Monday 6/27
Got on the road fairly early to look for wildlife. We found a couple of bighorn sheep by the road--they only had small horns, so we took them for goats. But apparently they were young ones or females.
Then on to the longest, largest prairie dog town I ever imagined. Tons of bison, too.
Mule deer
The scenic overlooks were mostly full of cars, but I wanted to go on to the end of the road. Forgot to mention--I didn't have my bearings about me, and I was trying to navigate by paper map because sources had told me that google maps wasn't accurate out there, and so I got us going the wrong way out of the park. This was at the main gate, to the north--not the one we'd come in. When we turned around to re-enter, the ranger at the gate demanded our pass. I assume she would have made us pay, too, if we hadn't happened to have the pass. (See previous day entry)
No matter. Fully confused, I turned to google maps on my phone and it easily showed us where we'd gone astray. Silly me.
So. On we went to the end of the park at the west. The road turned to gravel at some point, and a little rough in places where the grader had "bounced"--I guess that's the term. It left ridges, like a washboard.
Eventually we came to my chosen destination--a campground with a toilet. Pit toilet, of course. The campground was completely dry and without hookups, and oddly enough, situated in the middle of a prairie dog town. Only a few tent campers were around (not the campers, but their tents), plus the seasonal worker who came to clean the bathroom. I'd been wondering why so many of the dog mounds had cages at or near the entrance, and he explained that they occasionally trapped the dogs so they could check them and give them their vaccinations.
Cool place. We wouldn't have wanted to take the Mammoth Motorhome in there, but it would be a wonderful place to Boondock. If only if we had some big batteries to run the electricity all night. I'd be okay turning on a generator for a few hours in the daytime, but there's no way I would subject the poor tent campers to the racket and smell of a diesel engine.
After a few stops at scenic overlooks and stuff, we returned to shut the dogs up for their afternoon nap while we went to the visitor center and the lodge store. The exhibits weren't very good, and the only tee shirts that I liked were way overpriced and 40% polyester. I prefer all cotton. Ed didn't like the designs on most of them, and the one with the best design was only available in a hideous shade of blue, so no go. We decided to go over to Wall next day, where we could fill up the Jeep with gas and check out a few gift shops.
The informative plaque at the visitor center explained the status of the black-footed ferret. I already knew it was rare and endangered, but I'd forgotten that it was considered extinct for a while. When it was finally rediscovered, in a Prairie Dog Town in Wyoming, canine distemper was killing them off at an alarming rate. Eventually the decision was made to trap all 17 remaining individuals and start a captive breeding program.
This was successful, and soon they were re-introduced into the Conata Basin Prairie Dog town in South Dakota. (And, I assume, other places) there they reproduced to a point where they became self-sustaining.
Reading all this, we decided to go out next morning and find this Conata Basin dog town to see if we might catch sight of a ferret. Later, we decided to go in the evening, just after sundown. (Mornings are hard for us old folk)
So that's what we did. After a fairly long walk for Molly--about an hour--and supper and showers, we went out to drive again. Not knowing exactly where it was, we drove to the Conata Basin overlook. Nope--too high up in the air. It might have overlooked the town, but we were so high up we couldn't even guess where it might be. So we went on and soon found a Conata Road that led us south, out of the park. Just as we were about to exit the park--no gate or anything--we saw a dog town off to the right.
It was surrounded by a high fence, one with square cross hatching. Although it appeared to be outside of the park boundary, I wouldn't be surprised to find that it's protected that way against human intrusion. Possibly the fence is stout enough to keep coyote out, too. But I'd be surprised, unless it's dug down into the ground a ways, too. Coyote can dig.
Way off in the distance, I caught this picture of a Burrowing Owl overlooking a prairie dog at work--
The Burrowing Owl didn't have any trouble with the fence. Since we soon realized our chances of seeing a ferret were slim to almost none--I remembered from my reading that they stay underground a great deal. But a little bit more watch
ing turned up an oddly big-headed bird atop a pole. Wow! Another one!
On both the way out and the way back we saw bighorn sheep. Not just the little goat-like females from earlier, but all the big curling horns you expect from the pictures you've seen. A couple of males were even sparring a little, perched out on a rock ledge and bumping heads as if to show off for the onlookers.
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