When the Rock Pile Finds You

A story about the prairie, people, and the unexpected ways relationships take root

Sometimes an idea gets planted in your mind long before you realize it is actually going to happen.

That is the story of our rock pile.

Emma Balunek is a researcher, conservationist, photographer, and lover of the outdoors and all things wild. Her work has taken her deep into the relationships between species and the landscapes they inhabit, including research focused on prairie dogs and their importance as a keystone species.

She has a quiet and soft presence about her, an infectious laugh, and an eye for the smallest beauty you can find on the prairie.

Through her creative eye and love for the prairie and wildlife, she has found a unique way to draw attention to this landscape and all that call it home.

We're lucky to have her in our orbit and grateful to expand her work onto a little piece of the prairie we steward.

And then there was an idea...

Early this spring, I was having lunch with Dan and Emily at an old family diner we frequent in Rapid City.

As we talked about the week's events, Emily started sharing photos and videos from Emma's Instagram. She was telling me about this conservationist and researcher who was studying the relationship between coyotes and badgers.

Emma had created these massive rock piles and placed game cameras around them to study the visitors.

There was so much life around these rock piles and some spectacular footage.

We looked at each other and said:

“We have to build a rock pile on the ranch!”

And then, as life tends to do, we got busy.

The rock pile became one of those ideas that lingered somewhere in the background of our thoughts, waiting patiently for its time.

A few months went by.

“Wait...that's me!”

Later that spring, we had a group of researchers come out to the ranch to map our prairie dog towns and help us better understand the health of the colonies and how our stewardship practices might impact them.

When researchers and conservationists come to the ranch, it feels a little like a grade-school playdate.

A bunch of middle-aged folks who are absolutely giddy about the day's adventures ahead.

Plants!

Birds!

Prairie dogs!

Soil!

Buffalo!

We were sharing stories and information when I mentioned what Emily had told me months earlier. There was this young woman documenting the relationship between coyotes and badgers, building these big rock piles and setting up cameras.

One of the researchers looked at me and said:

“Hey...that's me!”

WHAT?!

Emma Balunek was on our ranch.

The very person whose work had inspired us was suddenly standing in front of us.

We spent the day driving around the ranch, visiting prairie dog towns, looking at plants, glassing birds of prey, watching prairie dogs and coyotes, and talking about the incredible relationships happening all around us.

And, of course, we started looking for the perfect place for our rock pile.

Emma shared that she would be back in the basin later in the summer doing more prairie dog research. She offered to help us build the pile and install a game camera so we could monitor it together.

And just like that, the idea that had been sitting quietly in the back of our minds had a path forward.

Building the pile

Back in July, Emily and I got up at 5 a.m. to build our rock pile before the searing triple-digit temperatures and high winds took over the day.

There's a pile of old concrete blocks that have been showing themselves for the last 10 years. I've passed them hundreds of times while running or moving buffalo.

I can't explain the feeling, but there's always been this draw to them. I've never passed the pile without looking at it.

When Emily got in the 4-wheeler, I knew exactly where we were going to gather the foundation of our pile.

With a rock bar and a little teamwork, we lifted the blocks and laid them as the foundation. Then came multiple trips around the ranch gathering rocks.

We were taking this very seriously.

Could an eagle land here?

Would it be stable enough to give him a solid perch, or would he wobble around and decide to move on?

Could a pocket gopher find a place to hide?

What about a rabbit?

Was there a crevice big enough for a coyote's nose?

We carefully considered every angle, every opening, and every potential visitor.

Excitement was high.

Eventually, we stood back and decided we had built what we thought was a pretty damn good rock pile.

Later that afternoon, Emma came to the ranch after spending the morning working a prairie dog town.

She had already put in a full day, and yet she was willing to drive another hour out of her way to come work another shift in the blazing heat and wind of the prairie.

That tells you something about someone who truly loves what they do.

We drove out to the pile, hoping for Emma's professional approval.

She gave us the thumbs up.

Then we got to work finding the perfect place for the camera.

Now we're watching together

The camera Emma installed has internet capabilities, which means we don't have to constantly visit the rock pile and disturb the area to see what's happening.

It automatically captures photos and sends them to an app.

And now we have something that has become one of my favorite parts of the week:

4 a.m. text exchanges in our “Rock Pile!” group thread.

Did you see who visited last night?!

Look at this beauty!

Even though we can all check the camera ourselves, we make sure nobody misses the next visitor.

It's become a little community of its own.

And honestly, that's what I love most about this story.

The rock piles choose where they want to be

Emma has been incredibly generous with her time, equipment, knowledge, and enthusiasm throughout this experience.

At one point, I asked her how many rock piles she has and how she decides where to put them.

Her answer stuck with me.

She said she waits for opportunities like this.

The rock piles, in a way, decide where they want to be.

They come from meaningful relationships.

One connection leads to another. An idea turns into a conversation. A conversation turns into a collaboration.

And suddenly, something exists that none of you could have created alone.

Maybe that's the bigger lesson here.

Sometimes we try so hard to make things happen that we don't leave room for the relationships that might make them happen naturally.

This rock pile started as a conversation over lunch. It sat quietly in the back of our minds. And then the right people, the right place, the right idea, and the right moment all came together.

Sometimes it's worth taking a pause long enough to wonder about that.

With that, welcome to our rock pile!

Nothing exists here alone

In the spirit of Emma's work to bring people closer to the prairie and help us see the life happening all around us, we're going to share our rock pile with you.

We built it at the end of July, so we'll start by sharing the visitors who stopped by during August. Then, once a month, we'll share who has visited this little gathering place on the ranch.

Through photographs and video, we'll introduce you to the neighbors we don't always get to see.

Some will be familiar.

Some might surprise us.

And some may only pass through once.

That's the beauty of the prairie.

Nothing exists here alone.

A rock pile becomes a perch.

A perch becomes a lookout.

A crevice becomes shelter.

A prairie dog town becomes habitat.

A coyote and badger become partners.

A researcher becomes a friend.

And a simple idea becomes a way for all of us to see a little more of the living, breathing ecosystem right outside our door.

It's also a reminder of why restoring these grasslands matters.

When we talk about restoring the prairie, it can sound like a very big idea. But sometimes you can see it in something as simple as a pile of rocks.

Give the prairie room to function and life finds opportunity.

That's the work we're committed to here. Bringing buffalo back to the land, caring for the grasslands beneath their feet, and protecting the relationships that make this ecosystem whole.

We'll keep watching our little rock pile and sharing what finds its way there.

We hope you enjoy watching it unfold as much as we do.

And, as always, thank you for supporting the prairie and all who inhabit it.

Jilian Jones