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Becoming a Birder

South Dakota’s varied landscapes — the river valleys, mountains, badlands and glacial lakes — are a bird-watcher’s paradise.

Rebecca Johnson looks for a Pacific loon on Wall Lake just west of Sioux Falls.

“Is this a practical joke?” I thought, staring intently through my binoculars. Doug Chapman, a veteran birdwatcher and my guide for the day, had stopped the car to point out a snipe near the road. Broken cornstalks and mud clumps were all I could see. I began to feel uneasy. Was this some type of hazing initiation for Sioux Falls Bird Club newcomers? I had heard of snipe hunting — the silliness of sending someone on an impossible task — but didn’t know anything about the bird.

Do snipes even exist? What color are they? How big? Am I being played for a sucker? A big sucker? Doubts like those fly through a novice’s mind when faced with a car-full of veteran birdwatchers who can tell a field sparrow from a song sparrow at 50 yards.

My companions were obviously waiting for me to remark on the invisible snipe. I adjusted my binoculars. With great relief I spotted two mud-colored birds poking their long slender bills into the dirt. And then I saw 30 more. Later I learned that snipe hunting is named after this bird that is difficult to shoot because of its erratic flight pattern.

Once I saw the snipe, I felt officially initiated into the world of birding — the fastest growing hobby in the United States. Sixty million people in the country now call themselves birders.

Why the popularity?”It’s a hobby that people can be involved in at nearly every level,” says K.C. Jensen, associate professor in South Dakota State University’s Department of Wildlife and Fisheries Sciences,”whether it is just watching birds out of their feeders at home or on trips to exotic places.” Jensen noted it is a great sport for those with handicaps and the elderly, but people of all ages and athletic abilities find excitement in spotting a rare bird.

South Dakota is a bird-watcher’s paradise because of our varied landscapes. Some species like the prairie river valleys, especially the muddy Missouri’s bordering forests. Others frequent our western mountains and badlands, and migratory waterfowl flock to the Glacial Lakes in the northeast. Favorite spots include Lacreek National Wildlife Refuge near Martin in southwest South Dakota and Sand Lake Refuge in the northeast, but grebes, loons, pelicans and hundreds of other species — including the very rare whooping crane — might be seen anywhere.

So, how does one get started in the sport?”All you need is a pair of binoculars and a bird guide book,” says Jensen.”You can get a very good pair of binoculars for $100 or less and a really good bird guide will cost you $15 to $20.”

Kingbirds are at home on the open prairie. Photo by Chad Coppess/ S.D. Tourism.

Jensen also suggested that new birders find an experienced veteran to show him or her the ropes, so I called the Sioux Falls Bird Club and was invited to one of their monthly outings in the fall of 2010, which are open to the public. That’s how I met Chapman, and how I saw my first snipe.

We met on a cold, windy day at the South Dakota Game, Fish and Parks Outdoor Campus. I was armed with my husband’s hunting binoculars and a bird guide from the public library. We made introductions, split into small groups and then formed a caravan of cars. I was assigned to Chapman’s car along with Inez Orthmeyer and Mick Zerr — all of Sioux Falls. Chapman and Zerr have been interested in birds since childhood, but Orthmeyer considers herself a newbie.”I did a little of it when my son became a biologist but didn’t join the bird club until about 10 years ago, so I’m still a novice,” Orthmeyer said. Ten years and still a novice — what was I getting myself into?

Our first stop was to investigate a tip Zerr had received about a summer tanager frequenting a feeder at a suburban home. Chapman drove down Louise Avenue chatting about driving safety while bird watching. He briefly lost his train of thought when he spotted a bird flying over the mall parking lot.”What kind of a gull is that?” he exclaimed, slightly swerving to look.

We arrived at the home on the northwest side of town, parked and waited.”Bird watching takes patience,” says Chapman.”Sometimes it’s finely rewarded and sometimes unrewarded.”

We watched finches, sparrows and a woodpecker appear with little fanfare. I began to yawn. After about 30 minutes, the summer tanager’s arrival caused much excitement. The female songbird with green and orange under parts skittered from suet to seed feeders. The enthusiasm was contagious, and I wondered what made this bird so special.

