained in our hearts until we left the bison inhabited area.

To this day, the thunderous roar and putrid smells of that few minutes remains burned in my memory. It constantly reminds me to never be near wild animals. This event makes me automatically think that wild animals are dangerous and should be avoided. I learned very well to not go near wild animals because they might attack without reason and they might have diseases.