Endless dreary sage brush, slogging through sleet and snow, they found their way through centuries of time. Western European cowboys undercut the natives of thousands of years. But these bison pay no mind to neither.
This land is their land.
They know no boundary save the Snake River in a harsh winter. It was into these lands we stumbled. Not knowing where we were, which way was up, or even north. There was only the Tetons dominating the scene and any sense of time. With a snicker they seem to laugh at our feebleness.