Tag: wildlife

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When Seasons Collide

By Christian Begeman

October on the Northern Plains can be fickle. One day might bring perfect autumn hues and warm sunsets, and the next may bring bone chilling wind that carries the autumn leaves to parts unknown, replacing them with snowflakes and frost. Every so often, the seasons combine without the soul sucking wind and a brief period of visual magic descends on our landscapes. That’s exactly what happened this fall in southeastern South Dakota.

On October 21, I broke away from the usual and took a drive. Yankton County was my eventual endpoint, but I didn’t really know that when I left. As many of you know, country churches are a favorite subject of mine. With one of those nearly perfect fall evenings developing, I headed toward a cluster of churches, hoping to find some autumn magic. St. Columba, Faith United and historic Vangen churches made their way into my viewfinder. The late afternoon and early evening light accentuated the fall colors, and all was well with the world.

The winds held back for another week, so when the first snow of the season arrived, the color of autumn and white crispness of winter merged. I noticed a couple of birds hanging out in the trees of our courtyard, staying out of the snow presumably. One was a robin, which is part of the robin family that nests in said courtyard, but the other was a rare-to-me fox sparrow. This bird has pronounced rusty tones and is one of the prettier sparrow species.

After photographing the birds, I decided to see what else was happening around Sioux Falls as the snow fell. Sherman Park had many trees still in full autumn splendor, and I discovered large flocks of winter birds and migrating sparrows there, as well. Dark-eyed juncos and Harris’s sparrows were the most abundant.

I finished the afternoon taking a walk along Split Rock Creek in the upper portion of Palisades State Park. The temperature hovered right around freezing, so the rocks were slick, and the going was slow. Even so, the walk did my soul good, as it usually does in our scenic areas. The drive home, on the other hand, was a bit dangerous. I’ve always noted the signs warning drivers that the stretches of highway atop bridges often freeze first. On this day I witnessed it and saw a couple near accidents happen just in front of me on Interstate 90 between Brandon and Sioux Falls. Winter weather, for all its potential beauty, can still wreak havoc. Sioux Falls received just a skiff of snow, and we have had none since. And that is okay with me.

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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Elk Magic

By Katie Hunhoff

Elk bugle during the fall as part of the mating season ritual.

We sat in the truck and waited for the October sun to set over the gentle hills of Wind Cave National Park. A giant buffalo sauntered just a few yards away. Through the windshield we saw coyotes hunting in the distance. We heard geese calling and coyotes howling. Not a bad opening act, I thought, for what we had come to hear — the distinct and haunting bugling of elk.

I had never heard an elk bugle, and I had avoided the temptation to search for the sound on the internet before our outing. But I knew those were the words often used to describe the sound: distinct and haunting and also ethereal, eerie, powerful.

We waited for sunset because the first rule for hearing elk is that timing is everything. Elk only bugle during their mating season, primarily in September and October, and most often from sunset to sunrise.

I learned this from my guide that evening — Dan Tribby, a lifelong elk and nature lover. Tribby’s day job is the manager of Prairie Edge and Trading Post, a Native American goods and art store in downtown Rapid City.

Tribby said Wind Cave is a good place to start for beginners because there is no hunting in the park. Consequently, the elk are less likely to be wary of the sounds of people and vehicles. We met at the visitor’s center and drove a short distance to the parking lot near Cold Brook Canyon Trail on Highway 385.

Along the way, Tribby educated me on elk behavior. Bull elks, he said, build harems of 15 to 20 cows, and then fight off other bulls. That’s mostly what the bugling is about every fall. They are signaling to other bulls in the area that they are with their cows; be scarce or beware. However bulls without a harem may also be bugling. They are assessing the lay of the land, and probably hoping to steal some cows.

Elk once roamed as far east as mountains in Pennsylvania and West Virginia. Their original name is wapiti, a Shawnee word meaning”white rump.” English settlers called them elk, the term for a European moose. Hunters greatly diminished American elk numbers from 10 million to under 100,000, and by 1900 South Dakota’s elk population was near extinction. Rocky Mountain elk were captured and used to repopulate herds in South Dakota between 1911 and 1916, and by 1928 herd numbers had grown to around 1,000. Today, 6,000 to 8,000 elk inhabit the Black Hills National Forest, Custer State Park and surrounding prairies. They can also be found on grasslands in Butte, Bennett and Gregory counties and on the Lower Brule Indian Reservation.

As we waited for the sun to go down, Tribby reminisced on his first experience with elk.”They are just so magnificent,” he said.”I was in high school when I saw my first wild elk in the Black Hills and I have loved them ever since. They were such a rarity, like mountain lions back in those days. And the more you saw them the more you fell in love with them.”

Tribby had an archery license to hunt elk in 1997 and a rifle license in 2007. He describes the time of hunting elk with his bow tag as among the most joyful 30 days of his life.”They are so big, the size of a horse. I can’t understand how a horse with antlers can sneak up on you but they do. I was hunting outside of Sturgis one day and I turned around and there was a monstrous bull just 50 feet away. It was magical. I could look through the spruce tree and could see his eyes and he was looking at me through the spruce tree.”

I saw a pattern. People who have heard the bugling use the same words; majestic, magnificent, charismatic and magical. While I don’t think you can become addicted to a sound, they all want to repeat the experience.

