The beginnings of what was to become the United Nations were set in motion back in 1941. By 1942 the term United Nations, coined by Franklin Roosevelt, was first used. Over the next few years the UN Charter was created and ratified and a search was begun for a place to house this new international organization.

Many locales vied for the UN complex. In the end, the final 5 contenders were: a location in Queens, New York, two locations in New York City, Navy Island in Ontario, Canada, and the Black Hills of South Dakota. The South Dakota location that had been selected for the UN was a pretty little valley just a few miles south of Rapid City along Spring Creek. It was ultimately decided that putting this huge complex in the center of the US in a rural area with minimal infrastructure did not make much sense. So, the current site in New York was selected and ground was broken in 1949. Less than 20 years after the Black Hills location was rejected, that same valley would become the new home of Reptile Gardens! We were forced to relocate when Highway 16 had to be moved in order to make it a 4-lane highway.

Recently, Reptile Gardens’ board member, Marshall Young found this 1945 design plan for the Black Hills United Nations complex in his grandfather’s papers. It isn’t hard to imagine how different not only Reptile Gardens valley would be but Rapid City and the entire Black Hills if this site had been selected. The area would be home to millions of people from all over the world, Rapid City would be a major metropolitan area, and many Black Hills towns would likely be absorbed into the Rapid City metro area. You can see on the plan it was also suggested each member country build a small town in its own style in various valleys around the Hills.

Design concept from 1945 for the Black Hills United Nations complex.

Next time you come down the hill into Reptile Gardens valley, picture it filled with that huge United Nations complex and what that would mean for your vacation or for our little corner of the world.

Reptile Gardens…or United Nations? is a post from: Scales & Tales

Mac the Scarlet Macaw posing for one of his many portraits

On Wednesday, 10 March, we lost one of the very few living creatures that has been at Reptile Gardens longer than even us long-timers, Mac our Scarlet Macaw.

Like most parrots in the days before wildlife laws and captive breeding, Mac was captured in the wild, in South America. He was brought to the US in the early 1950’s and arrived here at Reptile Gardens as a large adult bird in 1956. We estimate his age at the time of his death to have been over 70 years.  He was a huge, brightly-colored bird loaded with personality. In fact in regards to his size, many parrot breeders and bird fanciers remarked that he was the largest scarlet macaw they had ever seen.

Mac achieved legendary status here at the Gardens once we moved down to our new location in 1965. At that time, he spent his summer days outside on a perch in our prairie dog town, which was right next to our snake show arena. He loved it outside. He would sit on his perch and talk, squawk, and “perform” for Guests. Sometimes he would climb down and wander around the prairie dog town, even chasing a prairie dog now and then just for the fun of it. After years spent listening to the snake show he was able to recite most, if not all, of the 20-minute snake show word for word. He could speak much more clearly than most macaws.

Mac in the Sky Dome

One of his favorite things to do was to act demure and quietly wait for an unsuspecting Guest or staff member to wander nearby. Or if that didn’t work he would calmly say “Come here” to get his victim to come move in closer. As soon as he felt the person was sufficiently near and lulled into complacency or not paying attention to him, he would let loose with one of those amazing filling-rattling, eardrum-shattering screams for which macaws are known. This would, of course, cause his victim to jump nearly to the ceiling and cover their ears, which would then result in Mac laughing in a human laugh…really. As a result of this hobby, Mac added a considerable number of cuss words to his already huge vocabulary.

This was not a bird to be trifled with that is for certain. I have seen him splinter a broom stick with ease and bend metal food dishes into modern art. He was not generally fond of men, especially men with facial hair and had moments in his younger days when he could be quite aggressive toward them. Apparently, at some point in his life before he arrived here, something happened involving a bearded man that he never forgot.  He could fool a novice Dome Guide or bird staff member into thinking their lives were in danger by simply striking a pose. Don’t tell anyone but our fearless reptile curator, Terry Phillip, known for his skills with deadly venomous snakes – the man who risks his life daily in the jaws of death – was once chased onto a table screaming like a baby and reduced to a puddle of fear by a mere bird: Mac the Scarlet Macaw.

