Tag: butterflies

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Milkweed Champs

By Bernie Hunhoff

Sydney Kreutzmann, a biology technician in the Olson-Manning Laboratory at Augustana University in Sioux Falls, leads experiments on the ability of South Dakota’s milkweed species to absorb moisture.

Woe is the ancient milkweed. South Dakotans have hoed, chopped, sprayed and cussed it for one hundred years.

Milkweed finally gained respect when nature-lovers learned that the flashy monarch butterfly nests only in it. But the butterfly chews on its leaves, defoliating the poor plant sometimes to the point of death. Where’s a milkweed to turn for love?

That would be Augustana University in Sioux Falls, where a team of young scientists and students are studying the intriguing plant.

“Whenever I’m wearing one of my milkweed t-shirts at the airport, someone always comes up to me and says that they love the milkweeds,” says Steven Matzner, an Augustana biology professor.”Usually it’s because they like the monarchs.”

He and Carrie Olson-Manning, an associate professor of biology, were looking for a local plant system to study in 2017 when she found a blurb in a Plants of the Prairie guidebook that said two major species of milkweed — the showy and the common — hybridize only along a strip of land that includes the very center of South Dakota.

“I ran down the hall and showed it to Steve,” she recalls.”Based on his knowledge of our state, he knew that the hybridization was around the 100th meridian.”

The two Augustana teachers and their students have been studying the plant ever since. Last year, Olson-Manning won a $1.2 million National Science Foundation award given to promising young scientists, so the milkweed project is ramping up.

South Dakota is the ideal place to study milkweeds because of the 100th meridian, the longitudinal line that is considered the border between the arid West and the more humid East. The invisible boundary crosses north-to-south in the very center of South Dakota.

Olson-Manning says there are 130 species of milkweed in North America, but two varieties cover much of the continental United States. Common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) grows from the Atlantic Coast to the 100th meridian. Showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa) grows from the Pacific Coast to the 100th meridian.

Neither species has encroached naturally past that boundary, and the two have not intermingled or hybridized anywhere else in the wild.

Milkweed plants are crucial in the life cycle of monarch butterflies. Female monarchs lay their eggs only on milkweed leaves.

Milkweeds are an ancient plant, possibly dating back 2 million years. The two Augustana colleagues believe that the species they are studying were likely separated during the Ice Age and then began to reconnect and hybridize sometime after the last glaciers melted about 10,000 years ago.

Why don’t the hybridized species grow beyond that swath along the 100th meridian? Why doesn’t the common milkweed grow west of it, and why doesn’t the showy grow to the east? What can we learn from the plants that might be useful to other plants or humans? And why are milkweed species disappearing from rural landscapes? Those are some of the questions being asked.

As the research project literally took root on the Augustana campus — where milkweeds are now nurtured near the front steps of the glass-and-brick Froiland Science Center and indoors in a sunny laboratory greenhouse — the public became aware that the eastern monarch butterfly is also in trouble.

The demise of the milkweed relates to the well-being of the monarch. Female monarchs lay their eggs only on milkweed leaves. The hatched larva eats on the leaves for about two weeks before the caterpillar forms a cocoon, or pupa.

In another 8 to 12 days, the pupa blossoms into the beautiful monarch, which then seeks nectar and thus serves a valuable purpose in farm country as a pollinator.

The monarch caterpillar absorbs a toxin from the milkweed that tastes bitter and can be poisonous to vertebrates. When it morphs into a butterfly, its colorful markings act as the opposite of camouflage. The orange and black signal”danger” to birds, snakes and rodents who might otherwise consider it a tasty treat.

Wildlife enthusiasts are enchanted by the monarch’s amazing annual migration from Canada and the northern United States to the Sierra Madre Mountains of central Mexico, 2,000 miles from South Dakota. It is the only butterfly that makes a two-way migration. Other species winter as larva or pupa, but monarchs cannot tolerate the cold Dakota winters.

Dr. Steven Matzner, like most farmers’ sons, grew up believing milkweeds were to be chopped or sprayed to death.

Increased use of pesticides and insecticides has severely damaged monarch and milkweed populations. Changing weather patterns have also had a negative effect.

Nobody seemed to care about the lowly milkweed until the monarch, its colorful pest, was reported to be in decline. Scientists say the monarch population has dwindled as much as 80 percent in the last 20 years.

Fascination for the intermingled species was apparent last August when faculty and student researchers from across the state met at the University of South Dakota campus in Vermillion for the annual BRIN (Biomedical Research Infrastructure Network) convocation.

