Sandhills in Summer
I've driven across the Nebraska Sandhills twice this week, journeying back and forth along that thin ribbon of highway that cuts through the hills. Those green, rolling hills are really just miles and miles of sand dunes, covered with lush, green, native prairie grass, undulating in the cool breeze. What a beautiful, awe-inspiring trip!
The Sandhills are unique formations, or so I've been told. They cover most of north-central Nebraska, angling their way from the northeastern part of the state, clear across much of the panhandle. You can drive for miles without spotting a single tree. Then, all of a sudden, the road might be lined with several majestic Cottonwoods, shiny leaves changing color as they rustle in the wind that never seems to cease. Or, dozens of cedar trees will appear to march over the crest of one hill and onto another.
Then are those unexpected lakes that dot the countryside alongside the road, reflecting the blue sky when the sun is shining, and changing to angry gray when clouds overcome the sun. Many of the lakes are shallow and marshy, with large expanses of cattails blurring the shorelines. Here and there, a single home faces a lake, but most of the lakes are home to only a couple of pelicans or swans floating lazily on the calm waters, watching for the fish dinner which surely lies just beneath the surface of the dazzling water.
The lakes, along with various branches of the Loup River, often provide a good source of water for the cattle that thrive in the Sandhills. But, when there are no lakes or streams in sight, short windmills are able to pump enough water to fill countless stock tanks dotting the hillsides.
I love to see the cows and calves covering the hills. Most of the cattle in the Sandhills are Angus, probably because of effective marketing that sings the praises of Angus beef steaks and hamburgers. Even so, my favorites are those herds that include multiple colors--a few black Angus, mixed with reddish brown Herefords and white, muscular Charolais.
I am always amused to see a single nursemaid cow, babysitting a couple dozen frolicking (or napping) calves while their mothers pursue the greener grass on an adjacent hill. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder why a long line of cows and calves trudges single file, playing follow the leader clear across a pasture. Where are they going, and why? I can only imagine that they are heading for a hidden water source on the other side of the hill, or perhaps they are expecting their rancher to drop a load of hay next to the fence across the way.
As we drove by all those cattle contentedly grazing in the Sandhills, I kept thinking of that Bible verse, from Psalm 50:10, where God reminds us that "every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills." In the Sandhills, we can certainly find thousands of cattle on thousands of grass-covered hills.
And then, there are the horses, working animals on every ranch, put out to pasture when they aren't needed to help move the cattle from one location to another. Horses, too, come in every possible color and pattern, from shiny chestnuts and glossy blacks, to those stunning paints and Arabians, galloping across the hillside with manes and tails streaming behind. Or, they might be standing at the edge of a pond, slurping up huge quantities of cool, refreshing water. After spotting one adventuresome horse, up to his knees in the water, with an immense beard of algae dangling from his teeth, Levi and I had quite a discussion about whether or not horses like to eat seaweed.
Cattle are indeed the main Sandhills "crop." Over the years, ranchers have found that the Sandhills erode easily, and lack the rich soil necessary to grow cash crops like the corn and beans and wheat that grow so prolifically across much of Nebraska. Nevertheless, some ranchers raise a little corn or alfalfa for cattle feed. Huge cylinders of hay bales, known as "round bales," cover the hills here and there, ready to feed the cattle when winter snows cover the grass. Enormous stacks of baled hay stand at attention, waiting for winter or, heaven forbid, another drought.
This summer, the hills are green clear across the state, thanks to the ample spring and early summer rains that have fallen this year. I can remember other years on end, when the Sandhills of Nebraska were mostly brown, wherever they weren't blackened by the wild fires that are so common in years of drought. But, this year, we are thankful for rain and green prairie grass, now beginning to turn gold as the seed heads form and sway in the breeze. And now, as August approaches, the ditches are filled with sunflowers and some other, pale yellow flowers that I am unable to identify. A few purple flowers remain on some of the hills. And some of the grasses are turning deep, burnished red, predicting the cool, fall days that lie ahead.
Towns are widely scattered throughout the Sandhills. Some aren't much more than ghost towns, while a few others support thriving businesses that serve ranchers for miles around. Any town with a population of more than 200 is a metropolis, it seems.
Students are bused a long ways to consolidated schools, because the country schools that used to be so prevalent are gone now, victims of questionable progress.
And on the eastern edge of the Sandhills, hundreds of towering wind generators reach for the sky, spinning slowly in the light breeze, providing energy for thousands of people.
But, as much as progress is changing the landscape, some things never change. Mile-long freight trains, often hauling coal, continue to stretch along the tracks that border the highway clear across the Sandhills. The cattle continue to graze. The people who choose to live in the Sandhills are still hardy and hard working.