“Some people travel and some don’t,” says Chapman.”Birds do the same thing in the fall.” The summer tanager is more prevalent in the southern and eastern United States and normally winters in Mexico. Its usual diet of bees and wasps is rarely available in winter, so the feeder was a godsend. When the tanager flitted away, we headed for the prairie pothole region west of Sioux Falls.

Our four-hour trip stretched to six hours as we birders got lost in the enjoyment of our hobby. We didn’t even stop for lunch as my car mates identified numerous birds, many I hadn’t heard of. A partial list included the juvenile red-tailed hawk, the northern shrike, the rusty blackbird, the Pacific loon and greater scaup.

My next outing came in December. Cold weather and a busy schedule had prevented me from putting some of my new knowledge to use. But then a very rare bird — a Ross’s gull — was spotted just a few miles from my home in Yankton, and I was inspired to give it a try.

My husband and I bundled up and drove west of town. As we neared Lake Yankton we realized not only did we have no idea what we were looking for, we’d also left the bird guide on our coffee table. But my experience with the experts gave me enough confidence to think I would recognize it. And my husband, Jeremy, thought he knew what a Ross’s gull looked like.”I think I saw it once. It had one of those things under its bill.” A little vague, but we kept heading toward the dam.

We needn’t have worried. Several cars came into view as we rounded an area east of Gavins Point Dam, some with large scopes set up beside them. I later learned that over 200 people had made a trip to Yankton to see the Ross’s gull.

We were lucky enough to meet Mark Brogie, the rare bird’s original spotter. On November 26, 2010, Brogie, a physics teacher from Creighton, Nebraska, was looking at the many white gulls converged on the icy water on Lake Yankton. The Ross stood out from the others because of its pinkish color and red legs. The bird has never been seen in South Dakota — in fact, it is unusual to see one below the Arctic Circle.

We enjoyed viewing the gull through Brogie’s spotting scope and visiting with Malcolm Swan, a cartographer who had flown from St. Louis to videotape the bird in flight. We talked to a man who had driven seven hours. People had traveled great distances to see a bird that was practically in my backyard.

Since then I’ve learned to look for birds I can easily identify, or take notes in order to identify them later. I’ve also found the South Dakota Birds listserv helpful (join by emailing sd-birds-subscribe@yahoogroups.com). Birders from across the state email each other about birds they’ve spotted and the location. Ricky D. Olson from Fort Pierre ends each message with”Sharing is half the fun of birding.” The excitement is infectious and the community aspect of birding is an unexpected benefit. I had envisioned bird watching as a lonely sport, with khaki dressed birders peering through the brush, waiting in solitary silence for birds to appear.

But it’s far from a lonely sport. In my short time in the birding world I’ve made several friends. Besides the teacher and cartographer, I’ve met a former chef, marathon runner, meteorologist, banker and bagpipe player — people with diverse talents and interests happy to share their love of birds and the South Dakota outdoors with a novice who now knows a snipe from a sparrow.



Getting Started

The equipment is simple — binoculars, clothing to fit the temperature, spiral notebook and a bird guide. If you want to watch from your window, South Dakota Game, Fish and Parks offers a free guide, Backyard Birds of South Dakota. Request one at gfp.sd.gov.

And when to watch? Birding enthusiasts insist there’s no bad time but some situations are better than others. Early morning is ideal because birds searching for food after fasting through the night are easier to spot.

Transitional seasons bring a new spectrum of birds.”Spring and fall — that’s when birds are coming and going,” says Jerry Stanford, birder and freelance writer from Sioux Falls. Changes in temperature or wind fronts may spark migration or stop a bird in its tracks.”Anything that disrupts a pattern of flight,” he says. Stanford’s monthly columns appear in the Sioux Falls Argus Leader and other papers. He recommends beginning with an experienced birder. Groups like the Northern Hills Bird Club (www.nhbirdclub.org) and Sioux Falls Bird Club (www.leifericson.org/sfbc) list field trip schedules on the web. You can also find tips by subscribing to the South Dakota Ornithologists’ Union’s listserv. Join by emailing sd-birds-subscribe@yahoogroups.com.

