Brad and I camped for three nights at Custer State Park. Upon loading up with groceries, we set out from Ellsworth AFB and headed south to the Black Hills. Just about eight minutes into the park, Brad rounded a corner and exclaimed, “Why the hell is this guy in the middle of the…WHOA!” The Jeep Cherokee in front of us was making a wide berth of a large, lumbering bison, walking the grass culvert along the road. With Brad’s pants nearly soiled, we cut right and drove slowly past the first Bison Brad had ever seen.
Aptly, Brad named him Barry. This formidable creature became our park mascot. We saw him in a nearby field the next two days as we drove to the game lodge for wireless access. And even as we left Custer State Park via the same route, Barry was munching on grasses in the same field, as if on cue for his to saw goodbye, if not on the same scary level on which we said hello.