Tag: native plants

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First Signs of Spring

By Christian Begeman

People who live in the Northern Plains tend to be hardy. They can endure hot, dry summers or long, hard winters with the best of them. Even so, the first signs of spring on the open prairie soften the heart of even the hardiest resident. Winter’s snow is scarcely gone when tiny pasqueflowers first appear on well drained hilltops and hillsides.”Very brave little flowers,” the Cree Indians say,”which come while it is still so cold that they must come wearing their fur coats.” This is in allusion to the furry appearance of the pasqueflower. According to Prairie Smoke: A Collection of Lore of the Prairies by Melvin Randolph Gilmore, a Dakota language song composed to inspire the early appearance of the prairie pasqueflower goes something like this in English:

I wish to encourage the children of other flower nations.

Which are now appearing over all the land;

So, while they waken from sleep and rise from the bosom

Of Mother Earth, I stand here old and gray-headed.

I often think of these references when I find my first blooming pasqueflowers of the year. This year it was in a small pasture just west of the eastern fork of the Vermillion River in McCook County on March 28. While admiring the backlit beauty of the blooms just beyond the fence line, I heard my first western meadowlark serenade of the season. It can’t get much more”South Dakota” than that! I typically find the first blooms of the year on a hillside near Lake Hanson just south of Alexandria, so I drove a little further west and sure enough, about 20 diminutive blooms of South Dakota’s state flower had emerged in my favorite patch.

On April 5, I reserved a blind on the Fort Pierre National Grasslands for another early spring spectacle. This one happens to be both a feast for the eyes as well as the ears. Greater prairie chickens and sharp-tailed grouse gather from March through May to dance. Not only do the roosters dance, but they also call, cackle and woo. The prairie chicken’s woo is a unique sound that I’ve not heard anywhere else. The roosters fill colorful air sacs on either side of their neck and the sound pours out as they expel the air, deflating the pouches. It is known as”booming,” and on a clear and crisp prairie morning, it can be heard for miles. During my morning on the lek, the sound started about 50 minutes before sunrise from right to left outside the blind. It is pretty dark that far ahead of sunrise so you can’t see the birds. It is quite an experience to hear the sound as it amplifies and surrounds you, but you are unable to see the creatures creating it.

As the light grew, I realized that my lek also had sharpies dancing. They don’t”boom,” but they stamp their feet amazingly fast and cackle to impress the hens. Instead of orange air sacks, the skin on their necks flares light purple and their eye combs are bright yellow. It was cold with a stout eastern breeze that morning, but numbing fingers and toes were worth one of the best homegrown shows that nature has to offer on our prairie hills. Soon the winds will warm, and the rest of spring will follow. It always does.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Oceans of Prairie

By Christian Begeman

“Tish-ah!” said the grass … “Tish-ah, tish-ah!” … Never had it said anything else — never would it say anything else. It bent resiliently under the trampling feet; it did not break, but it complained aloud every time — for nothing like this had ever happened to it before. …”Tish-ah, tish-ah!” it cried, and rose up in surprise to look at this rough, hard thing that had crushed it to the ground so rudely, and then moved on.”

— From Chapter 1 of Giants in the Earth, A Saga of the Prairie, by O.E. Rolvaag

I grew up in the short-grass prairies of Ziebach and Dewey counties in the 1970s and’80s. I remember dry years filled with grasshopper hordes and dust. Some of those summers, the pastures were only green for a few weeks out of the year. As a sophomore in high school we were required to read Giants in the Earth by O.E. Rolvaag. I remember musing over his description of the tall grass prairie Per Hansa and his fellow settlers traversed to get to their claim in southeastern South Dakota. It was hard to imagine grass growing chest high. Growing up in rattlesnake country, I was (and still am) wary of walking through grass taller than my ankles. I like to see where my next foot fall will be. It took a strong dose of imagination to picture making my way through the tall grass like those old timers did, but that is exactly what I’ve been doing over the last month and a half.

