Changing Pace
Post by Montana Summer Program Student Allison Melcher
My home on the East Coast is a dense stand of trees; large tracts of pine, spruce, oak, and maple are broken up only to make way for a house or a road, or to line the edges of a field. So the great expanses of wilderness and wildlife that I’ve seen throughout my life could never have prepared me for the grasslands of the West. And for all of the conflict that faces this landscape, for all of the battles fought over grazing rights, or public lands use, or wildlife, there is still one thing unchanging: the devotion of the people who live here to this place, and their endless pride for the work that they do, regardless of whether that work is livestock, wildlife, or anything in between.
Upon first glance, Montana is a rolling and vast stretch of grasses and shrubs. It appears flat, with nothing but blades of green and brown swaying and dancing in the breeze. But it is so much more; it is home to pronghorns, mule deer, sage grouse, pheasants, songbirds, grasshoppers, and countless other forms of native wildlife. Montana is anything but stagnant, there is life on every inch of soil, every tuft of grass plays some role in the circle of life, whether or not we can see it. What impressed me most about Montana was not just the wildlife, though, or the grasses, but it was the fact that nearly every place we visited was picturesque; a scene from a postcard that reminds you of everything you hope for in a place. A reminder that for all of the turmoil that we see in the world today, for all of the fighting and the hatred and the problems we face, there is still beauty. There are still places we can go that are open and largely untouched, which provide comfort and solace from our tumultuous lives.
The last three days we spent on the prairie were as diverse and fulfilling as the prairie itself; From feral horses, to black-footed ferrets and bison, to vegetation sampling in sage grouse habitats, we were able to uncover many different perspectives on conservation efforts in the West. The Pryor Mountains are home to over a hundred wild horses, horses whose ancestors originally belonged to the people who colonized the New World. They are the horses of Spain and Portugal. North American horses actually went extinct nearly fourteen thousand years ago, but when people travelled to North America, they brought horses which often escaped, were stolen by Native Americans, or were let go. In a way, those horses colonized the lands just as their original owners had; they took over a part of the habitat and claimed it for their own, they established their presence and refused to leave. Today, there is much debate over whether wild horse herds are pests or whether they have as much a right to be here as the antelope or the grass. The Pryor Mountain herd is unique in that each of the horses is known, named, and easily identifiable. The Wild Mustang Center of the Pryor Mountains, though it does not interfere with the horses in any capacity, knows each time a birth occurs and who the parents are, to which harem they belong, and so forth. Wild horses in the northwestern part of the country are less abundant, and so this knowledge is much easier to obtain than it would be in the southwestern part of the country, in a place like Nevada for example where horses number in the thousands. Wild horses continue to be a much debated subject because of how quickly they can strip grasslands and because of their ‘invasive’ status, but there are many conservation efforts being put into place to help secure their right to the land, which is something that was invaluable to see.
Much like wild horses, and bison, too, for that matter, Native Americans have historically been pushed onto smaller and smaller tracts of land across the United States, not just in the West, although the claiming of the West by settlers was perhaps most brutal and is definitely most talked about. But with what land they have left, Native Americans are making strides to recover the wildlife that has been lost. We were fortunate enough to have been able to talk to two biologists from the Fort Belknap Reservation, who specialized in black footed ferret research and bison research. The reintroduction of black footed ferrets to the Great Plains has been a difficult endeavor. Thought to be extinct from the landscape, a small population was discovered in the 1980s when a farm dog brought one dead back to his owners. Since then, ferrets have been considered one of the most endangered mammals in North America. A species that relies entirely on prairie dogs, their populations were destroyed by a combination of prairie dog eradication, conversion of habitat to croplands, and plague, and reintroduction to prairie dog towns has been difficult. It involves many long nights, spotlighting for and trapping ferrets, who are nocturnal, and vaccinating them against disease. It is also an unsteady job, in that the grant for research lasts only two years. After the two years is up, another grant could be offered, or the project could be over, as simple as that. The bison research, on the other hand, is entirely up to the tribal council, which poses another set of problems. Not all people agree with bison reintroduction to the landscape, even on a reservation, particularly because of the continued conflict between ranchers and wildlife researchers on whether bison or livestock are better for the land, or whether they can coexist. It is a subject that is widely discussed and for which a solution is never agreed upon, a compromise never reached. But it is up to the continued efforts of researchers and ranchers alike to someday reach a compromise so that livestock and wildlife can peacefully coexist.
