Category: columns-outdoors

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Sage Grouse: Living on the Edge

By Christian Begeman

Last Friday, I knocked off work an hour early and headed west with my camera. The weather outside finally agreed with the calendar — a warm breeze accompanied me as I made my way through the Badlands during the sunset hour. Driving with my windows down, I could smell the water from the snowmelt mixed with new grass growth on the breeze. It was a little bit of heaven on earth. But the Badlands weren’t my final destination. I was headed for the farther reaches of western South Dakota on the hunt for a special kind of bird.

On Saturday, I woke up at a hotel in Spearfish, ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off. Instead of my normal bleary-eyed, anti-morning mood, I was wide awake and ready to experience one of South Dakota’s lesser-known treasures. The Greater Sage Grouse were dancing in Butte and Harding counties and I was going to get to watch!

Chuck Berdan, a retired biologist for the Bureau of Land Management, agreed to show me an active lek in Butte County, but to get there without disturbing the birds we had to leave Belle Fourche at 4:30 a.m. I peppered Chuck the whole way there with questions about the birds, his job and the land. He answered patiently and with good humor. I learned that there are somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500 sage grouse in South Dakota. The courtships on various leks start in late March and usually taper off by early May. Chuck told me that male sage grouse roost on the lek at night, unlike prairie chicken and sharptail grouse, who fly in to their leks in the morning.

The numbers of South Dakota sage grouse are in a slow decline both here as well as in other western states. The latest trial for the bird has been the West Nile virus. If a sage grouse contracts the virus, they usually only survive for two or three days. This relatively quick death has not allowed for much immunity to build up in the grouse population. It is a worrisome situation as our state’s population of grouse are already on living on the edge. Our birds live on the easternmost edge of the sage grouse’s naturally fragmented range, so it doesn’t take much to tip the scales against them.

Chuck has spent 30+ years studying sage grouse. He told me that counting and studying the bird here in South Dakota allows wildlife management to make plans and policies based on local data rather than from studies done in other states. I asked him if he could predict what the grouse population would be in 10 or even 20 years. He smiled and told me that more studies need to be done to answer those kinds of questions. Right now there are simply too many unknown factors in play to be able to predict the future of sage grouse with any certainty.

I feel lucky to have been able to witness the display. I didn’t even know we had the species in the state until I watched an episode of Planet Earth where they featured the bird’s mating dance that was shot in Wyoming. It’s just another example of our state’s wide range of natural phenomena.

Later in the day, I drove down to Custer State Park to see the spring buffalo calves. The whole way there, I kept thinking about the sage grouse and the magical morning in Butte County. I hope folks like Chuck continue to care about our wildlife resources, and not just because they make great photo opportunities. These animals and ranges are part of what makes our state great!

A Butte County Courtship

Christian also took video of the male sage grouse displaying for the females. Click to hear and view their mating ritual.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.


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Spring’s Sweet Song

By Christian Begeman

South Dakota weather is a funny, fickle thing. Last year, we had almost a full month of spring by mid-April. It is obvious that Old Man Winter wants to stick around a bit longer this time around. The persistent icy and snowy weather has me antsy for spring to really get here. I think the wildlife is ready too. All last week, I’ve noticed robins and meadowlarks all fluffed up in the cold and snow, just waiting for spring to actually be sprung.

Three of my favorite things about spring are the smell of lilac on the breeze, the sight of pasqueflowers dancing on a hillside and the sound of a meadowlark’s song in the morning light. With that in mind, I gathered up some photos of meadowlarks I’ve captured the last few years while wandering all across our great state.

Meadowlarks are said to be sons of the south wind in some Native American legends. It makes sense — they arrive from the south, bringing the warmer weather that chases away winter’s chill. Lakota tradition also says that meadowlarks actually sang in the Lakota tongue.

I remember as a kid being outside working on the lawn or the garden for mom and hearing a rather boisterous meadowlark singing his tune over and over. I soon found myself adding words to his notes. They were silly kid’s words, but it shows how the birds can be persuasive enough with their melodies to make a good impression on humans.