I first heard of the Nature Conversancy’s prairie preserves from Greg Latza, one of the area’s best and well-known photographers. I was looking for advice in finding and photographing my first pasqueflower in the wild. He suggested checking out Makoce Washte Prairie Preserve near Wall Lake in western Minnehaha County. I had no idea such a place existed. I remember first arriving and being a little crestfallen. It seemed to simply be a small pasture with a bit of wetland and a few gentle, easy hillsides. Corn and beans fields flanked the preserve and a small cattle pasture lay across the county road. I did eventually find a pasque growing there though, so I filed the place away in my memory for future photographic considerations.

This summer has been wetter than most, and too wet for many. Even so, the last few years of abundant moisture has caused the tall grass prairie preserves on the eastern side of the state to grow lush, thick stands of grasses dotted with wildflowers and forbs. The latter is why I returned to Makoce Washte as well as a handful of other preserves during the last month and a half. I’ve always been fascinated with native prairie flowers and they have a tendency to attract interesting butterflies, birds and insects. That means these prairie preserves are a treasure trove for a photographer with a macro lens (and plenty of insect repellent).

The untamed winds that push through the Northern Plains can make macro photography in the open prairie a bit difficult, but it also helps keep the biting gnats and mosquitos at bay. One of my main objectives on these recent forays was to find and photograph the blooms of the tiny flowers that the native tall grasses produce. In the past, I’ve not noticed the miniature bits of beauty these grasses provide, but once I saw them, I couldn’t stop looking. Despite their constant waving in even the gentlest of breezes, I got a few photographs that I’m happy to share. I recommend getting out and taking a look for yourself. There are still late summer and early fall flowers blooming on the prairie preserves, which are free to the public to hike. For more information visit www.nature.org.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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A Park of Peace

By Paul Higbee

Trinity Eco Prayer Park features species native to the Black Hills and surrounding area.

Rapid City has 1,650 acres of parks, ranging from a long and wide swath of green along Rapid Creek to steep inclines up craggy Cowboy Hill (where a big”M” represents the South Dakota School of Mines & Technology campus) and specialty parks like Storybook Island and Dinosaur Park.

Every park has a story. Works Progress Administration laborers fashioned the dinosaurs from cement in the 1930s, and today the big reptiles oddly symbolize Rapid City like nothing else. The 1972 flood that killed 238 people led to development of the creekside greenway, representing both a memorial and a”never again” pledge to keep the floodplain free from residential construction. The”M” park (officially Hanson-Larsen Memorial) is a bit of wilderness in the midst of a city of 70,000, and features some 12 miles of hiking and biking trails with views of Black Elk Peak and the Needles.

Paddleboaters lazily float the waters of Canyon Lake Park, and Memorial Park near the Civic Center has a Veterans Memorial and a piece of the actual Berlin Wall. Sioux Park on the city’s west side is known for the William Noordermeer Formal Gardens while Wilson Park, a tiny greenspace in the West Boulevard Historic District, has formal gardens that were created as Japanese Gardens but modified after war was declared in 1941.

Such a rich and daunting history of parks didn’t deter Ken Steinken and his friends from undertaking a new project that embraces modern-day values of environmental sustainability and a livable downtown. The park, affiliated with Trinity Lutheran Church, isn’t city property but it welcomes the public — and city parks staff have been helpful in its development.

“There’s a sense of community here, and an interest in park-building within that community,” says Rapid City Parks and Recreation landscape designer Alex DeSmidt.”The Parks Department has such a wide focus, but groups come along that are focused on just one thing, like sports or in this case sustainability. Their work expands the park system even though they’re not under the jurisdiction of the city.”

Steinken knows there’s a lot more to park building than mowing a vacant lot and hanging out a welcome sign. There is hydrology to study, more than 100 plant species to consider, turf to haul and, of course, dollars to raise.

Trinity Eco Prayer Park occupies more than half an acre on St. Joseph Street, just east of Fifth Street. On the first day the mercury hit 70 in 2017, a handful of robins hopped across the grass, joggers and cyclists passed through, and a man reading a novel found a bench and stayed an hour. The park is, as a brochure promised,”a peaceful urban setting.”

Some Rapid Citians remember Ken Steinken as their former English teacher at Stevens High School. He is also a driving force behind the creation of the downtown park.

