When the summer air cools and the grasses begin to yellow, some of us think of bringing the cattle home. Cattle drives used to be somewhat contoversial, as the cowboys herded the livestock past farms and fields and even through towns.

One South Dakota town still allows cattle drives. The Klamrath family herds their bawling cows and calves down main street every autumn. It usually happens on the last Saturday of October, but the exact date depends on, “when the grass goes bad,” so it might be early this year.

Twenty years ago, the tradition almost halted because a few townspeople complained to the town board about stampeding cattle, terrified pedestrians, horses on lawns and manure on the street. The cattlemen denied any suck ruckus.

The Gary newspaper editorialized that it preferred cattle on the road to some humans. “The cattle are more predictable and don’t drive 3,000-pound hunks of wheeled steel around at high speed while under the influence of alcohol,” he wrote.

After a war of words in the paper, the town board voted to allow cattle drives if the cowboys applied for a special permit and cleaned up after the cows. You may encounter other cattle drives on South Dakota’s rural roads, as ranchers move the herds from summer grazing pastures to winter quarters. But only in Gary can you watch the excitement from downtown.

Everyone in South Dakota has already heard the news, but for our out of state readers we'll also report that Governor Mike Rounds has issued a "stay of execution" for convicted murder Elijah Page, who was scheduled to die tonight. Rounds and Attorney General Larry Long said at 5:30 p.m. that they found a glitch in the state's 1984 death penalty law. It specifies two drugs for lethal injection, but current practices call for three drugs to be used. Rounds said using three drugs could constitute an illegal execution.

The state legislature will need to clarify the issue in the 2007 session. The debate is not going away, but Elijah Page — who refused appeals and said he wanted to die — will waken with the sun tomorrow.

Yesterday I drove to Jefferson to look for the grasshopper crosses. They are still standing.

We don’t want to scare visitors who may be planning a trip to South Dakota — but the truth is that over the last 130 years we’ve had two major grasshopper attacks. Nobody died in either, so in the worst-case scenario, you’ll make history if you do get caught in a horde of hoppers.

Still worried? Then keep to the Jefferson area in southeast South Dakota. Grasshoppers now avoid that area like, well, the plague. It wasn’t always that way. On a summer day in 1874, according to church archives, “as the people were coming home from church, they noticed a dark cloud in the sky. Some thought it was nearly a cloud; some thought it might be a cottonwood seed; but there was a chill in the hearts of those who feared the worst — grasshoppers!”

The sky turned gray and the crops disappeared under the weight of the insects, which were described as shorter and grayer than your standard, garden-variety hopper. A girl was caught in the grasshoppers’ path; they covered her body and ate away her dress before she reached her uncle’s farmhouse.

The bugs returned in 1875, so early in the spring of 1876, Father Pierre Boucher (South Dakota’s first resident priest) led his flock on an 11-mile pilgrimage. “It was a picture to be painted by a master,” reads the archives, “The long procession being drawn through the deep mud, women and children in the wagons, the men and boys walking along the sides, the white-haired priest at the head and the entire company praying and singing as they made the pilgrimage around the fields whose crops had twice been devastated.”

They erected three large crosses along the way. That summer, the grasshoppers sailed in the air over Union County and they haven’t returned. Was it a miracle or just coincidence? Local people obviously believe the former; they’ve maintained the wooden crosses ever since, and remade them when the wood decayed. You’ll find one at St. Peter’s Church in Jefferson. Another is four miles northwest of town on County Road 1B. The third is on County Road 23.

You and I haven't killed anyone for 59 years, but we're planning to do so tomorrow night. That's the position the state's death penalty law puts us in; like it or not, every citizen of South Dakota is part of this.

The guards and other staff of the prison should especially be on our minds. They are caretakers, and though their charges include some very despicable people and some average people who did despicable deeds, nonetheless the prison crew's job is to provide care. A friend of mine who works in the prison says this has been a very emotional month for them.

You and I may forget our role in a few weeks or months, but prison staff and witnesses are likely to feel this forever. Sigurd Anderson never forgot his role in the 1947 execution of George Sitts. He made a point to tell me about it when he was almost on his death bed in 1987.

When I started South Dakota Magazine, I knew some of our great citizens would not be here forever, so I made a point of interviewing them as soon as I could. Anderson, the former judge, attorney general and governor, was lying in bed in Webster when we met, in a small downtown apartment. Apparently, he never became very wealthy from a lifetime of public service.

