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We Winter With Eagles

By Bernie Hunhoff

Eagles were a rare sight in South Dakota just decades ago. The pesticide DDT got in their food (fish) chain and decreased the birds’ fertility. Then, 522,000 acres of their favorite habitat along the Missouri River was flooded by the Corps of Engineers’ six big dams. Eagle sightings became rare.

I was working for the Madison Daily Leader in 1975 when a bald eagle showed up on a sunny morning and perched in a tall tree near Lake Madison, just east of town. Word spread, and by midday there was a steady parade of cars to the tree, where the big baldy patiently sat tall like a kindly king on a wooden throne.

That was just a few years after DDT was banned. As the eagles repopulated they discovered that the tailwaters of those big Missouri River dams were excellent places to winter because the constant discharges kept the water open even on the coldest days of January and February.

While eagles might be seen in any of our 66 counties, as winter deepens and most rivers and lakes freeze they now concentrate along those downstream waters. They roost in the tallest cottonwood trees, sunning themselves on brisk mornings and enjoying the surroundings.

As the sun warms the air, they will leave their perches to”float” on the thermals that develop. While it may appear that they are just at play in the sunshine, it’s likely they are also keeping watch for fish doing the very same thing in the river below.

Watch as they drop into a slow and deliberate glide to the river’s surface, talons outstretched like the wheels of an airplane. Usually they grab the fish in a graceful swoop, but no species is perfect; sometimes they take on too big of a fish and the ascent is less graceful. A few years ago, some Yanktonians were confused to find a large carp lying on a sidewalk a few blocks from the river. Apparently, one of the local eagles tackled a fish bigger than he could carry and dropped it on the sidewalk.

The noble birds are adapting to living near humans. Particularly in Yankton and Pierre, they roost in cottonwoods or other large trees in parks along the river, watching parka-clad pedestrians on the paths below. Still, it’s best to keep your distance. They may be napping or fishing, and it’s not nice to interrupt in either case.

Here are tips on eagle watching along South Dakota’s four dams, from south to north.

Gavins Point at Yankton — Eagles now nest here year-around, but 100 or so”snowbirds” arrive every December. As other waters freeze, they concentrate along the river from the dam and into the city of Yankton where they can be seen on treetops in Riverside Park. Grab lunch or a hot chocolate at several diners near Levee Street and then walk along the river or across the Meridian Bridge. If the birds aren’t in town, head west on Highway 52 and take any of the roads south to the river. Sisters Grove, a nature area just below Chalkstone Hill, is a good place to see deer. The forested areas just east of the dam are particularly good spots to look.

Fort Randall Dam by Pickstown — A top spot is the campground and recreation area on the west side of the dam. A 780-acre eagle refuge, created decades ago when the birds were on the endangered species list, is closed to the public. A few years ago, a strange carp kill caused a smorgasbord of carp for the eagles (see the unique photo by Michael Zimny). Generally, the”baldies” have to work harder for their lunch. Check out the remains of the old chalkstone chapel and the historic fort cemetery, all within a mile or so of the river.

Big Bend at Fort Thompson — Visit an area locals call”the Teardrop,” a recreation and campground complex on the west side of the dam. But like other tailwaters, the birds might be found anywhere. You might also find the Crow Creek tribe’s buffalo herd grazing a few miles north of Fort Thompson on Highway 47.

Oahe Dam above Pierre — Oahe Downstream, the campground area just below our biggest dam, is an excellent spot. However, the big birds also like to visit our state capitol in winter. Take a walk in Steamboat Park, which borders the Missouri, stroll forested LaFramboise Island or cross the river to old Fort Pierre and look for the birds in Fischer’s Lily Park, at the mouth of the Bad River. The park marks the spot where explorers Lewis & Clark had their first encounter with the Lakota people.

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Turning to the River

By Bernie Hunhoff

Emily and Uriah Steber sat on the tailgate of their pickup and imagined how their restaurant, Drifters Bar and Grille, might fit along the banks of the Missouri River.

American rivers were once treated as the backyards of our cities, convenient places for unsightly factories, meatpacking plants, city dumps, salvage yards and such. South Dakota was no exception, even along the fabled Missouri River. Sioux Falls architect Tom Hurlbert saw that paradox when he traveled to Fort Pierre to assist with plans for a new riverside restaurant called Drifters Bar & Grille.

“It was a bit surprising that for as much as Pierre and Fort Pierre, and South Dakota for that matter, are influenced by the Missouri, that much of the city and state has turned its back to the river,” Hurlbert says.”Drifters was an opportunity to turn back toward the water.”

The vision, says Hurlbert, came from the Zarecky family — especially Emily Zarecky Steber, a Pierre native who grew up on the river.”We spent our summers on the water, sometimes from sunrise to sunset,” she says.

Her parents, Mark and Glennis Zarecky, bought the property 12 years ago and had development plans”shovel ready” in 2011 when the great flood hit the Missouri, swamping the river valley for months. Emily always thought the riverside location would be perfect for a restaurant. She went off to college at the University of South Dakota where she gained restaurant business experience while working at Chae’s, a then-popular Vermillion eatery. After graduation, she continued to learn the trade at top restaurants in Denver and Sioux Falls.

As the riverfront property recovered from the flood, Emily longed to go home. Her family redrew plans for the development — which include a 78-slip marina, commercial and residential space — and then her fiancÈ, Uriah Steber, also grew enthused about the dream of a restaurant.

