Badlands Bighorn I, Badlands N.P. (2018).
While most of my peers were headed to tropical destinations, I anxiously boarded a plane for rural South Dakota. It was the dead of winter and I wanted to photograph the bison herds, hopefully covered in snow. Landing in Rapid City late on Friday night, there were a few different locations I could visit in order to get my snowy bison photo. Of course, Custer State Park remained the sure bet to finding bison, but I knew that both nearby Wind Cave and the Badlands both had bison herds. I figured that since I had more than 24-hours in South Dakota, I might as well see some new places.
Thus, I planned to check out Badlands National Park on Saturday before spending all of Sunday in Custer with a brief excursion to Wind Cave, time permitting. For visitors to the Badlands, 10 Adventures has a great guide for Badlands National Park.
I had this grand romantic idea in my mind of getting an-award winning photograph because I had previsualized the image. I had read enough Ansel Adams to know the importance of previsualization, and figured that really putting it to the test by seeking out this bison image was sure to result in something fantastic.
Badlands in the Snow (2018)
Waking early Saturday morning, I set out to see the Badlands. Besides the cool name, I had always wanted to see the Badlands; friends highly recommended it, Dances With Wolves was filmed there, and it’s intimately connected with Teddy Roosevelt. However, all my friends who visited before me had gone in the summer and In Dances With Wolves, Kevin Costner literally leaves when the snow falls. I was going to the Badlands when the weather forecast had midday temperatures at 3 degrees, with a sub-zero wind chill factor. Needless to say, I was a bit intimidated.
After getting up early and departing Rapid City, I was hoping for some beautiful morning light when we arrived at the park. However, as soon as we stepped foot outside, it was clear there would be no miraculous light for us to photograph— the sky was as grey as the 18% grey card that I’ve never used. While photographically this was a downer for landscapes, it was nice from a travel perspective. We didn’t have to worry about rushing to get to the park while the light was good, we could take our time on the drive. Also, the fact that you’d end up like Jack Torrance at the end of The Shining if you were outside for more than 10 minutes encouraged us to maximize our time in the car.
Driving down the narrow road to Badlands National Park, we stopped at the entrance sign to take a photograph as we normally do. Unaware of just how cold it was outside (it was minus 3 Fahrenheit with a serious wind chill on a cloudy day) and coming from the cozy warmth of our car, we weren’t the most prepared for the shock of the outside world. At first, it wasn’t horrible; after the initial slap in the face the cold was more of a stinging sensation than anything else. However, after a few minutes of bumbling around with our phones— which liked the frigid weather less than we did— the cold crept over us like a plague, slowing down motor functions and burning our eyes. The wind pierced whatever part of your body was exposed, from your face to the little crack between the end of your mittens and the end of your coat sleeves. Coupling the wind and the cold, the weather proved entirely inhospitable, despite all my layers. After we finally took a photo, it went unsaid that most of our time in the Badlands would be spent in the car, with only slight excursions into the cold, at least until the temperature warmed up around midday to a balmy 15 F.
After stopping in the visitor center and learning of all the fun hikes in the park, it seemed like the extreme temperature would make it impossible to enjoy our experience at Badlands. Yet, the weather turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Whereas we would have normally gone for a hike in the park, we continued to drive around, seeing more of the park than we would have otherwise. In a stroke of luck that only fosters lazy photography, we stumbled across three bighorn sheep and several pronghorn grazing right along the edge of the road.
Parking across the road, I quickly whipped out my camera and began to photograph, just trying to get any photo I could— I had never seen a bighorn sheep before and I’d always wanted a photograph of one. From the comfort of my car I could get pretty solid shots; nothing groundbreaking, but nonetheless still quality images. The fact that it was overcast helped in that the harsh midday sun didn’t cast dull shadows on the sheep, rather the lack of direct light really allowed for the details in their fur to shine through.
Although I initially suspected that as soon as I pulled off to the side of the road the sheep would hurry away, just the opposite occurred. As I stepped out into the cold in order to get a different angle, the sheep crossed the road right towards me. Slightly intimidated (those horns are big) and also slightly stubborn (I was getting fantastic detail shots), I stood my ground. The sheep veered off right around the trunk of the car and began grazing directly adjacent where I parked. They were so close that one of them could have opened the passenger door with a horn. My girlfriend, sitting in the backseat, was in a perfect position— rolling over to the passenger side and lowering the window, she was nearly on top of the animals. I had never experienced anything like it! Never before has an animal (except for deranged ones or dogs) been so calm around me. Normally most animals are naturally suspicious and even those that let you get close will take off if you’re within 10 feet or so. Not so with these sheep, I could have petted them if I wanted to!