The sun was setting, so Tribby and I began to walk to the top of the nearest ridge because the bugling carries farther at higher elevations. Meanwhile, Tribby continued to tell me of his elk adventures.”There have been so many good times calling them in for people,” he said.”It changes their life, you know. I still love going for rides with my mom, whether we see them or not. We call them from the car. She’s 90 now and won’t go trudging through the woods looking for them, but she sure likes to hear them bugle.”

Dan Tribby, manager of Prairie Edge Trading Post in Rapid City, has been enamored with elk since he first saw one in the Black Hills as a teenager. He still enjoys trips into the wild each fall to hear them bugle.

That night we listened atop the ridge in Wind Cave for about an hour. Coyotes continued to call. It did feel magical — merely being in the mountains after dark was a thrill. But we didn’t hear any elk. Instead of being disappointed, I was intrigued and promised myself more opportunities.

A few months later I called Chad Lehman, senior wildlife biologist at Custer State Park to ask about bugling in the park. Lehman, too, it turns out, is an elk enthusiast. He has hunted elk for 22 years throughout the West. He had some additional tips for first timers hoping to hear bugling.

“Bulls will start bugling at the end of August but it is rare to hear,” Lehman said. The rut picks up around Sept. 20-25, but the best bet is Sept. 20-30.”That’s when cows are being bred. So you could hear a bugle every minute during that time, but in early September maybe only one or two bugles an hour.”

Lehman recommends keeping a safe distance from elk, but he doesn’t see a problem with elk safety in South Dakota.”In Estes Park some elk have lost the element of being scared because they aren’t hunted. They have attacked cars and people. But fortunately we don’t have a population habituated to people,” he said.

I asked him why people are so intrigued by elk. He chuckled and understood the question.”I look at it as people in general love being outdoors and studying the behavior of animals. That’s anyone from someone who grew up in the country or someone from the city. There’s an innate characteristic in people who love being outside. And with elk, when you’re talking about the peak of rutting season, you can see and hear things in nature that are unmatched.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson philosophized in his essay”Nature” that experiencing the outdoors is the closest one can get to God, and to truly be at one with nature and God is to not only observe it but also be absorbed by it.”Standing on the bare ground — my head bathed by the blithe air — and uplifted into infinite spaces — all mean egotism vanishes,” he wrote.”I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.”

Tribby, Lehman and other elk-lovers I’ve met all seem to share an appreciation for the wonder and majesty as described by Emerson. At the end of our night at Wind Cave, Tribby told me about a time when he was walking in the forest and happened to see an elk tooth out of the corner of his eye.”Just to walk around and see an elk ivory is unheard of,” he said.”Every elk only has two ivories.” Tribby picked it up and resumed his hike.

When he returned to Prairie Edge, he overheard two co-workers who were making an elk tooth dress for their daughter. They needed one more elk ivory to complete it, and they wondered where they might find one. Tribby happily gave his to them.”The spirits were working for us that day,” he said.

Magical.

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

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Where the Pronghorns Play

By Paul Higbee

Photography by Dick Kettlewell

Pronghorns are swift, hitting speeds between 60 and 65 mph when they run across the West River prairie.

PRONGHORNS, THE SLEEK and beautiful creatures that have the run of big sections of South Dakota prairie, are the fastest land animals in North America. They can hit speeds of 60 to 65 miles per hour.

Many of us learned that fact in elementary school before we knew the animal’s true name. For generations, Americans called pronghorns antelopes — a misnomer hard to overcome partly because of Daniel Kelley and Brewster Higley’s classic song,”Home on the Range.” It describes a Great Plains landscape where”the deer and the antelope play.” In fact, our South Dakota animals are not only geographically distant from true African savannah antelope, but completely distinct biologically. (No South Dakotan, though, will admonish you for using the term”antelope.”)

Biology has endowed pronghorns not only with strength and agility that translates to their terrific speed, but arguably the most remarkable eyes of any North American mammal. Their eyeballs are the size of an elephant’s. A pronghorn’s vision can be compared to ours when we’re equipped with a set of 8 x 50 binoculars.

Hot Springs wildlife photographer Dick Kettlewell has witnessed how that keen eyesight can prompt group action.”Sometimes I’ll be photographing a group of them and I’ll notice them stop and look at something in the distance,” he says.”And so I’ll look and look, but when I finally see what they see, they’ve run into the next county.”

Pronghorn eyes, adds Kettlewell, bulge almost like fish eyes and can see wide degrees of landscape. And there’s more.

Pronghorn does are skilled at hiding their babies and defending them from natural predators such as coyotes.

“They have those wonderful eyelashes,” Kettlewell says.”Especially the fawns. I call them Elizabeth Taylor eyelashes.”

Unseen is a big brain. Pronghorns are smart and able to learn. For example, conventional wisdom in the West long held that pronghorns couldn’t jump barbed wire fences. But Kettlewell thinks more are leaping fences in recent years, because the species has learned how.

“They probably prefer crawling under fences because their legs are made for running, not jumping,” Kettlewell says.”They could always jump over creek beds as they ran, but fences were something new when they appeared just 130 or 140 years ago in the West. That’s a very short time when you’re looking at the evolution of a species.”

The evolution of the pronghorn over the past few thousand years is an incredible story, one that made them perhaps the quintessential plains animal (only bison aficionados are likely to challenge that). Species of Asian goats made their way across the Ice Age land bridge and migrated as far south as the Florida peninsula, Mexico and maybe even Central America. But they apparently thrived best on the Great Plains, and it was from here the modern pronghorn emerged.

