It has been said that the last words ever spoken by many of us good ol' boys down here in Oklahoma are "Here, hold my beer and watch this!" And it may have been similar mentality when our hero's, Larry, Curley, and Moe sat on Curley's back deck one fine summer evening quaffing a bit of the brew. Let the record show that each of our terrific trio has been known to burn several rolls of film in the pursuit of wildlife and nature photos suitable for framing.

"I've got an idea," said Larry reaching for yet another long neck, "Let's all go to Yellowstone! I've got enough free airline miles to fly up. You guys could drive and meet me at the airport. We could bring some bedrolls, share a room, buy a disposable cooler for the beer, and have a great time." Curley and Moe pondered this for three or four seconds, took another swig, and agreed that this was indeed, one of Larry's better ideas. "I could rent a car," Larry continued, " and that would give us more room and flexibility to explore the park." "I propose a toast," cried Moe, shakily rising to his feet. "TO YELLOWSTONE!"

And so it was that mid-September found our boys meeting up at the baggage claim area of the airport in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Moe had driven his pickup, loaded down with so much photo gear that he feared being ticketed by the Highway Patrol for an overweight load. Larry began filling out the rental car forms "Sir," said the bored looking man behind the counter, "Your driver's license has expired. You cannot rent a car without a valid driver's license." "I didn't know it was expired," cried Larry, with a trace of panic in his voice. "Wait, Curley, you rent the car and I'll just take turns riding around with you guys. It'll all work out." Curley and Moe glanced at each other. Could it be they were being played as stooges?

It was decided that the town of Gardiner, at the north entrance to Yellowstone, would be the base of operations to begin the adventure. Curley wanted to try for some pronghorn shots as several small herds had been seen nearby on one of the back roads. Larry and Moe teamed up to look for elk. By midday the only elk they had seen were on the Visitor Center's lawn and since the light was getting bad, they decided to head back to town in search of a bar. Driving by the motel, they spotted Curley sitting on the front steps, looking forlorn and draining a can of a locally popular beer called Moosehead.

"Curley! What's wrong? Why aren't you out looking for pronghorn?" we asked. "I locked the keys in the car," said Curley. "There was no one else around, so I started walking. Luckily I had my camera in case a pronghorn came by. After a mile or so, I spotted another photographer. I approached and told him I needed some help." "You out of film?" the other photographer asked, reasoning that would be the worst problem a man carrying a camera out in the middle of nowhere could have. "No", said Curley, "but if you would give me a ride back to town, I'd sure buy you a beer."

By the end of the day, all was well. The sheriff had unlocked the car using a tool called a Slim Jim and our trio regrouped, with a few beers, to form yet another plan. "Let's go to the Tetons" slurred Larry. "We'll drink to that," said the others. "TO THE TETONS." But Curley's woes were not yet over. Curley stood at the banks of the Snake River with two cameras around his neck excitedly shooting prize-winning photos of diving osprey when one the cameras ran out of film. At about the same time, some tourists walked up and asked Curley to take their picture. Curley, being the kind, obliging soul that he is, graciously snapped the shutter on their point and shoot and then proceeded to change film in his own camera. But when the back popped open, Curley was bewildered to see exposed film shining in the sun. Yes, poor Curley had opened the back of the wrong camera. Curley cursed and made several references to the ancestry of the tourists who had broken his concentration. He wondered if there was any beer left in the disposable cooler.

Moe, in the meantime, was looking for much bigger game. Moe was looking for moose. He had been standing on a sandbar in the backwaters of Oxbow Bend for what seemed like hours. Moe had visions of a huge male with giant antlers, standing in a pool of reflecting water, the majestic Tetons in the background, and of course, golden light. Eventually, a young lady carrying a camera and tripod came along and motioned for Moe to follow her. "There's a moose over there in the next bend" she said. Heart racing, Moe grabbed his gear and began to work his way down a faint trail towards the shot of his dreams. But soon the trail was lost and Moe had no choice but to force his way through the thick willows. Thorns ripped his clothing, limbs smashed his face, but our hero was not to be deterred. Just as he feared becoming hopelessly tangled, Moe broke through to find himself at the edge of the water. Oh, he saw the moose all right. It would have been hard to miss as the young, but very large male, was staring at Moe from a distance of oh, maybe 20 feet. The moose stared at Moe. Moe stared at the moose. The lady photographer cursed Moe for stepping in the line of her shot. Moe correctly assumed that a fast retreat was close to impossible, so he decided to reason with the moose. "Nice Moosie" he said. " I'm a big fan of Bullwinkle."

The moose eased back into the brush but there was an immediate loud sound of crashing limbs. Not one, but TWO moose came galloping out of the willows into the water. "Oh great" thought Moe, "He's gotten his brother to help stomp me in the mud." Only then did Moe spot a HUGE set of antlers poking out of the treetops on the opposite bank. It was DAD!! The two youngsters waded across the stream to tell their father that some jerk over there was bothering them. Dad took a long, hard look at Moe. Then, deciding that he had more important things to do (like eat) wandered slowly down the bank leaving Moe standing in the mud, reflecting upon his good fortune to have survived such a close encounter. Moe thought this might be a good time for a cold brew.

Now all of you good folks who have visited a national park or two have no doubt seen the signs, "Do Not Feed The Animals". Let those signs be a gentle reminder - if you think you recognize any one of the group previously described, please, please don't feed them any beer!

Editor's Comment: Let us know what you think! Please email the Editor to let us know your thoughts. Warren Williams has been doing photography for over 25 years focusing mainly on Nature and wildlife. His work has been published in several magazines, including Outdoor Photographer, Outdoor Oklahoma, Oklahoma Today, and Persimmon Hill (the magazine of the Cowboy Hall of Fame). Several of his photos have also appeared on calendars by Smith-Southwestern. Warren is an active member on Photo Migrations and would also invite you to visit his website located at: Warren Williams Photography - Images of Wildlife and Nature.