My uncle spent a good deal of time helping our neighbor herd sheep along the Moreau River breaks when he was a young man. He was a good whistler and taught himself to mimic the birds he heard while killing time on the prairie. I remember when I first heard him whistle like a meadowlark. I was amazed at how good he was at it and every family gathering for the next few years, I tried to get him to do it again and again.

Meadowlarks have some serious pipes too. Last year when I was sitting in a prairie chicken blind somewhere in the Fort Pierre National Grasslands, a lone meadowlark decided to perch on the blind just after sunup. I was shocked at how loud his song was. I didn’t realize until I sat right under one just how much volume they produce. Now I understand why you can hear the song long before you see the bird on still spring mornings.

Their famous songs make them a pretty popular bird. According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, the Western Meadowlark is the state bird of six states: Kansas, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oregon, and Wyoming. Only the Northern Cardinal is a more popular civic symbol, edging out the meadowlark by one state.

Well here’s to the sons of the south wind to start singing in spring for real. I’m ready. The calendar as well as my old bones says its time for the grass to turn green, the trees to bud and the wildflowers to bloom. All, of course, accompanied by the meadowlark’s sweet song. Bring on spring!

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.


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The Meaning of Snow

By Ken Blanchard

When I vacationed in Alaska a couple of years ago, I learned for the first time that winter can be used as a verb. It means to spend the darkest, coldest months of the year somewhere else. It occurred to me today that the meaning of a simple word like snow is different in South Dakota than it was in my native state of Arkansas.

Down there, snow was an event. You saw it coming if you were lucky, prayed for it if you were pious and eight years old, sat through it over a cup of hot chocolate, and then waited a day or two for it to melt. In the Dakotas, snow isn’t an event; it’s a season. It overlaps the end of fall and the beginning of calendar spring. We wait for it to pass the way Twins fans wait for another winning season. Fortunately the former is something that might actually happen.

The Easter holiday, which begins with Good Friday and ends with Not Half Bad Monday, is a good time to read the history of the snow. Some of it fell softly and evenly and some roared in parallel to the ground like it was being chased by the cops. The wind sculpted the loose power into dunes and new snow iced their tops. Some folks reclaimed their driveways and sidewalks with those modified tillers known as snow blowers. In doing so, they built up one side of the long ramparts that line streets while the snow plows built up the other.

Other folks labored like the Israelites in The Ten Commandments, stooped over their shovels making bricks for Pharaoh. British farmers used to assemble long rock walls along the edges of their fields, not so much because they needed the walls but because they needed something to do with the rocks. So we in these Dakotas build walls of snow along the edges of our yards because it is illegal to shove it back into the streets.

Now those once awesome structures have mostly melted to the height of speed bumps. If you look closely at their texture, it doesn’t look like snow at all anymore. Compacted by its own weight, softened and refrozen almost daily, it’s more like sponge cake. Looking at it now and at the blasted grass it retreats across, I remember how my hair used to have color and how my brother used to have hair.

I have tried to be pleased and educated by every gift that God has given me. Snow is one of those gifts even if it sometimes pleases me too much. I can see why snow is good and I can learn some of the things that it has to teach us. I just think we could learn those lessons well enough by the end of February. The season of snow has gone on long enough. Still, I know the meaning both of winter and summer better because South Dakota has taught me the meaning of snow.

Editor’s Note: Ken Blanchard is our political columnist from the right. For a left-wing perspective on politics, please look for columns by Cory Heidelberger every other Wednesday on this site.

Dr. Ken Blanchard is a professor of Political Science at Northern State University and writes for the Aberdeen American News and the blog South Dakota Politics.


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Faces to the Falls

By Rebecca Johnson

I suspect many of us have driven the length of the state by car. You’ll have your chance to do that by bicycle this summer. The first annual Faces to the Falls ride is set for June 9-14, kicking off with a party in Hill City the evening of the 8th.

