The Promise of Wild Bison

  ~Phil Knight

Imagine hearing thunder miles away and discovering it was actually a bison herd, hundreds of thousands strong. Two hundred years ago on Montana’s Northern Plains, this was still possible.

The American plains bison was once the most abundant large animal in the world. Up to sixty million of the horned beasts roamed North America from Alberta to Florida. Montana was at the heart of this massive ecosystem, with bison herds found across what would become the Treasure State. Now Montana has no wild bison at all.

Wait, you might ask, what about those Yellowstone bison near Gardiner? There’s even an annual bison hunt there. Well, those bison are only visitors from the national park, and are discouraged from recolonizing their Montana habitat. In fact, thousands have been killed by Montana for trying to migrate out of Yellowstone.

There are a lot of bison in Montana, but they are all basically treated as livestock. Not one of them is classified as a native game animal, nor given free rein to wander across Montana’s abundant public lands.

If the Montana Wild Bison Restoration Coalition succeeds, bison will come back to Montana’s Northern Plains. Jim Bailey, author of the book American Plains Bison: Rewilding an Icon started the coalition this year with the Gallatin Wildlife Association.

The new coalition (mtwildbison.org) aims to build public support for bringing bison back to the huge Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge (CMR) in Central Montana. Their immediate goal is at least 1,000 wild bison living on 100 square miles. Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks has repeatedly stalled on a plan to reintroduce the shaggy giants.

Next door to the CMR is the American Prairie Reserve which is working to restore bison to over 3 million acres by buying land with associated grazing leases and putting privately owned bison on the land. APR presently has about 850 bison and owns over 92,000 acres in 28 properties, with rights to nearly 308,000 acres of state and federal grazing lands. The APR stretches from west of Judith Landing to the north side of the CMR on Timber Creek. Their long term goal is 10,000 bison, more than twice the number found in Yellowstone.

Several Indian tribes in Montana also run bison on their land, honoring and continuing an ancient tradition and relationship between bison and people. The Fort Peck and Fort Belknap reservations both have herds of bison in Central Montana, and the Blackfeet Tribe’s Iinnii Initiative seeks to restore bison to the Blackfeet Nation’s land in Northern Montana. This past spring the Buffalo United Us conference in Polson brought together tribal, federal, state and private interests to promote wild bison restoration to Montana.

Seventy per cent of Montana voters are in favor of restoring wild bison. At 1.1 million acres of federal land, the CMR has the space and the habitat for thousands of the native animals. There are many other areas in Montana where bison could be reintroduced or allowed to return, such as the Upper Missouri River Breaks National Monument (just west of the CMR), the Taylor Fork and Porcupine/Buffalo Horn areas near Yellowstone, parts of Glacier National Park, the Rocky Mountain Front and the Centennial Valley.

Bison have many detractors, such as ranchers that see them as a threat to their cattle due disease or competition for forage. Others fear the loss of the cattle ranching industry to a different type of ranching. But there are already big herds of private bison in Montana, such as the Flying D Ranch near Bozeman. We only lack wild bison.

Wild bison bring many benefits, especially to other forms of wildlife such as sage grouse, prairie dogs, swift foxes, burrowing owls, ferruginous hawks, wolves and black-footed ferrets. They benefit and maintain native prairie plants. Wild bison could also greatly enhance hunting opportunities, with several hundred pounds of quality meat coming off each carcass.

Bison are resilient, tough survivors, and are prolific breeders. They are the symbol of the National Park Service and are the US National Mammal. Their lineage in North America goes back tens of thousands of years. Given a chance they will return to their age old role as the keystone animal on Montana’s northern plains.

The Rustic Joy of Forest Service Cabins

 ~Sean Jansen

You reach for the door handle to find one of three things. It’s either an extremely rusted metal handle that has seen more winters than you are of age. A creative piece of nature uniquely shaped into a beautiful curve and bolted to the door, or simply put, the door doesn’t have one. You unlock the dead bolt and push open the door. Instantly you get blasted by a setting that looks as though it belongs to an early western film by John Wayne. Waves of smell engulf your nostrils of old wood and campfire as the floor beneath your feet creeks with every step. Candles sit on the windowsill and your source of heat comes from an Aga that looks as though it was made when your great grandparents were children. The cots beckon with a used mattress from either boy or girl scouts of twenties years past. And the wooden table and chairs laden with scratches and stains from visitors previously. Where are you? A U.S. Forest Service cabin, and it’s not the only one.

In fact, there are many throughout the state. Over a hundred to be exact. Pretty much anywhere there is National Forest Land in Montana, there is a cabin somewhere. Whether it’s roadside, miles back deep within a forest or atop a mountain, the Forest Service had constructed cabins for their uses.

Most of them were constructed in the early 1920’s and into the 1930’s. USFS built them for the intention of land management, trail recreation, maintenance, and fire lookouts. With the lookouts being the most popular for recreation users for obvious reasons as the few of them throughout the state perched at the peaks of mountains or along ridges for the purpose of spotting fires from lightening strikes. Their magnificent views draws most and therefore booking these lookouts takes both planning and patience.

The secret has certainly been out as the cat left the bag a couple years ago. You can book all the cabins through Recreation.gov or by calling 877-444-6777. However be advised that the maximum time one can book out in advance is six months. And the fire lookouts are almost always booked to the hour of that six-month period. For my stay at Garnet Mountain Lookout for example, in June, I stayed awake until passed midnight in January to do so. Not all are as popular or are needed with such planning, but their popularity is evident, and certainly showing no signs of slowing.

Some do have electricity with most having chopped wood and a body of water adjacent or nearby. None however have plumbing with that being the only lapse in luxury in the cabins, though a pit toilet is within walking distance.