EDITOR’S NOTE — This story is revised from the March/April 2011 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order this back issue or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.

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Biking the High Country

Our mountains are friendly to bicyclists who plan ahead.

Hairpin curves, low tunnels and the narrow roadway cause local travelers to avoid the Needles Highway, leaving it to bicyclists and other sightseers.

Mountains and bicycling don’t always go hand-in-hand. Many mountain ranges are too steep, too cold, too hot, too wild or too isolated for two-wheeling.

Black Hills biking is another story. Oh, you should give wide berth to the buffalo bulls in Custer State Park. Prickly pear cactus needles can puncture a tube. And you’ll want to watch for rattlesnakes in lower elevations. But those are rare occurrences. Bicyclists who have experience elsewhere seem to agree that the Black Hills may be the best kept secret in the pedaling world.

Joey Bonds and her husband, Eddie, came to Hill City six years ago so Joey could work as a summer tattoo artist. Most of her clients ride motorized bikes, but she and her husband love to explore the Black Hills on their mountain bikes. They did the same in Arizona, where Eddie ran a bicycle shop in the small city of Parker.

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Inquisitive and snack-happy burros welcome bicyclists to the wildlife loop in Custer State Park. The burros are harmless, but cyclists should give wide berth to the speedy buffalo.

“The scenery is awesome and the hills are so accessible,” she says.”Plus you can bike almost all year around. In Arizona it got too hot in the summer. My friends who bike here say there are usually a few days a month even in the middle of winter when you can go biking in the Black Hills.”

She says bicycling is safe on most public roads, but mountain bikers can also explore thousands of miles of trails — everything from maintained routes to old logging roads and fire trails.

The Bonds like the Black Hills so well that they opened a shop, Rabbit Bike, within a stone’s throw of the 110-mile Mickelson Trail in Hill City. They sell, repair and rent bicycles, and also provide guide services and shuttles for bikers. They’ve been splitting their time between Arizona and South Dakota, but they’ve sold the Parker bike shop and now plan to live and bike here year-around.

Their business success is part of an emerging biking culture in the Black Hills. Other bike shops are also opening, along with clubs and events that bring like-minded bikers together. The Black Hills Fat Tire Festival features spirited races for athletic mountain bikers every May. On the calmer side of the road, Black Hills Bicycling organizes group rides on paved roads that sometimes conclude with potluck dinners.

Jim and Glenna Books have started a”bicycle vacation company” called Dakota Bike Tours that arranges three, four and six-day excursions through the Black Hills — complete with shuttle service on steep inclines, overnights at campsites or bed & breakfasts, and the camaraderie of fellow biking enthusiasts. Some of their rides are ranked”easy to moderate,” while others — like the Iron Mountain Loop where bikers climb 700 feet in three miles — are quite challenging.

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The Black Hills’ network of low-traffic highways and off-road trails makes it friendly terrain for bicyclists.

Many weekend bikers can’t imagine pedaling up mountains, but Books says most inclines can be avoided.”Talk to the locals or use the Google elevation maps,” he advises.”We recently made a 42-mile trip and while we climbed about 1,600 feet in elevation, we dropped 3,550 feet in all.”

Books says he’s witnessing”an explosion” of the biking culture in western South Dakota. National tours are showing up, and local people are also discovering the joys of pedaling on-road and off. The Centennial Trail and the Mickelson Trail are off-road dream trips for bicyclists. Both are slightly more than 100 miles long and are maintained, mapped and equipped with trailheads and other amenities.

Books’ tours are often arranged around the Mickelson Trail that runs from Edgemont to Deadwood. His trips also include a”monuments” tour, a fall foliage ride, a Badlands loop and other scenic adventures on local roadways.