They made their way into the mythology of plains Native peoples, from creation stories to accounts of other creatures foolish enough to challenge them to races. According to those myths, wagering on those races is how pronghorns acquired such a vast amount of prairie grasslands. Natives also hunted pronghorns, sometimes shooting them and sometimes driving them over steep embankments on horseback.

Despite that history, Lewis and Clark had no knowledge of pronghorns until their journey into the West in 1804. They first spotted them along the Missouri River, somewhere downstream from where the Niobrara flows into it, south of present-day South Dakota. Members of Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery, as they navigated the Missouri up through the middle of our future state, saw big herds on both sides of the river. They managed to shoot some and prepared two for mounting so that President Thomas Jefferson could take a look.

“Lewis and Clark called them antelope because they knew of the animals in Africa,” Kettlewell says.”You can’t blame them. The colors are similar.”

That was 217 years ago. Outsiders passing through South Dakota today are also often baffled by pronghorns.”They’re not especially well known outside our region,” Kettlewell says.”Travelers often think they’re some kind of deer.”

A pronghorn’s eyes are as big as an elephants and accentuated by “Elizabeth Taylor” lashes.

Few people have done more than Dick Kettlewell to help the public learn about this under-the-radar animal. He paraphrases Henry David Thoreau in describing himself as”a self-appointed inspector” of Great Plains and Black Hills wildlife. Kettlewell’s pronghorn photography (as well as photos of most every other Northern Plains wild creature) have been featured in books, magazines and online resources. He takes photos by knowing what their behavior is likely to be in any given season, and then blending into the habitat with them.

He grew up living on three continents. When it was time for college, he selected a school near the center of the North American continent — Nebraska’s Chadron State College. A few weeks into his freshman year in 1964, Kettlewell and some buddies drove an hour north and, he recalls,”that was the first time I saw the Black Hills, elk and pronghorns. I kind of put the Black Hills in my pocket that trip, thinking I might want to come back there to live.”

First, though, Kettlewell worked as a photojournalist in Texas and New Mexico. He learned techniques for capturing speedsters — human athletes — on film as he covered sports. In 1995 he moved north and worked a dozen years for the Rapid City Journal. His”Spring Creek Chronicles,” a series of outdoor photo essays for the Journal, won both fans and awards.

Kettlewell loved all Black Hills prairie landscapes and wildlife but found pronghorns hard to top.”I like to show the motion in their legs,” he says,”especially when doing pan shots — moving the camera with them as they run — so that the background is blurred.”

Photographing those big-eyed fawns led Kettlewell to learn something else about pronghorn biology. Does, except for their first pregnancies, usually produce multiple births. That’s important because for all their speed, pronghorns — especially fawns — get picked off by natural enemies.

“Coyotes come after fawns, and I’ve seen eagles do the same,” says Bob Speirs, a Spearfish High School language arts teacher who also works as a hunting guide.”Fawns are smaller than jackrabbits, and eagles can pick them up.”

That’s not to suggest pronghorns aren’t tough.”Unbelievably tough,” Speirs adds.”I see them on windswept hillsides in winter because that’s where they’ll get to the grass.” And in mid-September, mating season, bucks are tough on one another.”That’s when they act like goats, ramming each other. Sometimes bucks are injured brutally,” Speirs says.

But nothing brutalizes entire herds like bitter winters that seem to come once or twice a decade: mid-1980s, late-1990s, three in a row from 2008 to 2011, and Winter Storm Atlas in 2013. Come spring, South Dakotans look across the emptied plains and wonder if pronghorns will bounce back, but they always do, and usually surprisingly fast.

Photographer Dick Kettlewell collected images of pronghorns in all seasons for his book A Pronghorn Year, released in 2014.

Unregulated hunting and disease in the West nearly drove pronghorns to extinction in the late 1800s and early 1900s. In 1911, the South Dakota legislature outlawed harvesting pronghorns, and shortly after, early wildlife management efforts (including a Harding County preserve) met success in bringing the animals back. By the mid-1920s, about 700 grazed the state’s grasslands, mostly west of the Missouri. Devastating as the Dust Bowl years of the 1930s were for people, they proved beneficial to pronghorns in the long run because they drove lots of farmers off the land and opened up wider habitats. The 1930s, in fact, saw state-regulated hunting put to work to maintain healthy herds.

Today nearly 50,000 pronghorns live in South Dakota, according to state Game, Fish and Parks pronghorn management documents. They’re mostly found in the northwest, on tribal lands and all along the South Dakota-Wyoming border. Open, rolling and untilled lands make prime habitats.

While out-of-state travelers in general may not be attuned to pronghorns, that’s not the case with those inclined to hunt. They love the challenge of quick, small targets (an adult buck may weigh only 120 pounds). Speirs is noticing increasing popularity in archery pronghorn hunting.

There is a payoff. Pronghorn meat, says Speirs, is sweet and tender. Many people who say they don’t like wild game make an exception for pronghorn.

Kettlewell, meanwhile, still picks up new knowledge about the species while in the field with his camera.”I think most of us have the impression that mother pronghorns protect their young by leading predators away from their prey,” he says.”But I have also watched a pronghorn doe defend, protect and kick a coyote to keep fawns safe.”

One day Kettlewell dropped into a ravine where a fawn lay hidden in deep grass. A coyote descended from the other side of the ravine. Suddenly, Kettlewell saw the mother appear and”sprint right into the coyote and roll him over. Then she kicked him with her front legs and he went running. This doe was right behind him, biting, and she chased him out of the ravine. She was gone for 20 or 30 seconds and came back to the fawn.”

