In Montana, efforts to reintroduce bison back to their native habitats are met by residents’ resistance.

by Abigail Geiger illustration by Grace Molteni

In Montana, the land is everything.

With a population that finally broke one million, the people are the land. There are the mining and timber families in the west, the ranching families in the east, and many other creeds and colors in between. But the image of Montana is incomplete without mention of the birds and the bears and the many species that roam the Montana plains and perch on the mountain pines. And these animals too have a stake in the 146,000-square-foot Big Sky state. An iconic reminder of the American frontier, the bison is one of the oldest pilgrims to Montana. Now, as this species faces a chance to again roam on Montana soil, everyone is asking the same question: to whom does the land really belong to? # The American Plains bison, native to Montana, came from a southeast Asian ancestor said to have crossed the Bering Land Bridge about two million years ago. The earliest known bison fossils, found in India and China, have been traced to the Pliocene epoch, which extends from 5.3 million to 2.5 million years ago.    About 14,000 years ago, Eurasia and Alaska were split by a warming climate, and thus, the modern plains and wood bison we think of today began to evolve separately (though some scientists claim they are similar enough to be in the same genus), according to “Wild Mammals of North America: Biology, Management and Conservation” by George A. Feldhamer, Bruce C. Thompson and Joseph A. Chapman. Though these furry, commanding animals are painted into U.S. history books as occupants of the open land, bison hugely expanded their roaming territory from the Missouri River in the West to Midwestern states and even to eastern states including West Virginia. According to the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, 30 to 60 million bison were grazing the American landscape in the 1500s. But the bison’s steel strength, surprising speed (bison can travel up to 35 mph) and unwavering weight (males can weigh up to 2,000 pounds while females average 800 to 1,000) were no match for the human hope of domination. As Europeans settled in America from the 1700s to 1880s, disease and competition from horses strained the bison population. Just like the Native Americans who were forced westward, bison became prisoner to the European bullet. In the 1830s, mass eradication of the bison population began. Bison bones were used for refining sugar, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and soon, settlers realized the profitability of owning bison. In 1872, Colorado passed legislation banning the waste of bison meat; the Kansas legislature passed a similar law in the same year, but the governor vetoed it. An 1877 Canadian law heavily regulated bison hunting, but it was repealed a year later. Amid the legislative back-and-forth, the bison slaughter continued. By 1883, native bison populations were nearly extinct, said Arnie Dood, a former Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks native species biologist who worked tirelessly on a statewide bison management plan starting in 2009. Before that, he worked with threatened and endangered species recovery for 25 years with FWP.  He was fired in May after a legislative mandate forced a 4 percent cut to state agencies, according to the Bozeman Daily Chronicle.

A year later, in 1884, approximately 325 bison remained across the country, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. That’s 0.001 percent of the original population — and that’s a conservative estimate.

Over the 20th century, the decimated bison population slowly inched back up to a current approximation of 500,000, thanks to conservation efforts from government-protected herds in Yellowstone National Park and the National Zoological Park in Washington, D.C., American Bison Society, the American Bison Society, private herd owners and others.

More than 200 years later, Dood and this growing crowd of supporters are trying to show that not only are bison worthy of attention, but also of protection.

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The image of a sweeping plain with birds flying and bison roaming seems hard to criticize. But to certain critics, including livestock unions, ranchers and others, it isn’t such a pretty picture.

