Road Hunting the Flint Hills in Bloom

A few weeks ago I took my Dad on a photo safari of the Flint Hills in and around the Tallsgrass Prairie National Preserve. The preserve is operated by the National Park Service and protects some of the last tallgrass prairie remaining in North America. The plan was simple: get up early and drive around until we saw something photoworthy (is that a word?), and then shoot it. With a camera. We were greeted with an abundance of wildlife, grand vistas, old farmsteads, and as always, nice people. All photos, unless otherwise noted, were taken by my Dad.

We tried to use the early light to focus on the flora.

Just past a creekbed we came upon three deer having breakfast. The telephoto lens is amazing. I thought two were does and only the one furthest to the right was a buck, but as you can see the one on the left here will be a "button buck" and the one on the right might make a nice trophy this fall.

Ranch land is never devoid of old windmills. Some of them still work, although many have been replaced with electric submersible pumps.

Not to be outdone, we saw this one just down the road. Even in rural America you have to keep up with the Jones' I guess.

We came across this tom trying to persuade a harem of hens. When we first pulled up he stopped strutting, but all it took was a little gobbling to get him going again. I'm embarassed to admit that my gobble is actually pretty good. Thanksgiving around my house is usually a hoot.

After the good morning light was spent we went into Cottonwood Falls for breakfast. The restaurant didn't have a menu. "You order it and he'll cook it." I had the western omelette.

With breakfast sitting pretty the dogs got the opportunity to stretch their legs. The temperature would reach 90 that day so we decided to run where there's a nice lake nestled between some finger hills with public access all around it. We hoped to put up some chickens, or maybe a pair of quail somewhere, but mostly we wanted to keep the dogs wet and have some fun.

What Sage lacks in style he usually makes in intensity.

Ike as always the stylish backer.

From there it was time to visit the tourist spots of the preserve. There was and old farm house with some out-buildings. My favorite was the limestone shitter. There were, no kidding, three seats, one of them much shorter to accomodate a child. I guess you didn't want to take your chances with the natives so everyone went together? "The family that craps together stays together." That'd make a nice bumper sticker I think. While I was comtemplating how to market such a sticker I was distracted by two male bobwhites calling from a wooded area next to the barn. Dang, another million dollar idea spoiled by a mild case of ADHD.

I think we both had a great time. I'm really looking forward to this fall when I'm taking my Dad for his first bird hunt in maybe 40 years. Appropriately, it'll be chickens in the Flint Hills.