“We sat down here when it was all dirt and had dinner on the back of my pickup truck and envisioned what we wanted,” says Emily.”Uriah and I got engaged there where that middle booth would be.” The restaurant opened in May of 2016 and they were married in June of 2017.

“Clearly our major theme is nautical,” says the young restauranteur,”but we wanted to have western and industrial elements as well, along with an outdoor fireplace and cedar siding.”

Hurlbert says the Zareckys’ love of the Missouri was inspiring.”Emily and her family had lots of experiences and ideas that came from being on and around the Missouri, but they were also influenced by travels around the country, particularly from the architecture and landscape around other bodies of water. They saw an opportunity to help create and capture a river identity.”

Emily’s love of the water is reflected throughout the 13,000-square-foot restaurant and event space. Her father stamped a nautical compass on the concrete floor. Boat cleats serve as purse hooks. An authentic wooden canoe from Steber’s home state of Wisconsin was repurposed and wired for lighting over the bar. Exposed ceiling beams were shaped like the hull of a large ship.

Aficionados of both beer and boating seem to enjoy the Brewski, a wood water ski with 16 holes that hold 5-ounce sampler glasses. Visitors also love to pose for pictures with Mojo, a giant steel pelican created by a Florida artist.

Immense windows offer views of historic LaFramboise Island, Griffin Park and a sandbar known as Discover Island where waterfowl and eagles often gather.

Drifters soon became a popular part of the Pierre-Fort Pierre dining and entertainment culture, and the satisfied customers include the architect.”I’ve had the opportunity to sit outside on the patio on a cool summer evening with a fire going and enjoy a great meal with the sounds of the river in the air and the silhouette of the capitol against the Missouri Hills,” says Hurlbert.”It’s a beautiful place. Of course nature and the kitchen did most of the heavy lifting on that night. All we had to do was create a nice space to land and get out of the way.”

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the September/October 2018 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Naming Jett

Story By Roger Holtzmann

Photos by Keith Hemmelman

A tipi was erected atop Snake Butte near Lake Oahe for the traditional Lakota naming ceremony of Mike and Donna Stroup’s son, Jett.

Children are guided along paths laid out by their parents. That is the natural order of things, but for one Lakota family it may not be the only way.

Donna and Mike Stroup, of rural Pierre, welcomed a son, their second child, into the world on Sept. 25, 2013. They named him Jett, and he was about a year old when Donna was approached by Violet Catches, her close friend of many years.

“Violet had seen Jett after his birth and always commented on how he was a ‘real’ Indian baby,” said Donna.”She said, ‘He needs a spirit name.'”

Sometime later,”Violet told me she had a dream in which she came upon an old-time Indian camp,” said Donna. Their tipis were gathered in a circle, with children playing all around, and when Violet entered the circle she saw Jett.”He turned and saw [Catches] and ran to her with arms outstretched, and said, ‘Grandma! I’m so happy you’re back in my life!'”

Clark Zephyr (left), a Fort Thompson medicine man, officiated at the naming ceremony for Jett, shown being held by his father, Mike.

Catches grew up on the Cheyenne River Reservation, in a traditional Lakota family, one in which the old ways were her first ways.”My first language was Lakota,” said Catches.”My first teachings in life were in the Lakota culture. My grandmother told me stories about our culture, and it wasn’t just for my ears. It was for all the kids in the house — my older sister and younger brother, and a cousin we called older sister.”

Lakota kinship is different,”more complex,” than the American system, said Catches. Relationships include the bonds between immediate and extended family members, but they can be equally close and meaningful beyond those traditional ties.”In life, you feel really connected to certain people,” said Catches.”That’s how I feel about Donna and Mike and their children.”

That connection to the Stroup family, and her Lakota background, moved Catches to see her dream as more than a simple dream: it was an invitation to help her friends recover a pearl of great price.”I asked Donna and Mike if they would permit me to have a naming ceremony for Jett,” said Catches.

Native children receive a given name at birth, as Jett did, but naming ceremonies — in which another name is bestowed and celebrated — have long been a part of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota traditions. Names sometimes pass from parent to child, or within a tiospaye (extended family), according to Mike. This may happen when the christened is young, but they can be conferred at any time from the teenaged to gray-haired years.

Names can also be original to an individual, as when they reflect a unique spiritual vision, or recognize some significant achievement or service.

“My wife and I didn’t seek out a name,” said Mike.”Violet saw Jett early on, and had a connection with him. She didn’t know why.”

Donna, Mike and Violet prepared for the naming ceremony by visiting the sweat lodge at Wakpa Sica Reconciliation Place outside of Fort Pierre (Jett would have participated if he were older). In that place of purification and prayer they offered thanks for the honor accorded Jett and their family, and asked for guidance.

The inside of the ceremonial tipi.

On the appointed day, friends and family gathered at the Stroup home 5 miles north of Pierre, near the top of Zuze’ca Paha (Snake Butte) overlooking Lake Oahe. Clark Zephyr, a medicine man from Fort Thompson, performed the ceremony. Chris Mexican, of Pierre, served as the drummer and singer.

Mike had erected a ceremonial tipi, adorned with sacred symbols, which will be Jett’s to keep throughout his lifetime. The naming ceremony began inside, with Jett, Zephyr, Mexican, Donna, Mike and their older son Spencer present. (Violet was unable to attend because of family obligations.)

