Bear Country USA offers intimate views of black bear, elk, reindeer, deer, cougars, bobcats, rocky mountain goats, bighorn sheep, dall sheep and buffalo. Jan Nickelson shared these photos taken last summer in Rapid City.
The nearly 600,000 acres of Buffalo Gap National Grassland offer opportunities for hiking, birding, camping and more. Photos by Les Heiserman.
Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the March/April 2008 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.
Marvin and Connie Piotter felt their 400-acre Roberts County farm was unusual when they bought it in the early 1970s, and they later found out why.
“Sometimes I would make a cup of coffee and go out above the lake at 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning and listen to the world wake up,” said Connie. She listened to the songbirds, saw ducks and geese lifting off from their overnight stay and spotted deer as they looked for daytime nesting places. Nature also has a violent side. She once saw a bald eagle lift an adult Canada goose off the lake and fly away with it.
The Piotters’ native grass pasture is on the southeastern border of Lake Bde-Sake (Dakota for”Dirty Water”), but Marvin and Connie eventually learned that the lake has other names. Eons ago, the 11-mile stretch of water was part of Lake Agassiz, the world’s largest glacial lake. Only archeologists and Roberts County residents are likely to know that. Local people call the area Cottonwood Slough or Dry Run.
The lakes eventually drain into Jim Crick below the Piotters’ farm; Jim Crick flows south for a mile and feeds into Lake Traverse, which flows northward into North Dakota and the Red River Valley.”They drink our water in Grand Forks,” said Marvin.
Canadians far to the north might also drink rainwater and snowmelt that begins to collect in the Cottonwood Slough, because the slough constitutes the southern tip of the massive Hudson Bay watershed.
All the rest of South Dakota drains into the Gulf of Mexico, via the Missouri and Mississippi rivers. The two watersheds are separated by one of the North America’s five great continental divides — ranges of hills and mountains that send the continent’s waters to the Pacific, Arctic and Atlantic oceans, and to Hudson Bay and the Gulf of Mexico.
Roberts County citizens are familiar with the geology of the divide, but only a few probably recognized the watershed’s international importance before the National Park Service sent scientists from the University of Colorado to study the site. They concluded that the wetlands were a buffer zone that divided the tall grass prairie from the eastern deciduous forest country.”It is among the top natural areas in this part of the country for concentrating and production of waterfowl,” they concluded,”and one of the best natural riverine wetland complexes remaining…”
Scientists found the rare piping plover, a tiny bird listed on the endangered species list. Further exploration indicated that Native American artifacts and burial sites lay in the hills above the lakes. In 1975 the National Park Service declared the lakes a Natural National Landmark.
The landmarks program identifies unique geological and biological lands owned by either public or private parties. Less than 600 have been found in the entire United States. Cottonwood Slough is one of a dozen such sites in South Dakota. Some others include Sica Hollow, a prairie forest northwest of Sisseton; the Castles, a series of sandstone spires in Harding County; the Fort Randall Eagle Roost, west of Wagner; the Mammoth Site in Hot Springs; and Bijou Hills, north of Platte.
Mike Gallagher, a now-retired NPS staffer who was involved with the National National Landmarks program, said Roberts County farmers and landowners who surround Cottonwood Slough have done an excellent job with the property.”This is a perfect example of what we hoped to achieve. The goal wasn’t to have public ownership of these unique land features, but to work with private owners to preserve and protect the land.”
The Cottonwood Slough begins just east of the little town of Victor, near the North Dakota border, and meanders below farmsteads and cattle pastures before narrowing into the crick and then into Lake Traverse. The Cottonwood valley is about a half-mile wide and constitutes 5,400 acres in total. Its tiny lakes, marshes and potholes are rimmed and intersected with a thick growth of cattails and rushes. The foothills on both sides are thick with cedar, cottonwood, ash and box elder trees.
“The park service just raised our pride in what we already loved,” Connie said.”It should remain wild and natural. I’d hate to see it built up with resorts and lodges.”
Living by the lakes has been entertaining and educational for people like the Piotters.”When we first moved here, I remember watching some young Indian boys playing in the water,” Connie Piotter said.”They would grab onto the gills of these huge carp in the shallow waters, and then they’d ride them a little ways before they’d fall off. It was something to see.”
Several species of fish swim up from the Red River (upriver is south for this country), and they spawn in the Cottonwood Slough.”First come the northerns,” said Marvin.”Then it’s the bullheads and the carp.”
