Guest post by Clemson Montana Summer Program student Elizabeth Way
“It’s not about what it is. It’s about what it can become.”
-T. Geisel
The biodiversity on the working conservation landscape of the Great Plains has been in flux since before the assault of westward expansion known as “Manifest Destiny.” Although first peoples had first impacted native biodiversity, European masses drove many species to extinction or near-extinction, with their numbers. Agencies such as the National Park Service and the USGS, along with private conservationists, have been trying to make up lost ground ever since. As we drove north on I-90 towards Roundup, MT, I had time to ponder the tastes I encountered in the previous days. I had expected sage, as it was a major component of the scents I had encountered on the Great Plains, but I was surprised by the pervasive saltiness.
SAGE
Standing in the midst of a prairie dog town at the base of Matho Thipila, commonly mistranslated as “Devils’ Tower,” I was informed that at least six tribes of the Northern Plains incorporated local plants in both their ritual and everyday use. I tasted a leaf from the aromatic shrub, and was quickly surprised by it’s astringent, spicy taste. One type of sage was used as a smudge, while another acted as a perfume, and another was used strictly in the prayer bundles that dotted the stark mountain. Along with the myriad sage species, Bur Oak, Eastern Cottonwood and Green Ash lined the trickle of the Belle Fourche River that flowed into the park. I asked about a barrier positioned over the water and was told that neighboring cattle ranchers have dammed up the majority of the rivers, causing a ripple effect in the biodiversity of the area. Eastern Cottonwood, for example, are on the brink of extirpation because the riparian flood plains of the Belle Fourche River are no longer scoured during flash floods, due to limited water resources. Seeds cannot reach moisture and nutrients necessary for maturation, and this in turn affects other grassland plant and animal species. In an already arid clime, industry was reallocating natural resources for it’s own agenda and leaving wilderness to fend for itself.
SALT
The roughly 250 thousand square acre national park in the Black Hills, known as the “Badlands,” was formed by ages of sand, silt, and clay deposition from an ancient inland sea. These small grain soils formed a fragile sedimentary rock, prone to water erosion. Later it would take travelers FOUR days by foot to traverse it, usually succumbing to the briny waters in process. The Arikara avoided it, as does modern corporate America, and as a result, wildlife thrive in the park. Like many species in the badlands, we observed wild mountain goats, risking the harassment of eco-tourists to obtain essential nutrients, threading the “Needle’s Eye” rock formation at Custer State Park. Frequently licking the salt from my lips, I thought back to the perfect balance this landscape required. Cattle required so much care. I was told over and over again, they, and the landscape, would not survive the year without constant supervision. Bison, however, were naturally adapted to the Great Plains, and required much less care and more importantly, much less water. The National Park Service has been minimally managing bison populations, only randomly culling 2-3 year olds as dictated by the rate of herd reproduction. All within fenced portions of the plains.
Greg Shroeder, Chief Resource Manager at Wind Cave National Park, explains the fences. Although the park practices a hands-off approach to keep wildlife wild, it also means wildlife occasionally approach wilderness boundaries. Wandering wildlife, such as big horned sheep must be radio-collared, as neighbors may capture them as “livestock” outside the park boundaries. Legally, the park is required to poison prairie dogs that establish towns within a quarter mile of any neighboring property, as they still qualify as a ‘nuisance species,’ according to an arcane “Good Neighbor” law, based on bad science. Because bison love the protein-rich grass roots prairie dogs leave behind when constructing their towns, bison too are in real danger of pushing boundaries. Thus, to ensure biodiversity, a holistic approach to wildlife management must be in place to ensure the security of wildlife from outside threat. Thus far, bison have not become a political issue in this region, largely because “we do it all under the radar, away from the conflict issues,” Schroeder says seriously, studying a bison herd making a tight formation and trotting quickstep downwind from us. “For how long, who can say?”
