With a Coronavirus vaccine a year away, we seniors will probably be practicing social distancing well into the next year. I asked the SDGF&P Dept. about drawing a big game license and then not feeling comfortable about using it when the season rolls around. I received a prompt reply from Chris Hull of the Department. He told me that the commissioners are well aware of the situation, and that licenses, all well as preference points, will be refunded to those not comfortable with the situation. I must say that I was pleased with his reply.

In 1976, Rose Tomac Tidball published Taming the Plains. The 540 page volume is a history of Corson County, South Dakota which opened for homesteading in 1909. This ambitious project contains first-hand accounts by most all of the original homesteaders or their direct descendants. Lewis Schmidt, a dear friend and son of original homesteaders, came to their Grand River claim in 1910. Back then it was all open range, and he told me of riding horseback to Lemmon, a 40 mile trip, without encountering a fence. I’ve hunted the Schmidt Ranch for over 50 years, and I’ve become somewhat knowledgeable about the country.

Back in the mid-80’s, Don and Carol Kaberna, Betsy, and I were returning home on a Sunday afternoon from a Schmidt property antelope hunt. Don and Betsy had their antelope, but my tag was unfilled. As we approached the town site of Gopher, we spotted a very good buck and six does about 200 yards to the west. I knew there was a place about a quarter mile ahead, and we stopped to see if I could get permission to pursue the buck.

I went to the door and knocked. A very shapely woman in the shortest shorts and tightest T-shirt I’ve ever seen answered the door.

“What can I do for you big boy?” she asked with a broad smile on her face.

After recovering from my state of shock, I replied, “There’s a big buck antelope about a quarter mile north on the west side of the road. If that’s your land, I’d like to hunt him.”

“Whatever amuses you big boy,” she answered.

I thanked her and hustled back to the pickup in disbelief. They’d never believe me. Anyway, I did get the antelope, and since then, that particular place and all the buildings that were once Gopher are long gone. However, there’s quite a section in Rose’s book about Gopher, and since my antelope encounter, Gopher has intrigued me. Gopher lies south of Morristown and more or less straight west of Isabel.

Although Gopher once had a school and a Catholic church, most of the settlers left by the mid-30’s because of drought and grasshoppers. Extreme cold, snow, blizzards, hail, prairie fires, and tornadoes also accounted for their leaving a one-time dream behind. Imagine finding a cow in a tree after a tornado.

There is little to no mention of deer or antelope although coyotes and rattlesnakes get a lot of press. These settlers relied heavily on their gardens that were often ravaged by open range longhorn cattle. It appeared to me that many of these homesteaders came on immigrant railroad cars from Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Illinois.

Much of Corson County is Standing Rock Indian Reservation, and at the time, a number of Indians made this prairie their home. Depending on the individual family and the Indians themselves, the Indians were viewed either as peers or with much apprehension. The Indian people had a habit of entering one’s home without first knocking, and this certainly fostered some fears.

Sod huts or tar paper shacks were the first homes. They were generally one room affairs, and privacy didn’t exist. Fuel didn’t seem to be a major problem. Buffalo chips burned hot, and Gopher had a local coal mine.

Grouse, prairie chickens, and cottontails were abundant, and various wild berries provided jams. Many milked cows and raised chickens for income. However, there were hard times. One woman wrote of nothing but flour in the house, and she browned the flour to make a gravy that served as their meal.

Gopher entertainment included reading to the family, card parties, and dances. These affairs typically went until dawn as the song “Three o’clock in the Morning” was always played at 3:00 A.M. Many recalled the impact of their first radios. Perhaps in these troubled times we need to turn off the TV and read to our children. A fondest childhood memory is my father reading to us at bedtime. I recall the time I was dog tired when I came into the house after wrestling practice. The girls grabbed me around the legs and said, “Daddy, read to us.” I replied, “Daddy’s too tired.” Then God must have slapped me across the face. If I wanted them to come to me as teenagers, I needed to come to them now.

My new book, The Dakota Nimrod Grows Older, is available at James Drug, Kocer’s Fallen Timbers, Mid-Towne, and Abby’s in Pickstown. See you next week.