I spent nine hours photographing this bull in western Canada, and he never once showed any sign of aggression. The next day, though, the day I got this shot, he turned the switch. This was him charging me the first time. I took a few shots before I turned around and ran like hell. I spotted this partially fallen tree and figured that if I could put the trunk between us, he'd stop. And he did. After I caught my breath, I started shooting again but kept my distance. About an hour and a half after the charge, there was this perfect moment when the sun popped out and steam was rising from the ground as he sniffed along. I found a shooting lane in front of him. He took a few steps and unleashed this bugle that felt as if it went right through me. Then he charged again.