Toward evening the skyline isn’t defined by a sunset silhouetting the Black Hills, but by the glow of big, classic neon signs on the nearby Hotel Alex Johnson and the South Dakota Stockgrowers’ building. Rather than scents of ponderosa pine or creekside vegetation, aromas of burgers and fries waft into the park from a Hardee’s next door. The spot feels like an extension of the neighborhood — an eclectic mix of buildings that include Trinity, single-story specialty shops, Racing Magpie gallery and studios, coffee shops, a dance studio, the Pennington County Courthouse, the Stockgrowers headquarters, and beautifully repurposed brick automotive sales and service structures. One such building, directly across the street from the park, is now a collaborative co-working space called The Garage that houses small businesses and nonprofits. Another, two minutes away by foot, is the new Black Hills bureau for South Dakota Public Broadcasting.

All of this, it’s important to stress, sits”east of Fifth.” For several years Rapid City has won acclaim for revitalizing its downtown, refurbishing historic buildings, attracting both retail and residents, and filling Main Street Square with year-round activity. But most of the rejuvenation happened west of high-traffic Fifth Street, and has only recently spread east of Fifth.

For a while it looked like the neighborhood’s redevelopment would be dominated by a 10-story combination retail/office tower, proposed for the very site where the park now lies. Members of Trinity Lutheran Church were concerned when they discovered that their church stood in the shadow of the tower. When the project stalled, they used a separate, long-established foundation to buy the land in 2005.

“We didn’t have any plans for the property,” recalls Steinken, a church member.”The foundation sprayed to keep weeds down. In fact, for two or three years after the spraying stopped, nothing grew.”

And so the half-acre lot sat bare, as far from park-like as imaginable. Churches can always use more parking, but there seemed to be an understanding that laying concrete would smother discussion of other possibilities. Once pavement goes down, it usually stays.

Gradually the idea of a public park emerged.”That put us on a kind of tightrope,” recalls Steinken.”The foundation that bought and still owns the property had gathered money over the years for benefitting the church.” While a park next door would certainly benefit Trinity, it would also welcome the wider community and, in fact, people unassociated with Trinity would vastly outnumber church-goers.

Pastor Wilbur Holz wasn’t surprised that his congregation thought that was fine.”A strong value this church has held for many years is its belief that that what God has given us should be used to bless others,” he says.”I think that describes the park.”

Even with that positive outlook, few could have guessed how quickly and seamlessly the park would fit as part of the neighborhood’s fabric.

Rapid City has a transient population. Inevitably the question was raised: Would homeless men and women stake out the park, sleep there and make it undesirable for parents and their kids? It hasn’t been a problem, partly because of the park’s open physical design, but also because of Trinity’s longtime relationship with the transient population. Members feed them (9,000 meals in 2016, reports Pastor Holz) and use that opportunity to form friendships.

Native plants and creative space have drawn people of all ages to the park.

“When you’ve worked with people and established a level of trust, they respect that,” Steinken says.”The park feels like an extension of the church to them.”

The park would also demonstrate good stewardship of the earth, a concept that intrigued Steinken and pulled him deeply into the project. He became the coordinator and, after ground was broken in 2014, found himself working with designers and builders and making hard decisions.”It was a weird situation,” he recalls,”because all I had was a little sourcebook about sustainable landscape construction. I’d ask myself, ‘Who am I to be doing this?'”

Describing Ken Steinken isn’t easy. He’s probably best known in Rapid City as a former Stevens High School English teacher (for two decades), but he’s also an author and former Rapid City Journal writer, works at the airport and has served as a ranger at Jewel Cave National Monument. It was there he noticed how many people love nature yet don’t really understand it, and that efforts to preserve nature sometimes keep the public at a distance.

Steinken and his wife, Penny, arrived in Rapid City in 1976. He came from suburban Chicago and she from the Boston area. Black Hills nature gripped them in ways that even the considerable charms of the Great Lakes and New England could not, and they built a good Rapid City life, raising two sons and a daughter. After retiring from teaching, Steinken found himself in the middle of the park project with its $440,000 price tag. Given his writing background it’s not surprising that Steinken can produce top-drawer press releases. He wrote one in November of 2011 and called a press conference announcing the park. Days later an anonymous contribution for $100,000 arrived.”The donor wrote a check, put it in an envelope, and just dropped it in the regular mail,” he remembers.