The three- or four-week-old fawn stood, oblivious to its close call, and followed its mother out of the ravine. The doe had won the battle, ensuring survival for the youngest of a species that has learned to thrive on the plains of South Dakota.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the January/February 2021 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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For the Birds

By John Andrews

The Sand Lake National Wildlife Refuge in Brown County is among the world’s most important waterfowl habitats.

On a calm summer’s morning at the Sand Lake National Wildlife Refuge, visitors are immersed in the sights and sounds of nature. The sun’s rays peek through early clouds and reflect brightly off the water’s shimmering surface. A light breeze rustles the waist-high grasses. The water moves, but so slowly that it can’t even be heard lapping against the shore. Ducks float among the cattails. A single white gull glides into a cornfield.

This outdoors heaven was in jeopardy a century ago. Wildlife was disappearing as water slowly vanished from the marshland. But thanks to the labor of a future governor, the political skills of a former governor and about 200 men who were glad for any job they could find during the Depression, Sand Lake rejuvenated into one of the most important havens in the world for waterfowl.

The refuge encompasses both Sand and Mud Lake — created by dams built along the James River north of Columbia and northwest of Houghton in Brown County — and the surrounding wetlands. Its 21,498 acres are home to more than 260 bird species, 40 mammal species and a variety of fish, reptiles and amphibians.

Perhaps the best way to observe them is a slow journey along the refuge’s auto tour route, a 15-mile gravel path open generally from April 1 through mid-October, that begins at the visitors center and follows nearly the entire perimeter of Sand Lake. A brochure indicates 12 stops along the way, but traffic was light on the day of our visit so we could stop and go as we pleased.

Almost immediately, we spotted a whitetail deer ambling through the grass. A little farther down the road a white egret stood out against the deep, blue water and tall, green reeds. As the path crossed Houghton Dam, pelicans bobbed near the bridge, sporadically dipping their heads under water in search of fish.

Sand Lake attracts nearly 75,000 visitors each year. Most of them spend just a few hours marveling at its natural wonders. Maybe they imagine what it might be like to live in such a beautiful place, surrounded by diverse flora and fauna. Stephanie Herseth Sandlin doesn’t have to imagine. South Dakota’s former congresswoman and current president of Augustana University in Sioux Falls grew up with Sand Lake in her backyard.

Sand Lake is home to more than 200 species of waterfowl, including a white egret standing among the rushes.

Her great-grandparents, Lars and Oline Herseth, homesteaded on land about 3 miles southwest of Houghton on the east side of Sand Lake in 1886. The home in which Herseth Sandlin grew up was built in 1909 and features a large picture window facing west toward the water. She remembers watching thunderheads build on the horizon and millions of snow geese blanketing the water in white during the spring migration.”The refuge was a very special part of my upbringing,” Herseth Sandlin says.”We usually had Easter at our house because it’s the family homestead. After the Easter meal, everyone would load up in their cars and take a drive through the refuge so we could spot different birds. My grandmother in particular was a bit of a birder, and that was passed along to all of her kids. I think those of us who grew up on the farm took it for granted. Our cousins who came from Pierre and Northfield, Minnesota, maybe didn’t take it for granted quite so much.”

The Sand Lake area that Lars and Oline Herseth knew changed dramatically thanks to their son Ralph, who was born in 1909 — right about the time that people began to take waterfowl depletion on the Northern Plains seriously. The federal government had issued wildlife protections as early as 1864. Fish, sea birds, bison and elk all benefited through the creation of reserves. Migratory birds became the focus with the Migratory Bird Act of 1913 and subsequent Migratory Bird Treaty of 1916, an agreement between the United States and Great Britain (on behalf of Canada) designed to protect birds that crossed the international boundary.

Numbers did recover, but it soon became evident that sustained success could only be achieved through habitat protection. Those efforts occupied Congress for much of the 1920s, beginning with a bill introduced in 1921 that sought to create refuges funded through sales of a $1 migratory bird hunting license. That measure was defeated. Another bill surfaced in 1924 and appeared destined for a similar fate when its primary sponsor lost his bid for re-election.

That’s when Peter Norbeck got involved. South Dakota’s senator and former governor was a noted conservationist who worked to grow Custer State Park. He became the Migratory Bird Conservation Act’s new champion and immediately encountered resistance, primarily from Sen. James Reed of Missouri. Reed objected to the license fee, opposed the bill’s provision to hire additional federal game wardens to enforce its provisions, and sarcastically said that it would make just as much sense to create sanctuaries for jackrabbits.”To Congress, the whole bird conservation matter is a joke,” Norbeck lamented.

Pelicans float in a cove near the Houghton Dam, the earthwork that separates Sand Lake from Mud Lake.

Norbeck lost that round, but he returned with another bill in 1927. It retained the $1 federal hunting license, which Norbeck believed would generate $1 million annually for land purchases and law enforcement, and the creation of public hunting grounds adjacent to the refuges. Senators fought, but Norbeck ultimately succeeded in passing a somewhat weakened version of the bill. The steady revenue source had been replaced by an annual congressional appropriation, which came in fits and starts. Lawmakers approved just half the money Norbeck sought over the next four years. Still, the Migratory Bird Conservation Act led to the creation of 22 refuges encompassing more than 1 million acres by 1933.

In South Dakota, experts pointed to marshy Sand Lake as an ideal location. Families, including the Herseths, donated land to help make the refuge a reality. And who better to lead the effort than the young man who grew up on its eastern shore?