The livestock/wildlife conflict is no more largely felt than by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). In the West, the BLM does not own large tracts of land, they own patches of land squished between private landowners and state lands, and so they deal with many different voices telling them how they could or should manage land in the west. Everything from having no wildlife to having no livestock has been mentioned, neither of which are feasible options. To remove wildlife completely would likely destroy the ecosystem in the West, and the Great Plains would no longer be a vast expanse of healthy grasses. Not to mention, many species, like elk and deer, offer hunting opportunities, which increases tourism and can also provide extra income. But removing livestock completely is also something that can’t be reasonably be considered. If that were to happen, it is likely that many people would turn to converting their grasslands to croplands, which not only destroys wildlife habitat, it also degrades the ecosystem. And, the lands of the West evolved on grazing, with both bison and locusts as prime examples, and so it is likely much better to continue grazing livestock on these lands than to completely remove grazing all together. These are all considerations the BLM has to acknowledge when undergoing projects like their sage grouse project, which we were able to take a small part in by doing some vegetation sampling. Although land management rarely has one right answer, and it is often clouded by personal biases and opinions or economic ambitions, it is an extremely important tool for this landscape that has the power to both ensure the livelihood of many people, and restore native wildlife.
My memories of Montana are some that will always be with me; they are of ineffable beauty, wide open spaces, more wildlife than I could have ever imagined. In my first day alone I saw pronghorns, mule deer, a great horned owl, magpies, a coyote, a mountain bluebird, a great blue heron, and countless more species that would take too long to name. I saw a landscape that captivated me, because it was treeless and the blue sky seemed to extend to the very edge of the earth. But more than just the wildlife or the scenery, I saw people who worked incredibly hard to make a living. I saw people fight for what they believed in. In a climate that is often harsh and unforgiving, in a landscape that is different from so many other places in the world, I saw people caring, deeply and passionately. So despite the conflict, and recognizing that all of these issues are not clear cut, that they do not lend themselves to easy solutions, despite all of the issues that face this landscape, it is an experience that I feel incredibly lucky to have had, because it has taught me an incredible amount about our reliance on the land, but also its reliance on us.
My home on the East Coast is a dense stand of trees; large tracts of pine, spruce, oak, and maple are broken up only to make way for a house or a road, or to line the edges of a field. So the great expanses of wilderness and wildlife that I’ve seen throughout my life could never have prepared me for the grasslands of the West. And for all of the conflict that faces this landscape, for all of the battles fought over grazing rights, or public lands use, or wildlife, there is still one thing unchanging: the devotion of the people who live here to this place, and their endless pride for the work that they do, regardless of whether that work is livestock, wildlife, or anything in between.
Upon first glance, Montana is a rolling and vast stretch of grasses and shrubs. It appears flat, with nothing but blades of green and brown swaying and dancing in the breeze. But it is so much more; it is home to pronghorns, mule deer, sage grouse, pheasants, songbirds, grasshoppers, and countless other forms of native wildlife. Montana is anything but stagnant, there is life on every inch of soil, every tuft of grass plays some role in the circle of life, whether or not we can see it. What impressed me most about Montana was not just the wildlife, though, or the grasses, but it was the fact that nearly every place we visited was picturesque; a scene from a postcard that reminds you of everything you hope for in a place. A reminder that for all of the turmoil that we see in the world today, for all of the fighting and the hatred and the problems we face, there is still beauty. There are still places we can go that are open and largely untouched, which provide comfort and solace from our tumultuous lives.The last three days we spent on the prairie were as diverse and fulfilling as the prairie itself; From feral horses, to black-footed ferrets and bison, to vegetation sampling in sage grouse habitats, we were able to uncover many different perspectives on conservation efforts in the West. The Pryor Mountains are home to over a hundred wild horses, horses whose ancestors originally belonged to the people who colonized the New World. They are the horses of Spain and Portugal. North American horses actually went extinct nearly fourteen thousand years ago, but when people travelled to North America, they brought horses which often escaped, were stolen by Native Americans, or were let go. In a way, those horses colonized the lands just as their original owners had; they took over a part of the habitat and claimed it for their own, they established their presence and refused to leave. Today, there is much debate over whether wild horse herds are pests or whether they have as much a right to be here as the antelope or the grass. The Pryor Mountain herd is unique in that each of the horses is known, named, and easily identifiable. The Wild Mustang Center of the Pryor Mountains, though it does not interfere with the horses in any capacity, knows each time a birth occurs and who the parents are, to which harem they belong, and so forth. Wild horses in the northwestern part of the country are less abundant, and so this knowledge is much easier to obtain than it would be in the southwestern part of the country, in a place like Nevada for example where horses number in the thousands. Wild horses continue to be a much debated subject because of how quickly they can strip grasslands and because of their ‘invasive’ status, but there are many conservation efforts being put into place to help secure their right to the land, which is something that was invaluable to see.