Ducks and geese visit by the thousands in spring and autumn.”It’s not always pleasant to live along the flyway,” Connie said.”The geese have been so thick that they’ve turned the hills white with droppings. We tried to grow sunflowers but the blackbirds just decimated them. There was nothing left to harvest.”
Eagles, rarely seen in Roberts County 30 years ago, are now common. A few are starting to nest in the trees. They are a noble sight, but pesty.”We had cows calving near the slough, and the eagles would fly down and eat the afterbirth when a cow had her calf,” Marvin said.”That would cause the cows to go nuts, but the eagles never did bother the calves.”‘
The Piotters graciously share the hills and lakes with others who show an interest. In fact, they’ve signed an agreement with the National Park Service”to protect, use and manage the site in a manner which prevents the destruction or deterioration of its nationally significant problems in managing the area.”
The Piotters raised four daughters and two sons on their Roberts County land, and both of the sons — Matt and Daniel — farm with them.”We want to preserve it for them and for our grandchildren and beyond,” Connie says.”We always knew it was special.”
I never liked chickens all that much. Live chickens, that is. I’ll happily dine at KFC when the mood takes me, and what would breakfast be without eggs scrambled or over easy? What I mean is that the chicken coop doesn’t bring up very good memories for me. First of all, I was deathly scared of one of the meanest creatures on earth: the cackling hen sitting atop her clutch of eggs. I seem to remember beaks like curved scimitars awaiting my outstretched hands as I reached for those eggs. Of course, a seven-year-old’s imagination tends to greatly exaggerate reality as I can’t ever remember getting pecked. As I grew older, the dreaded chore of cleaning the coop was added to my resume. There are not a lot things that smell worse than a ripe chicken coop on a hot summer’s day. I’ll kindly spare you the details.
Why this reminiscing about chickens? Well, I did something early in April that I have never done before and it involved chickens in the wild. Greater Prairie Chickens to be exact. The good folks that manage Fort Pierre National Grasslands set up three blinds during April and May to view the”booming grounds” or”leks” that the prairie chickens use to dance and woo their wily hens. Sharp-tailed grouse also use the high flat areas in the grasslands to display and attract mates. I recently got a new telephoto lens and thought this would be a perfect opportunity to try it out. I wasn’t disappointed.
As the sun came up, the sounds of the roosters scuffling, dancing and”booming” filled the air already accented by the happy song of the meadowlark. It truly is one of nature’s wonders that everyone in the state should experience in real life. Don’t believe me? The dance of the prairie chicken has inspired the”chicken dance” in Native American culture. The dance also has some really interesting stories associated with it. In one of the stories attributed to a Crow legend, Old Man Coyote created the prairie chicken to show the rest of the animals how to dance. A Blackfoot legend tells of a hungry hunter who kills and eats some prairie chickens only to have the birds’ spirit return to him in a dream to tell him he must learn the chicken dance or he would be killed by the angry spirits of the chickens he murdered. The story I like the best is how a warrior was out hunting on a foggy morning and climbed to the top of a hill to wait until the fog lifted. He soon fell asleep. When he woke up he was surrounded by dancing prairie chickens. He watched and learned the dance and taught it to his tribe.
Our family friend and photographer, Stu Surma, who now resides in Java, SD told me of his experience shooting photos of the sharp-tail dancers on a lek near Isabel when a coyote jumped the party looking for breakfast. Stu told me that he was quite annoyed with the coyote and wished he had a rifle handy. The closest thing I saw to that kind of drama was a large hawk flying low over the lek on the second morning I was in the blind. All the grouse and half the prairie chickens scattered. Within the next 10 minutes all were back and dancing again. Not to say there isn’t drama to the dance. The males carve out their little areas and when they aren’t dancing, they are squabbling over the borders with their neighbors. What was really interesting was that the grouse and chickens who share the same leks fight like this as well. I witnessed a grouse defend his ground all morning against prairie chickens larger than him. I nicknamed him Little Jerry from one of my favorite Seinfeld episodes and found myself cheering him on silently. When Little Jerry and the rest of the crew flew off at about 9 a.m., the show was over. But what a show it was. Was it wrong that I enjoyed fried chicken for dinner later that day?
If you are interested in reserving one of the blinds, you can call the Fort Pierre National Grassland Office at 605-224-5517 to set up your reservation and receive information regarding grouse blinds and maps showing the location of your reserved blind.
If you can’t make it to the National Grassland in person, have a look at Christian’s video of the prairie chickens in action.
Prairie Dancers from Christian Begeman on Vimeo.