Matzner spoke about Augustana’s milkweed project in a lecture hall with 25 young scientists who listened raptly about the plant’s peculiar hybridization habits.”They don’t move past each other,” he said,”but they seem to be stuck in a transition zone that seems to be several hundred miles wide.”

He explained that the hybridization extends throughout both Dakotas and southerly through Nebraska and Kansas. He noted that he and Olson-Manning are especially interested in how the common milkweed and the showy milkweed differ in their water-related traits.

The audience of teachers and students had many questions.

“Is there a difference in drought tolerance?”

Matzner said students at Augustana have weighed pots for months to measure the two plants’ ability to extract water.”We thought the showy milkweed would be more drought tolerant, but when we did the experiments the two species were similar. That left us with the question of how the showy milkweed lives in the drier part of the state when it is not more drought tolerant.”

He says part of the answer is that it is constrained to wet places within the drier western part of South Dakota; it avoids drought by growing where the land is wet.

Another audience member asked,”What is the role of the milkweed in the ecosystem?”

Dr. Carrie Olson-Manning grows milkweed near the front steps of her Augustana University research lab.

“So,” answered Matzner,”have you heard the phrase, ‘Nature abhors a vacuum?’ Milkweed is one of those species that is good at colonizing after a disturbance. Like when a river floods and creates bare ground. It is one of the weedy spaces that fills in the holes or gaps created by disturbances. Interestingly, many of our crop species also evolved from these same types of weedy plants. When humans started plowing the prairie, we likely increased the habitats available for plants like milkweed, and so farming was probably initially good for milkweed abundance. Ironically, we now have gotten so good at killing the ‘weeds’ that intensive agriculture has decreased milkweed abundance.”

“Do you have any contact with the monarch butterfly people?” asked a young teacher.

Matzner answered,”We have a lot of people who love monarchs who come by the fields.”

He noted that Olson-Manning knows many monarch scientists. She is planning experiments this summer with butterfly researchers. Together they’ll study how the caterpillars are able to survive and grow on the two milkweed species and their hybrids.

After the conference, Olson-Manning further explained that the Augustana team is now recruiting teachers to plant gardens in local schools,”so they can learn about climate change and biodiversity from this beautiful system.”

Matzner and Olson-Manning hope to convince 10 school districts to collaborate by planting milkweed gardens.”We are recruiting K-12 teachers to create curriculums around the two species — the monarchs and the milkweed. We’re leaving it up to the creativity of the teachers to decide what their projects should be,” she says. They expect that the teachers and students will participate for love of the monarch rather than the milkweed, but they’ve come to welcome the symbiosis.

The Augustana profs have already established large research gardens at the state Game, Fish and Parks’ Outdoor Campus sites in Rapid City and Sioux Falls. They also intend to start a garden at Custer in the southern Black Hills.

Never in South Dakota history has the lowly milkweed garnered so much love and attention, and Matzner and Olson-Manning are the perfect persons to lead the research.

Olson-Manning’s father was a northern Minnesota farmer who had an interest in native plants and mentored young agriculture students on the importance of working with nature. She remembers watching caterpillars and butterflies on milkweeds, picking pods and scattering their wispy fluff.

After her father died two years ago, she came across a picture he’d taken long ago of a milkweed on their farm. It now sits in her office at the Froiland Science Center.

Matzner also grew up on a farm. His father is retired from decades of staving off milkweeds on the family fields near Stickney, southwest of Mitchell.”Dad keeps asking me why I study milkweeds,” says the professor.”He is a good Christian fellow, so I ask him, ‘Isn’t the milkweed one of God’s creations?'”

Yes, God created the monarch and the milkweed. Who else could conceive such an unlikely alliance?

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the May/June 2024 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Butterfly Week

Story and photos by Olaf Danielson

A mustard white at the Waubay National Wildlife Refuge in Day County.

Every year, a colorful bonanza appears on the prairies of northeastern South Dakota. I call it the”Biggest Week of Butterflies.”

From the last few days of June through July 4, some of the state’s most colorful and shortest-lived residents emerge to mate, lay eggs and impress those who are in the field watching. One of these is the diminutive Dakota skipper (Hesperia dacotae), a prairie butterfly listed in 2014 as threatened under the Endangered Species Act. It appears for its only”flight” of the year, frequently perching on coneflowers awaiting a mate or a lucky photographer.

I didn’t think much about butterflies in my youth. I got into this hobby as a bored bird watcher looking for something to amuse myself. I chase rare bird reports all over the country and have seen every breeding bird in North America. It took 300,000 miles, but in 2016 I saw them all in a single year, plus many other rarities.