A naming ceremony can vary somewhat from one medicine man to another. Zephyr began with three traditional songs, sung to the cardinal directions; these served as the ceremony’s foundation for they appealed to Jett’s living and dead relatives to guide him in the coming years.

When they emerged from the tipi Jett was placed on a buffalo robe. Zephyr tied an eagle feather into his hair and Mike and Donna proclaimed his name for the first time: OyÈ Aku,”One Who Brings Back Tradition.”

“Jett’s spirit name came to Violet while she was at Sun Dance before the naming ceremony, and it was a pretty fitting name,” said Donna.”When I was pregnant Mike and I discussed ways to expose Jett to as much of our culture as we could after his birth.”

Purifying sage smoke wafted around the sacred circle while the assembled company lifted their voices in an honor song for the family. Mike and Donna served water and wasna — a mixture of dried chokecherries and buffalo meat — to their corporeal guests, and left some on a nearby butte for those of the spirit realm. These elements have been used in naming ceremonies”forever,” said Mike,”reflecting that water and the buffalo have been around since the beginning.”

Webster Two Hawk, an Episcopal minister from Pierre, offered a prayer of thanksgiving over the feast that followed. This brought the ceremony to a close, and began the many years of patient teaching it will take to help OyÈ Aku understand the significance of his name.

“For us to accept that name, to allow him to accept that name, is a great honor, but a great burden as well,” said Mike.”It kind of sets the direction of his life because it becomes his responsibility to bring back tradition.”

Jett was just 2 when he received a Lakota name meaning, “One Who Brings Back Tradition.”

Before they can teach and guide their son, Mike and Donna must first reconnect more deeply with their own pasts. They are both Lakota, enrolled tribal members on the Lower Brule and Cheyenne River reservations respectively, but they didn’t come of age in traditional families, where their ancestral culture and language were woven into daily life.

“Neither one of us is fluent [in Lakota],” said Mike.”We know a lot of common words, but not much more.” Like many Lakota their age, the Stroups’ grandparents were all native speakers. For a variety of reasons the essential language link between old and young was never made during their formative years, making them part of what Mike termed”a lost generation.”

They do have one decided advantage going forward: both of the Stroups have extensive experience in education. Mike started his career teaching at Flandreau Indian School, then moved on to White River, Rosebud and Sinte Gleska University, before returning to his hometown of Pierre as the high school principal and district superintendent.

After graduating from college with a degree in psychology and early childhood development, Donna’s first position was with the Pierre Indian Learning Center. Stints with the Department of Social Services Child Protection Services and Department of Human Services Division of Developmental Disabilities followed; she is currently the Director of Indian Education for the Pierre School District.

OyÈ Aku and his siblings could hardly be in better hands. They will grow up in a home where education is valued, with parents who will be learning about their treasured Lakota heritage as they teach it to them.

“Our responsibility will be to give OyÈ the opportunity to dance, to sing, to learn about and carry on those traditions,” said Donna.

In this task they will, fortunately, have Catches to support them.”I am going to be helping them learn some of the larger concepts of Lakota culture,” said Catches. One of those is mit·kuye oy·s’in, a sacred term that should be used only in prayer,”at the right time and the right place. What it means is we are all related. Not just to other human beings, but to the earth, the sky, the water, the animals.”

And our precious past.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the July/August 2016 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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My Day at the Track

By John Andrews

Horses take off from the starting gate during a race at the Brown County Fairgrounds in Aberdeen. South Dakota’s horse racing season occupies six weekends every spring.

I am not a gambler. Never have been. Perhaps it’s my stoic, fiscally conservative Norwegian lineage, but the idea of playing fast and loose with my money has That’s why I felt conflicted when the publisher of this magazine gave me $100 of betting money the day before I left to attend my first horse race. It wasn’t my money. It was simply to help immerse myself in South Dakota’s rich horse racing culture, which takes center stage in Fort Pierre and Aberdeen for just six weeks every spring. It shouldn’t have mattered if I lost every penny. Still, the thought of losing $100 (and I just knew I would lose it, because going to the racetrack was akin to abandoning me in a foreign land) made me slightly anxious.

But somewhere in my stomach was a twinge of excitement. What if I got lucky? What if I bet half the money on a long shot and came home with $500, or $1,000? Racetrack veterans would be astonished. They would wonder if I’d gotten inside information. It could be the start of a new hobby.

I learned two things at the racetrack that day. Horseracing cannot simply be a hobby. Once it’s in your blood, you live it every hour of every day. That’s true for hundreds of jockeys, owners, trainers, handicappers and fans that pack the grandstands.

And the old adage is true. A fool and his money are soon parted.

I awoke on race day to the rumble of thunder and the steady cadence of raindrops striking the pavement outside my hotel window. I pulled back the curtain and beheld a dull gray sky and a parking lot pockmarked with slowly swelling puddles. Rain could mean postponement or even cancellation of the final weekend of the South Dakota Horse Racing Association’s 2013 season.

Three hours — and nearly half an inch of rain — later I walked into the Brown County Fairgrounds. The sun shone brightly. A few cotton ball clouds dotted a deep blue sky. A John Deere tractor slowly smoothed the rich, brown dirt on the track, while horses and trainers milled about the parking lot. Fairgrounds manager Mike Schmidt swept excess water from beneath the grandstands as if it were nothing more than a nuisance.

