Prairie Dogs and Mule Deer

One of our favorite spots at Theodore Roosevelt National Park: a place called Buck Hill. It's hard to beat the view from the top.
We feel compelled to photograph each other at the modest summit (There really aren't any mountains in North Dakota).

The kids love to shelter under a ledge and pretend they're hunter/gatherers, looking for dinner, building a fire, flensing skins, perhaps.

Dinner is everywhere--mule deer are plentiful.

It's a great place for wildlife photography. You're largely ignored, and the tableaux are stunning.


The biggest bull bison are often solitary, like this one. Imagine yourself on that winding road, passing from vision to vision. That's TRNP, at dusk in June.

A spotted towhee rasps out its song against the badland backdrop.

We round a corner to find a mother prairie dog and her three exclamation point babies!!!

They wondered why this woman was groaning...

never realizing that they and their tiny hands might be the cause

Three perfect little sod poodles in the slanting light of an endless June evening.

Bison Roadblock!

A long time ago, I told you about this summer's trip to North Dakota. Now I'm circling back, even though August is throwing every diamond she has at me and it's all I can do to keep up the ooh's and aaahs, much less blog about it. The bloggy backlog, she is tremendous. Hundreds of photos lie keening in their folders, waiting to be shared.



The last couple of years, we haven't stopped in North Dakota--we've pushed farther west into Montana. Medora, North Dakota, has an irresistible pull on us. Theodore Roosevelt National Park is an incredible place, a place of painted, sculptured bentonite clay--badlands, really--and abundant wildlife. It's one of the best places we know to surround yourself with bison.

Bison are big animals. Every once in awhile you stumble on a bull who is just...huge.



The really old boys have these huge Afros of black wool that flop out sideways, giving their heads a deltoid appearance, and massive pantaloons of wool that wobble as they walk.



Their horns hook back toward their skulls. It makes me wonder if they'd grow right into the skull if the bull lived long enough. He was a tank of an animal, clearly quite aged. And probably cranky enough to want to be alone most of the time.



A more modestly proportioned cow and her orange calf. The backdrop in this photo kills me.

In the days before a concerted government campaign to exterminate them, bison once covered the Great Plains, looking like a nubbly brown blanket when they were on the move. To break the resistance of Plains-dwelling Native Americans by pulling their food source out from under them, the U.S. Army and private contractors shot nearly all our bison in less than two decades. By 1890, they were all but gone. Before this summer, I’d seen bison only in small groups on private reserves. Our family trip changed all that.

Theodore Roosevelt National Park on the western border of North Dakota has a herd of around 300 bison, with a penchant for hanging out on the park’s only roadway.

Being brought to a halt by a shaggy, blackbrown wall of bovine flesh is a thrilling thing. The animals show no concern whatsoever for the cars that quickly stack up behind their roadblock.

They separate and flow around the vehicles, a grunting, breathing, massy river. Golf-ball sized eyes roll, meeting yours as the animals trudge slowly past, an arm’s length or closer away. Knowing that this is one of North America’s most dangerous and unpredictable animals adds to the allure of the experience, at least for me. I've been told that the experience is even more heart-pounding when viewed from the back of a motorcycle. I cannot imagine being on a motorcycle in a herd of bison. Well, to start with I can't imagine riding at high speeds with my limbs and head exposed to the pavement, but riding through a herd of bison? Noooo thanks. You'd think they'd warn you at the park entrance. "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here (on motorcycles)."

Ten-year-old Liam, who has been enthralled with bison since he was very young, was a quivering, pleading mess in our first bison roadblock. His apprehension only increased as time went on. “Please, Daddy. Just drive. Just go. Get away from them. Please. I beg you.” But the bison in Medora kept us stalled until well after dark, standing shoulder to shoulder, their backs turned to us, tufted tails switching insolently across their narrow haunches as we listened helplessly to our son’s pleas to get moving. The only thing to do was to relax into it, to inhale the rich, manurey smell of them, to listen to their sonorous grunts, to luxuriate in the texture of dark wool forequarters, shining black horn hooks, and smooth flanks.