The tour covers an average of 81 miles per day with planned refueling stops at convenience stores or fundraisers held by local community groups. Kasey Abbott, Faces to the Falls president, says you need to eat quite a bit when you bike that far, though it is possible to gain weight.”You end up eating every 10 to 15 miles because you don’t want to turn down a church lady’s homemade pie,” he laughs.

Cyclists will overnight in Hill City, Hot Springs, Martin, Winner, Pickstown, and Freeman.”Our plan is to camp on high school football fields or soccer fields and use the high school showers,” says Abbott. He hopes participants will explore the communities they overnight in and gives suggestions for sightseeing on the ride’s website.

The Sioux Falls resident is organizing the ride along with Marilyn Zimmermann, Jodi Erickson and several volunteers. The group often discussed a statewide bike tour during their years biking the Argus Leader Tour De Kota. Tour De Kota’s switch from a 6-day tour of southeastern South Dakota to a weekend tour of Sioux Falls provided the catalyst.

“Originally it was just going to be a few of us,” Abbot says,”but it just snowballed.” They set the participant limit for the inaugural ride at 100 riders. 80 have registered as of yet from as far as Wisconsin and Montana.

Registration is $150 if you register by April 15. The fee covers camping, luggage transport, pre-ride and post-ride party, and SAG support. I had to ask Abbott what SAG support was. It’s for those”sagging behind” because of mechanical or physical breakdown. Wind and heat can be a challenge, so there will be several cars following to make sure cyclists are doing OK.

The ride ends in Sioux Falls’ Falls Park with water, snacks and discussion on how to improve the ride for next year.”Mostly we’ll celebrate that we survived a 488 mile ride across the state of South Dakota!” Abbott says. For more details visit www.facestothefalls.com.

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Comet Chasing

By Christian Begeman

My childhood best friend introduced me to science fiction. I remember borrowing every one of his copies of Isaac Asimov’s robot books as well as all of Ray Bradbury’s short stories. He had almost every Edgar Rice Burroughs paperback while I gathered all Frank Herbert’s Dune books as well as any Star Trek and Star Wars books I could find. You may ask what does science fiction have to do with photography. Not that much really, but let me explain where I’m going here.

Collecting sci-fi paperback books back then meant collecting some amazing cover art. Science fiction in particular had spectacular”other-world” art that often persuaded me to buy the book even though I had never heard of the author. These science fiction tales as well as the imagery that it came bundled in really did spark my interest in space and astronomy. So when a co-worker told me about a new comet that would be swinging by Earth this month, I was pretty excited. Up until now, I’d never seen or photographed a comet before.

Another co-worker shared a great website for stargazers (www.spaceweather.com) with me last year. I immediately consulted the site and found out about comet Pan-STARRS and the projected”best” time to view in the Northern Hemisphere. Starting early in March, the comet would make its appearance in the lower western sky just after sunset. On March 12th, I couldn’t resist my curiosity any longer. I was determined to find this comet and try to photograph it. It was cloudy in Sioux Falls, but the internet told me it would start to clear up somewhere west of Mitchell, so I west I went.

Between Plankinton and White Lake the clouds dissipated. I took the White Lake exit and proceeded north through town to find a suitable location to scan the sky. Since it was another scenic South Dakota sunset, I made sure to stop and shoot a few photographs as I drove by White Lake and up into the hills to the north.

I found a nice spot on a hillside northwest of town and although the waxing moon was beautiful, I could not see any sign of a comet. It was supposed to be just a few degrees to the left of the moon, but I couldn’t see it, even with binoculars. Another five to ten minutes went by and the sky grew darker. I was about ready to call the whole thing a bust when I decided I should at least get a shot of the moon over the landscape.

“There it is!” I whispered out loud. I was looking at the back of my camera and to my surprise, the comet showed up on the LCD. I still couldn’t see it in the sky, but the long exposure coupled with a telephoto lens brought it out unmistakably. I was giddy. I snapped a few more photos and then remembered a lone prairie windmill I had passed on the way up the hill. I grabbed my gear and drove as fast as possible to the side of the field with the windmill some 200 yards away. I grabbed my tripod, a flashlight and my camera then half ran, half stumbled though the field in order to line up the windmill, moon and comet.

