The short-grass prairie of the Pawnee Grasslands flows in waves of green hills interrupted by winding cottonwood stands along streams and in low areas. In some places there are more conspicuous bluffs and small buttes intersecting with the skyline and forming landmarks in an otherwise similar environment. The Pawnee Buttes stand out in relief against the clouded skies in a remote area of northern Colorado.
Kelly’s thoughts…
When visiting family and peopling a lot, Riki and I know that adventure breaks are really important to us. So today we went to another of Riki’s Picks, a site she visited when she used to live nearby in the Fort Collins area. The Pawnee Buttes are a pair of conspicuous heights standing out from a rise of bluffs in the Pawnee National Grassland in northern Colorado.
Although many people find the prairie tedious, I love the grasslands along the front range from Alberta south to New Mexico. The rolling hills and low valleys with their cottonwoods are great habitat. I spent a lot of time collecting diving beetles in the prairie pools, streams and temporary waters throughout the region over many years.
The history of the people of this region dates back to the Folsom and Clovis peoples some 13,000 years ago. In more recent history, the late 1700s, the Comanche lived in this area and moved south where they contended with the Spanish while the American colonists were fighting with the British. As America began exploring west in the early 1800s, the Arapaho and Cheyenne peoples moved into the area from the Great Lakes region forced out by the Ojibwe, who had acquired guns from the French. The Arapaho and Cheyenne pushed out the Kiowa from Colorado and expanded the region in which they lived through extensive use of horses and alliances with the Lakota and Dakota. Once Americans began to settle the area, there was a lot of conflict between them and the Arapaho and Cheyenne peoples culminating in the tragic Sand Creek Massacre and resulting three decades of warfare (the Colorado War). The Arapaho and Cheyenne eventually moved north into Wyoming, vacating the area, but plaguing the miners and homesteaders on the bloody Bozeman Trail.
Later the area around the Buttes was on the trail of cattle drives north from Texas until homesteaders arrived in the 1890s with barbed wire. The Dust Bowl resulted in most of the homesteads abandoned and the federal government taking over the land establishing the Pawnee National Grassland in 1960. Though named for the Pawnee, the Buttes and the Pawnee National Grassland we visited were not really in the historical range of that people who lived farther east in Nebraska and Kansas.
A 3.5 mile out-and-back hike through the bluffs took us to the base of the larger of two buttes. Along the way we found numerous spring flowers, insects and birds including meadowlarks, lark buntings, horned larks and lark sparrows (lots of larks). The Grasslands are known for an impressive diversity of birds with nearly 300 species recorded.
At the far end of our hike, right below the butte just to the side of the trail, Riki found a beautiful prairie rattler. Although we (and two other visitors) had walked right past it already a couple times, it didn’t even let us know it was there until it must have finally felt it had to. We held the dogs back and took a closer look.
The grasslands in this area have a subtle beauty and majesty that is pretty different from the desert southwest or the high Rockies that we spend so much time in. This was an excellent adventure break.
Riki’s thoughts…
The last time I hiked Pawnee Buttes was years ago, when my children were very young. Since we did not go on many hikes as a family, we were not accustomed to it. The trip was noteworthy for two reasons. First, it was the first time I saw the Colorado State Bird, the Lark Bunting. Second, the trip ended with my son tripping and falling into a prickly pear cactus. It was his first experience with cactus, and resulted in him muttering, “I hate the grasslands,” over and over as I removed cactus tines.
My mother, her husband, and I went for several horseback rides in the Pawnee Grasslands when we were living in the area before my children were born. One time, after a long, hot ride, the horses were enjoying a long drink from a stock tank. My stepdad’s horse, Blue, snagged his headstall on a bit of protruding metal after his drink. This sent him in to a terror romp across the grasslands at full speed. Since the headstall was broken in the escape, my stepdad could do little but hang on and try to control the horse whose bit was hanging around his neck. The horse eventually tired and we got the three horses loaded up for home. On the way, my mother spotted a lovely headstall laying in the gravel road. We broke and acquired a headstall in the same day!
That was back in the day when the three horses were all named after a color, Black, Blue, and Peach. Good memories, except for when I decided to ride Peach bareback when I was heavy with child with Spencer. I never rode her bareback, but I was on weight restriction due to pregnancy complications, so I was not supposed to be lifting anything as heavy as my saddle. I know, I know, that probably meant that I should not be riding horses either, but the doctor did not specify that restriction. Anyway, the horse was set off by someone burning ditches, and began to rear and buck. I managed to slide off before she pitched me, and then walked the half-mile back to the house. Unfortunately, my stepdad and mom were on their way home from work and saw me walking the horse. My stepdad was pretty angry with me and my poor choices. However, he did not want the horse to develop bad habits, so he saddled her for me and spent a half hour walking her with a halter with me and my huge belly on her back. The lecture he gave me lasted for the whole ride.
Fast-forward a few decades, and I found myself heading back to the grasslands with Kelly after a wonderful time watching my youngest child take a flying lesson. I wondered on the way out if we might run into rattlers, as it was a warm late-spring day. We had made it to our turning around point, following four other sets of hikers at a distance, the last hikers on the trail. So, when I found the snake, it was likely that it had sat there as seven people (including two rangers) and two dogs had walked by twice. For some reason, he waited until I was right next to him to rattle and let me know he was there. At that time, but only for a moment, he was within six inches of my lower leg, likely close enough to strike if he felt inclined. I leaped to the far bank of the trail and let Kelly know what I had found. Very exciting! Also, I saw my beloved Lark Buntings. One had been struck on the road, so I was able to harvest a few feathers for my feather collection.
The Pawnee Grasslands and its twin buttes were a worthy stop, and a wonderful adventure in the midst of some great visits with loved-ones.
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