There’s a beautiful valley in the Black Hills where we hunt that has been dubbed ‘The Windmill with the Purple Flowers’. Not the most creative name. The valley is exactly as described. It has an old rickety windmill that is a working water pump and purple flowers (usually!) This is possibly my favorite place in the entire world.
To get to this valley, you need to be willing to drive a decent distance. It is not a quick or easy drive. It has many twists and turns on roads that you question have earned the name. Sharp curves and rocks dare you to go on, telling you it’s not worth it, to turn back. This is not a place to bring your shiny new truck. Tree branches reach out to gouge your vehicle, while rocks stick up from below to remove critical parts of the undercarriage. To me, all of these obstacles make the valley all the more appealing!
This special valley is truly a hidden gem. Even when the wind howls and the pines bend, you can always find turkeys tucked away in one of the many fingers that branches off. They love hiding in the sheltered meadows or meandering along the dry runoff beds. We have two methods to find them, glassing from above or driving slowly then stopping and calling. The valley never fails to produce birds even in the toughest years.
Another thing that makes this valley special is the elk. The Black Hills has a growing elk population, something that would have been a rare sight twenty years ago. Now I am disappointed if I go out and don’t see any. Ranchers have a love hate relationship with the elk. Elk tear down fences as they are too lazy to jump them. A herd can destroy fifty plus yards of fence in one crossing, causing hours of frustration and labor for the ranchers. The flip side to this is that the money made off of elk hunts is a good income which acts as a salve for irritated landowners.
I almost always see elk when we come to the valley. One of my all-time favorite memories was an evening hunt there. I sat on a hillside overlooking the windmill and water tanks, hoping to catch birds crossing the green meadow as they headed to roost for the night. While I didn’t see any turkeys, I did see elk. It started out as a pair coming down across the valley from me to the water. Then three more behind them. After a while, I saw another five come from the hillside to my left. Next four bulls came out from the far finger. After that, I quit counting! Elk literally came from every possible direction down to the valley to get a drink of water in the twilight hours. They would slip down, drink, graze for a few minutes and then disappear back into the trees. In the end, I think I saw around twenty to twenty-five elk, cows, and bulls alike. It was magical.
Few places are this unique to me, but this valley in particular holds so many great memories. Between the elk and incredible hunts we have had, it will always be important to me.