The team of church volunteers who came forward to help proved as valuable as the cash. Steinken found he could make calls and get friendly advice from the city Parks and Recreation Department, the U.S. Geological Survey and the Natural Resources Conservation Service, a branch of the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

“NRCS helped us with a plant species list, and information about how to plant those species,” Steinken says. Volunteers agreed the park wouldn’t be defined by Kentucky bluegrass. It would celebrate West River plant life, divided into four sections: Black Hills (switchgrass), shortgrass prairie (buffalo grass and grama), midgrass prairie (knee-high bluestem) and wetlands (prairie cordgrass).

“One of my advisors warned me that going that way would make it challenging to tell volunteers to go pull weeds,” Steinken says.”They have to know what’s supposed to be there.”

Cactus, it turns out, is supposed to be there. An area rancher offered buffalo grass from his pasture if volunteers came and carved out the sod. It was hard work, of course.”But in doing it that way, we got some cactus in the turf, too,” Steinken says.

Among the park’s signature concepts is modeling storm water gardening, drawing rainwater in rather than diverting it out, as urban development typically does. That form of gardening utilizes water naturally, prevents water pollution that occurs when the resource moves down street gutters, and lessens problem runoff during heavy rains. Steinken and his team thought long and hard about recommendations to install an irrigation sprinkler system, but eventually did. In 2015 plants were put in and the next year a water main broke, knocking the sprinklers out of commission for a long period in summer. The plant life did fine.

Modeling solar energy is another important mission. Solar-generated light illuminates the park after dark and solar collector panels provide power for some park maintenance, including charging a cordless weed-whacker. A big test will come this summer when volunteers hope to see a cordless electric mower operate on electricity generated in the park. The project’s Black Hills Energy bill is impressively low each month, and surplus electricity generated is sold back to the utility.

Trinity Eco Prayer Park opened in June of 2016. By that point it had already won a sustainability award from Rapid City. Summer barbecues draw hundreds, with music performed in a shelter on the park’s south end. There are also quiet times of prayer and reflection.

Steinken thinks the myriad activities in this little half acre all point to similar questions:”How do we relate to the planet? How do we relate to one another? It’s very much the same thing.”

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the May/June 2017 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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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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Plants with a Purpose

By Katie Hunhoff

Linda Black Elk and members of the Brave Heart Society from the Yankton Sioux Tribe hold a festival every spring to help young people learn the stories and traditional remedies of their ancestors.

When Linda Black Elk’s family members felt sick, her grandma would go outdoors and collect plants to make medicine.”She never went to school but knew everything about plants, their names, uses and what ate them,” Black Elk recalls. She also taught her grandchildren about nature’s gifts.

“Later I realized my grandma was a scientist,” says Black Elk, who followed in her grandma’s footsteps and today is an instructor at Sitting Bull College in Fort Yates, North Dakota.

Black Elk spoke about her grandmother’s plants at the Waterlily Storytelling Festival, held at the Andes Central School and Marty Indian School last March. This year marked the festival’s 13th anniversary. Faith Spotted Eagle of Lake Andes helps organize the festival, which is named after the book Waterlily by Ella Cara Deloria.

“Waterlily is a landmark book that describes the life of a Dakota girl growing up in the 1800s,” explains Spotted Eagle.”Ella’s oral histories recorded in her written stories were like many of those told to us older ones in our growing up years, as that is how we learned our values and ways of being. We became painfully aware that many of the younger folks had not heard the stories we grew up on, so they could not pass this crucial information on.”

To preserve the stories, the grandmothers and mothers of the Brave Heart Society (a traditional Dakota society that was revived in 1994) began hosting the four-day storytelling event each March, when there was still snow on the ground.”After that,” says Spotted Eagle,”we go out and learn from nature.”

At the festival, Black Elk taught groups of teenagers the importance of identifying and using native plants. Her talk was titled”How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse with Common South Dakota Plants.” The zombie hook was clearly designed to entertain, but Black Elk also explained a catastrophe is possible.”The United States government has a zombie action plan,” she began her lecture. (It’s true.)