Bird watching can get slow in the dog days of summer. A few years ago, I bought a new camera lens in July and needed something to film. An orange butterfly caught my attention. I posted the picture on Facebook and instantly people wanted to know where I had seen it.

Once you’ve seen a few interesting insects, a guy like me gets hooked, buys a field guide and wonders what else is out there. I was instantly drawn to the rarer species, since few decent photographs of Dakota skippers existed online (and a few were not even of the correct species). I made a goal to get better photos of them.

The locations of the skippers appear to be a closely guarded secret. These little butterflies can be difficult to find or even see, unless you know where, when and how to look for them. I have found skippers through dumb luck, persistence, researching federal filings, and once, while I was lost. On that occasion, I stumbled upon a Roberts County ranch for sale at auction. I walked around the property, which led me to bid on the land, and the next thing I knew I was a landowner. Later, while again ambling aimlessly around my new prairie, I stumbled upon my first Dakota skippers.

Despite the challenges, my bucket list item of seeing the Dakota skipper has been rewarding. Some of the undisturbed fields on the Coteau des Prairies in northeast South Dakota’s lake country hold the last refuges for this insect devastated by pesticide and the slow and steady loss of virgin prairies. Whether or not you successfully find this butterfly, roaming the prairie in early summer is a grand adventure. At least I have saved my parcel from further damage.

A rare Dakota Skipper found in the Enemy Swim Lake watershed.

These small orangish butterflies live simple lives. Dakota skippers have four basic life stages: egg, larva, pupa and adult. During the brief adult period in June and July, females lay up to 250 eggs, one at a time, on the underside of leaves, if enough nectar and moisture is present. Eggs take about 10 days to hatch into small caterpillars. After hatching, larvae build shelters at or below the ground surface and emerge at night to feed on little and big bluestem leaves. This continues until fall when the caterpillars become dormant. They overwinter in shelters at or just below ground level, usually in the base of native little bluestem bunches. The following spring, larvae emerge to continue developing. Pupation takes about 10 days. The males emerge first, about four to five days before the females. Their lives are at most three weeks but usually less and right in the heat of the summer.

There are other butterflies to see besides the Dakota skipper. Another much more impressive resident of these same areas is the regal fritillary (Speyeria idalia), a large, colorful butterfly that was once widespread over the eastern half of the United States. It is now also one of the nation’s many vanishing species of butterflies as its eastern range has now retracted into small, isolated populations and into an area of the historic tallgrass prairies and plains from Kansas to North Dakota. The area around Summit, northeast of Watertown, seems to have more of these colorful butterflies than most. Starting around the last week of June many can also be seen lazily flying over the grasslands for a few weeks.

There has been much concern about this species’ future with a loss of more than 99 percent of the original native tallgrass prairie land cover, decreased sustainable habitat and a generalized loss of its caterpillar foodplant — violets. Although this butterfly is not listed as threatened or endangered, there is much speculation that it will be listed soon.

Not all skippers are Dakota skippers. Most are a different species (South Dakota is home to dozens of skipper species), and many are difficult to identify. The state is also home to at least eight commonly encountered orange colored fritillary species that range from large ones like the regal and the great spangled fritillary (Speyeria cybele) to ones about a third the size, like the meadow fritillary. Luckily, only the regal fritillary seems to be in immediate peril. Not all butterflies emerge in mid-summer. Some come out in early May and others wait until late summer. Sometimes, when you see them is almost as important as what you see them feeding or displaying on.

One butterfly species has already disappeared in the Upper Midwest. The Poweshiek skipperling has not been seen in South Dakota since 2008 when a few were spotted in Day and Deuel counties. People like me hope they are quietly living in some hidden spot. Sadly, I have never seen this diminutive butterfly that now clings to existence in some isolated meadows in Michigan. I would love to photograph one. Still, there is other life on the prairie and like anything, one needs to get out and see these creatures before they are gone. I did, and I feel I am better for it.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the May/June 2022 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Ten Outdoor Adventures in South Dakota

Where do your outdoor skills and experiences rank in the wild woods, waters and prairies of South Dakota? Do you know the lay of the land? Can you find wild mushrooms? Have you ever seen a gray kneebobber, or the holey rocks of Roberts County? Here are 10 popular activities to help you break the cabin fever of a long winter and enjoy the South Dakota outdoors.