I pee, unconcerned.

The bison issue only intensified when we drove on to Yellowstone National Park. Here, as many as 4,500 bison live, and bison roadblocks were apt to be correspondingly longer. Yellowstone is the only place in America where bison have lived continuously since prehistory. And these animals—the only genetically pure Plains bison left-- seem to know it. They're eerily skilled at moseying out into the road just as you think you're going to squeak by them.

In our week's stay among bison, a funny thing happened. I came to revel in the roadblocks, to look forward to them, and to crow with delight when we encountered them. To me, they were an invitation to join the herd, to watch the evening light drain out against the stark blueblack outlines of the hills and mountains, to slow it all down to bison time, even as our hearts raced at the proximity of these massive beasts. There are few places in the world where animals get to call all the shots. Those are the places I most want to be.

Still I pee. You are as nothing to me.

Liam's Bison

We knew there were bison running wild at Theodore Roosevelt National Park. We'd seen their tracks and droppings all around the main visitor center. But so far, all we'd seen were some distant black specks, which we needed optics to make out.
I love a kid with binoculars.


Liam was stoked! Even distant dotty bison are better than none.


Our sweet Shoomie was about to get the surprise of his little life when we rounded a bend in the road at Theodore Roosevelt National Park. One minute, nothing, then BOOM! OMG!
A massive, and I mean HUUUUGE, bull bison was rubbing his woolly neck on a guardrail only a couple of feet from the car. We all inadvertantly recoiled inside the car, and Bill paused only long enough for me to roll down the window and fire off a couple of shots with the 18-35mm lens. The real short lens. I mean, you don't want to tick off an animal weighing over a ton and armed with wicked hooks and hooves, not to mention a head like a battering ram. Liam was hyperventilating. We all were.

We pulled a respectful distance away, only to see a truck roll right up, and its occupants disembark, perhaps intending to compete for the 2009 Darwin Awards.

Only two things are infinite -- the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not so sure about the Universe. --Albert Einstein

Go, Daddy, go. Get that picture.

Soon, the bison ambled off, evidently choosing not to reduce Richard Avedon to a spot of grease on the road.
photo by Bill Thompson III


Reverently, we examined the guardrail, shiny from years of such itchrubbing.

Liam put his hand in the bull's immense round hoofprints

which trailed off through the bentonite gumbo.

He was a gift, that's all, a gift to our boy and to us.


These wild things enrich our lives just by their existence. But experiencing the sight, smell, sound and feel of them can change a life, and help a child know how to be grateful.

Here's to wild places and hearts that know them.

Here end the Montana and North Dakota posts.
Canoe down Montana's Missouri River,
go see bison and wild horses at Theodore Roosevelt National Park, or
come see the prairie potholes at Carrington, ND's Potholes and Prairies Festival in early June 2010.

Or do it all in one unutterably swell foop. We did!

Go. Just go. Show your kids a real live grunty bison.

Saving the Nokota Horse

Continuing from my previous post, "The Nokota Horse:"

1979 was a big year for the mustangs of North Dakota. A rancher and horse breeder named Leo Kuntz bought a couple of them from neighbors, admiring their brains, endurance, strong bones, and willing nature. He originally intended to breed them with other breeds, to introduce the mustang qualities to his Thoroughbreds and quarter horses. Meanwhile, the park management decides to "improve" its horses by selectively removing typical mustangs, and replacing the stallions with a grab-bag of breeds, including part Shire, Arab, and quarter horse bloodlines. They have to remove the wild stallions, because they'd beat the crap out of the domestic horses being introduced. So they take the Nokotas, round them up, and sell them.

From the Nokota Horse Conservancy's web site:

Nokota Horses are characterized by a square-set, angular frame, tapering musculature, V-shaped front end, angular shoulders with prominent withers, distinctly sloped croup, low tail set, strong bone, legs, and hooves, and "Spanish colonial" pigmentation. Their ears are often slightly hooked at the tips, and many have feathered fetlocks. Nokotas tend to mature slowly, and some exhibit ambling gaits.

