So . . . we were sitting in the car at Teddy Roosevelt National Park watching the big guy scratch his back while creating a huge dust cloud (him, not us), when he decided he didn’t like having an audience for his ablutions. He stood up, looked at us (or possibly that offensive and nosy Chevy Tahoe), put his head down and started to grunt HUUNH, HUUUNH, HUUUUNH, HUUUUUNH, HUUUUUUNH! Each grunt increasing in volume so we sped off in our own cloud of dust. We didn’t wait to see if he would take the trouble to charge after us.
The bison pictured below is an entirely different fellow. The poem is slightly misleading. He took no interest in us what-so-ever. I still had visions of the grunter above.
Which Way Now 101 