Ralph Herseth was the 26-year-old supervisor of the Sand Lake Civilian Conservation Corps camp. When Sand Lake was officially added to the national refuge system in 1935, he and his 200 men got to work building dams, digging ditches and planting the uplands to provide food and cover. They moved 120,000 cubic yards of dirt to build eight islands and planted thousands of trees and shrubs. The men also constructed a 108-foot-tall steel observation tower that visitors can still climb. It provides a beautiful, panoramic view of the refuge, though the ascent is not for everyone.”You look around and it’s a nice view, but if it’s a windy day there’s something about being up there and feeling it sway,” Herseth Sandlin says.”We took my husband out there when we were dating, the first time he came to visit the farm. I don’t know that he wanted to stay up there too long, and he hasn’t asked to go back up.”

South Dakota ultimately became home to six national wildlife refuges, all managed by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service: Sand Lake, Waubay, Karl Mundt, Lake Andes, Lacreek and Bear Butte (managed as part of Lacreek). Each refuge boasts its own claim to wildlife fame. Bald eagles draw visitors to the Mundt Refuge along the Missouri River, trumpeter swans spend part of the year at Lacreek near Martin, and Sand Lake is home to the world’s largest breeding colony of Franklin’s gulls. Sand Lake has been designated a Globally Important Birding Area and was recognized by the American Bird Conservancy as one of the top 15 birding sites in North America.

After Sand Lake’s completion, the Herseth family enjoyed its benefits. Ralph and his wife, Lorna, hosted family and friends for hunting excursions on their land adjoining the refuge. A lifelong advocate of natural resources, Ralph Herseth brought those principles to Pierre when he served as governor from 1959 to 1961. Among his achievements was passage of the South Dakota Conservancy Law, the first step in the proposed Oahe Irrigation Project, because, he noted,”water was more precious than oil.”

Hands-on exhibits inside the Sand Lake visitors center help children learn about its variety of wildlife.

Meanwhile, Sand Lake became a playground for Herseth children. Herseth Sandlin and her brother often explored the refuge on foot or by three-wheeler. One winter, her father, Lars, bought a contraption that resembled a sailboat on ice skates that the family used to glide across the frozen pond.

It also offered early lessons in profits and losses. When Herseth Sandlin was 9, her father suggested she raise pheasants. The refuge offered $1 for every chick raised to maturity, banded and released within its borders. She began with 100 chicks, but barn cats took around 30 of them.

She tried again the next year, this time with 200 chicks. She built sturdy chicken wire fencing and eventually had nearly 200 fully healthy ringneck pheasants.”I banded them, put them out in the refuge and two days later we had the 1981 hail storm, and I’m not sure any of them survived,” she says.”But I still got my payment.”

If you’re traveling Highway 10, consider veering off at Sand Lake and spending an hour or two among the solitude. Let the grasses sway around you. Listen for the distinct song of meadowlarks. Look for the bright blue bills of ruddy ducks or the red faces and white rings of pheasants (maybe the Augie president’s birds weren’t doomed). All in all, Sand Lake provides a welcome respite for man and bird alike.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the May/June 2019 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Finding White in a Brown Winter

By Christian Begeman

Winter has been mild in southeastern South Dakota. There hasn’t been much snow and temperatures have been above normal. I seem to remember far more brown winters happening when I lived West River than in the Sioux Falls area. Even though no snow means fewer travel headaches, I do miss the snow. As a photographer, the way the light can strike fresh snow early or late in the day is breathtaking. That is, if the subzero wind doesn’t take away your breath first.

The paragraph above is a poor attempt at complaining about how I haven’t felt motivated to get outside the last month to make photographs. Realizing this is a”me problem” and not the weatherman’s doing, I decided to do something about it. Where can you find snow, frost and ice even during a”brown” winter? Around here, it is our parks and public land along the Big Sioux River. So, I made it a point to get off my warm couch and get out there.

On three different occasions, I found myself wandering along the banks of the Big Sioux and seeing things that made the bundled-up journey worth the energy and effort. It was a gray day with occasional light flurries on my first trip to the hiking trails of the Big Sioux Recreation Area near Brandon. I saw a red fox scoot along the river bottom for a brief second but could not locate it again. A few woodpeckers and nuthatches entertained me for a bit after that. Once I started looking at the little things, however, things got fun. The light flurries left lone snowflakes on leaves, bark and my favorite … resting on the trail’s wooden bridges. I spent half an hour with my macro lens attempting to find the perfect snowflake.

My next excursion found me along the river near Newton Hills State Park. There is a bend that rarely freezes because of shallow rapids. I’ve seen bald eagles there, so I decided to walk down the edge of the bank and settle in to see if any birds or other wildlife would appear. On the way to my perch, I became distracted by large pieces of ice on the river’s edge that were showing due to recently dropping river levels. Then I got the scare of the afternoon as I stumbled on a well-hidden Canada goose slumbering against an old cottonwood stump. No eagles ever landed after all the ruckus, but I saw nearly a half dozen fly overhead. They likely spotted me far sooner than I saw them. Regardless, it was a nice hour spent along the river taking it all in.

Speaking of birds, winter offers all sorts of opportunities to see and photograph birds along the river. Eagles and owls as well as chickadees and finches can be spotted (or heard) quite regularly. A favorite find recently along the Dells of the Big Sioux near Dell Rapids was a pair of uniquely raspberry colored purple finches. On Super Bowl Sunday, I also spotted a Barred Owl at the Big Sioux Recreation Area, which allowed me to post a Superb Owl photo that day as well. (Groan. I know, I know, but I didn’t make that up. It is a real thing, and I will admit, I was happy to participate in the Superb Owl fun.)