1. BEFRIEND THE MONARCH

Monarch butterflies rank among South Dakota’s most interesting creatures. A butterfly typically hatches here in August, and then as autumn arrives it flies 2,500 miles southward to the Oyamel fir forests where it will hibernate through the winter, often in the same trees as its ancestors. When it reawakens and flies north in the spring it lays eggs, which dramatically shortens its lifespan. Soon it dies. The process repeats itself as the butterflies travel northward. Monarchs that arrive in South Dakota around Mother’s Day are the fourth-generation descendants of those that departed the previous fall.

2. PONDER THE HOLEY ROCKS

One of South Dakota’s great and unresolved mysteries is the”holey rocks” of Roberts County. All of northeast South Dakota is rocky, thanks to glaciers that brought the rocks here 10,000-plus years ago. Some of the biggest boulders have holes about as wide as a quarter. A geologic detective documented 57 such stones in the early years of the 21st century, though there are probably many more. They are not limited to Roberts County. Some have also been discovered in Minnesota and other northern states. One theory is that the stone holes were chiseled as guideposts by Viking explorers who traveled here from Hudson Bay in medieval times, although it requires a rewrite of immigration history.

3. HIKE BUFFALO TRAILS

First, let’s be very clear. We are not suggesting that any of our paying readers should ever intentionally walk near a wild buffalo — unless they can run faster than a horse (because a buffalo can). The big brown galoots have been clocked at 40 mph. Still, it’s a fact that some very cool outdoor trails exist on popular buffalo reserves. Samuel G. Ordway Nature Preserve in northern South Dakota has hiking trails and a buffalo herd, but there’s a fence in between. Wind Cave in the southern Black Hills has 30 miles of hiking trails, and you share the terrain with a herd of 400 bison. Badlands National Park has an”open hike” policy, and that goes for humans and the park’s buffalo so it’s up to the former to be smart. They say if the buffalo notices you then you’re too close … and it may be too late.

4. MUSHROOM HUNTING

South Dakota has many edible mushrooms, but the morel is king. Though the season changes throughout the state, morels are usually found from early April to early May. The best habitat is a moist forest floor, especially near rivers, lakes and swamps. Morels, which only grow in the wild, are difficult to find because they blend into spring’s grassy-brown environment. Look for yellow or tan mushrooms with spongy caps but beware of the false”brain” mushroom. It is toxic. True morels have a honeycomb cap and hollow stems, while false morels are solid. Don’t pull a morel from the ground because it is connected by a hypha to other mushrooms that may soon emerge. Just snip or pinch.

5. STARGAZING

South Dakota has less light pollution than most states, so we should all be amateur stargazers. Badlands National Park is the most enchanting place to watch the stars; park officials offer a Night Sky Program on weekend evenings through the summer. However, rural areas across the state — even in more populated East River — are conducive to seeing the Milky Way and other mysteries of the heavens.

6. GROW A TREE

Statistically-speaking, South Dakota is 4 percent forested. The trouble with statistics is that 99 percent of our approximately 601 million trees are in the Black Hills. Much of our prairie country looks like the aftermath of an immensely successful deforestation program. It’s not that South Dakotans aren’t trying. We once visited a West River ranch and saw a spindly elm tree trying to grow from a crack along the concrete foundation of small barn.”Shouldn’t we pull that out before it widens the crack?” asked our writer. The rancher was horrified.”I’d move the barn before I’d kill that tree!” he exclaimed. Want to do something good for South Dakota’s outdoors? Go plant a tree (or at least leave them alone).

7. PASQUE WATCH

South Dakota’s state flower is the prairie pasque, Pulsatilla patens, a tough and dainty flower that blooms briefly at the first sign of spring. Though it grows throughout the state, many South Dakotans have not seen one in the wild because it blooms so briefly and because it survives best in rugged, natural terrain. The best habitat is north-facing slopes, and the ideal time is just as the snow melts in early April. Finding a patch is a visual treat. For a real challenge, try transplanting a pasque to your garden. Its long roots, developed to survive drought, make it nigh impossible. You’ll have better luck harvesting its seeds, though even that is difficult. It is truly a wild flower, a fitting symbol of springtime in South Dakota.

8. SPOT THE DIPPER

Thirty years ago, a Minnesota birdwatcher alerted South Dakota Magazine that while fishing on Little Spearfish Creek he witnessed a slate-colored bird that could walk under water. He said he reported it at the nearest pool hall, where everyone laughed at his story. They called it a gray kneebobber.”Probably huntin’ for mountain oysters,” laughed one of the locals. Our Minnesota reader later discovered that it was the endangered American dipper, and fortunately the aquatic songbird can still be found in Spearfish and Whitewood creeks in the Northern Hills. Have you seen a dipper and been reluctant to tell anyone for fear of ridicule?