Black Elk recommends that we balance modern life with traditional knowledge. Here is some of the plant knowledge passed down from her grandmother and other ancestors.

Be careful when beginning to identify plants. Several are poisonous, so don’t take chances. Ideally, you should find an experienced plant hunter to help you get started.

Bee Balm or Wild Bergamot

Bee balm’s beautiful purple flowers grow across the entire state. Black Elk notes it smells like Listerine. Bee balm, in the mint family, is a powerful anti-bacterial and effective at treating wounds. It is also a calming aromatherapy and can be used to soothe sore throats, congestion or fever (place in a piece of cheesecloth and hold under hot, running water). Bee balm tea also calms a variety of stomach ailments.

Yarrow

Black Elk recommends yarrow to stop bleeding.”Crush up leaves, put it on a cut and it will stop bleeding immediately,” she says. In Greek mythology, Achilles carried yarrow to treat his warriors. Yarrow is one of the easier plants to identify, with flat leaves, which also make good salad greens.

Plantain

Black Elk says all botanists have an amazing story about plantain’s success in treating burns. Her favorite occurred when she was at a sweat lodge. An 11- or 12-year-old girl slipped when she was leaving the lodge and her foot made contact with burning, hot rocks. Black Elk grabbed plantain leaves, scrunched them up and applied to the burn. Seconds later, a blister formed. The girl stopped screaming and crying.”Yarrow immediately cools off burns,” says Black Elk.”It took the pain away instantly.” Because the girl’s pain was gone, Black Elk and the others decided to finish the ceremony and then head to the clinic. But when they came out of the sweat lodge 45 minutes later, the girl was running around barefoot and playing.

Stinging Nettles

While stinging nettles can cause a smarting rash, it is also a pain reliever, due in part to its ability to reduce inflammatory chemicals in the body. Black Elk had a friend who suffered horrible arthritis in one shoulder, and could hardly lift her arm. Black Elk asked if she could do a stinging nettles treatment.”Every day I whipped her shoulder with the plant for 20 minutes, twice a day. At the end of the week she had full range of motion,” Black Elk recalls.

Rosehips

You can absorb more vitamin C and omega 3s by eating three rosehips (small reddish colored rose berries) than from any other plant, or even from eating a grapefruit. Remember to remove the seeds — they have hairs on them. The flowers can be ground into a tea, or eaten fresh or dried.

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Over 700 Years in the Making

Good Earth State Park at Blood Run, South Dakota’s newest state park just southeast of Sioux Falls, is one of the oldest sites of long-term human habitation in the United States. Rebecca Johnson, our special projects coordinator, visited the National Historic Landmark recently to hike the trails. Here are some of her photos.

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Traditional Tea

By John Andrews

Native Americans have long recognized herbs, flowers and roots as an important component of their diet. The founder of the Native American Tea Company heard elders explain their origins and wanted to ensure that future generations knew the stories. He established the Native American Tea Company in 1987 on the Crow Reservation in southern Montana. When he moved to Aberdeen, so did the business. Now under the guidance of Tom Aman, the Native American Tea Company distributes blends to stores, museums and national parks around the United States.

Each tea is created with a specific story in mind. In traditional Crow culture, successful horse raids were celebrated with Victory Tea.”The Victory Tea has herbs that the camps would take with, like hibiscus and wild cherry bark,” says Joe Moore, the company’s vice president of sales and marketing.”They would bring them for their quick energy, nutrition and light weight.”

There are blends for work and relaxation. Warrior’s Brew combines cinnamon and orange peel for a steady stream of energy, while Teepee Dreams contains valerian root, which soothes and calms.

