The first hiking group I was a part of was diverse: every single one of us was from a different state. However, something we all had in common was an appreciation for nature and the love of adventure. Looking back over some of the things we did, I'm surprised no one got hurt.
One particular time, we stumbled onto an adventure on the way home from a hike along the riverbank. Coming around a bend, we sighted a buffalo: one of the most dangerous, not to mention scary looking animals in the park. Two choices faced us: to go up and around the beast on the right or to go down by the river around it on the left.
My roommate, Susan, chose the safer, latter option and headed up through the forest. The rest of us chose the adventure of walking within sight of the wild animal. Our fearless leader, Dave, led about five or ten feet in front. The buffalo stood in profile, facing away from the river. We inched up in awe as we took in his frightening hugeness. He stood placidly grazing, but we all knew of the tremendous strength a bison posesses.
As Dave crept closer, coming around the opposite side of the buffalo, we froze in shock as we heard a snort. The buffalo turned and charged. The next few seconds were fuzzy as I suddenly found myself twenty yards away in the opposite direction. Dave had taken off for the river, hoping the water would carry him to safety. But as I turned back around, the bison once again grazed docilely. It had been a close call.