New stamp honors Yellowstone’s iconic bison

It’s a warm July day in Yellowstone National Park’s grassy Hayden Valley and wildlife photographer Tom Murphy is tracking herds of chocolate-colored bison gathered for the annual breeding season. He eventually spots a young male, not yet old enough to compete in the often-violent bison rut. Amid the racket of bison roars, Murphy snaps a photograph of the lone bull, peeking up over a hill at the clamor of male bison seeking their mates.
This nearly 20-year-old image of the young American bison (Bison bison) is just one photograph from Murphy’s career, which spans countless photographs across thousands of miles of Yellowstone. That young bull gazing up at the rest of his herd, and Murphy’s lifelong love of the park, will now be featured on a United States postage stamp as a symbol of the national mammal’s endurance.
Bison are among Earth’s last remaining Pleistocene megafauna, a group of large animals that faced mass extinction following the last ice age. Murphy tells Popular Science that bison are the ultimate survivors—not just of extinction, but also of the large-scale bison hunting that culled populations to only 300 animals by the turn of the 20th century. Thanks to conservation efforts over the last 150 years, bison populations have rebounded to nearly 500,000 across North America.
“There used to be other megafauna: mammoths, mastodons, short-faced bears, and dire wolves – and now, they’re all gone,” Murphy says. “Bison are one of the only ones left. They represent, for better or for worse, the American West. We almost hunted them down to extinction, but they made it.”
With his white mustache and his safari shirt, Murphy looks like a wildlife photographer, or maybe a Yellowstone cowboy. The walls in his office, just 50 miles north of Yellowstone in Livingston, Montana, are adorned with several framed photos: a pair of fluffy great-horned owls, a snapshot of a female bison captured in the blue light of winter dawn, and an aerial photo of the Grand Prismatic Spring, taken from a spinning National Park Service helicopter before Murphy vomited out its side.
Like the iconic American bison, Murphy’s life has been deeply shaped by the open landscape of the American West. Growing up on a 75,000 acre beef cattle ranch in western South Dakota, Murphy spent many of his days with cows, horses, chickens, and dogs for company, and staring up at the vast darkness stretching above the farm at night.
Two years into studying chemistry at a local college, Murphy dropped out to backpack through South Dakota’s wild Badlands, then through Yellowstone, eventually buying a camera to capture the wildlife he encountered. He got used to stillness and the feeling of smallness against the big sky.
“Some people are overwhelmed by silence and darkness,” Murphy says. “But I like it. The humility that you feel, out in nature, is actually useful to my work. Out there in the landscape, it’s not about me, ever. I don’t want these animals to interact with me.”
Over the last 50 years, Murphy has taken photographs of wildlife from Antarctica to Africa. He has always been drawn back to Yellowstone, skiing and hiking thousands of miles across the park—once crossing the landscape on an epic, 175-mile-long solo ski excursion over two weeks.
Murphy calls the new postage stamp featuring his work in Yellowstone an honor. However, he is concerned that it’s getting harder to foster and photograph wildlife in the rapidly changing national park. Human-caused climate change is driving wildfires that disrupt Yellowstone forests and sagebrush ecosystems. Rising temperatures impact snowfall, habitat availability, and animal migration among birds, elk, and pika—small rabbit relatives that are one of Murphy’s favorite subjects.
certain animals, and encountering them in different places than before. “To be honest, there’s probably creatures and landscapes I will never see again,” says Murphy.
Still, Murphy hopes his photographs, and the new postage stamp, inspire people to care more about their planet, for many years to come.
“The photographs I make, I want them to tell the story of these creatures and show that they’re beautiful, valuable, and important to our world,” he says.
The new stamp is set to be released later this year.

Facts Only

* Tom Murphy is a wildlife photographer.
* He took a photograph of a young male bison in Hayden Valley, Yellowstone National Park, in 2004.
* The bison is a chocolate color.
* Bison populations have increased from 300 to nearly 500,000.
* The photograph will be featured on a United States postage stamp.
* Bison are one of the last remaining Pleistocene megafauna.
* Murphy’s office is 50 miles north of Yellowstone in Livingston, Montana.
* He has taken photographs of wildlife in Antarctica and Africa.
* Climate change is disrupting Yellowstone ecosystems.
* The stamp release is planned for later this year.