There was a huge roundup in 1986, and Leo Kuntz saw his chance. He and his brother Frank purchased 54 mustangs being culled from the park.

Another roundup in 1991 gave the Kuntz's seven more important foundation horses. But the park management wasn't through culling. Roundups continued in 1994 and 1997. At this point, the Kuntz's are holding and preserving the pure Nokota bloodlines that the park management is determined to wipe out. In 2000, their newborn Nokota Horse Conservancy was granted non-profit status by the IRS. (Nokota, short for North Dakota Horse). And the park holds yet another roundup, and removes the last Traditional Nokota horse from the wild. NHC supporters purchase it and four more.

There was another roundup in 2003. Once again, typey Nokotas were the target. Even as I write this, I shake my head. What's the point here? To rub out that which is unique, that which is perfectly adapted to the conditions and habitat of this unforgiving place? To deny the Nokota's history and heritage, and replace it with something prettier? If you're going to have a "demonstration herd" of wild horses on public land, why not demonstrate what the Lakota ponies looked like, instead of letting a bunch of domestic breeds mingle there?

I am deeply thankful for the Kuntz's, and the Nokota Horse Conservancy, for recognizing the breed, for preserving irreplaceable bloodlines dating back to the Lakota (Sioux) ponies. Perhaps someday the park management will recognize that it eliminated its finest and best adapted animals in a quest for improvement.

I know there are purists (including one staunch Floridian who struggled free of the coils of an Everglades Burmese python long enough to raise the flag in a comment on my last post) who don't believe any horse belongs in the wild. And that can be argued, too. It raises many, many questions. Interestingly enough, the genus Equus originated in North America about 4 million years ago, and spread to Eurasia via the Bering land bridge. So let's think about that. Mitochondrial DNA analysis has revealed that Equus caballus, the modern horse, originated about 1.7 million years ago, right here in North America. Europeans domesticated horses by crossing wild strains of an animal that actually originated right here. Our native horses died out as late as 11,000 years ago, in some of the mass extinctions that took many of our unique North American megafauna. The last surviving North American horse, the Yukon horse, was called E. lambii. Mitochondria DNA analysis has shown the the Yukon horse was genetically equivalent to E. caballus, the modern horse.

Had they not migrated to Asia and Europe, the species would have died out altogether. Along comes Coronado. In 1519, Equus caballus was introduced to Mexico, where it became wildly popular, and was traded and spread throughout North America. Plains Indians took horsemanship to new places, selecting strains and improving the breed as they saw fit. The Lakota horses were small, wiry, strong, willing, and incredibly smart. Lots of them got loose. And once again, Equus caballus was running on the plains of North America, where it evolved in the first place. You can read more here.

So. Is the horse a feral exotic, or is it a native species, reintroduced 500 years ago? How far back do we need to go to say whether a species is exotic or feral? Do horses belong on the North American plains, if they evolved here? There are people who want to introduce rhinoceros to North America, on the basis that they once lived here, too; calling that a reintroduction. And rhinos do spectacularly well in Texas, breeding, feeding, surviving on game farms. The more you think about it all, the more you realize there may be no correct answer to whether wild horses are noxious exotics, or natives come home. Shades of gray, roan, bay and black.


So there are horses running wild on these mounds and mountains of bentonite clay, and they're not competing with anyone's economic interests in this fenced enclosure. They look great here; they seem to fit. Tourists like me dig 'em. But the Nokotas fit a lot better, thanks to years of intense natural selection in a harsh environment, than the doubtless bewildered domestic quarter horses, draft horses, and paints being released by park management in an effort to "improve" the herd.

