Mount Rushmore, Badlands, Wind Cave

by Mike Graf

  Text © 2012 Mike Graf

  Illustrations © 2012 Marjorie Leggitt

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, PO Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.

  FalconGuides is an imprint of Globe Pequot Press.

  Falcon, FalconGuides, and Outfit Your Mind are registered trademarks of Morris Book Publishing, LLC.

  Photo credits:

  Licensed by Shutterstock.com: inside cover and i: © Ralf Broskvar; 1: © Lisa Woodburn; 3: © Tomaz Kunst; 18: © pzig98; 34: © Tomaz Kunst; 42 (top): © Mermozine; 44: © iofoto; 47: © George Aldridge; 48: © solpo; 52: © Ryan M. Bolton; 56: © J. Norman Reid; 72 (top): © iofoto; 72 bottom: © Jason Patrick Ross; 74: © Krzysztof Wiktoe; 82: © Krzysztof Wiktoe; 81 (top): © Elizabeth C. Doerner; 82 (top and bottom): © Jody Dingle; 91 and 93: © Jim Parkin; 94: © trekandshoot

  © Mike Graf: 4; 5; 6; 9; 10; 11; 15; 16–17; 20; 22 (both); 24; 27; 28; 29; 30; 33; 37; 40 (both); 42 (bottom); 45 (both); 49; 55; 66

  Courtesy National Park Service: 43; 61; 62; 69; 70; 76; 77; 87

  South Dakota Office of Tourism: 81 (bottom)

  Maps courtesy of National Park Service

  Illustrations: Marjorie Leggitt

  Models for twins: Amanda and Ben Frazier

  Project editor: David Legere

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  ISBN 978-0-7627-7968-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  1 The Saber-Toothed Hunter

  2 In the Modern World

  3 Hanging Out with Chasers

  4 Early Morning Hikers?

  5 An Amazing Discovery

  6 Incident Reports One and Two

  7 The Prairie Dog Whisperer

  8 Returning to the Past

  9 A Little Cave History

  10 Lights Out Underground

  11 On the Presidential Trail

  12 Is it Really Them?

  13 The Chase Is On

  14 And in the End

  1 The Saber-Toothed Hunter

  One Day, Thirty-three Million Years Ago

  A small body of water was nestled within the grassy plain. Tall hackberry trees surrounded the watering hole, the only one for miles around. It had not rained for quite some time. The prehistoric region was under a severe drought.

  The sun baked down and the whole area warmed, sweltering under the intense heat hanging in the air. A tortoise lying on a rock stuck its head up. But the midday sun was just too warm. The tortoise tucked its head back in while staying perched on the boulder in the middle of the isolated watering hole.

  Nearby, a herd of Mesohippus, prehistoric miniature horses, grazed on the leaves of the ferns surrounding the lake. The height of a modern fox, the creatures tore off shreds of the plant and ground them with their flat teeth into a chewy pulp.

  A large piglike creature with a four-foot-long head trotted up. The Archaeotherium bent down and lapped up some water, then lumbered off, stopping to rest in the shade of a palm tree.

  Nearby, a Subhyracodon was also staying close to the watering hole. The hornless ancient rhino wallowed in the muck near the shoreline, getting deeper in the mud with every step.

  A moment later a nearly starving saber-toothed cat ran up. The powerful predator lapped up some water, then scoured the vicinity, searching for prey. The beast took a few steps toward the herd of Mesohippus, then stopped in the shade behind a bushy fern and waited where it was a little cooler. A few moments later, the cat began to stalk one of the smaller Mesohippus.

  The fox-sized prehistoric horse caught a glimpse of the approaching predator. It glanced back, then ran straight toward the water.

  The saber-toothed cat watched the creature swim toward the middle of the water hole. The Mesohippus bleated loudly as its head bobbed and weaved above the surface.

  The saber-toothed cat paced back and forth, then rambled across the shallow water and started paddling after the struggling Mesohippus. Soon the Mesohippus stepped into deep mud at the bottom of the watering hole.