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.
Spring has sprung and love is in the air. Well, it’s hormones really and now’s a great time to see the mating dance of the prairie chicken. I asked outdoor photographer Les Voorhis and he said the best place to view them is Fort Pierre National Grasslands.”They have blinds you can reserve on prairie chicken leks and [Fort Pierre National Grasslands has] one of the highest population densities in the state,” Voorhis says.
What is a lek, you say? Oh, it’s just the name for an assembly area where animals carry on their courtship behavior. The area looks no different than the rest of the prairie until the birds get together and start strutting around. Lek can also be used to describe the group of animals courting. During courtship, the males inflate air sacs on the sides of their necks. They also emit a very distinct call that you can hear in this video.
Three blinds are available to use at no charge on the Grasslands’ leks. You can make reservations for viewing times in April and May. The 8-foot long, plywood structures hold up to four adults and have small square windows for viewing and photographing. Blinds aren’t insulated, so dress accordingly for crisp morning air. You’ll want to get to your viewing spot a half hour before sunrise. If you arrive late, the birds will see you, flush, and may not return that day.
Call the Fort Pierre National Grasslands at 605-224-5517 to secure your spot. They’ll send a map so you know where you’re going. Ruben Mares, Wildlife Biologist with the Fort Pierre National Grasslands, recommends finding the blind the day before your viewing time. It can be hard to locate before the sun comes up. Mares says if all three blinds are full there are still several places people can view the birds from a distance. Just call the Grasslands office and they will recommend locations.
I was putting my extensive knowledge of South Dakota to good use a couple weeks ago. My wife was crafting a quiz for her eighth-graders, and for extra credit she wanted to test their knowledge of our state symbols. She asked me what they were, rapid fire style: State Animal? Coyote. State Fish? Walleye. State Insect? Honeybee. State bird? Ring-necked pheasant.
Then there was a pause.
“Are we the only state that hunts its state bird?” she asked.
I had to think a minute before I turned to Google, the giver of all knowledge, to answer definitively. The answer is yes, South Dakota is the only state to hunt and eat its state bird. We’re also one of three states whose state bird is not native to the United States.
It made me wonder how Chinese ring-necked pheasants made it across the Pacific Ocean. I discovered that the first batch of 60 pheasants arrived in Port Townsend, Oregon on March 13, 1881. United States consul general Owen Nickerson Denny shipped the birds and a variety of other Chinese plants from Shanghai, hoping to establish them in their home state of Oregon. Most of them died on their way to Portland, but a few survivors were released on the lower Columbia River. No one knows for sure if any of these birds survived, but we do know that Denny imported more pheasants in 1882 and 1884. Those did survive, and pheasants began a new life in America.
Breeders tried introduction efforts in South Dakota as early as 1891, but none took root. The first successful release happened in 1908, when a group of farmers near Redfield bought three pairs of birds from an Oregon farm. They turned them loose in Hagmann’s Grove just north of town, and the birds made themselves at home. State officials were pleased with the success, so the game department purchased 48 more birds in 1911 and released them near Redfield. From 1914 to 1917, 7,000 pheasants were released in the thick brush of the James River valley in Spink County.
Soon South Dakota boasted enough birds to hold a one-day pheasant-hunting season held October 30, 1919. Fewer than 200 birds were bagged on that cold, rainy day, but a tradition had been born. The pheasant became so important to our culture and economy that the legislature deemed it our state bird in February 1943.
South Dakota remains the nation’s pheasant capital. In 2005 more than 10 million birds lived here. Read our current issue to find out how we know that. So this fall, when you head out for”the opener,” tip your cap to our state bird before you fill him with pellets.
A gray wolf shot near Custer earlier this year caused a lot of conversation in the southern Black Hills. John Kanta of the Rapid City Game Fish and Parks Department said it wandered from the Great Lakes region. “We have an occasional wolf that wanders through South Dakota. But we don’t have a breeding pair. Because of all the livestock we have I don’t think they’d fit well here in South Dakota,” Kanta told us.
Gray wolves are bigger and stronger than timber wolves. Grays were lording over the river breaks of western South Dakota when farmers and ranchers first settled there. The wolves preyed on livestock, so they were eventually hunted to extinction in South Dakota.
One of the last was a wolf named Three Toes that achieved great notoriety in the hills and plains of northwest South Dakota. Archie Gilfillan, a sheepherder and writer, was intrigued by the local ranchers’ mixture of respect and hate for the wild and wily creature. In his book Sheep, Gilfillan noted that Three Toes “for 13 years laughed at poison, traps and guns, lived in and off enemy country with the hand of every man against him, a cunning, bloodthirsty killer, a super wolf among wolves and the most destructive single animal of which there is any record anywhere.”
