North Dakota - Day 23 - Audubon birds and the Missouri River

Bismarck KOA, Bismarck

Friday, 23 July 2021

When I took the dogs out at 4:10 for our first walk, I was stunned by a very full moon that looked very red.  I've never seen a blood moon before, but that's what I figured it was until I looked them up online.  That's not what it was.  In fact, I couldn't find any mention of what I saw online so apparently it wasn't a recognized weather phenomenon.  My guess is that the red color was caused by smoke from the Canadian wildfires, though I thought that smoke had mostly headed for Minnesota and I haven't smelled any of it here.  So my guess may be wrong, but my eyes weren't.  That was a very large, very round and very red moon.  And it had disappeared below the tree level by the time we got back to the RV at 4:25 (I'd wanted to take a photo).  I was just lucky.

During that same walk, we heard an unearthly high-pitched scream in the distance.  It wasn't a cry like coyotes, for instance.  It was a scream, but I'm pretty sure it was animal and not human.  It upset Dexter, who stopped walking and started growling.  Maybe it was a bird?  Very strange and very spooky.

today's route

Today's route was 122 miles, which doesn't seem like much, but I'd intended it to be even longer.  My very sore arm, that doesn't seem to be making much progress in healing, makes driving a real chore instead of something almost automatic.  I can't use my left arm to turn the wheel, for instance, and even just finding a comfortable position to sit in isn't easy.  

So what went by the wayside was a visit to Knife River Indian Villages National Historic Site.  I'd also passed up a visit there when I was first driving to Lake Sakakawea, because I'd spent so much time at the Theodore Roosevelt National Park North Unit, and then had the worry of the "check engine" light being solid, that I was too tired then for a visit.  Instead, I planned it for today but gave up the idea when the temperature got blazing hot again and my arm got painfully sore again.  This historic site preserves the remains of an earthlodge (this is the National Park Service's word) village, and includes a reconstructed earthlodge to interpret the way of life of 3 Northern Plains tribes.  I wanted to see it but will have to add it to the list of things for my next trip here.

On the road

When I crossed the dam that created Lake Sakakawea, I passed a bar & grill with a prominent "open" sign.  At 7:30 AM.  Now, you might think it was just the grill part that was open, but North Dakota has alcohol laws so liberal I've been reminded of those in Alaska.  Alcohol can be sold from 8 AM until 2 AM, Monday through Saturday, and noon until 2 AM on Sunday.  These times apply both to alcohol consumed in an establishment (say, a bar & grill) and to a bottle of alcohol which, by the way, is sold in grocery stores, convenience stores and liquor stores.  That includes beer, wine and spirits.  Considering ND has the highest number of churches per capita in the US, these liberal alcohol laws were a continuing surprise to me.

Less than 20 miles from last night's campground was the Audubon National Wildlife Refuge, so I went there first.

Audubon National Wildlife Refuge

I was surprised driving in to be met with quite the herd of cows who were NOT fenced in.

This is only part of the herd - many more
were to the left of this photo.

This is the sign at far
right in the cow photo.

Because we got there early, the visitor center wasn't open.  But there was a display and a handout: an Auto Tour Guide that included information about interpretive signs along the route.  This is one of the signs on the display:

So this explains the cows.

explaining the grasslands

mixed grass prairie

I've never really thought of acres of grass as attractive, but North Dakota is teaching me to appreciate it.  The Auto Guide explained that the leading edge of the Wisconsin glacier moved across this region more than 10,000 years ago.  It deposited rock, gravel and soil that provided growing conditions for mixed grass prairie plants.  These, in turn, provide habitat for the many bird species that are dependent on grasslands.

This photo shows dikes that were built in Lake Audubon to create a habitat that's more like a wetland than an open lake.  The dike calms the water, which allows plants like cattails to grow, and these provide habitat for a variety of birds.

This refuge is in the Prairie Pothole Region, like the area around Chase Lake I saw earlier this month.  This region has some of the highest densities of nesting ducks in North America.

