Give Me A Home...

Years ago we went to Yellowstone National Park.
The kids were pretty young.
I dragged along an aluminum photography case,
a Tenba backpack and a tripod.

In the case was a RB-67, a medium-format camera
and 3 lenses. The equipment weighed a ton.
Tom wanted me to leave it at home.
Why carry all that stuff around?

Yellowstone was a real photographer's paradise.
The scenery was awe-inspiring.
I set up my camera at every landscape opportunity.
Herds of buffalo roamed freely. Tourists were standing
next to the them.

Later, after several hours, we headed out of the park.
In the middle of the road we encountered several buffalo.
We waited for a long time, hoping the animals would
move along. Tom thought it was cool, and kept his driver
side window down.

The granddaddy of all buffaloes suddenly appeared
outside the driver's door.
He had his dripping snout poking part way through
the open window.
His eyes were glassy and steam swirled from his nostrils.

By then, I was smacking Tom to get the window up, quick!
The kids were on the floor of the back seat, screaming.
I was shrieking.

Tom pushed the window button and the buffalo budged
a little from the window, as the window went up.
He fumed a plume of bad buffalo breath, and walked off.
That was a little too close to nature for me
One thing may have been missing from my case--
a blow gun...