So named because he had lost a paw in a trap early in his life, Three Toes gained a reputation as a bloodthirsty killer by 1912. He left his unmistakable paw print at ranches throughout Harding County. Infuriated ranchers tracked his whereabouts and devastating destruction. They estimated that his lifetime of kills exceeded $50,000 in cattle and sheep.
Three Toes lived to an old age, and reached the peak of his destruction in the 1920s. Gilfillan wrote, “For first, last, and all the time, Three Toes was a killer. Other wolves might kill one cow or sheep and eat off that and be satisfied. But Three Toes killed for the sheer love of killing. He would kill on a full stomach as well as when hungry. On one occasion he visited three different ranches in one night, killed many sheep and lambs at each one, but ate only the liver of one lamb.”
Officials bumped the bounty for Three Toes to $500, but no hunter could catch the cunning old wolf. In July of 1925, federal wolf hunter Clyde F. Briggs settled on a ranch near the center of Three Toes’ hunting range. For weeks Briggs set his traps and Three Toes carefully eluded them. But he was tricked on July 23 by a hidden trap. The earth around him was scratched and plowed by his frantic efforts to escape from the trap’s grasp by the time Briggs arrived. The trapper muzzled and hog-tied the big wolf and put him in the backseat of his car, intending to deliver him to Rapid City alive. But soon a passenger cried, “I think he’s dying.”
“Briggs stopped the car, and looking around, found the wolf’s eyes fixed on him. But the eyes did not see him, for the wolf was dead,” wrote Gilfillan. “Call it a broken heart, or what you will — something of this sort is what killed the old wolf. He was resting easily when found, his wounds were superficial … but there was something in his grand old spirit that could not brook capture, and Nature, more merciful than he had ever been, granted him his release.”
Driving north on Highway 63, a few miles out of Jonesboro, Arkansas, at about ten in the morning, I saw a coyote on the edge of the road. It was the best look I have yet enjoyed of North America’s ubiquitous wild dog. It was a darker shade of gray and rather more menacing in appearance than most photos I have seen. I fell immediately in love.
If you are a rancher in these Dakotas you may not share my sentiment. When I stopped for a bathroom break at Summit, I noticed an announcement for a coyote hunt. If you think I am about to tell you that hunting coyotes is bad, prepare to be disappointed. Though I do not hunt, I have no objections moral or otherwise to hunting. I am not at all offended by coyote hunting, my affections for the animal notwithstanding. This is just one of the many challenges that comprise the coyote’s environment.
They seem to be meeting the challenges rather well. I first heard a coyote chorus when I was backpacking in Theodore Roosevelt Park in North Dakota. First one howl came, and then dozens of answers from all directions. It came as an utter surprise and I am haunted by it still. I had the eerie thought at that moment that I was listening to ghosts.”Do they not know that the world has changed and they are no longer at home in it?” I asked my companion. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I heard it again not much later while sitting around a campfire in Craighead County Arkansas. If there were any coyote around my home town when I was a boy, I didn’t know about it and I certainly never heard them. They are there now, in force.
Coyote are everywhere now. They have taken to following golfers in the Bronx. They have been sighted on Michigan Avenue in Chicago. They are in Manhattan. Despite enormous efforts to eradicate them, they have flourished. We are their environment.
There is a kind of justice in this. It is almost certainly true that all human beings in North America came here from somewhere else. The same is true of wolves, according to Christopher Ketcham’s beautiful essay in Orion. The coyote began here, evolving some eleven million years ago.
No one has been better acquainted with the native canine than Native Americans. The Navajos tell wonderful stories about Coyote, a primordial trickster. Coyote is a deliciously ambiguous spirit, sometimes a hero but often a scoundrel. He causes lots of trouble for himself and everyone else by always pushing his luck and throwing caution to the wind. That, at any rate, is how I read the stories.
Recently I discovered some modern versions of the Coyote tales by Jim Bihyeh. You can listen to readings of these tales at Pseudopod.org, a site that offers readings of spooky stories each week. Look for episodes 159, 167, and 182. You can download them for free and listen to them on your computer or iPod. These stories are incredibly rich in mythic imagery and detail, placing ancient spirit world narratives and magical combat into very contemporary settings. You’ll thank me for the tip.