9. TRY SPELUNKING

Even though the Black Hills is home to more than 100 known caves, including several of the world’s longest, spelunking hasn’t caught on like downhill skiing, pheasant hunting or even watching paint dry. Something about the fear of crawling on your belly in the dark through tight canyons shared by bats doesn’t resonate with the outdoors crowd. But add the experience to your bucket list. Wind Cave and Jewel Cave are run by the National Park Service and offer fascinating guided tours, as do several private caves. The names of the passages in Jewel Cave suggest what you’re missing: the Promised Land, the Mind Blower, Boondocks, Wildflower Walk and Spooky Hollow.

10. FIND A FAIRBURN AGATE

South Dakota is heaven for rockhounds, and the Fairburn agate is prized. The state’s official gemstone was first hunted in the moon-like Kern agate beds east of Fairburn in Custer County, but it can also be found in Teepee Canyon west of Custer and elsewhere West River. People have even discovered them mixed with landscape rock and fill material taken from pits near the Cheyenne River. Serious rock hunters have spent days and even weeks searching for Fairburns with no luck, so consider yourself fortunate if you spot even one.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the”South Dakota Outdoor Challenge,” which appeared in the March/April 2023 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Bye Bye Butterflies

By Christian Begeman

Some years ago, I heard about the Dakota Skipper. This small butterfly was a candidate for inclusion on the endangered species list. It hasn’t made the list yet, but is still vulnerable because of the reduction of its native prairie habitat and its unique life cycle. It only appears in its adult form for three weeks in late June and early July. The range map for the Dakota Skipper includes northeastern South Dakota, so I took it as a challenge to find and photograph this beautifully named butterfly on the first day of July.

Suffice it to say, after a very warm day of slowly walking through tall grass and much arm waving to keep the mosquitoes at bay, I failed. The good news, however, is that I did find a variety of butterflies including the regal fritillary, which is also considered a species at risk. I came across other species of skipper nectaring primarily on purple coneflowers, including long-dash, tawny-edged and Delaware. These skippers are small and brownish orange just like the Dakota, so I had to send my photos to a few experts to find out if I was successful or not.

Butterflies in general are an outdoor photographer’s dream. Colorful and often found on wildflowers, they are like ornaments of the prairie. Except they move, and often away from a large, sweaty fella with a camera. All butterflies are usually quite elusive, and that is another reason I enjoy photographing them. The satisfaction of getting a decent shot is all the more rewarding — if and when it happens.

Late summer is the best time to go butterfly hunting. A 100mm macro is my preferred lens. The colorful flutter of wings seems less elusive as they focus on the last of the summer wildflowers prior to migrating south. This year, the monarch numbers seem quite high. Last year, painted ladies stole the show. I’m not smart enough to know why, though I suppose it has to do with timely rains and overall weather patterns. It also seems that more folks are aware of planting pollinator friendly flower gardens as well as keeping the remaining native prairies as healthy and intact as possible. This is a good thing.

Twice in the last few weeks, I spent a couple hours sitting cross-legged on a hillside at Lake Herman State Park near Madison attempting to get new and unique photos of monarchs on blooming prairie blazing stars, goldenrods and Maximilian sunflowers. In doing so, I came across plenty of other species — moths, skippers and garden spiders — all hoping to catch a meal from all the activity. The beauty and complexity of these small things that thrive on our hillsides and grasslands is truly a wonder to watch and contemplate.

I still plan to get that Dakota Skipper photograph. I’ll have to wait for next summer, but it will be worth it to take another slow stroll or two amongst the beauty of our wild prairie hills.

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 South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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West River Odyssey

By Christian Begeman

My immediate family gathered this month in Mobridge. It was the first time we’d all been together in several years. From a family of six on the farm to a family of more than 20 scattered from Sioux Falls to California seems pretty amazing, but probably not that uncommon. I grew up roughly 60 miles west and 10 miles south of Mobridge near the Moreau River breaks. I don’t get back in that country near enough, but this was a good year to go. The rain has been abundant and the wildflowers profuse. Last season was dry, and it seems all that stunted life from a year ago has burst into its fullest measure this time around.

Before heading home, I took a notable detour to the beautiful Matthews Opera House in Spearfish to take in my friend Eliza Blue’s new album release concert. From there I wandered down through Custer State Park, where I reveled in a summer thunderstorm (until a few large hailstones caused me to flee south into Wind Cave National Park). Then I spent a day and a half in the Badlands, where I had good luck watching burrowing owls take care of their young. After that, I made my way north to the rolling hills of Perkins and Corson counties.