Even though towns are scarce, I know that someone will stop to help me if I have car trouble because, in the Nebraska Sandhills, people help each other. They always have, and I expect they always will.
The Sandhills are unique formations, or so I've been told. They cover most of north-central Nebraska, angling their way from the northeastern part of the state, clear across much of the panhandle. You can drive for miles without spotting a single tree. Then, all of a sudden, the road might be lined with several majestic Cottonwoods, shiny leaves changing color as they rustle in the wind that never seems to cease. Or, dozens of cedar trees will appear to march over the crest of one hill and onto another.
Then are those unexpected lakes that dot the countryside alongside the road, reflecting the blue sky when the sun is shining, and changing to angry gray when clouds overcome the sun. Many of the lakes are shallow and marshy, with large expanses of cattails blurring the shorelines. Here and there, a single home faces a lake, but most of the lakes are home to only a couple of pelicans or swans floating lazily on the calm waters, watching for the fish dinner which surely lies just beneath the surface of the dazzling water.
The lakes, along with various branches of the Loup River, often provide a good source of water for the cattle that thrive in the Sandhills. But, when there are no lakes or streams in sight, short windmills are able to pump enough water to fill countless stock tanks dotting the hillsides.
I love to see the cows and calves covering the hills. Most of the cattle in the Sandhills are Angus, probably because of effective marketing that sings the praises of Angus beef steaks and hamburgers. Even so, my favorites are those herds that include multiple colors--a few black Angus, mixed with reddish brown Herefords and white, muscular Charolais.
I am always amused to see a single nursemaid cow, babysitting a couple dozen frolicking (or napping) calves while their mothers pursue the greener grass on an adjacent hill. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder why a long line of cows and calves trudges single file, playing follow the leader clear across a pasture. Where are they going, and why? I can only imagine that they are heading for a hidden water source on the other side of the hill, or perhaps they are expecting their rancher to drop a load of hay next to the fence across the way.
As we drove by all those cattle contentedly grazing in the Sandhills, I kept thinking of that Bible verse, from Psalm 50:10, where God reminds us that "every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills." In the Sandhills, we can certainly find thousands of cattle on thousands of grass-covered hills.
And then, there are the horses, working animals on every ranch, put out to pasture when they aren't needed to help move the cattle from one location to another. Horses, too, come in every possible color and pattern, from shiny chestnuts and glossy blacks, to those stunning paints and Arabians, galloping across the hillside with manes and tails streaming behind. Or, they might be standing at the edge of a pond, slurping up huge quantities of cool, refreshing water. After spotting one adventuresome horse, up to his knees in the water, with an immense beard of algae dangling from his teeth, Levi and I had quite a discussion about whether or not horses like to eat seaweed.
Cattle are indeed the main Sandhills "crop." Over the years, ranchers have found that the Sandhills erode easily, and lack the rich soil necessary to grow cash crops like the corn and beans and wheat that grow so prolifically across much of Nebraska. Nevertheless, some ranchers raise a little corn or alfalfa for cattle feed. Huge cylinders of hay bales, known as "round bales," cover the hills here and there, ready to feed the cattle when winter snows cover the grass. Enormous stacks of baled hay stand at attention, waiting for winter or, heaven forbid, another drought.
This summer, the hills are green clear across the state, thanks to the ample spring and early summer rains that have fallen this year. I can remember other years on end, when the Sandhills of Nebraska were mostly brown, wherever they weren't blackened by the wild fires that are so common in years of drought. But, this year, we are thankful for rain and green prairie grass, now beginning to turn gold as the seed heads form and sway in the breeze. And now, as August approaches, the ditches are filled with sunflowers and some other, pale yellow flowers that I am unable to identify. A few purple flowers remain on some of the hills. And some of the grasses are turning deep, burnished red, predicting the cool, fall days that lie ahead.
Towns are widely scattered throughout the Sandhills. Some aren't much more than ghost towns, while a few others support thriving businesses that serve ranchers for miles around. Any town with a population of more than 200 is a metropolis, it seems.
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| The thriving Sandhills town of Taylor is famous for its old-fashioned wooden cutouts of people. |
And on the eastern edge of the Sandhills, hundreds of towering wind generators reach for the sky, spinning slowly in the light breeze, providing energy for thousands of people.
But, as much as progress is changing the landscape, some things never change. Mile-long freight trains, often hauling coal, continue to stretch along the tracks that border the highway clear across the Sandhills. The cattle continue to graze. The people who choose to live in the Sandhills are still hardy and hard working.
Even though towns are scarce, I know that someone will stop to help me if I have car trouble because, in the Nebraska Sandhills, people help each other. They always have, and I expect they always will.
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