“This track drains really well,” Schmidt said.”We’ll race today.”

Fans and potential bettors scrutinize their programs and study the horses in the paddock before each race.

As post time neared, I bought a program, only to find a confusing jumble of letters and numbers beside each horse’s name. The program seller must have sensed my bewilderment, and told me that an hour before every race local experts hold a seminar to explain the program to potential bettors.

Inside the expo building I found Ernie Kruse and Floyd Zimmerman, and the program began making sense. Those seemingly random numbers and letters are a snapshot of each horse’s racing history. A glance tells you where the horse has run in the last two years, who the jockey was, where the horse finished, the track conditions and a brief summary of the performance (“steadily faded,””weakened final furlong,””loomed boldly”).

Zimmerman grew up in Aberdeen and has been coming to the racetrack since he was 4 years old. He’s held a variety of jobs there, including maintenance, management and handicapping, which he’s done for the last 15 years.”I watch horse racing on the Internet constantly,” Zimmerman says.”There’s no real science to it. No matter what the numbers say, something else can happen.

“But there are people out here who know nothing, and are just looking for some kind of insight as to how to look at it, or they want a reason for why they’re going to bet on a horse. And that’s why they use us. We might bring up something they didn’t catch. Information is a dangerous tool.”

Experience has told Zimmerman that the most important factors at local races are jockeys and trainers.”You know who rides better than others and who trains better than others, who has better stock,” he says.”But there are always those surprises that seem to kill me in my wagering.”

By the time I arrived Kruse and Zimmerman were already handicapping the eighth race. I’d have to play the first seven on the limited knowledge I gained from them on how to read the program and the sage advice I had received from friends, colleagues and a few racing insiders.

Laura Andrews, who worked in our sales and marketing department, told me her husband Mike knew a bit about horses. He said the horse with the longest tail was often a good bet. Contributing editor Roger Holtzmann suggested I bet the horse that had most recently relieved itself. Our publisher’s 5-year-old grandson had just won bicycles in two separate raffles, so I tried to capitalize on his luck. He told me his favorite number was eight.

Horses are saddled and paraded in the paddock before each race.

These helpful hints seemed less than scientific, but Heather Benson provided an insider’s perspective. Benson is a former handicapper who owns the Back Forty Media and Marketing, a consulting and marketing firm based in Centerville that assists mainly horse racing industry clients. Her first tip was to bet the gray horse in every race.”Gray racehorses (which turn white as they get older) are uncommon, and if you see one it’s always worth a shot if you have no other good leads,” Benson says.”If you had bet $2 to win on every gray horse that has run in the Kentucky Derby in the last 30 years, you would be ahead by about $100 right now.”

An even more solid lead, she said, was to bet any horse trained by Bob Johnson of Lemmon. Johnson has been considered the leading trainer on the South Dakota racing circuit for years.”It’s the closest to a sure thing you will find,” Benson says.”Bob runs mostly Quarter horses, which account for about half the races run in South Dakota, and has absolutely won everything that can be won here.”

Entries are posted a few days in advance, so my coworkers and I already knew the horses running in the first race. Holtzmann and Ruth Steil, our office manager, each sent $2 to bet on a horse they liked. Steil picked Shawklit Cat because the breeder was from her home state of Nebraska. Holtzmann liked Vincent’s Honor because Vincent is his middle name. I had already decided to heed Benson’s advice and put $10 on Smarter Than Momma to win. That was a Bob Johnson horse.

I felt confident as I approached the betting window. I’d read wagering tutorials online to learn the verbiage and had already practiced what I would say:”I’d like $10 on the 6 horse to win” (when betting, horses are always referred to by their numbers). But it wasn’t that easy, explained Kim Klostergaard, who works the betting windows every weekend. There were multiple combinations I could play. There’s the tribox, trifecta or the quinella. The first race was also the first half of that day’s daily double. This all went beyond my rudimentary”win, place, show” understanding.

My head swam with these new combinations. I mumbled something like”just to win for now” and took my little white betting slips to the grandstand. At 1 p.m., the signal sounded and eight thoroughbreds thundered from the starting gate. The 1,565 people in attendance raucously cheered as the horses passed the grandstand, now running full speed in their 5 1/2 furlong race. In a minute and 13 seconds the race was over. Twobuckstoomuch, a 4-year-old from Louisiana, came in first. Shawklit Cat finished seventh. Vincent’s Honor was last.

Horse racing in South Dakota is supported through simulcast wagering, which includes bets placed off-site and at betting windows at the track.

Though I lost, I took some consolation from that first race. Smarter Than Momma had finished a close second. I had been a heartbeat away from victory. Best not to pick the winning horse right out of the gate anyway, I reasoned. I had come close, so I felt a little better when I returned to Klostergaard’s window.

Races two through six were wagering disasters. I began experimenting with combinations. In the second race I took the 3 and 4 horses in a quinella, meaning I would win if they finished first and second in either order. The next race I bet a tribox with the 2, 3 and 4 horses, which covers every combination that could result as long as my selections finished in the top three. But my horses mostly finished in the middle of the pack. I sat out the seventh race, hoping to regroup but not knowing how.

Horse racing is called the”sport of kings” because of its long-running popularity among British royalty and aristocracy, but it has been traced to ancient Greece, Babylon, Syria and Egypt. It had become part of the Greek Olympics by 648 B.C., and chariot racing was a popular sport throughout Greece and Rome.