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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Christmas Traditions

By Christian Begeman

It was Christmas morning of 1995. The folks still lived at the farm place on the line between Dewey and Ziebach counties where I grew up. I was home on college break. Dad had a good stand of winter wheat sprout before the weather turned cold down in our fields along the Moreau River adjacent to Highway 65. My older brother and I learned that pronghorns were seen taking advantage of the wheat sprouts that were still above the snow. So, on that cold Christmas morning, we got up in the dark and drove to the river breaks to take a look. I was just starting my love affair with photography and my brother was engaging his”mighty hunter” passions. We made our way slowly to the hilltops overlooking the river just as the sun began to peek over the horizon. A low fog hung over the valley. It was one of the prettiest winter sights I had ever seen. Lo and behold, just on the edge of the fog we could see pronghorn. A lot of pronghorn. I snapped a few photos and then we started down to see if we could get closer.

We had stumbled upon 100 or so pronghorn that morning. Once we adequately spooked them, they ran to the southwest in a single line. I’ve never seen anything like it. They got bunched up at a fence corner and I snapped a few more photos.

I was reminded of this experience the morning after Christmas this year as I watched my nephew slowly move into position to get a better binocular view of a snowy owl perched on large rocks on the southern edge of Sioux Falls. I wonder if he’ll remember that experience as clearly as I remember that Christmas morning nearly 30 years ago.

Our family has traditionally done some sightseeing and hiking around Christmas time. Many trips and walks through the Moreau River country with my brothers, cousins and uncles took place after Christmas dinner. I miss those times greatly. It could be why I still try to do a winter road trip every year around the holidays. My usual haunts are Badlands National Park followed by Custer State Park and Wind Cave National Park. This year I didn’t get out there until New Year’s weekend, but it didn’t matter. The magic of a winter safari in our West River parks was still strong.

I spent most of my time in the Badlands. A heavy snow turned to flurries in sunshine as the weather system moved east. The large snowflakes blowing in the wind made for interesting visuals, particularly when the sun tried to break through. It didn’t snow in the southern hills, but it was very cold. Did you know that buffalo like to lick the salt and minerals off your car in winter? Knowing this can bring great photo opportunities if you are willing. Parking on the Highland Ridge Road at Wind Cave National Park near a bison herd will usually get them moving in your direction. This offers unique opportunities to get interesting portraits. I like to catch them in the first or last light of the day, and when it is cold, the breath from these behemoths offers added visual drama. I don’t like them licking my car though, so I tend to move on before they get too close. If the good Lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise, I will be back next winter to try again.

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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High Plains Heaven

By Christian Begeman

Every April, the Fort Pierre National Grasslands staff set up three blinds in the prairie hills southwest of the capital city. The reason? To provide the public an opportunity to watch something quite special in the early-morning hours. Greater Prairie-Chickens and Sharp-tailed Grouse gather at their respective leks and begin to dance. Rain or shine, cold or warm, snow or sun, the males arrive in their respective areas about an hour before sunrise and start to coo, cackle, woo and whir, all with a singular goal: impress the ladies. In my years of watching, I’ve never seen hens actually respond receptively as they make their shy and diminutive way through the leks. But they do watch the dancers quite closely, often right up until the closest male gets a little too close for comfort and then the hen moves quickly on. Who knows? Maybe playing hard to get is all part of the process.

I’m not a scientist, but I love our wild grasslands and the hidden treasures they sustain. I grew up in Sharp-tailed Grouse country, but I never saw their spring dance before sitting in a blind at the Fort Pierre National Grasslands. As a photographer, the colorful and quick displays are challenging to capture. The Greater Prairie-Chicken’s style is a little different in that they aren’t quite as fast on their feet but employ a bit more color and sound into their routine by filling bright orange neck sacs with air. The”wooing” sound that comes next is referred to as”booming” and can be heard from miles away on a clear and calm morning.

Unfortunately, the two mornings I spent in the blinds this spring were not very calm. The wind has been extra active this time around the sun; the first morning it was gusting above 20 mph well before dawn. The temperature dropped below 20 degrees, and although the blind cut down the wind’s bite it was bone chilling, and I was happy for extra blankets and long johns. Still, the prairie chickens danced and boomed. When the sun finally climbed above the horizon, the warm light revealed around 18 males spread out on the hilltop along a two-track prairie trail. Some were fighting, some were squawking, and I even saw a few hens stroll through. To be smack dab in the middle of this ancient dance on the prairie made suffering through the cold worth it.

A couple days later, I was in another blind a little farther south. Here, sharpies danced all around the blind. They clicked and clucked and stamped their feet so rapidly that even my fast shutter speed couldn’t capture the action without a blur. More hens arrived and all the fellas picked up their pace. A couple meadowlarks joined in with their signature song and I was in high plains heaven.

A heartfelt thanks to the grasslands staff for providing this opportunity at no cost every year. They say that birders and enthusiasts come from all over the world to watch our prairie dancers. You can too through the rest of April. Simply contact the office to reserve a blind, get up well before the sun, settle into your blind and prepare for show like no other.