  The large cat reached the trapped animal. It snarled and dove toward the stuck, panicking creature. The cat swatted at its side, striking the small herbivore across the face, and the Mesohippus screeched in distress. The cat then lunged onto the Mesohippus’s neck, clamping onto and tearing into the creature right at the base of its skull and through the jaw.

  Both mammals rolled and struggled in the water, simultaneously dipping under the surface before coming up for air.

  A few moments later the battling creatures submerged again, only this time not to re-surface. And soon, it became calm; all prehistoric beasts were now out of sight.

  Both the Mesohippus and the saber-toothed cat were now drowned at the bottom of the thick, muddy water hole. Over time, other prehistoric animals in the vicinity met similar fates.

  Buried

  As drought continued to parch the region, several perished animals lay on the former watering hole’s dry, mud-caked bottom. Then silt and ash layered onto the once ferocious beasts. The prehistoric mammals were now buried under piling sediment.

  Over time, the area became cooler and drier, although periodic floods covered the region, depositing layers of sand, silt, and ash. The buried beasts were all far below the ground, and all that was left of them were bones and teeth—their skin and flesh had long since rotted away.

  Then something peculiar began to happen. Gradually the once-living material in the animals was replaced, one microscopic speck at a time, by minerals seeping through the surrounding rock. Bit by bit and over millions of years the bones and teeth were all transforming into a rock- and mineral-laden cast replica of their former selves. And yet these fossils remained beneath the massive layers of sediment.

  Streams ran fast through the region, cutting into the easily eroded conglomeration of soils in the area.

  Then about five hundred thousand years ago, most of the nearby streams were channeled into the Cheyenne River. This caused the Badlands area to be starved of sediment, which greatly increased erosion in the area.

  Around ten thousand years ago a cool, wet period of time accelerated this process. Rivers of water washed through the region, eroding away the softer, malleable soil layers into fantastic, bizarre shapes.

  Meanwhile the prehistoric bones buried deep below inched closer and closer to the surface with each passing storm and period of intense erosion.

  Suddenly, around 1843, fur trappers discovered the first bones sticking up out of Badlands’ sediments and researchers wrote a publication about them in 1846. The modern era of scientific discovery had begun here, and it would lead to the Badlands becoming one of the richest prehistoric fossilized mammal regions in the world.

  And this all leads us up to the summer when Robert and Kristen Parker and their ten-year-old twins, Morgan and James, decided to take a trip to this spectacular region of national parks.

  2 In the Modern World

  The Parkers arrived at badlands driving from the west on Highway 44. They moved slowly through the tiny town of Interior and then entered the park. The family gazed out the window at the sea of wind-waving grasses in the foreground and the barren, eroded buttes in the distance. Mom commented, “It’s so different here than any national park I’ve ever seen—a grassland prairie with a bunch of bizzarely shaped badlands.”


  The Parkers pulled into the campground and quickly set up their tent and paid for their site. Then, with much of the afternoon still ahead, they drove toward the heart of the park and several short trails.

  The road took the family past Cedar Pass Lodge and the visitor center. “We’ll go there later,” Dad remarked.

  Dad drove slowly up Cedar Pass and toward a convoluted maze of badlands. As they approached the top, the family stared at the close-up views of the highly unusual scenery.

  “Badlands,” Dad called out in awe, “sure are amazing!”

  “And photogenic,” Morgan added while snapping a few pictures through the rolled-down window.

  Before long the family arrived at a parking lot. Dad pulled in and they all piled out.

  “Well—let’s go!” James exclaimed with enthusiasm at a trailhead. But a few feet later he stopped with alarm. “Look at this sign!” he pointed.

  Straight ahead a warning was posted for all hikers: BEWARE OF RATTLESNAKES!

  “Hmm,” Mom pondered. “We’ll have to be extra careful where we step out here.”

