The Flatlander's View

Gird yourselves, folks, Touron season is blooming …

By Steve Moseley
Posted 5/9/24

The East Gate is open. Mark Davis has posted his annual, always-refreshing ‘first day’ story and photos. Both are unmistakable signs the Tourons have returned.

Each year folks outdo …

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The Flatlander's View

Gird yourselves, folks, Touron season is blooming …

Posted

The East Gate is open. Mark Davis has posted his annual, always-refreshing ‘first day’ story and photos. Both are unmistakable signs the Tourons have returned.

Each year folks outdo themselves with stupidity in that big park just up the hill from the good folks of Park County. Scaldings are not uncommon. Bison-assisted human acrobatics are spectacular. In our years as residents of Powell we — me especially — visited as frequently as possible. Many were the trips I made alone, sometimes leaving home on Cary Street so early I would be sitting in a campground way over on the west side wrapped in a blanket for warmth, waiting for first light.

So, we inevitably witnessed all manner of reprehensible human behavior in this otherwise wonderful place. There was the adult lady who chased a grizzly bear through deadfall and treacherous rocks just inside the East Gate to get the wildlife portrait of a lifetime … with her yellow cardboard camera.

There was the lady who unloaded a couple grandkids and a trembling dog from her van, then tried for all she was worth to lead them right up on a bull moose up North Fork one day. Horrified, we came to realize she was bound and determined to pose the whole bunch with the moose. The dog was miserable and cowering, its head turned away to avoid eye contact, eyes buried under hairy paws. Finally, a local woman among us shouted, “Lady, get that damn dog and those kids away from the moose!”

Fully insulted and perturbed, she grudgingly abandoned her mission, but not before inflicting long, torturous minutes of terror on the rest of us. The moose, to its eternal credit, demonstrated greater common sense than this master Touron could muster in a month of trying. I snapped a picture to document her obtuse moment. It still makes me sigh and shake my head.

We must not forget the father, camera in hand, who dragged his reluctant kids and wife up a roadside rise along the river in Hayden Valley, determined to cozy them up to a pair of bull bison trying to kill each other during the peak of the rut. They weren’t from this part of the world, I get that, but geez, wouldn’t you think the guy could read aggressive animal behavior enough to keep his own loved ones safe by the car in the face of snot-slinging, flared nostrils on fire, grunting, hormone-charged, head-crushing combat no matter his native language?

I have photos of Tourons crowding a cow moose with calf as they tried to rest in a patch of grassy shade across the road west within sight of the Canyon fuel station. Unbelievable!

An oblivious Touron made a sad sight of himself and a disgusting photo for me near that same intersection on a different visit with a bull elk. To its great credit, the beast lazily went about its business despite the entirely impolite and disrespectful encroachment of a grown man. I bet his mother taught him better.

Is it getting worse? Better? Geez, no less than James Bond himself in the person of Pierce Brosnan earned his Touron certification with all rights and privileges. So, I’d say worse.

Tourons can even be found online. See them in action for yourself at ‘touronsofyellowstone’ on Facebook. The absence of simple common sense staggers the imagination. It defies belief. If human interlopers would demonstrate the grace of Mother Nature’s full-time residents, Yellowstone would be a better place. Instantly.

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