Could the cattle like their forage a little bit more crisp?

Guest post by Clemson student Sophia Marek


I have no idea where I’m going. No, seriously. The dirt road traversing the ranch is familiar now, but once we stray from it, entering the abyss of nature, how could I know where we’re going? I’ve never been here before. And, to add to that, I am facing the complete opposite way where I’m sitting on the truck more focused on the bumps than if we’re turning right or left.

That being said, once we get to the plot, find the marker (or guesstimate where it once was), I know exactly where I am going. East 15 paces, then North, then west to complete the square. Our group has only been doing this for about 5 days maybe, but we’ve hit our groove. These plots don’t know what hit ‘em.

By this time, we have visited plots from all four treatment plans, and each is different but also the same. Depending on where the site is located, a corner could be on a 45-degree hill and have little vegetation with pine needles everywhere, or it could be blooming with a species we have seen before (or new to me, at least). But without a doubt, the unthinned unburned plots were the most unique of the four.

It is extremely noticeable upon walking into the vegetation: it is packed compared to what we have seen before. It is like the New York City of forage, which most likely makes it easier to burn up should something happen.

The way that fire management occurs in Montana is extremely different from the Northeast for me. I haven’t experienced being up close and personal with a fire, just heard about it from word of mouth or biked by a previously charred house. I know the truck, though. Big, red, loud, and with lots of firefighters huddled within. When we were touring with fire managers for Montana, I began to wonder. We had taken extremely thin, winding, dirt roads to get to many of the places that they showed us. Would a fire engine be able to do that? Plus, I am pretty sure I have not seen a fire hydrant at all the whole time I was there. So, I asked, and the answer was as simple as adapting to their own environment. Montana’s fire engines are giant tanks more to hold water, not people, because water is a valuable resource in the prairie.

It is interesting to see what is done differently 2,000 miles away to sustain what they have always been sustaining, just as we do. I wonder if Montana kids ever had a tour of their fire engine at a birthday party like I have. I suppose ours are more flashy.

Other than fire ecology and plots, we also dabbled in working with cattle. I mentioned it when we were having a group discussion at the end of the day, but I was surprised at how many rules and regulations that the cattle and rancher have to go through just to do their business right. My simpleton mind couldn’t comprehend doing this all by myself, but ranchers and their families do it all the time.

Another difference that surprised me was the type of cattle chutes that I saw there. The feedlot, the stocker, and the rancher we visited all have the same brand: the Silencer. Back at Clemson, I remember going to the beef farm and operating their chute by hand with a bunch of moving parts and lever, but these ones were all automatically operated. One control console takes care of everything.

It makes sense. More levers equals more manual labor or more people, and when you don’t have a group of college students to help you out, it’s all on you. So, why wouldn’t you invest to save time and therefore money as well. Another point, Clemson does not have as much cattle as one ranch in Montana, but I still think electricity is much cooler. It’s Me approved.

From getting pricked by thistles, to climbing up big mountains, to finding a bone at one of the sites we went to, I did a lot of connecting with nature on this trip. Life’s different in the prairie. I hope I can take some of it with me wherever I end up!

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