In the hills
23/02/16 05:17
The core of the Black Hills is granite, the result of volcanic uplift. The highest peak, near the center is 7,244 feet with the top being exposed granite. As the uplift occurred, layers of sedimentary rock were tipped on edge, dipping away from the center. Although the rocks seem hard and permanent, they are in the process of eroding. Billions of years from now, the hills will be very different. For the most part, however, the change is so gradual that we don’t notice it. When we walk through the hills, especially when we walk ridges and tops where the granite is exposed, it seems as if we are walking on very solid rock. There are a few edges and cliff faces, however, where we can see the rock chipping away and falling.
This process of change is a partnership between the rocks, the plants and the weather. The rocks have cracks within them where water can seep. In the winter the water freezes and expands, widening the cracks. The wind blows in bits of dirt and seed and plants begin to grow, their rots exerting pressure on the rocks as they search for water and nutrients to sustain the plant.
Among the most tenacious plants of the hills are the ponderosa pine trees. We have spruce, cedar, birch and even oak trees, but most of our trees prefer sheltered valleys and low places where the water pools. The pines, however, brave the high and exposed places in amazing ways. Walking around the high places in the hills we are continually amazed at the trees we find growing out of what appears to be solid rock. You wouldn’t think the tree could get its roots into enough nutrients to sustain life, but the tenacious little seedlings figure out how to grow into mighty trees. Along the way they weather some terrific storms, often being twisted and torn by the weather, yet somehow hanging on.
The animals of the hills, like the plants, tend to be of a hearty variety. Buffalo, deer, bighorn sheep and mountain lions all have adapted ways of survival in harsh weather. The prairie dogs, marmots and squirrels have learned to survive in harsh conditions. Many of our birds are tourists, visiting in the summer but heading south during the winter. Summer in the hills has its unique qualities, however, and we see birds in the hills that aren’t seen in the rest of South Dakota like pinion jays, three-toed woodpeckers, American dippers and ruffled grouse. Ou white-winged juncos hang out around the year and find enough food to make it through the storms.
the diversity and wonder of the hills was celebrated by indigenous people long before the arrival of settlers from other continents. The Lakota called the hills Ȟe Sápa or Paha Sápa. The Cheyenne called them Moʼȯhta-voʼhonáaeva. They are awaxaawi shiibisha in the language of the Hidatsa. Many generations ago the hills were considered to be sacred by several different tribes and were a place to be visited for hunting and religious ceremony. Permanent residences in the hills came after the discovery of gold and the mining boom at the end of the 19th century.
One of the lessons that the hills have to teach us is that things change. Mighty trees fall in wind storms and blizzards, they decay into the ground and provide nutrients for subsequent generations of plants. Periodically there are infestations of insects that kill hundreds of thousands of trees. The dead trees provide fuel for wildfires that can blacken hundreds of acres. The appearance of a whole vista can be transformed in a few hours of intense flame. Animals move in and out of areas. When the mountain lion population began to grow, the number of coyotes declined. Bighorn sheep populations go up and down with the cycles of disease. Fires reshape habitat and the creatures move from one place to another.
Even the rocks are in the process of changing. Wind and water and ice and plant growth break down even the hardest rocks. Large chunks of rocks fracture and fall off the faces of the cliffs.
We, who think we own a small patch of the hills, are also temporary. We are stewards of our little pieces of property for a time, a time that is very short indeed when considered in the light of geological time. We come and we go. Humans, however, bring with us powers of observation and of interpretation. We look at the hills and our curiosity is piqued. We draw theories out of our observations and conduct experiments to test our theories. We discover the stories that have been hidden in the rocks and plants for millennia. Not only do we become aware of our setting, but we find ways to share our insights with others. The stories of generations past are transferred to our children and grandchildren.
My mind wanders over the hills even more than my body these days. I love to take a hike and we find ways to get out into the hills most weeks. But I have also discovered that I can sit and stare at a single tree and imagine the storms that it has weathered and envision what the course of its life might be. Reflections on the tree bring to mind other aspects of life in the hills. Soon my mind is wandering all around the area. Perhaps those reflections are connected to the ideas of others. Maybe I can begin to sense the wonder and awe of those who came to the hills in search of a vision of their life’s path. Certainly I can understand why the hills were chosen for special ceremony.
The world is filled with interesting and inspiring places to live. These hills are only one of many places. For a little while, however, they are our place. Here in the hills I feel at home. I enjoy my neighbors, even the human ones. I find inspiration in those whose lives play out on the ridges and vistas.
And maybe, like the pine trees themselves, I’ll sink my roots into the soil and be nourished by the hills.