Much like wild horses, and bison, too, for that matter, Native Americans have historically been pushed onto smaller and smaller tracts of land across the United States, not just in the West, although the claiming of the West by settlers was perhaps most brutal and is definitely most talked about. But with what land they have left, Native Americans are making strides to recover the wildlife that has been lost. We were fortunate enough to have been able to talk to two biologists from the Fort Belknap Reservation, who specialized in black footed ferret research and bison research. The reintroduction of black footed ferrets to the Great Plains has been a difficult endeavor. Thought to be extinct from the landscape, a small population was discovered in the 1980s when a farm dog brought one dead back to his owners. Since then, ferrets have been considered one of the most endangered mammals in North America. A species that relies entirely on prairie dogs, their populations were destroyed by a combination of prairie dog eradication, conversion of habitat to croplands, and plague, and reintroduction to prairie dog towns has been difficult. It involves many long nights, spotlighting for and trapping ferrets, who are nocturnal, and vaccinating them against disease. It is also an unsteady job, in that the grant for research lasts only two years. After the two years is up, another grant could be offered, or the project could be over, as simple as that. The bison research, on the other hand, is entirely up to the tribal council, which poses another set of problems. Not all people agree with bison reintroduction to the landscape, even on a reservation, particularly because of the continued conflict between ranchers and wildlife researchers on whether bison or livestock are better for the land, or whether they can coexist. It is a subject that is widely discussed and for which a solution is never agreed upon, a compromise never reached. But it is up to the continued efforts of researchers and ranchers alike to someday reach a compromise so that livestock and wildlife can peacefully coexist.
The livestock/wildlife conflict is no more largely felt than by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). In the West, the BLM does not own large tracts of land, they own patches of land squished between private landowners and state lands, and so they deal with many different voices telling them how they could or should manage land in the west. Everything from having no wildlife to having no livestock has been mentioned, neither of which are feasible options. To remove wildlife completely would likely destroy the ecosystem in the West, and the Great Plains would no longer be a vast expanse of healthy grasses. Not to mention, many species, like elk and deer, offer hunting opportunities, which increases tourism and can also provide extra income. But removing livestock completely is also something that can’t be reasonably be considered. If that were to happen, it is likely that many people would turn to converting their grasslands to croplands, which not only destroys wildlife habitat, it also degrades the ecosystem. And, the lands of the West evolved on grazing, with both bison and locusts as prime examples, and so it is likely much better to continue grazing livestock on these lands than to completely remove grazing all together. These are all considerations the BLM has to acknowledge when undergoing projects like their sage grouse project, which we were able to take a small part in by doing some vegetation sampling. Although land management rarely has one right answer, and it is often clouded by personal biases and opinions or economic ambitions, it is an extremely important tool for this landscape that has the power to both ensure the livelihood of many people, and restore native wildlife.My memories of Montana are some that will always be with me; they are of ineffable beauty, wide open spaces, more wildlife than I could have ever imagined. In my first day alone I saw pronghorns, mule deer, a great horned owl, magpies, a coyote, a mountain bluebird, a great blue heron, and countless more species that would take too long to name. I saw a landscape that captivated me, because it was treeless and the blue sky seemed to extend to the very edge of the earth. But more than just the wildlife or the scenery, I saw people who worked incredibly hard to make a living. I saw people fight for what they believed in. In a climate that is often harsh and unforgiving, in a landscape that is different from so many other places in the world, I saw people caring, deeply and passionately. So despite the conflict, and recognizing that all of these issues are not clear cut, that they do not lend themselves to easy solutions, despite all of the issues that face this landscape, it is an experience that I feel incredibly lucky to have had, because it has taught me an incredible amount about our reliance on the land, but also its reliance on us.