  The Parkers walked along the short Cliff Shelf Nature Trail. The half-mile-long walkway was a combination of gravel and boardwalk with sets of stairs. At the top of the trail the family paused to gaze out at the vista. From there they could see the lodge and campground nestled in the distant prairie.

  “That’s where we’re staying!” Morgan exclaimed.

  As the family admired the views, a series of vans, trucks, and cars all pulled into the lodge’s parking lot. After the caravan of vehicles parked, Dad said, “I wonder what’s going on down there.”

  Meanwhile Morgan scanned the skies as well as the buttes and badlands looking for a good angle for a picture. She took several of the scenery, but also a few of a massive, billowing thunderstorm.

  “Look at that cloud!” Morgan exclaimed. “It has bulges at its bottom that look like pillows.”

  “Good description,” Dad said. “Those are mammatus clouds at the base of a building thunderstorm. We’re in the Great Plains now. And these conditions are much more common here this time of year than where we’re from in California.” Dad studied the blossoming cloud with a dark grey base for a moment longer, trying to decipher the direction it was moving. “I think we’ll be fine on this little trail, at least for the short term.”

  The Parkers plowed on. The path dropped into a small juniper forest before looping back to the trailhead. Then the family drove to the Door and Window Trails, just up the road.

  A large group of cars was parked there. The Parkers checked the sky again and determined the developing thunderstorm was not heading their way at that moment. Then the family proceeded down the short path called the Window Trail.

  The walkway soon ended at a railing overlooking the badlands. The family stood there, gazing into a spectacularly eroded canyon sculpted out of dirt and clay. “Wow!” Dad exclaimed. “I can really see how water washes through there and carves up the gully.”

  Next the family crossed the parking lot over to the Door Trail. Another boardwalk led the family to a small set of stairs. From there the Parkers gazed into the heart of the convoluted, eroded scenery.

  A sign below the stairs proclaimed that the area was the “baddest” of all the badlands, beckoning hikers to go out and explore. The Parkers ventured a ways beyond the sign, following a series of small posts planted into the ground leading into the sparsely vegetated wilderness.

  BADDEST OF THE BADLANDS

  In some places on earth, soft, highly erodable clays are the dominant sediment type. These sediments are sculpted by wind, rain, and frost over time into spectacular and bizarrely shaped canyons, gullies, ravines, and other odd geologic formations. Many badlands are also uniquely colored due to the mineral contents in the clay soil, and such is the case at Badlands National Park.

  At one point, James gazed into a deeply eroded chasm. “I sure wouldn’t want to get stuck in one of those!” he remarked.

  The family’s concern over the threatening sky put an end to their journey. But, as they were returning to their car, sun peeked back through and beckoned them on. They decided to hike the last trail of the area, the Notch Trail.

  This time the path started by heading up a dirt gully. “Now we’re hiking!” Dad announced with a satisfied sigh.

  A short while later the dirt trail turned a corner. Straight ahead a ladder was perched onto a bluff. Morgan gauged the situation. “I guess we’re climbing!”

  Morgan and James took the lead, walking briskly toward the steeply positioned ladder. They got to the base of the bluff and waited for their parents to catch up. Once Mom and Dad were there, the twins looked at them, asking without saying a word.

  “Go ahead,” Mom said.

  “Yeah, we’ll watch you so we can see where the tough parts are,” Dad added.

  First Morgan, then James zipped up the ladder. Near the top the pitch steepened but the twins easily reached the blufftop, stepped off the ladder, and then turned to gaze down at their parents.

  “Come on!” James called down. “It’s not that hard.”

  Once they were all reunited, Dad brushed himself off and said, “Well, that was a little adventure!”

  The family continued on, passing a sign warning hikers to stay away from the cliff edge. The trail now traversed among the bluffs and buttes. Mom took the lead, guiding her family along the narrow path while making sure the footing was secure. Finally they came to two signposts with arrows both pointing toward the right. “I guess that’s the way,” James said.