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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Glacial Lakes in Winter

By John Andrews and Bernie Hunhoff

South Dakota’s Glacial Lakes country is perfect for day trips this winter. More than a hundred lakes — plus sloughs, wetlands, ponds and rivers — combine to create a scenic and unspoiled countryside rich with wildlife and waterfowl, friendly farm towns and numerous opportunities to enjoy nature.

Melting glaciers shaped this prairie pothole country 20,000 years ago. The lakes are so numerous that some remain unnamed. Most have grown in size and depth over the last 25 years. Bitter Lake, once little more than a shallow slough, is now the state’s largest natural lake; it is encroaching on Waubay Lake and other bodies of water to create an ocean-less, inland sea.

In this winter of the pandemic, we are all looking for new outdoor sights and experiences. Winter serenity and solitude has always been a trademark of the unspoiled Glacial Lakes region.

Here are 10 suggestions, organized by county, on how you might explore the Glacial Lakes. Some are auto drives, others offer winter hikes that could be compromised by the amount of snow on the ground. However, this list only scratches the surface so don’t hesitate to roam the lake country. You’ll discover many surprises, and they’ll all be good.

BROOKINGS COUNTY — The 135-acre Dakota Nature Park (at the corner of 22nd Avenue and 32nd Street South) lies in the southeastern corner of Brookings. Gravel mining led to formation of ponds and wetlands, and a restored prairie now grows atop the old landfill mound. A portion of the Allyn Frerichs Trail System — named for the city’s longtime parks and rec director who passed away in 2014 — skirts the north edge of the park, while a network of paths weave around the wetlands, prairies and trees.

BROWN COUNTY — Take a trip to Sand Lake National Wildlife Refuge. Though the classic 15-mile auto tour is closed in winter due to hunting and snow conditions, other roads remain open on the perimeter of the refuge. Explore the gravel roads that lead north and south from Highway 10. The snow geese are gone, but you’ll see other waterfowl, eagles and the Arctic’s snowy owls. Deer, pheasant and coyotes are also common. Sand Lake rose from the dust of the Great Depression to become one of the world’s most important wildlife sanctuaries. It is 30 miles northeast of Aberdeen.

CODINGTON COUNTY — Just southwest of Watertown is Pelican Lake. An observation tower near an inlet on the lake’s south side provides a sweeping view of the water, its namesake birds, the prairie and Watertown’s skyline. The Observation Tower Trail is a three-quarters of a mile hike through the woods and winter grasses. A longer jaunt, the Pelican Prairie Trail, gently meanders 5.2 miles.

DAY COUNTY– Explore the trails of Waubay National Wildlife Refuge, situated in the very heart of the Prairie Pothole landscape. Scientists say the region produces 50 percent of the continent’s waterfowl. Trails range from a few hundred feet to a mile, and jaunt around an island that houses the refuge headquarters. However, the public facilities are closed in winter.

DEUEL COUNTY — Visit 12-acre Ulven Park, which occupies a point on the eastern shore of Clear Lake. The frogs and toads, noisy in summer, are now hibernating so they’ll not interrupt the serenity of the park’s half-mile hiking trail.

EDMUNDS COUNTY — Shake Maza Trail at Mina Lake (between Ipswich and Aberdeen) is a short walk that explores the flora, fauna and other features at one of the first man-made lakes in northeast South Dakota. Shake Maza is a Native term meaning”shaped like a horseshoe,” which describes the 850-acre lake, ringed by picturesque cabins and homes.

GRANT COUNTY — This fascinating region is one of the USA’s five continental divides. Lake Traverse flows west to the Hudson Bay and Big Stone Lake flows south to the Mississippi and the Gulf of Mexico. Some of the best winter trails are at Hartford Beach State Park — a tree-filled, rocky shoreline north of Milbank that is quite unlike anything else in the Glacial Lakes. Signage in the park will direct you to several easy trails.

HAND COUNTY — Hike the Pheasant Run Trail at Lake Louise, 14 miles northwest of Miller. Beginning at the trailhead in the main campground, the dirt and grass trail meanders 3.2 miles around the south side of Lake Louise, which was created by damming the south fork of Wolf Creek in 1932. More than three dozen informational plaques identify trees and plants found along the way, though leaf identification will be challenging in December and January.

LAKE COUNTY — Wander the trails of Lake Herman State Park, which occupies a peninsula on the east side of Lake Herman, just west of Madison. A cabin built by pioneer Herman Luce in about 1870 stands along the 1.25-mile Luce Adventure Trail, which encircles Herman Pond. Connecting trails include the Abbott Trail (1.1 miles) and the Pioneer Nature Trail (.4 miles). All are easy walking.

MOODY COUNTY — Much of the prairie pothole region drains into the Big Sioux River, and the waterway starts to change its personality as it reaches Flandreau and Dell Rapids. Hike Red Rock Trail in Dell Rapids, where you can enjoy a closeup view of the famous rose quartzite that underlies the region.

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Winter Safari

By Christian Begeman

As the years have gone along, a new holiday tradition has emerged — the drive. When you work 8 to 5 in the winter months in South Dakota, it becomes difficult to get out and enjoy the landscapes in the sunlight. So, when I finally get a few days off for the holidays, I’ve made it a point to schedule extra travel days — a full day to make what normally would be a four-and-a-half-hour drive on the way out and a couple more days to take an even wider loop on the way back. It’s my way to enjoy the scenery under the winter sky, to watch the vistas slip by beyond the windshield and get lost in vastness.