Tips From Bikers

Experienced bikers offer these suggestions for flatlanders who hope to pedal through the Black Hills:

  • Be prepared for the high elevations: you’ll have less lung capacity than you do back home. Drink lots of water and wear sunscreen.
  • Take a map or GPS if you explore backcountry forest trails because the routes don’t always go north and south.
  • Try to avoid busy roads like Hwy 385 or Hwy 16. The Black Hills are blessed with many secondary paved roads and scenic routes where speeds are limited to 35 mph.
  • Beware of buffalo, especially lone bulls in Custer State Park. You might also encounter cattle along the Mickelson Trail or Centennial Trail but they are seldom aggressive.
  • Mountain lion sightings are rare and no confrontations have been reported with bikers. But if you do see one, make a lot of noise and it will likely slink away.
  • Rattlesnakes may be encountered (though rarely) in lower elevations. Keep your distance and they’ll keep theirs.

EDITOR’S NOTE — This story is revised from the Sept/Oct 2010 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order this back issue or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.

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The Last Chokecherry Picking

While making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for our picnic lunch, I heard the happy voices of my two little boys through the open kitchen window. It was almost autumn. The tall prairie grass surrounding our Jones County farm near Okaton was turning brown and the chokecherries were ripe: The kids and I were going to pick some with a friend, Fran, and her two little girls.

As we traveled to Fran’s house up and down the roller-coaster hills (we called the road passage”Tipperary” after the famous bucking horse), the meadowlarks greeted us with songs. Goldenrods nodded as if to say,”All is well this happy day.” We watched an old eagle rise lazily from his lookout on a high corner fence post and soar into the blue sky. A snake slithered across the road, reminding me that danger was always near. If someone got bit by a rattlesnake, could I slash the skin with a razor blade and suck out blood before starting the 70 miles to a doctor?

Our car rattled over the planks of the old wooden bridge and Fran’s big shaggy dog, hearing us approaching, announced our arrival. Fran tucked her two small girls into her car and led me across the prairie toward the corner of the school section where she knew chokecherries abounded.

We followed as her car bounced over crisscrossed car tracks on the prairie. We came upon a prairie dog town and watched the little creatures pop out of their mounds and stand on hind legs to peer at us. They would bark and scold, then scurry down their holes.

A few miles further and we had reached an isolated and sheltered draw, devoid of vegetation except for wild chokecherry that bordered the bank of a dry creek on the further side.

The children scrambled from the cars, eager to pick the tiny berries. Soon their faces were smeared with the purple juice and their lips puckered from the astringent taste of the wild fruit, and they were off to play. I had spread a blanket on the ground in the sheltered cove and Fran and I took turns calling the youngsters back from the tall grass that surrounded this sheltered little spot. Here was a small world all our own with only our little ones and the songs of birds and the chirping of crickets to keep us company.

Then the solitude was broken by the sound of an airplane overhead. We recognized it as that of a rancher who lived farther on up the creek. He was making a routine trip to town. The children shouted and waved their straw hats and sunbonnets as the pilot tipped the plane’s wings in response.

After we had filled our pails with the cherries and had our picnic lunch, we gathered our little ones and returned to our homes. I prepared the chokecherry juice and made a beautiful, clear jelly. The day was such a success, I considered writing a message on the jar’s labels about our fun outing.

As I was contemplating, my husband arrived from town with the mail. He spread the”Weekly” in front of me and pointed to the headline:”Rattlesnake Den Discovered.” I read on,”When Mr. Lynn Lyman was flying home to his ranch yesterday afternoon, he saw a gleaming patch beneath him as he flew over the dry creek bed in the corner of the school section where wild chokecherries grow. Closer scrutiny revealed a glistening, moving mass. To his astonishment he saw it was a mass of rattlesnakes. Instead of continuing to his ranch, he returned to town and summoned the state rattlesnake eradicator, and together they killed the snakes, numbering eighty in all. Rattlesnakes come from afar and gather into a den to hibernate in the fall, and it was not previously known that this thicket was their winter rendezvous.”

We saved the jelly for special occasions, for we did not venture out again to pick chokecherries.

EDITOR’S NOTE — The author, Margaret Bowder Roghair, was a native of Timber Lake who later moved to Oregon. She died in 2012. Her chokecherry picking memories appeared in the July/Aug 2010 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order this back issue or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.