At another point in the drive I found similar information:

a different dike at another part of the lake

Nearby I found a different type of habitat enhancement:

showing the islands that were once hilltops -
odd idea, isn't it

Here's another view of the prairie lands:

According to the Auto Tour Guide, early pioneers called these prairies a Sea of Grass.  It was mile after mile of grasslands that waved in the summer winds, much like what I saw here.  Sadly, there are no longer any such expanses.  At all.  The areas here in the refuge, like similar areas around the US, were used for growing crops.  Groups like the US Fish & Wildlife Service, which manages this refuge, have been reseeding native grasses in protected areas in an attempt to reestablish the lost habitat.  They say that though it's "virtually impossible to duplicate native prairie due to the variety and complexity of plant and soil life, the planted native grasses and wildflowers provide habitat for a great variety of insects, migratory birds, and resident wildlife."

I came early enough in the day to see lots of duckies - one with a family of 3 babies, and either a beaver or an otter, I couldn't tell which.  Lots of cormorants, maybe a Bittern.  But most of them were just far enough away that I'd've had to be constantly adjusting my binoculars to see them.  And honestly, the pair of binoculars I have are hard for me to use - small and convenient but hard for me to focus, so I tend to avoid using them at all.

Still, this was a beautiful area and I was glad I came.

Back on the road

Once again, the "check engine" light flashed 3 or 4 times, then stopped.  I wish I knew what it was all about.  It's so distracting and worrying.

I passed a sign for Falkirk Mining Co., which also said they mined coal.  The State of North Dakota, with the logo "Be Legendary," celebrates this strip-mining operation by touting its use of "some of the largest earth-moving equipment manufactured today" while producing about 8 million tons of lignite each year to "generate low-cost electricity for 2/3 of rural Minnesota."  (They don't explain why it's for Minnesota and not North Dakota).  They have 400 full-time employees, are one of the safest coal mines in the industry and "are able to return the land to a quality at or above pre-mining condition."  (They don't say what an above pre-mining condition might be.)  

I've never been a fan of strip mining, but I'm willing to modify my opinion if this group really is doing a good job of reclamation.  Still, this description by the State is so glowing I'm not sure I believe it.  And I found others questioning these claims because - let's face it - the coal industry is folding.  Despite efforts by former Pres. Trump and Sen. Mitch McConnell and others to hold back reality, reality is starting to win out.  And some folks are starting to worry about coal mines not doing the reclamation they're obligated to do if they simply close.  Here's a link.   https://www.inforum.com/business/What-happens-when-coal-mines-leave-ND

Not far away I passed the Blue Flint Ethanol plant that says they buy 23 million bushels of corn from local farmers each year, using it to produce 70 million gallons of ethanol, as well as distillers grains for livestock feeds and corn oil for biodiesel.  They especially pat themselves on the back for locating their plant next to ND's largest power plant, because they use the waste steam for their refining process and to dry the distillers grains for cattle.  They say it makes them "one of the most cost-effective, energy efficient and environmentally friendly biorefineries in the country."  And maybe they are.

I stopped at a rest area above the Missouri River, where 4 horses were standing nearby, flicking their tails so sharply and so constantly that I wondered if flies were getting to them.  I noticed flies myself when the dogs and I went for a short walk.

The "check engine" light came on again, this time not blinking but steady.

Cross Ranch State Park

On the way here I discovered Google wanted me to drive 6 miles on an unpaved road.  The State, on the other hand, directed me to a longer but well-paved road, and that's the route I took.

I came here because I'd been told this park included the last 7 miles remaining of free-flowing Missouri River.  The park itself says the park and next-door nature preserve "contain the largest remaining tract of publicly-owned, undeveloped floodplain woodland on this stretch of the Missouri."  The nature preserve is owned by The Nature Conservancy, which donated part of its land to the state for this park.

Here's some background:

 And here's the river itself:

I really hope this video has come out.  It's only a minute long, but it took ages to download for some reason, so I'm not sure if it took.  This is the Missouri River as it might have looked 200 years ago when Lewis & Clark came upriver.  It's really peaceful.  There's a little sound on the video, too.  Maybe you can tell that there's an awful lot of water moving down this river.

Back on the road

It was at this point that I decided not to visit the Knife River Indian Village.  The day had become really hot, my arm was still hurting, and Google said it'd take me an hour to get to tonight's campground just from here; it'd be 2 hours if I detoured to the historic site.  I just couldn't come up with the energy.

I kept driving south and crossed the Missouri again as I was coming into Bismarck.  I went back to the campground where I'd first started North Dakota, and I think the dogs were as glad as I was to be back in a familiar, comfortable place.