Horse racing in America began in 1665, when the first track was built on Long Island. Organized racing started in 1868, and by 1890 there were 314 operating tracks in the United States. Interest swelled and receded through the years, but two events — the introduction of pari-mutuel wagering in 1908 and the rise of the Triple Crown — were boons to the sport.

Several South Dakotans have enjoyed successful careers in horse racing. Among the most famous was Earl Sande, the Groton native who rode Gallant Fox to the Triple Crown in 1930. Thoroughbred trainer Steve Asmussen, born at Gettysburg, has more than 4,300 career wins, over $21 million in purse earnings and trained Curlin, winner of the 2007 Preakness Stakes and the Breeders Cup Classic, considered the Super Bowl of thoroughbred horse racing. Bill Mott, of Mobridge, worked with Cigar, who won 16 consecutive races in 1995 and 1996 and retired as the top money earner in thoroughbred racing history. Mott has been voted national leading trainer three times and was the youngest trainer ever inducted to the National Racing Hall of Fame.

Sanctioned horse racing at Fort Pierre’s track dates to the 1940s and they’ve been running for decades in Aberdeen. South Dakota’s modern horse racing system is supported entirely through simulcast wagering, allowing bettors at two or more sites to bet into the same pool. South Dakota’s two simulcast wagering hosts are the Time Out Lounge in Rapid City and the Triple Crown Casino in North Sioux City. The South Dakota Commission on Gaming regulates all pari-mutuel wagering, though no tax dollars support horse racing. The commission is required by law to disburse money generated back into the racing industry through the South Dakota-bred racing fund and another revolving fund.”People don’t realize how much income it generates,” says Jill LaCroix, treasurer of the South Dakota Horse Racing Association.”When you’re here for three weeks, think how much money you’re spending.”

Horses round a bend at a race in Fort Pierre. Photo by Jana Thompson.

LaCroix and her mother June own the Time Out Lounge and became part of racing history in 2003, when they sold the only winning Pick Six ticket in the world during the Breeder’s Cup. The men who bought it won $2.7 million. I could only hope for such luck in Aberdeen. The LaCroixs had three horses running that day, and fortunately for me one of them was slated for the eighth race.

The eighth race is where it all turned around. Not coincidentally, it was the first race I had been able to rely upon Kruse and Zimmerman, the expert handicappers, for advice. In the pre-race seminar, their favorite was Tickle the Ivorys (the 2 horse), trained by Bob Johnson and owned by his father, John. They thought LaCroix’s horse, Alotta Louie (1), could challenge and slotted Knud for a Buck (6) in third.

Relieved that my picks were handed to me, I returned to Klostergaard’s window and bet the 2 horse to win and a 2-1 quinella. As I stood in line, I noticed familiar faces in the queue.”Bettors can be superstitious,” Klostergaard said.”If they’re winning they’ll come back to the same window. And if they lose I probably won’t see them again.”

Had I been a racing veteran, she would have seen a lot more of me the rest of the afternoon. Kruse and Zimmerman’s picks were almost spot on. Tickle the Ivorys won, followed by Alotta Louie and the 4 horse, L Valentino. Knud for a Buck finished fourth. My first victory netted $9.80.

I let it ride. I hit another quinella in the ninth race and picked the winner in the 10th, falling just short of a winning tribox combination. I pocketed another $14.

Credit for my late surge goes almost entirely to the handicappers on whose wisdom I relied, but three of the horses I bet in those final races were trained at Bob Johnson’s sprawling ranch southwest of Lemmon. The family settled in that spot along the North Grand River in 1894.”My grandpa was a gold miner in Deadwood and grandma ran a boarding house,” says John Johnson, the family’s 82-year-old patriarch.”Then my grandma wanted to start raising kids, and Deadwood was a pretty tough place in the 1880s.”

The Johnsons started raising horses, and today Johnson Stables includes a half-mile dirt racetrack and stalls for 67 horses.”We train all winter,” John says.”Our track is in the river bottom and it never freezes. We can run them all year if the jockeys are tough enough to ride. That’s why the horses are in pretty good shape this time of year.”

John trained horses for most of his life. Bob started as a jockey until he grew too big and transitioned into training. There are many factors that make a good racehorse, but John says bloodlines are the most important thing.

“That’s a good start,” Bob Johnson says.”They have to want to be a racehorse. They’re like athletes — track, basketball, it doesn’t matter. They can have all the talent, but if they don’t want to, it’s not going to happen.”

Bob Johnson (right) of Lemmon is among South Dakota’s leading horse trainers. He trained Fast Eddys Eyeyinyou, owned by Jill LaCroix (left) of Rapid City.

Johnson says he can tell fairly early if a racehorse is going to be successful.”Horses are very comparable to people,” he says.”If you’re a student of people, you can be a student of horses, and it’ll work for you. They show you signs if they like what you’re doing. Some are defiant, some are complacent, some are regressive. My job is to take the ones that are non-players and make them into players.”

His day begins at 4:15 every morning and involves considerable travel. He had arrived in Aberdeen at 2 a.m. on race day because he’d run five horses at Canterbury Park just north of Minneapolis the previous day.”He does that all the time,” his father says.”He’ll run tomorrow and then he’ll go back to Canterbury. Some people couldn’t train a mouse to eat cheese. They don’t have the fortitude to work 12 hours a day, or travel 2,000 or 3,000 miles without stopping. It’s a lot of work, a lot of hours.”

