Sage, pine, and smoke; blood; dust and sweat

Guest post by Clemson Montana Summer Program student Elizabeth Way

Montana always evoked romanticized images of rugged landscapes and clear-eyed cowboys under starry skies.  But point of fact, few places in America are more mysterious to me than it’s great plains.  Owing to the fact that almost half of the state is comprised of prairie grassland, its no wonder it’s commonly referred to as “Big Sky Country.”  Sparsely populated, many have tried their hand at some form of rangeland management and come away penniless and heartbroken. Those that remained seem unique in their fortitude against a harsh environment, unrelenting workloads, and bureaucratic red tape.  These Spartan individuals ultimately seem to be fighting - tooth and nail - to conserve their way of life, while battling misperception and navigating an ever-evolving consumer. 

It’s been said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but how much more scent illuminates my memory.  As I recount observations of the first week at High Meadows Ranch near Roundup, Montana, I’ve had several scent memories permanently etched into my mind’s eye that have been telling me a story:  sage, pine, and smoke; blood; dust and sweat.

Sage, Pine, and Smoke

For all of Montana’s 60 million acres, the population approximates 6 people per square mile.  Notoriously arid, this region of the state receives as little as 1% rain, annually. Combined with high winds and soaring summer temperatures, a lightning strike can spell disaster.  Our hosts at the High Meadows Ranch, managers LaVonne and Terry, took us on a tour of the property.  Terry showed us an area he had been working to thin the trees and reduce duff which could act as wildfire fuel on the property.   He proudly stated that his family was instrumental in the addition of a controlled burn statute in the state.  Lavonne explained that four major wildfires had personally affected High Meadows Ranch in the last 40 years. It’s important to note that although neighbors in these sparsely populated places band together in times of disaster, the average age of the community is climbing as children and grandchildren strike out on their own and leave aging family to conserve this way of life.  “We have to evolve with the times,” Terry told us, looking out over the sage and pine, always scanning for smoke in the distance.

Blood

On “Chore Day,” we gathered near the bull pen, always being watched by curious angus cows.  These cattle were approximately 9 months old, the behavioral equivalent to human teenagers we were told.  Today we were to help a veterinarian administer their Brucellosis vaccinations.  Brucellosis is a zoonotic disease that can hop between species, causing pregnant cows to abort and undulate fever in humans who drink unpasteurized milk of infected dairy cattle. Although angus are considered “beef cows,” American law still required the vaccination.  We took our places along the cattle chute and rustled the first cow into the holding area. A noisy piece of machinery snatches the young cow before it can escape the chute.  We are told that it is expertly designed to apply just the right amount of pressure to calm the beast. The vet patiently answered our questions while she swiftly administered the shot, but struggled with the impatient cow during the tattooing process. Blood splattered momentarily and the odor caught my attention. Reacting to our stunned stares, Terry reminded us, “the consumer dictates the product.”

Dust & Sweat

Some ranches turn a profit, though in many years, most live on a thin margin.  A surly ranch hand at the feedlot, summed up his over-arching answer to our myriad logistical questions: “In Montana, there are no guarantees.”  In a place where the temperature can shift as much as 60 degrees in a single day, rangeland managers must remain flexible, continually adapting to the needs of the ranch as they arise, agenda or not.  As we met for lectures, we discovered the odor of dust and sweat permeating the outbuildings of the ranch.  It was obvious that although industrialization had become the framework for ranching, it provided the ranchers themselves with little to no luxury. While the rest of us had time to pursue other passions because our food was produced and delivered conveniently to us, Terry and Lavonne, along with their 86-year old father, Bill, had survived because of their commitment to the ranch and their tremendous work ethic.  “Science is trying to bring balance and economic opportunity to people,” Dr. Lascano pointed out in lecture.  “But no one will hear your (ethical) arguments over the sound of their children’s empty bellies. You must take care of the people.”