  The Parkers scrambled up the last section of the “Notch.” Once at the top they peeked over the other side. Morgan was first to notice a distinct path almost directly below them. “Hey! That’s where we were earlier,” she called out.

  “It’s the Cliff Shelf Trail,” Mom realized.

  “And our campground way out there,” James added, gazing into the distance.

  Meanwhile, Dad again inspected the skies. A towering, dark cumulo-nimbus cloud was to the south, but its expanding mass now blocked the sun where the Parkers stood. In the distance, the base of the cloud had white shafts of precipitation dropping below it. Right in that location a rogue lightning bolt lit up underneath the cloud, appearing to strike the ground.

  “Did you guys see that?” Morgan exclaimed.

  “Sure did,” Dad replied. “Tornado Alley can really put on a show with thunderstorms.”

  After a moment, Dad continued, “but the brunt of the storm seems pretty far off. There wasn’t any thunder.”

  Still, Dad studied the unusual, circular formation at the bottom of the cloud. “Wow,” he said, “the whole base of the cloud appears to be rotating!”

  Morgan, James, and Mom also looked up. “What do you mean?” James asked.

  “Sometimes thunderstorms out here become supercells. They take on a mind of their own and rotate in a large circular pattern. Rotation is an indication that the storm might become or already is tornadic.”

  “Is that what you meant by Tornado Alley?” Morgan asked.

  “Yep,” Dad said. “A perfect blend of tornado-producing atmospheric conditions brews in these Midwestern states from March until June every year.”

  “It’s June 27,” Mom added. “It’s still tornado season, then.”

  The family watched the thunderstorm from their vantage point, wondering if they were going to see a funnel cloud spin down. But only sheets of rain and hail appeared below the giant cloud’s base. Still, the cloud swelled before their eyes, further darkening the skies. The wind picked up and it became noticeably cooler. A few drops of heat-breaking rain plunked down around the Parkers.

  At the same time shafts of sunlight and shade gave the views of the badlands an ethereal, vibrant quality. Morgan snapped several pictures.

  Suddenly a bolt of lightning flashed and distant thunder followed. Mom snapped to. “We better go,” she announced.

  The Parkers turned around to lea
ve, but as they scampered back to the signposts, two large animals blocked their path.

  “Whoa!” Mom said, putting the brakes on her family.

  Two bighorn sheep were right on the trail. The mother glanced at the Parkers. Then she nuzzled her baby.

  “Sorry. We didn’t mean to disturb you,” Mom whispered to the noble-looking animals.

  The mother nudged her baby again and this time the animals took off and quickly scrambled up a butte.

  “I wish I could climb like that,” James said in awe.

  The family returned to the ladder, climbed down, and finished the walk in the gully. More large drops of rain splatted down. An occasional flash of lightning reminded the Parkers that it was time to head indoors.

  By the time Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad returned to the parking lot, a full-blown thunderstorm burst forth. The Parkers sprinted toward their car. Now, tiny balls of ice—hail—accompanied the sheets of rain blowing across the blacktop.

  Mom pulled out the car key as she ran. She pushed a button, opening the doors before they got there. The Parkers quickly piled in, shut the doors, and laughed, noticing each other’s wet mops of hair.

  “Well, that was fun!” Dad said. Then he shook his head, showering his family with secondhand raindrops.

  Wind and rain continued to pummel the landscape. The family waited a moment, then Mom checked the time. “Three twenty,” she announced. “Maybe it’s not the best time for that fossil talk in ten minutes.”

  “We can always try it again tomorrow morning at ten thirty,” Dad said. “They offer it twice a day.”

  And with that the Parkers drove toward the visitor center and lodge. They opted for the lodge first. Once they got there, the series of trucks, cars, and vans the family had glimpsed earlier were still parked in front. Several had unusual logos on them: STORM SAFARI and LIGHTNING CHASER were two of them. Others were also adorned with images of tornadoes, lightning, and massive clouds.