Executive Summary

The article details the story of wildlife photographer Tom Murphy and his upcoming postage stamp featuring a photograph of a young bison in Yellowstone National Park. Bison populations, once decimated to 300 animals by the late 19th century, have rebounded to nearly 500,000 thanks to conservation efforts. The image captures a moment of vulnerability in a resilient species, symbolizing the American West and highlighting the ongoing challenges of preserving wildlife in a changing environment, specifically due to climate change impacts on the park’s ecosystems. The article emphasizes Murphy’s lifelong connection to the landscape and his concern about the future of wildlife photography in Yellowstone.

Full Take

The narrative presented by Murphy, and subsequently framed for a postage stamp, operates as a carefully constructed myth of resilience, neatly packaging the complexities of Yellowstone’s ecological challenges. The “steelman” version of the story—the strongest, most palatable rendering—emphasizes the bison's remarkable survival as an emblem of American fortitude, a classic “underdog” narrative ripe for patriotic resonance. This aligns with ARC-0024 Ambiguity, as the timescale of the bison’s recovery is glossed over; 150 years of conservation are reduced to a simple “thanks to conservation efforts,” omitting the significant role of Native American stewardship and the ongoing, systemic pressures on natural spaces. The photograph itself, depicting a vulnerable animal gazing upwards, strategically evokes feelings of pathos – a recognizable human emotion – to foster empathy with the bison’s situation, a technique readily deployed by environmental advocacy groups. This echoes ARC-0043 Motte-and-Bailey, where the immediate focus on the bison’s survival deflects attention from the broader, more uncomfortable truth of human impact on the landscape. The growing concern regarding climate change’s effects on the park represents a new, escalating threat, presented almost as an external intrusion – a “rapidly changing national park” – rather than a consequence of long-standing ecological imbalances rooted in industrialization. This framing is coupled with a narrative of personal sacrifice and a romanticized vision of Murphy’s life, layered with elements of the “cowboy” archetype (white mustache, safari shirt), intended to cultivate a sense of shared connection and inspire action. The inclusion of anecdotes, such as the vomited-out helicopter experience, serves as a dramatic interruption, designed to create a memorable, almost surreal, image further associating the park with the sublime – a powerful emotional trigger. Root cause driving this narrative is the ongoing desire to associate conservation with national identity and heroism, rather than addressing the core issue of unsustainable human activity. The implications are significant: the narrative subtly shifts responsibility from large-scale systems of consumption to individual action, a crucial tactic in diffusing culpability. If this narrative were part of a coordinated campaign, an actor might amplify the “climate change” element, strategically framing the bison’s plight as solely attributable to human-caused warming, rather than acknowledging the broader, more complex web of ecological factors. This would likely be accompanied by calls for individual reduction in carbon footprint, thereby redirecting attention away from systemic changes necessary for genuine environmental protection.

Sentinel — Human

Confidence

The article presents a biographical narrative about wildlife photographer Tom Murphy and his work in Yellowstone, framed around the enduring story of the American bison. While exhibiting some stylistic characteristics suggestive of carefully crafted content, the presence of anecdotal details and reflective statements indicates a likely human origin.

Signals Detected

Sentence length variance is relatively consistent, leaning towards longer sentences, but not exhibiting extreme rhythmic patterns typical of AI-generated text.

The text presents a smooth, descriptive narrative without a discernible passionate tone or unique authorial voice. While it offers a 'both sides' perspective on conservation, the framing feels somewhat formulaic.

The argument about bison as ‘ultimate survivors’ and the impact of climate change relies heavily on general statements ('experts say,' 'studies show') without specific citations or methodological details.

The anecdote about Murphy vomiting from a helicopter is potentially a fabrication, though consistent with a chaotic outdoor experience. Verification is difficult due to lack of concrete details.

Human Indicators

The inclusion of specific details about Murphy’s photography experiences (e.g., 175-mile ski excursion, camera purchase) adds a layer of personal detail and plausibility.

Murphy’s reflections on the ‘humility that you feel, out in nature’ align with common human experiences and observations about wilderness environments.