I didn’t have much time as both the moon and the comet were sinking towards the horizon and the wispy cloud band was starting to obscure them. On my first shot, I missed the comet entirely, but happened to catch an owl on the windmill that I had no idea was even there. I widened out for my second shot and there it was. Comet Pan-Starrs was hanging in the sky just opposite of the moon with my windmill in between. The images my camera produced reminded me of one of those old science fiction covers I used to love as a kid, minus the spaceships and robots of course. On the way back home, I may or may not have cued up the Star Trek theme on my iPod. It’s funny what chasing a comet with a camera can do to a full-grown man.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.


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The Mood of Deep Winter

By Christian Begeman

One of my favorite songwriters, Patty Griffin, penned a line in her song Cold As It Gets that could easily describe the mood of deep winter in South Dakota:

“I know a cold, as cold as it gets, I know a darkness that’s darker than cold. A wind that blows as cold as it gets, blew out the light of my soul.”

The long nights, howling wind and frigid temperatures can easily get a man down this time of year — especially when cold and flu season attacks your body on top of the tough weather. I know, because I just spent the weekend in bed suffering through a really nasty cold. By Sunday evening, I was finally feeling strong enough to go out and do a little photo hunting. It was Super Bowl Sunday, though, and if I went I’d miss at least the first half of the game. Crazy as it sounds, I didn’t hesitate. I hit the road and was shooting a particularly nice sunset scene east of Centerville about the time Baltimore scored their first touchdown.

As I look back over the photos of winter scenes that accompany this column, I’m reminded of a little of that same craziness for”getting the shot” in almost every photo. Take the photo at Palisades State Park, for example. If anybody was watching that evening, they’d have had a good laugh. Here was this clumsy, full-grown man slipping and sliding amongst the rocks at the bottom of Split Rock Creek only to end up lying spread eagle with his nose up against a camera on the edge of the ice for ten minutes straight. Yep, that was me.

Or how about the photo of Zion Lutheran Church with the cows in the foreground? That evening as I left work I could tell it was going to be a nice sunset. The problem was a bone-chilling wind was blowing from the northwest. So there I am standing on top of a hardened snow drift on the far side of the ditch of a county road, teeth chattering, eyes watering, all while framing up a shot of the church with cows in the foreground. I think it took a good hour to finally get warmed back up.

The rest of the photos have similar stories. I spent more time on my belly below Fort Randall Dam as well, and worked to get the sunlight to hit just right on the white, round heads of some roadside weeds up near Montrose. I dirtied the ice of Grass Lake during a January thaw to get some brilliant sunset colors over ice formations. The guy tracking ankle-deep mud all over the ice? Yeah, that was me.

So why do I keep chasing the photos? Good question. Part of it is the challenge. It’s not easy to find beauty in our harshest of seasons, but then again, you’d be surprised. The sunlight is lower in the sky so the golden hour seems to last longer. The snow and ice has a cooling effect on a scene and if you can capture the warmth of the sunset against that cool blue, you can stumble across photographic magic. I think the other part of why I keep going out is that I get to see such amazing sights when the conditions are right. To be honest, there aren’t a lot of things I’d rather do at this point in my life than chase a South Dakota sunset. Yep, that’s pretty much me.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.



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It’s Never Too Cold

By Christian Begeman

I’ve never claimed to be the smartest guy in town. I mean, one would have to be a few cards short of a full deck to pick the middle of winter to do a column on birding in South Dakota, right?!? It’s really cold out –nose hair frostsicle and toe-numbing cold. Even if there were birds out in the great wide open this time of year, what kind of numbskull would go out with hopes of photographing them? Well I guess that would be me. Actually I have a few good reasons. Although having these reasons probably doesn’t make me smarter, I think they are good reasons. They are Bald Eagles and Cardinals.

Each winter, our national symbol gathers below our dams on the mighty Missouri near the running water produced by the dam’s releases. This year, my goal was to actually photograph one of these majestic eagles catching a fish. It didn’t happen, but I had fun trying and got a few interesting images along the way.