The real surprise of the journey was an impromptu photo tour just northwest of Bison. Sion Hanson is a friend of a friend who asked if I’d be willing to take some photos of him and some of the landmarks on his land for his grandkids. Hanson turned 60 this year and wants to pass along a little bit of the family history and legacy in images as well as stories. I didn’t quite know what to expect as we pulled out of the yard and headed north along a wheat field through the tall grass. Then we crested the hill.

As I mentioned, I grew up near the rugged and rolling hills of the Moreau River breaks along the Dewey and Ziebach county line, so I have a near-and-dear appreciation for the long draws and short grass hills topped with gravel, yucca and Black Samson flowers (also known as wild purple coneflower). What now opened before us was the south edge of the Grand River breaks, and it was breathtaking. The short grass prairie had taller than normal grass waving in the wind, and it was ablaze with wildflowers, particularly Black Samson. One of the long draws before us was where Hanson’s grandfather and grandmother had a sod house built back when the land opened for settlement in the early 1900s. Hanson’s granddad was a freight wagon driver who hauled goods to Bison from the nearest train depot to the north. Each trip was a two-day journey. We saw parts of the old road from Bison to Hettinger that survived as a fire trail, at least into the 1970s. It is mostly overgrown now.

It was an unexpected and enjoyable trip to some of our state’s truly wide-open and rugged country. To hear the history of it as well as help a new friend keep the stories and places alive for his family was quite an honor. Those couple hours of looking over the land, reminiscing and simply enjoying the view was a good reminder of how strong the family unit was and still is in these open prairies of our great state. It was only fitting that my next few days of vacation were spent making new memories with my own family at the end of this summer’s West River odyssey.

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 South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Highway to Zell

By Christian Begeman

I hadn’t planned on going anywhere. It was supposed to be a quiet Saturday. I had traveled the weekend before and was scheduled to travel the next two weekends to Wyoming and Nebraska. A quiet Saturday with nothing much to do seemed like a good idea. So how did I find myself under a stormy sky in Zell just after sunset on August 12? It’s complicated.

About mid-morning, I had my errands done. I suppose I could have vacuumed or dusted or even read a book. But the call of the great outdoors had other plans. It was the weekend, for goodness sake. I have a perfectly good camera in my bag and a truck full of gas … wasn’t it a bit of a waste not to take a short drive out of town and see what was out there? That line of thinking was all it took. Soon afterwards, I was following this most recent case of wanderlust and heading north. My destination wasn’t far, just up to southern Deuel County to check a known spot for Monarch butterflies and wildflowers. Then if the clouds were doing anything interesting, maybe a little storm chasing.

After I’d spent some time chasing a few butterflies the clouds starting building as predicted. I checked the maps and it looked like maybe I could get behind the storm system if I headed west. Soon I was just outside of Waverly in Codington County. Rays of sunlight broke through heavy clouds to shine golden on a recently baled wheat field.

The clouds kept building. I kept driving west. Next was Clark County, then northeastern Spink, where somewhere south of Turton I spotted a pair of Great Horned Owls in a couple of dead trees. The miles were adding up, and I still couldn’t get to edge of the storm system.

On the edge of Spink and Faulk County, along Highway 212 is the tiny community of Zell. St. Mary’s Catholic Church is right along the highway and I had wanted to get a photo of it for quite a while. With the ominous sky, I figured I might as well zip to Zell to get that photo.

It was now early evening. The skies seemed to be parting westward, so I headed out to Rockham. One of my co-workers is from Rockham, and I thought she might get a kick out of me standing in front of the town sign. After that, I took a gravel road north of town and headed farther west. A beautifully taken care of country school soon appeared on the horizon … another photo opportunity. Later the sun broke through the heavy clouds above a pasture full of grazing cattle. Then the clouds to the east began doing mysterious things. The storm was back building to the west. I headed back to Zell, to frame up the little town under the amazing sky, stopping at a sunflower field along the way.

I found myself standing in the middle of Highway 212 with no traffic, taking photos of massive clouds slowly revolving above the little town. The moment was so South Dakota. Where else can you do that kind of thing? What a great place to be a wandering photographer! On my way home, just north of Wolsey, my truck’s odometer turned over to 100,000. So I stopped at the C-store and filled it with the highest quality and most expensive gas available. Seemed like the right thing to do, sort of a little thank you to the trusty wheels that kept me going on this picturesque and totally unexpected road trip.