Oddly, despite all my dreams of getting so close to an animal I wanted to photograph, being too close presented its own problem. With the 300mm f/4 and teleconverter I had used to shoot the sheep when they were across the road, I could now only get extreme details shots. While the close-ups of the horns or eyes or fur were really cool, it proved a dilemma: do I continue to take shots while they’re here grazing just feet away or do I risk changing lenses to get a better portrait of the animal? The issue with the second option was that I’d have to reopen the car door, which would be loud, spend a few seconds changing lenses and then reenter the cold, all without scaring them off. As friendly as these big horns were, I presumed that they wouldn’t enjoy all the commotion.
Knowing that I already had some shots of which I could be proud, I opted to risk it. Ducking behind my car like a movie hero diving for cover, I incrementally shifted closer and closer to the door from the hood of the car, where I had been shooting. Reaching for the door handle with the deftest touch, I gently tugged, inching the handle outwards from the door, anxiously awaiting the horrifying dull pop that was sure to follow. Just as I reached the peak of my door handle pull, the door popped open. I ventured a glance over the window at the sheep. They didn’t even flinch. I hopped in the car closing the door with as much caution as I had opened it. Quickly, I opted to switch to my 135mm f/2, eager to try out such a fast lens on the sheep. Creeping back out of the car, I crawled around the hood, just as one of the sheep moved to the other side of the hood and began grazing.
I could not have asked for a more perfect moment: I sat resting on the car hood with this beautiful creature eating ten feet in front of me. Its short, coarse fur was patched in spots, presumably from past injuries. The ribs on the horns became a subject unto themselves, spiraling around until they reached the base of the skull. The most incredible feature, however, the eyes, glowed orange under the cloudy light. Through the camera I could perceive the tiniest details as I snapped away. In particular, the way the sheep chewed their grass with a diagonal movement between their upper and lower jaws fascinated me. They’d take their lower jaw and slide sideways and upwards towards their top teeth, grinding the grass into a pulp before repeating the motion. I probably spent 45 minutes in the frigid cold photographing these sheep, so enthralled by them that I hardly noticed the conditions.
Of course, such an incredible moment could never last. One of the sheep wandered away and then an iPad-wielding tourist with a death wish— a national park staple— almost drove into another sheep. Hurriedly parking his car and running out to them, he was maybe 4 four feet from the nearest sheep. I thought for sure that I’d see what a sheep charging looks like. Yet, the sheep slowly backed away and that was the end of that (for better or worse). I hopped back in the car, panting both from the adrenaline rush and the cold, satisfied entirely with the trip thus far. As it turns out, I had a bit of an advantage when it came to those sheep: they’ve never had any natural predators in the park, explaining why they didn’t care that I got so close to them. I’m not sure if that counts as cheating, but they’re wild animals, so I’m counting it as fair game.
From the park, we opted to head to the Minuteman Missile National Historic Site, both a museum and the “former” nuclear missile silo site. Our plan was to check out the museum and see a silo before heading back to Wall Drug and later Custer State Park to see some Bison during sunset. We spent a while perusing the museum, which, considering it’s in the middle of nowhere South Dakota, was quite well-kept and well-constructed. The museum had everything from keys to the Russian nuclear missiles to the massive door that once locked the US’ control room, decorated with the Domino’s Pizza logo.
After spending a while in the museum, we drove to the nearby missile silo just as the weather took a turn for the worse. Whereas most of the day had been cold and cloudy, the sky grew darker and snow began to fall. By the time we reached the missile a few miles down the road, the snow was so thick that it blocked the view of missile itself! The missiles sit underground in their own silos, each with a window facing into the ground to see the nuke. Dusting off the exterior window, the missile became clear— it was massive, extending hundreds of feet deep into the earth. Standing on top of massive nuclear missile, just a few feet from a “decommissioned” nuclear warhead is needless to say, intimidating. Perhaps not as intimidating as a bison next to your car, but it has to be close.
All in all, I had an outstanding experience at Badlands National Park and the nearby Minuteman Missile sites. Filled with deer, raptors of every kind, bison, and— of course— big horn sheep. Badlands National Park has a lot to offer to any nature lover, photographer, or artist. While a lot of National Parks offer incredible views or incredible wildlife, few have both. The incredible animals Badlands aren’t just grazing in the middle of a prairie or vacant wildlife refuge, rather they live and thrive in one of the most naturally beautiful environments in the country. Even if wildlife or incredible landscapes don’t entertain you, the history of the land and the proximity to the Minuteman Missiles ensure that every visiting is happy.
My favorite part of the park, even considering the experience I had with the bighorn sheep, is the size of the park itself. Although this may seem a minor point, you can spend a few hours or few days at Badlands and in either case leave feeling satisfied with your experience. For someone who normally only has a day or two at most, the ability to explore the majority of the park in a few hours or take a deeper dive lasting a few days is a blessing. Due to the size, along with the fact that there are a number of hikes I need to do, the next time I go to South Dakota I will definitely be back at the Badlands.