Whether it’s the lookout or a drive up cabin, recreationalists rejoice! Summer is most popular, however most are open year round. So the car campers, trail lovers, or the snow mobile, ATV, and cross country skiers, there seems to be a cabin for all!

Big Sky Country

~by Sarah Newell

Streams of pink and grey smear into the clouds that cover the “Big Sky Country”. Tiny towns take space where they can, cropping up where the Rockies fold and cut down to the valley floors. Life in a flyover state looks a lot like this. Breathtaking views stain the sky each summer night, painted over daisy chained mountains and family owned farms. Small roads skirt lakes, foothills, and main highways, tracing out the lifestyle on America’s frontiers. It’s easy to get forgotten here, to get lost, to become a big fish in a small pond. This is a snapshot of a land that’s still unbroken. It’s a place colored by assumptions, lived in by good people, and known by very few. This is Montana.

Mark Mesenko is a talented photographer who makes the North West his muse. He braves the cold, and the strange looks, to shine a light on the hidden beauties of rural America. The view he captured here is from the peak of Jette Hill, overlooking the single lane highway which leads to a small town with small ideas and a big sky. As the hill descends, it creeps over the Polson city limits. It’s a tight knit community, where teachers taught the parents of the kids they teach today. It’s a mixed bag, a town with as many demons as hometown heroes. What you choose to see here will vary; the mountain range which is the closest this place will get to skyscrapers, the seemingly endless plains that stretch across horizons, or the little white crosses that blend into the grass by the sides of the road. For most Americans a place like this is just a patchwork of yellow gray fields seen from thirty thousand feet. For the people that live here though, the land is so much more.

 Polson has a little under five thousand residents, most living from summer to summer while the tourists come and go. This photo would have been taken just before the summer rush, while the grass is still green, and the forest fires haven’t started to crawl across the mountains. This is my favorite time of year and is why I chose this photo. Having taken in this view nearly every day as I drove from home into town, I am constantly reminded of the beauty of where I live as well as the smallness of it all. Polson sits on the southeast coast of the Flathead Lake, the largest freshwater lake in the western United States. It’s a billionaire’s playground, an RV parking lot, and a white blanketed tundra for eight months out of the year. This photo is a sun-soaked illusion, something so fleeting it comes and goes like the thousands of RV tires that roll past every summer’s day. This image has a story to tell, a romanticized slice of Americana with literal purple mountain majesties. But every lens has an agenda, and highway 93 has much more to tell.

Most of the people I know get a sinking, lonely, middle of nowhere feeling on a road like this. For me, this road, these mountains, are home. I’ve driven on, and even off this road at times, nearly planting another white cross; another Montana Memorial Marker. I’ve hiked far up into these mountains where few feet have travelled, crossed glacial streams, and etched these views into my memory. The open spaces never scared me. I’ve played my last varsity soccer games here, jumped into the lake with friends, and taken every photo with this scenery as the backdrop. I’ve grown here, and I’m in love with this place and this moment, when the lake is finally thawed and the open sky is clear of smoke, but something like this doesn’t last ─ and if you know Polson Montana, it was never really there in the first place.

Montana was carved out of lands that once, and in many cases still do, belong to Native American tribes. Polson lays in the northern valleys of the Flathead Reservation. Now, when people think of a reservation they might conjure up pow-wows and ubiquitous wilderness. In truth, there is immense importance and hidden controversy around the lands repatriated to the Native tribes. Highway 93 runs down a division between lake houses and clusters of government homes. There’s a stark divide between golf courses and boat docks on one side, and rampant suicide, drug abuse, and poverty just across the street. Wild statistics are bandied about suggesting that seventy percent of children born in Lake County are born addicted, a statistic that only passes lips because it is too frightening to document in any official capacity. After a child’s withdrawals, they’re sent home to underprivileged, underage, and unwed parents. Families are constantly torn apart by Child Protective Services. According to Child Bridge Montana, a not-for-profit agency that helps find and equip foster families, the numbing reality is that ten percent of Lake County’s population has cycled through foster care. Many of these children soon find themselves in county jails cornered by institutional realities that leave them staring at cinder block walls. These problems cross racial, cultural, and economic lines. What this photo doesn’t show is that Montana is struggling.

It is a vicious cycle. Young teens grow up in homes with negligent parents, feeling outcast in the school system, and soon find themselves becoming negligent and addicted parents in turn. Babies born into addiction, spend weeks in the hospital being weaned off a substance they have absolutely no concept of, all while the parents are struggling themselves. These drugs change people; the new mother you see walking down the street looking as happy as ever is shivering a month later in on the corner of Main Street, pleading for extra change, looking frantically for ways to get her child back. Here you’ll see billboards for the Montana Meth Project. “Before Meth I had a Daughter - Now I have a Prostitute” is one of many eye catching billboards posted by the side of the road. On both sides of highway 93 children find themselves bundled in thick coats over their Halloween costumes, staging block-wide snowball fights in the dead of winter. When the battles are done the kids go home. The haves leave their jackets at the door, then sip cocoa or soup. The have-nots go inside and stay bundled, wondering where their parents are today, re-taping the broken windows on their double-wides.

The Montana I know—the Montana I love, is much more than statistics or leading photographs. It is a picture-perfect place that like every other, has its imperfections. This image represents a beauty that’s foreign across state lines. This sleepy little town is home to some of the most grounded and wholesome people I have ever known; individuals of diverse backgrounds filled with so much pride for home and such bottomless hearts for the people around them. These people would smile at a photo like this, frame it, and hang it on a wall at our local hospital. They’re from small towns with small ideas, but the juxtaposition isn’t lost on them. This picture exists in a vacuum, separated from harsh truths that scarcely make it into national headlines. A flyover state looks a lot like this, but no place is perfect, and no photo can be trusted without is context.