This year, I cut across the bulk of the state on Christmas Eve using Highways 10 and 12. There was significant fog, so once it became light enough to see, the landscape was a frosted winter wonderland. Near Houghton, I spied pheasants and deer and stopped to get a photo or two. The frost continued all the way through Walworth County, where I stopped at a favorite country church just outside of Selby to capture the frosted trees framing the rural steeple.

After the Christmas festivities, I began the long and completely out of the way journey back by heading towards the southern Black Hills. It is raptor season along the highways and byways of West River country. The number of hawks and eagles perched along the roads were too many to count. In Dewey County, somewhere between Timber Lake and Eagle Butte on Highway 63, I saw a huge Golden Eagle perched on a power pole. Further down the road, I took a detour from the detour and turned into the Foster Bay Recreation Area along the southern arm of where the Cheyenne River meets Lake Oahe. This little drive always seems to be full of wildlife and grand views across the open prairie. On an earlier winter trip to Foster Bay, I watched an eagle drive a yearling dear over a hilltop, trying to get his talons into the deer’s back and have some venison for a meal. No such drama this time around, but there were plenty of deer, as well as a couple juvenile bald eagles perched on a high hill.

My time in the Black Hills was cut short a day by incoming weather, but I still saw the sun rise over Wind Cave National Park with a small herd of bison and cruised the backroads of eastern Custer County on my way to another detour through the Badlands. The sun set on my last day of the winter safari as I drove through the White River breaks near an old, forgotten spot on the map called Stamford. Only a foundation and a crossroads remain. I was tempted to drive south into the White River Valley, prolonging the trip, but clouds were rolling in as the light faded. I reluctantly made my way back to Interstate 90 and headed east. Another holiday had come and gone. Another epic winter drive across South Dakota ended at 80 miles an hour on a four-lane ribbon of road leading home.

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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In Full Swing

By Christian Begeman

For the last seven years, I’ve tried to visually document the first signs of new life in “spring journals.” From the first wildflowers to the arrival of songbirds, rambling nature walks through parks in southeastern South Dakota have become increasingly fun. In years past, I usually started documenting signs of spring in March — and sometimes as early as February — but the last two winters have been long and trying. This time, I started my journal entries on the day after a major blizzard struck on April 12. It is amazing how much changes on the Great Plains in a 30-day window. We’ve gone from feet of snow on the ground in mid-April to a near 80-degree day in mid-May, with birds and bumblebees in the air instead of snowflakes. All this change makes it quite difficult to not get caught up in spring fever … and I’m OK with that.

April 13

I found a patch of snow trillium in Newton Hills State Park living up to its name standing strong above the recent snow accumulation.

April 15

I decided to take a walk around Palisades State Park. I discovered a mixed flock of golden-crowned and ruby-crowned kinglets foraging in the cedar trees above the quartzite cliffs. These tiny birds were fearless and foraged all around me as if I wasn’t there.

April 19

The evening sun warmed the first butterflies of the season at Union Grove State Park, including this eye-catching Eastern comma.

April 21

On Easter Sunday I travelled through the glacial hills between Eureka and Leola in McPherson County on my way home from visiting family. I took a couple gravel road detours to look for pasqueflower stands and was not disappointed.

April 24

For only the second time ever, I found blooming white fawn lily (or trout lily) flowers at Union Grove State Park. Although not a rare wildflower in general, it is rare for our state. It has only been documented along Brule Creek in Union County.

May 2

My first spring hike at Big Sioux Recreation Area near Brandon turned up brush flowers and yellow rumped warblers catching insects out of mid-air above the hiking trails.

May 4

While returning from a hike at Newton Hills State Park, I pulled off I-29 at the Canton exit to go west a few miles. I caught a striking spring sunset over West Prairie Lutheran in rural Lincoln County.

May 7

Another hike at Palisades State Park turned up a rare look inside a raccoon den in a hollowed out tree. This young coon looked like he was just waking up from a nap, and I was a bit jealous. He looked quite cozy in there with his siblings.

May 9

I took a walk around sunset at the Japanese Gardens of Terrace Park and saw a female common yellowthroat warbler frolicking on the edge of Covell Lake.

May 10

While walking a trail along the northeastern cliffs of Palisades State Park, I was buzzed by my first ruby-throated hummingbird of the season. I turned to follow and found a good nectar source (Missouri gooseberry shrub blossoms). I waited for more than half an hour as the sun sank lower in the sky. Just as I thought I had missed my chance, the hummingbird returned with a couple friends; one of them allowed me to get this photo. It was a memorable close encounter with nature, and I was thrilled to come away with a photo (in focus) to remember it by.

May 11

There is a lot of water around this spring. Too much water for many people. I was crossing a very full and fast moving Skunk Creek just west of Ellis at sunset, and the colorful sky reflected on the rushing water looked like an abstract painting.

May 12

After church on Sunday morning, I took a walk at the Sioux Falls Outdoor Campus and got a nice look at this blackpoll warbler. He, like the majority of warblers migrating through this time of year, has made his way north from as far as Central America and won’t stop for the breeding season until reaching the boreal forests of Canada.

May 13

There are few aromas I like better than plum blossoms on a spring breeze. This orange-crowned warbler at the Big Sioux Recreation Area also likes flowerings because they attract nectar-seeking insects that must be quite tasty.

May 14

The temperature was near 80 degrees in Sioux Falls, and I spent some time walking through a very busy Terrace Park after work. With lilacs just beginning to open and ducklings on Covell Lake, spring appears to be in full swing on the upper Great Plains, and that is very good news.

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.