Meanwhile I will keep my eyes open for the trickster. Our fascination with animals is often a function of familiarity. German tourists will stop to take dozens of photos of a buffalo, while locals just honk them out of the way. Someone who has lived in downtown Saint Louis all his life will be tempted to take a snapshot of his first cow. Coyote may soon become so familiar that we will as surprised by one as by a squirrel. Just now, for most of us, they are on the edge. They have arrived to remind us that, while we live on this world and dominate so much of it, we will never own it or comprehend it. Coyote still has tricks up his sleeve.
Dr. Ken Blanchard is a professor of Political Science at Northern State University and writes for the Aberdeen American News and the blog South Dakota Politics.
Last month I was driving back to Sioux Falls from Bismarck, ND with a friend. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shape moving in the field to the north and quickly blurted out,”That’s a coyote!” in mid-conversation.
My friend looked at me and asked,”What is it with you? How can you see that?”
I didn’t really have an answer for him. We then both agreed it was pretty cool that we lived in an area that still affords the chance to view real and untamed wildlife far away from any zoo.
As far as his original question, I spent some time thinking about it and I started reminiscing about long trips across the Dakotas with my family. This was long before DVD screens and iPods kept the kiddo’s attention. One of our forms of entertainment was to be the first to spot deer and accurately get the right number of the herd before anyone else. My brother and I became very skilled at this talent as it passed the time better than fighting over which radio station to listen to (even though that still inevitably happened.)
Another family tradition of ours is either hiking or driving through, around and over the Moreau River Breaks after the family Christmas dinner. First it was with my cousins but as I got older it evolved to going out with my uncle and/or dad. Recently it has been with my brother and nephews. However it ends up, we almost always see good numbers of deer, and at the very least, tracks and signs of other interesting Dakota wildlife.
This year was a banner year for me for seeing and photographing wildlife over the holiday break. I’m not exactly sure what made this year better than others but I do have a few tips I’ve learned for you to increase your chances of spotting some of South Dakota’s abundant wildlife from your car.
Location. To see wildlife, you have to be where they are. Your best bet is in parks or wildlife production areas. Badlands National Park, Wind Cave National Park and Custer State Park all have top-notch opportunities to see wildlife all from the maintained park roads. Other areas to check out are river breaks and valleys. Wildlife need to drink so can usually be found near sources of water.
Timing. Your best bet to see animals out and about is the hours around dawn and dusk. I’m not a morning person at all, but this year alone I’ve been able to hear the coyotes serenade morning’s first light on three different occasions and it thrilled me every time.
Equipment. I realize not everybody can afford the best long lens or camera body to get close-up wildlife shots, but I highly recommend that you take time to review your own camera and make sure you understand the best setting to shoot in low light situations as well as the best shutter and aperture settings to shoot at maximum zoom. Take the time to dig out that manual or do a search on the internet to see what other users are doing. It may make the difference in turning an average shot into an amazing photo of some of South Dakota’s great wild creatures.
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.
It’s the last week of December and South Dakotans have just celebrated their first brown Christmas in years. It looks as if a brown New Year’s is on tap. In fact the only white we may see for the next few weeks are the snowy owls that are flying further south than many people can remember.
Jim Lewandowski, the office assistant at Sand Lake National Wildlife Refuge northeast of Aberdeen, says they have seen an abundant number of snowy owls there so far this winter. Terry Jordre, a Brown County birder, told the Aberdeen American News that he’s seen plenty of the owls dotting the back roads of northern South Dakota.
Snowy owls breed on the Arctic tundra and come south during the winter in search of food. The nearly pure white birds can often be found as far south as Nebraska in winter, but this year they are flying into Kansas. Three were seen last week at a lake in Kansas City.
Experts seem to agree that the owls are venturing outside their normal range because of a food shortage. They prefer lemmings, whose populations fluctuate every three to five years. When lemmings are in short supply, owls seek out dietary supplements of rodents, rabbits, birds and fish, all of which are plentiful in South Dakota and other Great Plains states.
Unfortunately the owls have a difficult time adapting to their southern surroundings. They are used to life on the tundra, so their interactions with humans are limited. The owls aren’t used to avoiding cars, and many have been hit. Some owls are curious.”They’ll let you get close enough that they might even swoop down at your vehicle,” Lewandowski says.”They’ve done that up here.”
So if you have travel plans over the New Year’s weekend, keep your eyes peeled. You might spot a snowy owl perched on a fencepost or high in a tree near a lake or slough. The white owls will surely stand out against the browns of our snowless winter.