The first time I ever saw a Bald Eagle in real life was along the Moreau River in Ziebach County back when I was in my early teens. My brothers and I were hurtling down Highway 65 in our green 1972 Pontiac Catalina when we saw something unusual in the far ditch. None of us knew what it was, so we turned around and drove back, only to discover an adult Bald Eagle cleaning the bones of an unlucky deer. Not necessarily a glorious and patriotic sight, but we were pretty excited nonetheless. Eagles were still rare in those days. Bald Eagles are primarily fish and fowl eaters, but will often supplement their diets with road kill or other types of carrion they discover. That is one of the reasons that DDT hurt them so badly in the 1960s.

These great raptors are more numerous nowadays and have become one of my favorite birds to try and photograph. My best shots are usually lucky shots — like on New Year’s Day when I was strolling through Yankton’s Riverside Park. I was intently looking towards the river for eagles and unsuspectingly walked right up to one perched high above me in a tree. Luckily my camera was up and shooting when we both realized how close we were to each other. It didn’t take long for it to lift off and fly to the Nebraska side of the river, but just after take off, it wheeled in my direction for a pretty cool eagle-in-flight shot.

The striking male Northern Cardinal, on the other hand, was simply a bird on my photography bucket list. According to South Dakota birding books, cardinals winter in the southeastern part of the state, so all I had to do was find one. I discovered on a birding website that cardinals had been sighted at Sioux Falls’ Outdoor Campus this winter so I decided to brave the cold and see what I could see. I purposely waited for a day with snow and/or flurries, as I love the contrast between the red of the bird and whites of winter. I found that if you simply go to the benches by the bird feeders and sit very still for 15 minutes or so, the birds take your presence for granted and return to eat. The most skittish was the male cardinal, so it took a little longer for him to fly in to grab a snack, but a little perseverance (and some numb appendages) was really all it took for him to be OK with me being there. The second day I was there I saw a second male. The two fellas squabbled a bit, as these birds are notoriously territorial. Their preoccupation with each other allowed me to get closer for a portrait or two amongst the tree branches. The lack of leaves on the tree allowed me to not only see them better but also follow their activity more accurately than I could have in the warmer months.

So to bird or not to bird in sub-freezing temperatures, that is the question. I say yes, if you have the patience and warm clothes. Of course, I never claimed to be the smartest guy in town.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.


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The Elks Club

By Christian Begeman

It was a still sub-zero morning in late February. The year was 2011 and the snow lay thick over the hills and valleys of the southern Black Hills. I was on my way to Montana for a conference and took a detour through one of my favorite places in South Dakota just to see what I could see. As usual, I was not disappointed. As I made a turn on a winding road that ran along a ravine between two sets of low hills, I saw a lone coyote standing still with his head tilted, as if listening for something. Luckily I was downwind and he was hungry so he paid no notice as I pulled over. I grabbed my camera, got out of my vehicle and slowly nestled in as close to the road barrier as possible to watch the show. Mr. Wile E. Coyote proceeded to slowly walk down the hillside, stopping to listen every few steps. After a couple minutes of this, he stopped statue still, cocked his head, and proceeded to pounce into the snow, burying his head up to his shoulders. After five seconds, he pulled out a fat rodent that he firmly held in his jaws. That was when he looked at me, turned away and continued his meal. It was like I was watching PBS’s Nature program in real life.

The setting was Wind Cave National Park — a place more known for what lies beneath the ground than what is above the ground. I find this quite ironic, as the park’s land is full of scenic beauty and breathtaking wildlife scenes all available from the comfort of your vehicle. For a guy like me that has a love for wildlife but isn’t in the best hiking shape, the place is a”must visit” every time I’m in the area.

Any time of the year offers a good chance to view a variety of creatures from mule deer to American bison and prairie dogs to the coyotes that hunt them. I particularly like to visit the park in the early winter as I’ve had good luck seeing and photographing what I consider one of the more photogenic wild creatures… the mighty wapiti or elk. The park has a fairly large herd of these beasts. They are not always the easiest to find, but I’ve had luck early in the morning along the park’s northern back road in early winter.