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 South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Butterflies and Fluttering Fish

Photographer Scott Korsten and his wife Marilyn recently brought visiting family to the Butterfly House & Marine Cove in Sioux Falls. “It was a great experience for the kids who were mesmerized by the hundreds of different free-flying butterflies found throughout the tropical conservatory,” Korsten says. “Before making our way in to the butterfly area, we spent time in the Marine Cove where we saw vibrant fish and corals.” The Cove boasts more than 10,000 gallons of aquariums and a popular pop-up dome aquarium, where kids get a unique view from “inside” the aquarium. There is also a shark and stingray touch pool and a Pacific tide pool.

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Farewell to the Monarchs

By Christian Begeman

Nature has a rhythm. The seasons pulse through the year. The sunlight lengthens then diminishes again. We humans aren’t the only ones that pay attention. The wild creatures that share our world are far more in tune to these changes than we can imagine. Their lives and the future of their species depend on it. As summer fades to fall once more in South Dakota, I stumbled upon a vivid example of nature’s wondrous transition.

It was the day before Labor Day. This time of year is usually when the monarch butterfly migration peaks in southeastern South Dakota. The last few years I’ve watched the migration closely. The butterflies seem to be in pretty big trouble. Dry summers, decreasing habitat and a variety of other issues have significantly diminished the numbers of monarchs in the wild over the last decade. According to the Center for Biological Diversity, the 2014 count of monarchs was the lowest since records began in 1995. The winter count came in at 33.5 million, which sounds high until you compare it to the highest number on record, which was 909.5 million in 1997.

As a photographer, the monarch is a magnificent burst of color accentuating our native grasses and wildflowers. I remember the first time I had a telephoto lens on an old Minolta film camera. I spent at least a half hour one afternoon trying get a good shot of a lone monarch fluttering through our farmyard. I never did get a decent shot that day. Ever since, whenever I can get close enough to get a nice portrait of the remarkable insect, I count it as a win. In 2010, National Geographic ran a mini-series called”Great Migrations,” and one of the featured stories was the mystery and complexity of the monarch migration. It piqued my fascination once again. I didn’t have to travel to East Africa to witness this migration — it happens twice a year right here in South Dakota. The monarch is the only butterfly that flies up to 3,000 miles to winter in the warmer climes of Mexico, then flies back north in the spring laying eggs and spreading new generations across most of North America.

Back to the day before Labor Day … I had seen an eastern swallowtail and a handful of monarchs finding refuge in a windbreak the day before in eastern Brookings County. That prompted me to go to Lake Herman State Park to see if any monarchs had come to take advantage of the park’s attempt to grow native wildflowers and grasses. I was not disappointed. On a hillside filled with goldenrod and prairie blazing star flowers, I found hundreds of monarchs feeding. It is rare to be able to sit completely still and let nature come to you, but that is exactly what happened that afternoon. The butterflies were so intent on refueling for the next leg of their journey, they barely paid any heed to me or my camera. Later in the day, I found roughly a half dozen roosting areas each with 10 to 12 monarchs. These numbers are more than I’ve seen since 2011. So maybe the overall numbers are on the rebound. I hope so, because I’d like to make it an annual photographic tradition to say farewell to summer by saying farewell to the amazing monarch butterflies as they flutter through. So good luck and safe travels. Let’s do it again next year!

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 South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Blessed Are The Butterfly Makers

By Lee Schoenbeck

It may be a slight paraphrase from the Sermon on the Mount, but who can argue with the idea that making butterflies is passing on a little more peace and beauty in the world. If you have a garden in South Dakota, you can make butterflies — seriously. We’re not talking little grey, not-so-special things. We’re talking the granddaddy — the monarch.

It’s springtime and planting butterfly plants, a form of milkweed, will provide hours of enjoyment with your new neighbors, the monarchs.

MONARCHS

These big beautiful flying insects used to have a lot of family and friends in America. Numbers were once estimated as high a billion. Today they have dwindled to about 90 percent less than their 20-year average, or about 35 million. But in our front yard, the monarch numbers are up — in the dozens.

MILKWEEDS

Monarchs need milkweed to survive. Female monarchs only lay their eggs on milkweed plants. There are many varieties of milkweed, and America is actually divided into mostly four milkweed regions. As luck would have it, the east half of the 57- zip code and the west half don’t share the same zone. Being a child of the Coteau Des Prairie, this article focuses on the east half, which is in the Northeast Region.

