Teddy Was Here

At the west edge of North Dakota, way past the capitol of Bismarck in the middle of the state, and even farther past Fargo at the east border, is a tiny, lesser known, ten-block, western-themed town of Medora. It is the failed center of an 1880s cattle slaughtering enterprise on the Little Missouri River, but still a charming gateway to a gem called Theodore Roosevelt National Park in the Badlands of North Dakota.

It took us two days to cross North Dakota, much of which is rolling national grasslands and farmland dotted with some pretty weird things.

 

A popular(?) dining establishment in Fargo. They first landed in Bismarck and have outposts in a couple of cities in Minnesota.

Salem Sue, a Holstein who stands in tribute to North Dakota’s dairy farmers at New Salem. Alas, we only saw her in passing from highway 94. She welcomes visitors, most of whom stand barely above fetlock height. Fortunately, aliens have not yet come to abduct her.

Old combines never die—they just turn into billboards. This one advertises the “Taylor Horsefest” coming in July.

Not easily missed from 94 is the “Geese in Flight” metal sculpture near Gladstone, ND. It exemplifies the delights in store for those who take the next turnoff: the “Enchanted Highway,” a 32-mile county road due south from Gladstone to Regent, dubbed and decorated by metal artist Gary Greff in hopes of bringing business to Regent. As of 2002 Guinness Records, “Geese” was the world’s largest outdoor scrap metal sculpture—154 feet wide by 110 feet tall. It is one of seven outsized, North Dakota-inspired works Greff has created along the corridor, including, apparently, a metal grasshopper large enough to carry off a tank.

A stop for fuel in Belfield near Medora put us across the street to Trapper’s Kettle Inn—about as “downhome Western” as they get for western North Dakota. Especially liked the water tower.

The Badlands at its most beautiful: Painted Canyon in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It’s easy to see how the Dakota territory inspired TR’s hunting, writing, and later conservation work.

TR first came here in 1883 in his mid-twenties, fell in love with the rugged terrain, and returned the next year to grieve the death of his wife and mother (they died of different causes but in the same house on the same day). He found the rigor of surviving in the Badlands immensely rejuvenating, and tried his hand at cattle ranching in the area. Portions of his ranches (Maltese and Elkhorn) are still within park boundaries. His cattle efforts ultimately failed, but his sojourn instilled an early passion for protecting the nation’s lands and wildlife.

The park itself was established in 1947 to honor TR, his association with the Badlands, and his political efforts to conserve wildlife and lands for public use. (Among other activities, he started the U.S. Forest Service, established five national parks, and created dozens of national forests, bird sanctuaries, and game preserves.) On our visit, we were lucky to see the Badlands so lush: a month later, and this will be all brown.

The road through the park passes through several prairie dog towns whose inhabitants make for a frolicking, rollicking show. They race and chase each other across fields, pop in and out of burrows, stand on their haunches to watch and bark warning, and feed and breed nearly every chance they get. Surprisingly, we saw very few road casualties, even though they amble and nosh right at road’s edge.

Happily, our scenic drive through the park took us past a small herd of bison (they were nearly wiped out by the time TR arrived and were reintroduced after the park opened), as well as this band of feral horses. Most of these are descendants from stock that escaped or were released in the 1800s; they are not considered “wild horses,” as in “a species natural to the area”—just “feral horses,” as in “once domesticated and now fending on their own.”

The park actively manages the horse population, and every few years some are transferred to private ownership. Someday these three may see a saddle or bridle…or maybe not. For now, they graze and live with a minimum of human intervention and showed no concern for us visitors gawping at them with car and camera.