Bob Johnson has developed a keen understanding of horses through a lifetime of working with them.”Everybody thinks that horse training is make them go fast, make them turn left and come back to the barn,” he says.”Then take the week off and make them run again.” But it’s much more cerebral. Some of the most important insights are gained simply through observation.

“Every night after we feed our horses, we sit for 20 minutes and just watch,” Johnson says.”The horses that aren’t happy won’t be eating. They’ll show you little signs. Like this horse’s head is hanging out. He doesn’t like his feed, or he’s not happy, or he’s got a stomach ache, or he’s got an ulcer.”

After the races, Johnson tended to Fast Eddys Eyeyinyou, a 4-year-old belonging to June LaCroix. The horse finished third in the ninth race after stepping badly out of the gate. But Johnson could tell the horse was pleased with his performance.”When he doesn’t do well, he’ll be dragging on the walker. Look at him. Tail in the air, happy guy. They’re all different,” Johnson says.”They’ll make your head hurt. And your heart hurt, especially when you know how much is there.”

It’s true that horses can break hearts, judging by the discarded betting slips that littered the grandstand post race. Certainly there were bettors who finished ahead, while others left in the red. I went home with $64. My day at the track was educational, and not just on how to play the ponies. Whether you win, lose or simply marvel at the powerful thoroughbreds thundering down the track and the dedication it takes to get them there, no spring should pass without experiencing the thrill of a South Dakota horse race.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the March/April 2014 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Happy 200th

By Katie Hunhoff

It’s birthday season for several South Dakota towns, but the biggest celebration this year will be for Fort Pierre, the state’s first community to turn 200. But take note, our oldest town is not resting on its historical laurels. The Missouri River city aims to start its third century with a bang.

Two hundred years ago, the site of today’s Fort Pierre became a community of sorts when Joseph LaFramboise opened a trading post at the junction of the Bad and Missouri rivers. It was just 74 years after the Verendrye brothers had buried a lead plate on a nearby bluff claiming the region for France.

Fort LaFramboise eventually fizzled but in 1832 it was rebuilt as Fort Pierre Chouteau, named for a principal owner of the famed American Fur Company. Chouteau’s post prospered for decades, and became the midway meeting place connecting St. Louis with a number of smaller posts to the north and west in today’s Montana and North Dakota.

Chouteau pioneered the use of steamboats on the long and treacherous Missouri. Though boat captains and crews were befuddled by high water, low water, strong currents and submerged stumps, their cargo of pelts and hides made Chouteau a rich man until the beaver and buffalo began to disappear. By 1855, he was losing money so he sold the site to the U.S. government for use as a frontier army post.

Mayor Gloria Hanson puts Fort Pierre’s early history in perspective like this:”Thirty three years before the Declaration of Independence was signed two French guys claimed it,” she says.”When the Fort was established, Napoleon was occupying Europe, The War of 1812 was raging, Lewis and Clark were making their trek, the Louisiana Purchase was being negotiated and then you have Fort Pierre being settled. The history just blows me away,” she says.

Local historian John Duffy says the bicentennial will help reinforce knowledge of Fort Pierre’s history along with new development by connecting people.”The anniversary draws people to become involved and is bringing the town together. We have a lot of young families, retired families, and professionals. Eighty-five percent of residents work in Pierre. This is the time to draw everyone together.”

Hanson agrees that the celebration is time to move Fort Pierre in a new direction. “We have never done a good job of capitalizing on our rich history. Last year, for example, for a history field trip, students went to Pierre. I want our kids to have a ‘Don’t mess with Texas’ attitude about their hometown. So if they see trash in the street it would make them mad. I want to develop a passion for this place with everyone understanding how unique and special Fort Pierre is.”

The town has big plans for the 200th celebration, being held September 15-17. But, in anticipation of the birthday, music is planned throughout the summer. The Silver Spur has been holding concerts near the patio that overlooks the river. Country act Diamond Rio is booked for August 4. Drifter’s, the new convention center, has local bands scheduled throughout the summer. And for the finale in September, the community will hold a weekend-long celebration with a wagon train, parade, steak feed, arts festival, Suzy Bogguss concert, helicopter rides and a rodeo.

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Happy 200th Birthday

Fort Pierre, South Dakota’s oldest organized town, became a community when Joseph La Framboise opened a trading post at the junction of the Bad and Missouri rivers. Fort LaFramboise fizzled out, but in 1832 it was rebuilt as Fort Pierre Chouteau, named for a key owner of the American Fur Company. Chouteau’s post prospered for decades, and the name Fort Pierre stuck. Our May/June issue includes a story on the town and its 200th anniversary. Bicentennial celebrations are planned throughout the summer. Bernie Hunhoff visited Fort Pierre and took several photos. Here are a few extras that didn’t fit into the issue.

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Island Winter

Two islands lie near Pierre — Farm Island and LaFramboise. They’re most popular in fair weather, when visitors most comfortably enjoy their lush nature, varied wildlife and miles of hiking. But snow and ice lend a different perspective to their beauty. Photos by Lance Bertram.

