by Linda Aksomitis

Jim Berry, our guide from the Yellowstone Alpen Guides, came up to enjoy the view beside us. "Careful ladies," he advised, "this rock crumbles, so don't stand directly on the edge. It's not good for rock climbing."

That was enough of a warning to keep me back a few extra feet. We resumed our hike, meeting others coming in our direction. Overhead the canopy of trees was filled with the chirps and hoots of birds offended by our presence.

Yellowstone's Grand Canyon.

The South Rim Trail had two choices: Uncle Tom's Trail and Chittendon Bridge. With so much to see in Yellowstone I opted not to take the trail down to the bridge at the bottom of the falls. Hiking another twenty minutes I stopped frequently to check my progress over the canyon. Each angle provided another perspective of its beauty. When we reached the parking lot I was reluctant to climb into the van seat -- walking on the eons old rim of the canyon put me in touch with the earth in a way I hadn't expected.

I'd entered Yellowstone around 6 a.m. hoping to encounter some of the early morning wildlife and hear the howl of wolves or the mating call of the bull elk. While the sounds had eluded me, I found several herds of elk, which was to be expected considering the park is home to around 35,000 of the graceful creatures. The first ones I saw wandered around the brick buildings, munching on the lawns in what had been the barracks area of Fort Yellowstone, decades earlier. Later, I watched the Madison Elk herd graze in the wilds of the Madison Valley.

Indeed, I visited Yellowstone during its secret season, when the call of nature is at its strongest. During late August the bison, or buffalo, are weaning their young, and the mating ritual takes priority. For two or three weeks of the year the male and female bison run together, partnering in an elaborate courtship ritual.

Less than twenty feet from me, at the top of a rise, a bull, his outline a shadow against the dark clouded sky, bellowed his anguish at the female's disinterest. His horn plowed up a furrow in the sod, as he tossed his head again and again. Finally he threw his powerful shoulders to the ground, rolling in the dirt. A cloud of dust blew up around him, but the cow continued to stare straight ahead.

(CONTINUE...)