The Nebraska State Quarter showcases not an agrarian scene, but an oxen-pulled covered wagon carrying pioneers and passing Chimney Rock – debatably the state’s most recognizable landmark. Settlers traveling west on the Oregon, California and Mormon trails journaled how seeing the landmark brought them hope. Thousands etched their names into its surface, though years of Nebraska weather scrubbed away the evidence from this pillar made of Brule clay, volcanic ash and Arikaree sandstone.

In the past 150 years, Chimney Rock has lost at least 30 feet to erosion, but that’s done nothing to diminish its stature in peoples’ imaginations. Yet to end the appreciation of Nebraska’s unusual geologic formations and craggy terrain with Chimney Rock would be a mistake. A vast array of otherworldly vistas in Western Nebraska tells the story of this land, its prehistoric life, its wildlife and botany, and its many peoples.

Elbow by elbow, the man dragged himself up the North Platte River’s sandy bank. He retched. Illness wracked his body, which shuddered, spent with the effort of crossing the river. Gasping ragged breaths, he looked up to the bluffs along the North Platte, drinking in the sight of the majestic rock formations one last time before he succumbed to death.

This is one of several competing stories of Hiram Scott’s demise. It’s a story long on legend and short on facts, but most accounts seem to agree that Scott was swarthy, strong and tough enough to chew nails and spit rust. The trapper and trader survived the first Plains Indian War in 1823. As a clerk for the American Fur Trade Co., he traveled from his home in Missouri. A decade after his death in 1828, the fur trade began to wane and soon would be no more, but the largest of those geological features along the North Platte will forever be known as Scotts Bluff.

Disease ended his life, but Scott encountered many dangers in his work, including hostile tribes who resented European encroachment and wild beasts. At least Scott never risked encountering the skull-crushing jaws of a hyena-tooth or the brutish aggression of a hell pig. That was before his time.

Launching itself forward with muscular legs, the Hyaenodon – or hyena-tooth – grabbed an ancient sheep-like creature called an Oreodont in its jaws and crushed its neck with one fearsome bite. Hyaenodon was one of the top predators during its time. Its only competition was the false saber-toothed cat, which also roamed the same territory in hunt of prey. 

These dramas once played out in the area now known as Toadstool Geologic Park. The last Hyaenodon disappeared from North America millions of years ago, but remains of them, as well as other ancient mammals, have been found at the park that is north of Crawford. Equally intriguing are the rock formations that inspired the park’s name. Sandstone floats upon the eroded foundation of silt and clay, resembling an alien world. Some rocks have fallen after the bases eroded completely. Few things are truly immutable in Western Nebraska, but even in the sandy loam, year after year, life finds a way.

An explosion of colorful wildflowers carpets the summer meadows at Pine Ridge Recreation Area south of Chadron. Sunflowers showcase golden heads; star lily that almost resemble ocean creatures remind visitors that a shallow sea once covered the state; beardtongues bob in the breeze as bees circle lazily. There are sweet little heath asters – like so many tiny daisies – and plump purple gayfeathers.

There are flowers with wonderful names to roll around on the tongue – like pricklypear and scurfpea. Native grasses stretch for the sun, and in the distance, sandstone bluffs rise  from the earth. Insects hum an ancient tune, and the wind whispers through the ponderosa pines.

Nature has its own special way of telling stories about this enchanting part of Nebraska. If only the rocks, which have been here longer than any of the rest of it, could talk.