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Explorers, Cowboys and Indians

By John Andrews

In 1743, French brothers Louis-Joseph and Francois La Verendrye buried a lead plate on a hill overlooking the Missouri River. They were among the first white men to ever lay eyes on the land that became Stanley County. The area has been the site important moments in South Dakota history: a clash of cultures, the resurrection of our national mammal, the birth of a rodeo legend, the filming of an internationally acclaimed movie — and the rediscovery of that historic plate left nearly 275 years ago.

The Verendryes had embarked upon an expedition to discover a vast Western sea. When they reached the bluffs of the Missouri, they claimed the land for France by burying a plate. It lay hidden until the day in February 1913 when Ethel Roberts, Harriet”Hattie” Fister and George O’Reilly went out to play.

“It was a Sunday and it was nice and warm, just a little snow,” Roberts told us in 1989.”Hattie happened to notice something sticking out of the ground. She kicked it with her toe but it wouldn’t budge.”

Ethel Roberts with the Verendrye Plate in 1989. She was one of three children who found the plate in a Missouri River hillside in 1913.

Finally, they pried it out of the ground.”George scraped off the gumbo with his knife and we saw the writing on it. If we had studied our history, we should probably have known what it was. But we just threw it down and went on playing.”

They agreed that George would try to sell the plate for scrap, but on his way home he ran into two state legislators. After recounting his experience, they notified state historian Doane Robinson, who had studied and written extensively about the Verendrye Expedition. He knew immediately that the children had discovered an artifact that proved European exploration of present-day South Dakota much earlier than previously thought. The plate now resides in the Cultural Heritage Center across the river in Pierre, and a monument marks the site of its discovery.

By the time the kids unearthed the plate, the town of Fort Pierre had grown from a remote fur-trading outpost to the seat of Stanley County. The Missouri River fur trade began to gain momentum in the late 1700s, and by 1830 the area around Fort Pierre was a bustling trade center. Fort Pierre Chouteau, named for the St. Louis fur trader, was established in 1832.

By 1855 it had become a military post to serve as a transportation and supply hub for travelers heading west into the Black Hills. That same year, Lieutenant G.K. Warren transformed an old Indian trail heading west from Fort Pierre into a bona fide roadway for Gen. William Harney to use during his fall expedition into the Black Hills. After gold was discovered in 1874 prospectors rushed to the Hills, often along that very same 220-mile Fort Pierre to Deadwood Trail. It became the primary route to the Black Hills until railroads and other modern forms of transportation overtook wagons. In 2008, local historians used GPS devices to map the original trail and staged a 17-day commemorative wagon train.

Fort Pierre’s annual Fourth of July rodeo dates to 1822.

A lot of livestock trod across Stanley County during that ride, but that’s not unusual for a county rooted in ranching and rodeo. The annual Fort Pierre Rodeo, held on the Fourth of July, is said to be the oldest rodeo in the state. The event dates to 1822, when it was simply a series of horse-handling events between Indians and fur traders held at the confluence of the Bad and Missouri rivers that became a tradition during an annual rendezvous. It’s held at the Casey Tibbs Rodeo Arena, named for the six-time PRCA saddle-bronc champion who was born in a cabin along the Cheyenne River about 50 miles northwest of Fort Pierre.

Tibbs entered an amateur rodeo at age 14 and won four first place awards. He turned pro as a teenager, and in 1949 — at age 19 — he became the youngest man ever to win the national saddle bronc-riding crown. Between 1949 and 1955, he won a total of six PRCA saddle bronc-riding championships, a record still unchallenged.

A virtual bronc at the Casey Tibbs Rodeo Center in Fort Pierre simulates an 8-second ride.

When he died in 1989, Tibbs agreed to give many of his mementoes to his hometown. Today they are housed at the Casey Tibbs Rodeo Center, which opened in Fort Pierre in 2009. The facility also includes an exhibit to trick rider Mattie Goff Newcombe, a cowgirl from Faith who performed dangerous stunts on horseback in the 1920s. There’s a sculpture garden honoring South Dakota’s best saddle bronc riders and a virtual reality bronc that simulates an 8-second ride.

Stanley County has also been where the buffalo roam, thanks to ranchers Fred Dupree and Scotty Philip. In 1883, bison numbers had grown startlingly small. Hoping to help stave off extinction, Dupree captured five bison calves and brought them to his ranch. After his death in 1898, Scotty Philip bought Dupree’s herd and moved them to his ranch near Fort Pierre. The species rebounded splendidly. Travelers can watch huge herds grazing the prairie along the Bad River Road, a 50-mile stretch of mostly gravel that runs across Stanley County from Fort Pierre to the junction with Highway 83 north of Midland. The road passes through media mogul Ted Turner’s Bad River Ranch, which encompasses 141,000 acres that support the largest privately held bison herd in the country.

The world got a chance to see Stanley County on the big screen in 1990, with the release of Kevin Costner’s Dances with Wolves. Much of the filming was done on Roy Houck’s Triple U Buffalo Ranch, northwest of Fort Pierre. In 2015 the ranch was sold to Turner.

Fort Pierre historians (from left) Darby Nutter, John Duffy and Gary Grittner help maintain the Verendrye Museum, a shrine to pioneer cowboys.

Stanley County itself dates to 1873, just before it became a busy hub for travel further west. The county was named for David S. Stanley, commander at Fort Sully, a military outpost that had originally been built in 1863 about 4 miles below present day Pierre on the east bank of the Missouri. Its main task was to protect settlers from Indians. When Stanley took command in 1866, the fort was abandoned due to its low and wet location along the river. Stanley moved the fort 23 miles northwest along the river and became home to the 22nd U.S. Infantry from 1866 to 1873.