The company donates 5 percent of profits for scholarships at Sitting Bull College, a four year tribal school based in Fort Yates, N.D., with branch campuses in McLaughlin and Mobridge. Aman has a long relationship with the school and the Standing Rock Indian Reservation. His parents met at a pow wow near Little Eagle in 1926. Since then, the family has encouraged economic development and education on the reservation.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the January/February 2015 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Spring Awakening

By Christian Begeman

There is a light spring shower outside my window as I write this column. I left it open a crack so I could enjoy the wonderful smell of the rain. There are robins and grackles squabbling on the lawn and alfalfa field to the north. This morning I witnessed the return of the vibrant male barnswallow that has been using my backdoor light fixture for a nesting spot the last few years. My two favorite seasons in South Dakota are spring and fall. I like to think of them as the transition seasons. Spring signals the arrival of life and all its beauty, while fall means life is leaving with a final flourish. Both times of year call out to a wandering photographer. But now it is time to celebrate spring once again on the prairie. Here is a brief photographic journal of how the spring of 2016 has unfolded for me.

February 27

While driving the backroads of Moody County, I noticed the tell-tale ‘V’ formation of migrating snow geese. This is among the first harbingers of spring in eastern South Dakota.

March 5

So much for signs of spring, as a light snow dusted the farmlands west of Sioux Falls. Even though the high temp was in the upper 40s the following day, the snow remained for this portrait of very winter-like South Dakota sunset.

March 12

While travelling through Badlands National Park, I spotted a brilliant blue male Mountain Bluebird as well as a Western Meadowlark bursting with song on the northeast side of the park.

March 19

The temperatures were warmer than average in early March, which caused the state flower, the pasque, to bloom earlier than normal in many areas. Snow flurries on the 19th gave me an opportunity to photograph the tough little flower adorned with snow.

March 20

The official first day of spring was cloud free and relatively warm with plenty of sunshine. National Geographic‘s online photography community called Yourshot had a spring equinox assigment to find and photograph images that illustrated spring in your part of the country. In the afternoon, I found blooming snow trillium at Newton Hills State Park south of Canton, and in the evening I photographed beautiful patches of pasqueflowers along the hillsides next to Hanson Lake in Hanson County.

March 26

Winter had one final gasp as heavy snow fell in much of southeastern South Dakota. I spent a couple hours at the Sioux Falls Outdoor Campus looking for birds dealing with the weather. As I was about to leave I spotted a lone Cedar Waxwing foraging for any remaining berries from last autumn.

April 3

A very weak rain cloud hovered on the western skyline at sunset. The result was a brilliant sky as the setting sun painted the underside of the cloud in rural Lincoln County.

April 9

On my way to visit the near ghost town of Lily in Day County, I stopped at Horseshoe Lake to see various waterfowl bobbing on the waves. I was able to capture an interesting take-off of a pair of Lesser scaup ducks.

April 17

If anyone saw me in Union Grove State Park, they may have wondered why I was kneeling or lying along the roadside. I guess finding and photographing new spring blooms will do that to a photographer. The plum thickets were just starting to pop and I found Dutchman’s Breeches, wild white violets and a few beautiful White Trout Lilies that I’d never seen before. Although abundant in the states to the east, they are quite rare in South Dakota. They also go by such names as White Fawn Lily, White Dogtooth Violet and White Adder’s Tongue.

April 20

A second day of heavy rain in the Sioux Falls area found me trying to figure out a unique way to capture an image of the much needed April showers. Oddly enough, the answer was looking right at me through the windshield of my truck. I set up my tripod in the back seat, put the macro lens on and photographed raindrops on the glass with the lights of downtown Sioux Falls as a background.

April 22, early morning

The moon was full overnight, so I headed out to an abandoned farmhouse north of Silver Lake on the Hutchinson/Turner County line to capture the”Pink Moon” before it set. The Farmer’s Almanac says it is called the Pink Moon because of the herb moss pink, or wild ground phlox, which is one of the earliest widespread flowers of the spring. Other names include the Full Sprouting Grass Moon, the Egg Moon, and among coastal tribes the Full Fish Moon, because this was the time that shad swam upstream to spawn.

April 22, early evening

After work I decided to look for signs of the annual warbler migration at Newton Hills State Park. There wasn’t much activity and I thought I was too early. Then right as I was about to leave, I noticed a pair of orange-crowned warblers deftly working a wild plum thicket in search of ants. The smell of the blossoms and beauty of the birds tell me that spring is finally here to stay.

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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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.