Elk are not only beautiful creatures to look at; they are also revered by Native American tribes and hold spiritual significance in their culture. There are legends of Elk Men who are credited with the invention of the flute that, when played correctly, had a magical way of attracting a mate. The elk’s symbolism of love and passion may have been simply derived from what the Plains Indians observed. The courageous and mighty bulls, crowned with a majestic set of antlers, were powerful figures as well as examples of something to emulate — specifically in how they fought for and defended their harems of devoted cows.

Late in the fall, you may be able to observe this fighting and defending between bull elks along Wind Cave’s Rankin Ridge. If you are lucky, you may also hear the bulls bugle. It is a sound that is unmistakable as well as impressive. I have yet to see or hear this at Wind Cave, but I did witness it at Yellowstone in the fall of 2010. It was one of those moments of nature that sticks with you. It is both the real and potential experiences like this that makes Wind Cave National Park’s aboveground features just as important and impressive as what lies beneath. Just don’t forget your camera!

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.


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Our Favorite Winter Sport

By Roger Holtzmann

Remember that old pioneer tale about the guy who gets trapped in a blizzard? He’s lost, can’t get a fire started and is unable to find any kind of shelter. As a last resort he shoots his horse (or in some versions, a cow) in the head, cuts him open and survives by utilizing the warmth of the animal.

Luckily, no one had invented animal rights yet. Aside from that, I’ve always had problems understanding that story. What exactly is the procedure here? Do you climb in the animal’s stomach? Or do you just stick your head in for a while, then alternate with your feet? Maybe you stick your feet up through his neck, running your torso through his stomach, which would put your head right about … no, that can’t be right.

Doesn’t the carcass freeze up after a while anyway? So there you are, covered with blood, your head (or whatever) stuck where no man has gone before, and you’re still freezing.

Right about then, more than one immigrant probably thought, “Geez, I should have stayed back in Europe. Starving to death in a potato famine wouldn’t have been all that bad.”

Unless some of those pioneers were world-class liars, which is a possibility, somehow it got done, and here we are. When we think of stories like that we sometimes feel a little twinge that we whine about such piddly things — we wonder if maybe that pioneer gumption hasn’t been diluted by central heat and factory-rolled cigarettes.

In defense of modern men and women, though, just let me say this: Sleeping inside a dead animal is an accomplishment, all right, but there are few things that will test the mettle of humanity more than today’s favorite winter sport, Getting The Car Stuck.

There are all kinds of variations on the theme automobilae immobilicus, winter variety. There’s one which happens right outside your home that even novices can enjoy since this version doesn’t require you to do anything at all. It occurs when you awaken to find your car — or rather, a tiny portion of your car — peeking out from a gigantic drift.

If you live in a city, and your car is parked on the street, you’ll find that for the first time in history they plowed your street early, piling up additional snow and leaving you a $25 ticket to boot.

If you live in the country, you’ll notice you parked your car with the engine side north. This allowed snow to blow in, completely filling the engine compartment and insuring your car won’t start even if you do get it shoveled out.

For advanced grief, there ‘s nothing like The You Bet Your Life Whirling 360 Spin Of Death. All you need for this is a plain old road, a coat of ice, and the foolish belief that you absolutely must be somewhere else. Someone who ‘s enjoying this activity is easy to spot: They’ re in the ditch with a pulse of about 210, clutching their steering wheel, repeating their favorite expletive over and over. And over.

After the heart attack phase, you sit there thinking should I try to walk for it or not? Every expert says stay with your car, but you know that advice is bogus. They assume you’ve packed an emergency kit in your trunk. but of course you never got around to that. Besides, anyone stupid enough to accumulate experience being stranded in cars doesn’t sound like someone you can depend on for advice.

You’ll try to get a tow truck, but there will be three bozos in front of you. You’ll try not to think of yourself as a member of bozodom but it won ‘t work. That delay will leave your car out there becoming encased in its very own drift. Which will hide it from snowplows.