The butterfly weed, asclepias tuberosa, is a milkweed plant for your flower garden that monarchs love. The plant has clusters of small flowers, and I don’t know anything about them. My wife is the master gardener who finds and plants things like this. I just like what the butterflies do on it.

You can find monarchs on the milkweed in your ditch too, but it’s more fun to have them right outside your door in the garden where you can spy on them.

WATCHING YOUR GARDEN GROW

The female monarch will lay her pinhead-sized eggs on the underside of your milkweed plant leaves. Four days later the caterpillar will hatch from the egg, and those are hungry dudes. The yellow and black striped caterpillars will eat the eggshell, the leaf on which they were born, and a fair number of the leaves on the plant. They can eat a leaf in an hour.

Eventually the caterpillar will attach to a leaf, form a J and, while hanging upside down, spin a silk pocket. As the caterpillar molts the last time it becomes a chrysalis, a pretty green thimble looking cocoon that hangs down from the butterfly plant leaf as a monarch butterfly grows inside.

Eventually the butterfly emerges and sits on the butterfly plant letting its wings dry before flying away. This whole process happens over a few days, and the plants attract many caterpillars. Consequently, you have many chrysalises growing at the same time and you — and your children, if you share — can watch the process unfold in near real time.

DUCK DYNASTY MEETS THE MONARCH

Now my wife is a dedicated and refined master gardener who has never watched Duck Dynasty, but she does make life entertaining around the home place. This past year she saw firsthand the challenges the monarchs face, when on occasion the chrysalis would disconnect from the plant and fall to the ground. Apparently, like a small bird falling from the nest, it’s a challenge for the butterfly to grow and emerge in that setting. Not to be deterred, my resourceful wife found those black paperclips that can hold about 20 pages together and went to work. She would paperclip the chrysalis back to the plant! Personally I would have favored duct tape, but I’m no certified master gardener. Besides, who am I to argue with success? All of the paper-clipped monarchs grew and emerged to be butterflies. Who knew that I married the Mother Teresa of monarchs!

Lee Schoenbeck grew up in Webster, practices law in Watertown, and is a freelance writer for the South Dakota Magazine website.

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Dakota Awakening

By Christian Begeman

Another spring is settling in. I like to muse that the season is much more than simply another tilt of the planet back towards the sun. It’s the annual promise of new life. It’s another chance to smell rain on the wind. It’s another year to chase the light and see what is beyond the next bend. Springtime provides a lot to be thankful for, but also is a time of nostalgia for me. I remember life awakening on the farm, the smell of the first cut grass, the song of the meadowlark from a distant fencepost and the smell of plowed earth at planting time. This year, the season’s signature flourish of raindrops and rainbows have been few and far between, but thankfully that has not stopped the return of waterfowl on the wind, the greening of the grass and the budding of leaves. The songbirds and wildflowers are back, there’s new warmth in the breeze and the sky seems a bit more blue. Happy Spring everyone!

March 11

While checking the status of ice on area lakes, I startled a large group of migrating waterfowl hanging out in a pond of snowmelt near Silver Lake in northeast Hutchinson County.

March 20

On the official first day of spring I took a sunset hike around the edge of Buffalo Slough south of Chester. All ice is completely gone.

March 31

I found a rather large, wild pasqueflower patch a few miles south of Lake Vermillion including a lovely little natural bouquet of five.

April 4

Just like last spring, a lunar eclipse took place, but dawn approached too quickly to see the full”blood moon.” This photo was taken roughly 20 minutes before totality above Skresfrud Lutheran of rural Lincoln County. Since I was already up, I checked the bird feeders at Good Earth State Park and watched the early bird (robin) get its worm.

April 5

Temperatures reached the low 70s on this Easter Day. In the afternoon, I went looking for snow trillium at Newton Hills State Park and found many blossoms as well as a half dozen Question Mark butterflies soaking up the day’s warmth amongst the last year’s leaves.

April 12

A spring day for the books! First I explored Union Grove State Park to find an early flowering bush along the trail. Later, after a brief thunderstorm passed, an afternoon rainbow graced the sky over the fields of Union County. In the evening another rainbow appeared on the northwest edge of Vermillion and the magic was far from over. As I drove back to Sioux Falls, the setting sun painted the retreating rain clouds pink and blue north of Chancellor.

April 18

A steady, light rain fell for most of the afternoon in Sioux Falls. It was much needed moisture. I spent some time in the Japanese Garden area of Terrace Park to see if I could capture the mood of the day. I was accompanied by a variety of geese, ducks and songbirds, including a male northern cardinal with raindrops glistening on its vibrant feathers.


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 South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.