Ranger Steve recommended the trail at Fort Falls and the stairs down to the waterfall. Here, water spills into the Niobrara River below. The river begins in the high plains of eastern Wyoming as a trickle and flows 535 miles to join the Missouri. The Ponca and Omaha Indians named it Ni obhatha Ke, the spreading water river.
Trees line the Niobrara River bank at Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge. |
Fort Falls flows downhill into the Niobrara River; the trail follows the stream. |
Bison graze on the other side of the Niobrara River |
Returning toward the Visitor Center, we saw the head of one lone prairie dog. "So I guess they really DO live here," I joked. "The hawk is gone, but it hasn't warmed up much."
"It's just pretty cold for them at this hour, I guess," Andy said.
That may well have been true. When we started out this morning, temperatures hovered around 33 degrees with a light breeze about 5 m.p.h. By 10:00 a.m. a bright sun warmed the land slightly, but bitter 30 to 40 m.p.h. winds whipped across the prairie. Huge clouds of dust carried on the wind darkened the sky where farmers plowed fields. "That's what planting winter wheat prevents," said Andy.
Little autumn color remains in this beautiful place because of the dryness. |
Andy and I browsed in the museum. Fossils from more than 20 extinct mammal species found here were on display, including the long-jawed mastodon, giant bison and three-toed horse, animals that roamed here between 12,000 and 13 million years ago.
The trail climbs to a high point over the river. |
Concern in the early 1900's about the exploitation of wildlife and their habitats on the Great Plains prompted President Theodore Roosevelt to sign an Executive Order on January 11, 1912, establishing Fort Niobrara as a "preserve and breeding ground for native birds." Later that year, the purpose was expanded to include the conservation of bison and elk herds representative of those that once roamed the Great Plains.
Solitary male bison graze undisturbed near Scenic Overlook. |
We stopped at the overlooks. Here on top of the plateau ridge overlooking the Niobrara River Valley, the wind, probably 30 or 40 m.p.h., gusted in ferocious blasts. "Brutal," said Andy. We had had enough of winter.
Cub Creek broadens into a series of small lakes at the Cub Creek Recreation area. |
In our drive eastward towards Norfolk, we passed one farmer with three large corn cribs. They were totally empty. "One has weeds growing in it," noticed Andy.
Outside of Atkinson stood a large ethanol plant. "If corn suffered so severely from the drought," I said, "I'd think the ethanol industry would get hit hard."
"Yup," agreed Andy. "And that's definitely a processing plant."
We read later that Nebraska has the worst exceptional drought of any state in the country. Almost three quarters of the state is exceptional, worse than extreme.
Neligh has a hospital, a historical old flour mill, a park with a camouflaged airplane and tank, but no big motel--or we missed it. And Nebraska charges for all state facilities. I don't remember any other state that charges all year, all hours, in all parks. The old mill had a broken window. A neon sign flashed Open, but the main sign said Closed Labor Day. They charged; we didn't stop.
By the time we drove through town, the clouds had moved in. "This could pass for a winter sky," said Andy. The wind howled and Little Red shook. He clutched the steering wheel tighter every time a truck approached from the other direction. I could feel the vibrations. "It's not cold enough to snow, but that wind is wicked," he said, as a cattle truck went by. "Winter is blowing in!"
Odd, I thought. the wind was out of the southwest.
Norfolk, a town of 24,210 people, has a big community college. A stable community with lots of newer houses, Norfolk has streets all made of concrete. We checked out the town, even the dam and the park. "It's greener in Phoenix," said Andy. "This is sad. They need rain in the worst way."
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