Near the entrance to Upper Sioux Agency State Park, turkeys and pheasants peck at the gravel of a quiet road. The road runs under gnarled oak branches and young ash trees, along the Yellow Medicine River to a small row of campsites and picnic tables at the bottom of a hill.
From there, an ankle-wide deer trail leads through knee-high prairie grass and blooming purple leadplants and coneflowers, past prairie clovers and wild raspberries to the top of the ridge. It's the gravesite of Mazomani, a Dakota leader killed by U.S. soldiers while trying to stop a war. Just beyond are the brick ruins of buildings destroyed while people starved during one of the darkest moments of Minnesota history.
The place should have never been made into a state park, said Kevin Jensvold, chair of the Upper Sioux Community. The Minnesota Legislature agreed, passing a law that authorizes closing the park and turning the land over to the Upper Sioux. But the state's efforts to mitigate the effects of closing a state park to right a historical wrong aren't sitting well with others.
Staff with the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources spoke last week to a group of largely skeptical residents in Granite Falls, Minn., about the transfer of the park. The agency is committed to opening a new park or expanding an existing one, or finding other replacements for the park's amenities, DNR Regional Director Scott Roemhildt said.
"I want to make sure that whatever follows the park not only captures the values of the park ... but also stays in this area for the good of the Granite Falls area," he said.
The law signed by Gov. Tim Walz orders the DNR to identify all the federal legal barriers to turn the 1,300-acre state park over to the Upper Sioux Community — a process that could take years. In the meantime, lawmakers gave $5 million to the department, the bulk of which will be spent to replace the park.
Residents doubted that amount would be enough to buy that much land, let alone replace the horse trails and foot paths that wind through the prairie hills and valleys where the Yellow Medicine and Minnesota rivers meet.
"Five-million dollars won't buy a shelter," said Greg Renneke, who lives next to the park. "I understand the Upper Sioux's feelings, but I don't know why we can't both have it."