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November 1, 2003. Mountain Creek, YNP. Tim Fagan with Tic and Marigold returning from a backcountry patrol in Thorofare via the Yellowstone Lake Trail. (Photo by Mark Bruscino)

A Thorofare Memory: Saturday, October 12, 1997

by Tim Fagan

I have many fond memories of my time spent working and patrolling the Thorofare Region of the Yellowstone . None is so vivid as this account that occurred one morning at the Thorofare Patrol Cabin. I had arrived at the cabin late the previous evening with my saddle horse and two pack mules. I had been checking hunting camps in the upper Thorofare and was anxious to get to the cabin where I could get cleaned up, warmed, and dried off. Usually it didn't take long for word to spread that I was in the country and that the cabin was “open for business,” and I would soon have a houseful of guests looking for a warm cup of coffee, fresh coffee cake, and a place to thaw out. Such was the case on this October morning in 1997.

I turned my saddle horse and two pack mules out to graze early that morning, picketing the horse and hobbling the mules so they could get their fill of mountain grass. It had been snowing during the night and was very cold. Shortly after my getting this chore completed, Nate Vance, a longtime outfitter in the area, stopped by the cabin with two hunters to warm up and get a cup of coffee.

We visited late into the morning, and as they were leaving, three rangers from Yellowstone National Park —Brian Helms, Lloyd Kortge, and Patty Bean—stopped by. They were also looking for a place to warm up and get a bite to eat. As the rangers were sitting down at the kitchen table, Nate Vance came rushing back in the front door shouting, “You better get out here, Tim; there is a buffalo after your mules!”I quickly looked out the window and there ran the two mules in front of the cabin. Stringbean had broken his hobbles as he was running, and Flapjack was still hobbled and lunging forward as fast as he could with the buffalo only a few feet behind him. As the mules raced by the front of the cabin, several of us ran toward the fence to see if we could distract the bison as he came by. He stopped in front of the cabin, giving me time to gather the two mules, while the others hollered and yelled to keep the bison's attention.

The bison twice charged toward the fence, each time retreating a short distance, pawing the ground, rolling, jumping up, spinning around, sticking his tail straight in the air, and charging toward the folks in front of the cabin. He would always come to a sliding stop at the buck-and-rail fence, all of us knowing he could easily crash through it.

After his display of force, the bison then turned and started walking toward my saddle horse named Rowdy. He was helplessly picketed in the meadow about 200 yards away. No doubt, Rowdy was next on this bison's menu and would beeasy pickings for this mad-as-hell buffalo. I grabbed my halter rope, and as I started out on foot to get him, Nate Vance hollered, “You better not go out there afoot, you better take my saddle horse.”

Nate was riding a big leggy buckskin horse, and with one look, I could tell I would be well mounted. In fact, this horse was a retired rodeo pickup horsenamed Claybaugh, who had been used to rescue many a saddle bronc rider insome big-time rodeos. Brian Helms offered to ride out with me, and as quick as we both got mounted, we were off.

We hadn't gone 50 yards outside the fenced compound when the buffalo whirled toward us and came at a dead gallop in our direction. I began wondering if there was any particular reason why Claybaugh felt the urge to retire from the rodeo circuit. He quickly eased my mind, however, as he demonstrated he had the speed to stay ahead of the bison. We galloped across the meadow with Brian just ahead of me and the bison gaining on both of us.

We finally made it into some burned and downed timber across the meadow, and both horses and riders were relieved to see the bison stop at the edge of the timber. We were just starting to catch our breath when through the timber we could see the bison turn, get a good look at Rowdy, and start lumbering in his direction.

Brian and I made a quick plan. He decided to ride toward the bison, get his attention, and have the bison chase after him. I could then make a dash out to Rowdy, grab him, and end this nonsense. Our plan worked to perfection. As soon as Brian bolted out of the timber, the bison took after him, and I made a beeline to Rowdy. It's funny how animals know that danger is lurking, as Rowdy was standing there shaking like a leaf and acting like a perfect gentleman. Claybaugh came to a sliding stop right alongside of him. I made a hasty change from the picket rope to the halter rope, and we were all quickly off.

I moved closer to the cabin where I could see Brian sitting on his horse while the bison menaced everyone, as he did before. Finally, realizing there was superiority in numbers and beginning to get bored with the fact there were no more horses or mules to chase, the bison eventually decided to wander off. We moved the stock back together and were all thankful no one was injured. We all had a good visit over the experience and explained to the two hunters that the Game & Fish and Park Service will go to great lengths to entertain the hunting public!

I have remained good friends with all these folks over the years and even keep track of the pickup horse, Claybaugh, who carried me across the meadow that October day. I later learned that as Brian and I raced across the meadow, Nate Vance had grabbed his rifle and had drawn a bead on that bison in the event one of the horses would have slipped or gone down.

For me this was indeed a memorable backcountry experience—a fond memory of trusted friends and good horses, all in the backdrop of this most enchanting wilderness outpost. And for the Thorofare Patrol Cabin, well, this was just another of the many tales that she has witnessed, one of many that are recorded in her memory bank—a bank I wish I knew the combination to. How fortunate I am to have been a part of her history! My thanks.

Tim Fagan
Cody Damage Warden, 1977–1993
South Cody Game Warden, 1993–Present