He was happy to tell stories about life in South Dakota. I didn't bring up George Sitts (I don't think I even knew Sitts' name then) but Anderson did. He wanted to talk about it. He helped prosecute Sitts as AG, and it was his responsibility to witness the execution.

"It was a rainy night, dripping outside, just the way the book said it should be," he said. "I walked in and there was Sitts. My, what a muscular fellow. He had been a stunt man in a circus. I said, 'George, how are you?' He said, 'Not so bad, under the circumstances.' We shook hands."

Anderson said officers put a hood over Sitts' head and led him to the execution room, where he was strapped to the chair. The warden asked the prisoner if he wished a statement before they proceeded. "Warden," said Sitts, "This is the first time the police have helped me out of jail."

Then, Anderson said, there was a "SWISH! SWASH! SMELL! And it was over."

George Sitts and Elijah Page (and the 14 others we've executed) killed with lethal combinations of motivations and emotions as ignorance, stupidity, evil, fear, insanity, anger and greed.

You and I (we being the state) kill very differently. We plan. We schedule it and issue invitations to interested parties. We keep our hands clean. Our way is cold and calculating and legal.

I sat in on an economic development roundtable with U.S. Sen. Tim Johnson at Yankton's city hall Thursday, and found it encouraging that everyones' mindsets are really jelling in the same direction. Not all at the table use the words "quality of life" but almost everything that was said could be labeled that way.

Even some who defined themselves as linear thinkers said they felt the arts, culture, historic preservation, better parks, entreprenurial opportunities, preservation of small stores and nature are critical to Yankton's future.

That is a major change from when I was more involved in the 1990s. I remember a similar gathering in which local leaders continued to insist we needed more local, state and federal funding to roundup more low-wage manufacturing jobs. One particular human resources fellow even stood up and gave a rousing speech on why we shouldn't encourage our young people to go to college because there are plenty of good(?) jobs in town for them that are going wanting.

A good job at that plant today still pays maybe $20,000 a year and you're subject to layoffs every now and then.

Manufacturing has been good to Yankton. But we need more diversity, and it's nice to see that everyone from all corners of the community now agree that if we have a top quality of life then other good things will follow -- maybe even more manufacturing jobs.

P.S. -- John Thune wasn't at the meeting. I stole this picture from another web site.

I drove to Tyndall yesterday and came across a Zebrass. Or was it a Zedonk? Or a Zonkey?

What do you call a cross between a donkey and a zebra? In South Africa, the question arises because both species are found there. It wasn’t part of the South Dakota language until Jeff Rueb added a gray donkey with stripes to his small petting zoo on the edge of Tyndall.

Rueb also has alpacas, llamas, dogs, full-blood donkeys, deer and a kangaroo-like wallabee from Australia that winters just fine, so long as he has a heating pad for his long, thick tail.

But the Zedonk is one of the most popular residents of the two-acre zoo with a cute red barn and white picket fence. Rueb's zoo is always open to neighborhood kids as well as out-of-town travelers. There’s no admission charge, but you might leave a dollar or two to help with the grocery bill.

How about Zenkey or Zebrass or Zebronkey?

Here's A Tip — The little zoo is at 19th & Redwood, but even locals who know the way will stop and ask at Tyndall Bakery, run by Jeff Rueb’s parents, Bob and Judy, for nearly four decades. What better excuse to try their kuchen, a German pastry pie, and lots of Czech and American-style sweet rolls and breads? I brought a cherry kuchen back to the office and I'm just about to cut a slice.

Larry and Patty Hojem parked their '57 Chevy in front of our magazine offices one afternoon during Riverboat Days. I think it looks good there. Maybe we should buy it for an "errands" car. I could add a fifty-cent "Chevy surcharge" to the magazine for a year or two to pay for it. Would anyone object to that?

I passed this old cottonwood tree on the oil road between Marion and Turkey Ridge a few days ago. It is an old-timer, with its roots in a nearby creek that I couldn't identify. Some other giant cottonwoods nearby look like they're doing ok, but this one seems to be losing the fight to lightning, disease, farm chemicals and Father Time. It still has a few tufts of leaves way up high, but will it come to life next spring?