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Autumn Grasslands

By Bernie Hunhoff

Photography by Stephen Gassman

Emily Dickinson was a great poet but she underestimated an important plant species when she lamented how she longed to be grass-like.

The grass so little has to do, — A sphere of simple green,

With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,

And stir all day to pretty tunes, The breezes fetch along,

And hold the sunshine in its lap, And bow to everything.

Life hasn’t been that simple for grass, especially native grass on the prairies of the Great Plains that were once an ocean of green. In many regions, 99 percent of native grasses have succumbed to urbanization and agricultural development. Blue stem, wheat grass and other varieties have been buried by concrete and asphalt, replaced with domesticated cousins such as corn and soybeans, and swallowed by man-made lakes and forests.

South Dakota’s native prairie, though similarly threatened, has fared better than most. West River’s ranching culture depends on the shortgrass prairie; consequently, successful cattlemen develop great respect for the lands on which their livestock graze.

I once saw an old rancher kneel in the summer grass and point to a dozen different species of grass (there are 9,000 in all) that were growing within a few feet of his boots. He listed them by name and knew when they thrive — hot season, cold season, drought and drought-on-the-way.

Thousands of acres of South Dakota’s grasslands are under the auspices of the Nature Conservancy, a non-profit group that has protected over 119 million acres around the world. Its largest tract in South Dakota is Ordway Prairie west of Leola where over 300 plant species and 400 wetlands provide a lifestyle for a herd of bison and other plains wildlife.

State and national parks have also been helpful. Wind Cave National Park encompasses 28,000 acres of prairie grasses and ponderosa pine near Hot Springs in the southern Black Hills. But the National Park Service is the biggest single steward of South Dakota’s grasslands, supervising the 600,000-acre Buffalo Gap National Grasslands between the Badlands and the Nebraska border as well as the 125,000-acre Fort Pierre National Grasslands in the center of the state. Hunters, hikers, bird-watchers, photographers and naturalists frequent the grasslands, but others don’t count them on their”bucket list” of places to see before they die.

However Mary Lata, a self-proclaimed”grass geek,” says attentive visitors to any of South Dakota’s grasslands soon discover that there’s much more than meets the naked eye.”Think of it as a chocolate chip cookie,” says Lata, who spent two seasons as a ranger at Buffalo Gap and now works as an NPS ecologist.”The matrix is the grasses. That’s the dough. And it makes a difference whether you use butter or margarine. Butter is the species you want and margarine is what you don’t want. The chocolate chips are the flowers and forbs that make it look good. The thistles and other weeds are things we don’t want, like fake chocolate chips.”

Grasslands have always been changing — not just from season to season but even from century to century.”The grasslands of the Great Plains exist because of three frequent disturbances,” Lata says. They are fire, drought and grazing.”We might have had years or decades when we had a lot of grazing and lots of rain, and drier times when we had more fires.

“We don’t know what the composition of the grasses was when Lewis and Clark came through. It changed when the Lakota came because they had horses and they used fire differently than it had been used. Then the Europeans came and they did things differently, and they were soon followed by trains and the trains are still causing fires.”

Fire isn’t always bad, she says.”The forest service is very good at putting fires out, but we often don’t have the money to do prescribed fires because that can be very expensive even though it’s necessary to maintain a healthy diversity of grasses. Fire is as necessary as grazing. Some people ask why we don’t just graze rather than burn, but cattle won’t eat yucca or cactus so you eventually get the same imbalance as if you only burned and never grazed.”

The grass geek says grasslands are especially overlooked in autumn.”People don’t come to national parks to see the grass, but when they take the time to look they are usually surprised. They see the blue grama, the Indian grass with its fluffy golden heads, the turkey foot blue stem, and pretty soon they can see that each is different.”

Lata says the grasslands are especially striking in late fall before the first hard frost.”Then you’ve still got some flowers, mostly yellows and purples, on top of the grasses that are starting to change color. And then after the frost, you lose the flowers but the grass colors start to jump out even more.”

We owe a lot to grasses, she says.”As a species, we didn’t stand up straight until we got out of the trees and onto some grass.” So take a moment this fall to appreciate the grasses of South Dakota.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the September/October 2009 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.