As you sit in the gas station drinking vending-machine coffee you’ll ponder them –large steel blades welded onto 20-ton trucks whose drivers have been living on caffeine for 48 hours. And your car — your nice, barely half-paid-for car — on the same road.

“Boy, I wish all had to do was sleep inside a dead horse,” you’ll say.

Then there’s plain old garden variety getting stuck, invariably following the thought “I think I can make it.” This situation is (a) a major pain in the caboose (b) embarrassing and (c) often costly.

First, you’ll mentally run down the list of people you consider bosom friends to help you in your hour of distress. Or, people you barely know but who own four-wheel drives and a tow rope. Then get set for physical activity that, when people do it on flat ground in front of their house, frequently causes heart attacks. You’ll be asked to shovel around, over, behind and under — especially under — your car.

When you need a break, try pushing the car. Strain your back, arms and legs in one easy motion. Occasionally fall down and get sprayed in the face with snow and gravel. Work up a good sweat then stand around in the cold. Repeat until dizzy.

As the smell of burning rubber wafts up from your 60,000 mile deluxe radial that now has 134 miles left on it, take heart in your heroic part of a continuing frontier saga.

This year, in a bit of nostalgia, I am encouraging all my friends to do their winter traveling with a large, live animal in the trunk. Then, during winter emergencies, they can recreate their pioneer past. You can too.

Either that or join Triple A.

Editor’s Note: Contributing Editor Roger Holtzmann’s column “Seriously, Folks” regularly appears in South Dakota Magazine. This column is revised from our January/February 1993 issue. To subscribe, call us at 800-456-5117.



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First Day Hikes

By Rebecca Johnson

First Day hikes began over 20 years ago at the Blue Hills Reservation, a Milton, Mass. state park. This year is the second time all 50 state park systems have sponsored First Day Hikes on New Year’s Day. South Dakota parks are offering 12 free hikes as part of America’s State Parks First Day Hikes initiative.

Blood Run, our newest state park, is hosting its First Day Nature Hike on January 1 at 10:00 a.m.”It will be a guided hunt about nature in winter,” says Jennifer Nuncio, Seasonal Naturalist for South Dakota State Parks.”We hope to experience animals, tracks, and birds plus a few fun activities along the way.” Nuncio will lead the 1/2-mile hike and plans to share history about this Native American historical site near Sioux Falls. For information, contact 987-2263.

Other hikes include:

Riddle Hike, Newton Hills State Park near Canton, sunrise to sunset. Info: 605-987-2263

New Year’s Bird Count Walk, Lewis and Clark Recreation Area near Yankton, 10 a.m. CST. Info: 605-668-2985

Creekside Stroll, Custer State Park, 10 a.m. MST. Info: 605-255-4515

New Year’s Get Out and Go Scavenger Hunt, Adams Homestead Nature Area near North Sioux City, 1 p.m. CST. Info: 605-232-0873

Lewis and Clark History Hike, Spirit Mound Historic Prairie near Vermillion, 1 p.m. CST, pre-registration required. Info/register: 605-987-2263

First Day in the Forest, Richmond Lake Recreation Area near Aberdeen, 1 p.m. CST. Info: 605-626-3488

Snowshoe If Snow, Hike If No, West Whitlock Recreation Area near Gettysburg, 1 p.m. CST. Info: 605-765-9410

Birdwatcher’s Hike, Angostura Recreation Area near Hot Springs, 1 p.m. MST. Info: 605-745-6996

First Day Snowshoe Hike, George S. Mickelson Trail, 1 p.m. MST, pre-registration required. Info/register: 605-584-3896

First Day Find It, Lake Herman State Park near Madison, 1 p.m. CST. Info: 605-256-5003

After the 2011 Flood, LaFramboise Island Nature Area in Pierre, 2 p.m. CST. Info: 605-773-2885

First Day Hike, Oakwood Lakes State Park near Bruce, 2 p.m. CST. Info: 605-627-5441

Snowshoe Along the Big Sioux, Big Sioux Recreation Area in Brandon, 2 p.m. CST. Info: 605-582-7243