For the past decade or so Mac has spent his days on a perch in the Safari Room of our Sky Dome. There, partially hidden among the jungle plants, he delighted Guests with his antics and was the subject of countless photos.  New Safari Room guides would often wonder who was saying “Hello” and “Come here.” when they could see no one in the room. He would sit and mutter to himself, occasionally embarrassing a parent with young children. Of course, he still took pleasure in startling an unwary passerby with his shriek.

Reptile Gardens will not be the same without Mac. Our staff, even the guys, loved Mac and the history he represented here. Year after year, Mac consistently scored as one of the top favorite animals in our Guest surveys. Sadly, in the last couple of years Mac had begun to show his age. He was losing his eyesight and his energy. Our veterinarian did all she could but ultimately he just couldn’t fight the good fight anymore. The staff of Wildlife Experiences has been caring for Mac, and our other parrots, for some years now. I know they too are much saddened by his death after working so closely with him for so long. Whether you know it is coming or not, it is always heartbreaking when we lose one of our animal residents, especially one you have known for so very long.

Mac was never in a show or trained to do tricks. His status as a senior member of our staff was established early and he always got to do just what he wanted. This impressive bird will live on in the tens of thousands of photos taken of him over the past half a century plus that he spent here keeping us on our toes and enriching our lives.

Mac on his outside perch in the early 1970's

Mac the Scarlet Macaw is a post from: Scales & Tales

This week I am posting a column written 44 years ago by long-time Reptile Gardens General Manager, Jim Campbell. In 1965, Reptile Gardens ran a series of newspaper columns in celebration of the move to our new location on Highway 16. For our first 28 years we had been closer to town but  were forced to move when the highway was widened and moved.

Right smack in the center of the giant dome at the new Reptile Gardens there is a huge, gnarled pine tree, some forty feet high.  And lots of it is underground to keep it from falling over.

Cavorting, or resting, in the tree are lizards, monkeys, snakes, and hundreds of beautiful birds from all over the world. [Over the years we tried a lot of different animals in the Safari Room, including monkeys, muntjacs, wallabies, giant fruit bats, and, free roaming iguanas and snakes. Some worked and many did not. JM]

Several times daily someone asks casually, “Where did the tree come from, was it already here?”  When we tell them “No, we had to move it in,” it is always with the feeling that if they really knew the whole story they might be less casual about it.

At least to someone not in the tree moving business, it was quite a chore.  First, Earl Brockelsby selected the tree, down over a hill on Skyline Drive, after several months’ search.  After obtaining permission to move the tree, we selected a day for moving.  Needed were eight or ten men, a huge lowboy truck, and the biggest truck crane available.  Moving day dawned clear and windy.  Gusts to…50 miles per hour.

Some superfluous limbs were trimmed away, the crane hooked up, and then a fearless (or foolish, I haven’t decided which) workman volunteered to sever the trunk with a chain saw.  And then things happened fast.  The wind caught the tree as it came free and it started down the hill, lifting the wheels on the far side of the crane completely off the ground.

I recall seeing the man with the chain saw running for his life and I decided to take a vacation myself in the opposite direction, when I saw the crane men rushing to the crane and jumping on the high side.  I recall thinking how silly this looked, but I didn’t want to seem chicken, so I joined them.  But it helped, and this along with some quick action by the crane operator kept the whole mess from winding up in the bottom of the canyon.  From then on it was just a lot of slow, careful work to load the tree and plant it where it now is.

The crane crew was very offhand about the whole thing, but I can still see that huge tree dancing in the wind whenever someone asks about it.  And the worst was the suggestion of the dome designer who found the tree to be such a hindrance to his planning that he suggested we cut it up for kindling.  Not on your life.  We’ll defend that tree to the death.

[After the fire in 1976 the tree still stood, with the collapsed dome structure around it.  It was a bit shorter and singed but still there. Now it is covered with our huge bougainvillea vine. JM]

HOW TO CARE FOR A DEAD TREE is a post from: Scales & Tales