During his time at Fort Sully, Stanley grew to respect the local Indian tribes, working with missionaries like Father Pierre Jean De Smet to gain their trust and actively working to achieve peace between them and the U.S. government. Stanley served at Fort Sully until 1874, and the fort itself was finally abandoned in 1894.

Relations between Natives and non-Natives in Stanley County got off to a rocky start. During their exploration of the Missouri River, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark had a tense meeting with the Teton Sioux at the confluence of the Bad and Missouri rivers. For four days, the two sides teetered between war and peace.

Communication was the main impediment. They could only speak through rudimentary sign language and the limited knowledge of Pierre Cruzatte, a member of the expedition who understood the Omaha language, but very little Lakota. On their first day there, the two sides exchanged gifts, as was customary, but then things went awry. One of the head tribal men drank half a glass of whiskey and nearly started a fight with Clark. When Clark and a few other men reached shore in a pirogue, several Indians grabbed its mooring cable and refused to let them return to their keelboat.

The frames of seven tipis stand on the grounds of the Wakpa Sica Reconciliation Center, a project meant to build bridges between Natives and non-Natives but was stymied after the loss of federal funding.

Lewis ordered in armed American reinforcements, while Indians lined the shore with bows and arrows. But tensions eased, and the next day the two sides enjoyed a great feast. The roller coaster continued until Lewis and Clark left.

The language barrier was a major obstacle, but had the explorers brought Pierre Dorion it’s possible much of the tension could have been eased. They met Dorion, a fur trader who had spent years living in the area and was fluent in the local Native language, when the party passed present-day Yankton. But instead of adding him to their crew, they dispatched him to Washington, D.C., to present a report on the area to President Thomas Jefferson. Clark lamented Dorion’s absence in his journal entry for Sept. 25, 1804.”We feel much at loss for the want of an interpreter,” he wrote.”The one we have can Speek but little.”

There have been ups and downs ever since, but perhaps hope lies within the Wakpa Sica Reconciliation Center. Established in 2000, the center is meant to improve relations between Natives and non-Natives, set up an intertribal justice system and create economic development opportunities. The campus includes seven tall tipis constructed on the prairie north of Fort Pierre, each representing one of the seven Teton Sioux bands, or council fires. But unfortunately that is as far as the project has gone. Federal funding withered several years ago and development at Wakpa Sica stalled, but tribes have shown interest in reviving the idea. Even though two French brothers once claimed this place belonged to the French, it might help show that Stanley County can be a welcoming home for everyone.

Editor’s Note: This is the 24th installment in an ongoing series featuring South Dakota’s 66 counties. Click here for previous articles.

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The Chicken Dance

By Christian Begeman

Typically early April is not a great time to trudge outside an hour before dawn in South Dakota’s great wide open. At least that’s what I might have told you before I started going to Fort Pierre National Grassland’s prairie chicken blinds. This is the second year I’ve visited the blinds with camera in hand. It was, however, the first time I sat in all three blinds in the same season. That also meant that I had three afternoons and evenings to wander the grasslands and surrounding area. Besides prairie chickens and grouse, the land is thick with pheasants on the ground and raptors in the air. The countryside along the Bad River is breathtaking. The drive from Fort Pierre to Lower Brule on Highway 1806 is also a favorite. From little churches on the prairie to owl and eagle nests among the tall trees, this time away from the hustle and bustle of big city life was good for the soul.

It’s ironic to think I would have missed all this area’s scenic goodness this time of year if it weren’t for the dance moves of some wild chickens. The mating dance of Greater Prairie Chicken and Sharp-tailed Grouse is one of our state’s treasures, but you have to get up ultra early to watch these shows. The entertainment begins about a half hour before dawn and can last until mid-morning depending on the weather and absence of threats like coyotes, eagles and humans.

It is recommended to be inside the blind a full hour before sunrise. The designated areas to park are also at least a quarter mile away from the blinds, so a walk under the stars in complete darkness is part of the deal. I actually don’t mind that part. Once I get to the 5-by-8-foot heavy plywood blind, however, I get edgy. First, my mind always tells me a rabid skunk or something worse is waiting inside. After opening the door and seeing all is well, the next uneasy thing is going inside and closing out the world. It is completely dark with only the wind whispering.

I suppose this is why some folks bring friends along (which makes them wiser than me as usual). I have gone alone each time, and I will tell you that the half hour before you hear the first wing flaps of the chickens flying in and the first hum or”boom” of their routine is unique. Being quiet and alone in the dark is daunting. It is times like these that all the ghost stories you’ve ever heard try to push their way into your memory. Somewhere along the way I decided that I was too old to be scared of the dark and turned my attention to appreciating the quiet. But I still arm myself with at least two flashlights.

Since I’m being honest, I’m going to confess another thing about being alone in the dark while waiting for the world to wake. I’m thankful for what I’m about to witness. In this spirit of thankful prayer, my mind recounts my other blessings and thoughts linger over my family and friends. I guess sometimes God needs to get me out and away on the prairie to remind me of all the greatness that surrounds me. To think it took wild chickens for me to fully experience this quiet time. God does truly work in mysterious ways.

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.