Another packed day!
Our destination today was Custer State Park, and we chose
a route that took us through Wind Cave National Park. Most of the attraction of
this park is underground – the Wind Cave is one of the longest and most complex
caves in the world. Native Americans knew this place for centuries, and regarded
it as sacred. White men discovered the cave in the late 1800s, attracted by the
whistling noise of the air coming out of the cave. Though we were unable – more
like unwilling to leave the Henry-Dog behind – to explore the cave, we did
pause to enjoy the prairie above it.
The soundtrack to
this photo, if I could add it, would be the song of Meadowlarks.
This prairie dog
was wholly unconcerned by my presence …
but this bison clearly regarded me as a nuisance!
Or maybe it was just letting me know: Hands
off the calf, Missy!
On to Custer State Park, where we saw pronghorn antelope,
The animals rule
here in their home! As they should. This pronghorn held up traffic for a while,
as it did not merely cross the road but trotted along the road at a leisurely
pace for a spell.
This picture was
taken without telephoto. Believe me, I did not approach him, he approached
where I was standing after he finally finished sauntering along the roadway. I
was pretty leery of those horns, and when Henry finally spied him and started
barking madly, I decided my time was up!
even more bison and prairie dogs …
and some of the friendlier and more popular residents of
the park, the famous begging burros. Burros are not native to the Black Hills;
these burros are descendants of beasts brought to help haul materials while
building roads and bridges, and to carry sightseers. When they were no longer
useful, they were turned loose to fend for themselves. Though non-native, they
are still wild, and probably should not be fed. But how can you resist?
Some of the burros
are pretty pushy.
But some are shy.
Just call me the Burro Whisperer.
The white one, in
particular, wanted the carrots but was deeply distrustful of anyone who
approached. Perhaps this little creature had been badly hurt in the fires that
ravaged the park last December. All of the burros were burned and subsequently treated by a veterinarian, but maybe this little one’s treatments were too
painful, and now humans are associated with the pain.
Leaving the
park we headed north, toward Keystone, and I could definitely see why this area
is called the Black Hills. I guess it looks black from a distance because of
all the granite, and maybe from the unusually dense-growing, dark variety of
pine that populates the forest. The Native Americans called the hills “Paha
Sapa,” which means “hills that are black,” and regarded them as sacred, a
spiritual center which the Lakota Sioux called “Wamakaognaka E’cante” – “the
heart of everything that is.”
Along the drive
I caught my first glimpse of Mount Rushmore. We chose not to visit the actual
site, however, as it seemed to us one view of the iconic landmark is just as
good as any other view.
So we instead visited Sylvan Lake. This is a man-made
lake, and a favorite recreation spot on a hot Sunday afternoon.
It was so good to see so many people enjoying a variety of activities at Sylvan Lake: hiking, fishing, swimming, boating, picnicking, bird-watching!
Leaving Sylvan Lake, we drove a winding and steep highway, to see the eroded granite pillars known as The Needles.
Let me just say, I never knew how much there is to see
and do in South Dakota. People from my part of the country tend to dismiss the
Dakotas as vast, empty places. And we are dead wrong! The Black Hills are
beautiful, the forests are majestic, and the prairies teem with wildlife. The
people we’ve met are generally friendly and helpful, and seem to appreciate the
unique recreational value of their state, rather than merely taking it for
granted. We’re headed out tomorrow, but clearly we have barely scratched the
surface of all that South Dakota has to offer. I’ll definitely be back this way
one day.
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