The campground hosts have apparently gone home for the season here at the South unit of Theodore Roosevelt NP.  Our greeter was a slow plodding old bull Bison munching away along the roadside at the campground entrance.  We started past him but the growl of the motorhome engine put him into a run.  We slowed.  He slowed.  We tried to pass.  He ran.  Finally ole Leroy crossed the road and let us by.  We check for him every time we go in or out of camp.  Sometimes we see him.  Sometimes not.  But I’m sure he is out there watching us.