I've adapted the Nokota horse story from the excellent web site of the Nokota Horse Conservancy
which has a wealth of information and glorious photo galleries by Christopher Wilson (don't miss them!) of typical Nokota ponies and the people who love them. From the web site:

Nokota owner Margaret Odgers coined the term "the equine all-terrain vehicle" to describe the athleticism, durability, and stamina that are Nokota characteristics. Nokotas are sound, low maintenance horses with extremely solid legs and strong hooves. They all seem to have an uncommon jumping ability and are very handy and agile. These qualities have made them popular among fox hunters. Mentally, Nokotas are "problem solvers," who actively think their way through things, sometimes quite independently. At the same time, they tend to develop unusually strong, reciprocal bonds with those they trust.

We watched this stallion, with a large, still-open neck wound, have a squealing disagreement with a red roan stallion over a little bunch of mares and foals. I shot hundreds of photos of the argument, the rearing and prancing, the vanquishing of the rival, all of which were lost in the Great Computer Meltdown of July 2009. All of which were are deeply mourned. I never even got to see them on the screen before the computer crashed and ate them. The photos here are by Bill of the Birds. And I thank him for them.

The red roan beats a retreat.

A young foal and his placid mama.

Whether these horses were Nokotas or not, they were lovely, and I suppose that's all the park management is shooting for: something pretty for we tourists to exclaim over. It's a great shame. I trust that, through the efforts of the dedicated breeders in the Nokota Horse Conservancy, this wonderful breed will be appreciated and perpetuated into the future. It's regrettable that the park management doesn't get the big picture; doesn't value the home-grown North Dakota horses enough to appreciate that it's rubbing out its own history and heritage.

The horses at Theodore Roosevelt are busy multiplying, as Equus caballus does so very well. No matter how docile, a horse released remembers how to run wild.


It's good to know that, thanks to people of vision and foresight, the Nokota will not be lost forever. I hope I've gotten their story right, and thank them for all they've done. And thanks to Stacy Adolf-Whipp, USFWS biologist, for telling me about Nokota Horses in the first place. Without her input I'd just have been exclaiming at all the pretty horses, instead of thinking hard about priceless Lakota bloodlines, nearly exterminated and now conserved. I think if I ever got a horse, I'd want a Nokota.

The Nokota Horse

photo by JZ. All other photos here, save the last one, are by Bill Thompson III.

Perhaps you've seen mustangs running across a ridge against the sky somewhere out West. Maybe you've felt that thrill to the spine at finally viewing this icon of the old West. I can't imagine a better place to experience it than Theodore Roosevelt National Monument in Medora, North Dakota.

Like prairie dogs, wild horses are persecuted, unwanted almost wherever they occur. This makes them tough, wary, and hard to get close to. But they're protected here, sort of. Why the "sort of?"

Well, it's an interesting story. And I'll preface this by saying that these photographs, which Bill of the Birds and I took in North Dakota, are of horses living wild, but not necessarily of wild bloodlines. Here's why:

The wild horses that originally populated western North Dakota were direct descendants of Lakota ponies, which of course derived from Spanish Colonial stock. They were small, slightly scrubby, but strong, intelligent, and willing. They were thought not to be much good, despite the fact that they had survived all on their own in this cruel habitat, made it through Great Plains winters by pawing for dry grass and whatever else they could find. Their hooves were hard as flint and so were their spirits.

In the Great Depression, wild horses were systematically hunted down and exterminated, to eliminate competition for coveted rangeland. Theodore Roosevelt National Park was established in the late '40's, and fenced in. Whoops, some wild horses were inside the fence, having fled to the badlands where no one could find them. By the 1960's, wild horses had been exterminated in North Dakota--except for the ones in the park.

But even those were hunted down. The population dropped as low as 20 individuals within the park by 1979. Public protest caused the park to declare it would maintain a small "demonstration herd" to show what Teddy Roosevelt described in his writing about ranching the Little Missouri area around 1885:

In a great many--indeed, in most--localities there are wild horses to be found, which, although invariably of domestic descent, being either themselves runaways from some Indian or ranch outfit, or else claiming such as their sires and dams, are yet quite as wild as the antelope on whose range they have intruded.

Next: Saving the Nokota Horse