One of the most debated concerns with bison is the presence of brucellosis, which, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, is an infectious bacterial disease. Brucellosis swept into the bison population from exposure to brucellosis in cattle. According to the Buffalo Field Campaign website, brucellosis was first detected in Yellowstone bison in 1917. One of the most common side effects of brucellosis is the stillbirth of calves. Ranchers and industry supporters believe that if bison are reintroduced into Montana lands without proper management, brucellosis would become rampant, causing stillbirths not only in bison but also in cattle, the precious product of ranching families throughout the state. It’s hard to pinpoint when cattle and bison first integrated (one scientific claim is 1917), but the effects of “cattle gene integration,” or the breeding between cattle and bison, are far-reaching and frustrating to every party involved in the reintroduction process. To agency workers such as Dood, it’s a matter of reiterating that the reintegrated cattle would be clear of disease and integration. But to critics, the threat of disease, despite testing and thoughtful management, is ever present. Yet, there’s hope. In Yellowstone National Park, all of the bison are purebred, meaning there’s been no evidence of cattle gene integration in the most recent serologic tests over the last few years, Dood said. In Yellowstone, Dood said, bison were taken through serologic testing, quarantine and monitoring to show an absence of disease and cattle gene integration. The testing lasted 10 years because of the vast, time-consuming elements of getting the disease and gene integration under control, from keeping the animals isolated to conducting routine disease tests and administering vaccinations. Preventing brucellosis from ravaging bison populations proved to be a test of time. Afterward, some of the Yellowstone bison were moved to the Fort Peck Indian Reservation — disease- and integration-free — and others were sent to media mogul Ted Turner’s property in Bozeman, Montana. Despite the efforts made to eliminate brucellosis and cattle gene integration in bison population, the threat of the disease remains a concern to the state’s livestock producers, according to the Montana Farmers Union policy book. The policy insists any management plan must focus on eliminating brucellosis and protecting private property. Also, bison tend to be aggressive, said Jay Bodner of the Montana Stockgrowers Association. Population containment is another issue, Bodner said. “We see populations grow, and the only way to control them is with guns,” Bodner said. “And that’s just not possible. That’s not possible when you have a big, aggressive animal like a bison among ranches and among animals like cattle and horses.” Other than the animal’s aggression and the concern with population control, the remaining issues are containment, diseases (such as brucellosis) and the conflict and headache of putting bison on both federal and private lands. Dood disagrees with the concerns. He said bison often act aggressively when provoked by unnatural human interaction. Bison have been unfairly conditioned to be around human, and when they aren’t treated with care as wildlife, these massive animals are bound to react defensively. Moreover, he said the efforts Montana FWP has made counter any argument against bison reintroduction. “People will say that bison are a threat because of brucellosis,” Dood said. “What they don’t mention is that other animals suffer from brucellosis, too. We’ve demonstrated that we can thoughtfully manage this species — and people need to understand that.” Public comment meetings, held in Montana cities including Billings, have revealed how fraught with disagreement the bison issue is. Some want these plains animals to roam freely again and say they aren’t dangerous. Others say bison are aggressive, citing harrowing moments such as when a young girl was recently gored by a bison.  Brucellosis and its tendency to spread is a headache for everyone. Progress has been slow because no one seems to agree on what to do with bison. “It’s not an either-or thing,” Dood said. “People make things into a yes-or-no situation and that’s not the way this is. Should we work to bring bison back? Sure. Of course we should. We were able to restore elk, bighorn sheep. And at the end, everyone could agree on it. Why not bison?” Tom DePuydt, a rancher in Phillips County in north central Montana, explained that the issue with bison transcends disease and gene integration. To DePuydt, a third generation rancher whose grandfather homesteaded on the land he works on, is thinking about his family, his children who will see how hard it is to maintain the business in the face of government encroaching on his land and allowing animals to roam treacherously near his property. “I have these maps of the proposed area for the bison,” DePuydt said. “And I see our ranch is circled in the area. And I think, ‘Do my kids have a future here? Why should I have to work so hard? Why do I put so much into it when, in the end, it might not even be worth it?'” If 100 head of bison ran onto his property, DePuydt said, he would have to get rid of 100 head of his own cattle because of the food competition. “There’s only so much grass out there,” DePuydt said. “When we’re raising cattle and wheat, and the government comes in and pushes something, this animal, in when we don’t expect it, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to take care of my business?” # “Montana has restored every native species except bison,” Dood said. “Why is that? What’s the problem? Truth is that most people don’t look at bison as wildlife. (People) look at the land and see the bison, and they look like a mess of cows. And bison are habituated to people. People don’t understand why they need to protect them.” Aside from state agencies such as Montana FWP, The Wildlife Conservation Society, National Wildlife Federal, American Prairie Preserve and the Safari Club International in Alaska are just a few of the national organizations helping to understand the impact and importance of the American bison. However,  Dood said a big gap in support is that of the hunter. And that’s because many hunters haven’t had the chance to hunt bison; in the modern age, they’ve been put behind fences. A hunter in support of animal conversation? It might seem like an oxymoron. Yet, hunters insist that their sport can in fact help conservation, primarily because of the population control hunting offers. (Read more on the relationship between hunting and conservation on the University of Washington’s Conservation magazine and in this 60 Minutes feature on Texas ranches that, by offering land for exotic species, support both conservation and hunting.) The issue of conservation vs. hunting is one that’s steeped into modern Montana past. Many species are protected as wildlife, but, naturally, hunters still want to hunt. Thus, heavy regulations allow certain hunting seasons and areas for archery. For the 2014 hunting season, bison hunting in Montana was allowed in areas near Yellowstone National Park, including the Gardiner Basin, Absaroka Bearstone, Cabin Creek-Monument Mountain and another western portion of the park, according to Montana FWP documents. “There are a lot of groups who want to hunt deer and turkey,” Dood said. “You don’t have that with bison. … It’s hard to get the hunting groups jazzed about it because they have had such little exposure. With a little more effort, I think we can get them. But that lack of exposure is important to think about.” Dood said once bison management furthers and the animals are treated as wildlife, the issue of hunting and helping hunters has legal access to bison hunting would be front-and-center. For the time being, some fences are being broken down. In Montana, the American Prairie Reserve has taken on the massive project of developing 3.5 million acres of public and private land into a prairie landscape for the benefit of both animals and people, according to its website. Across the country, bison are set to roam fenceless once more. Outside Chicago, bison will soon trample the grasses in Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie. In Alaska, the lesser-known relative to the plains bison, the wood bison, has returned. Another program in Utah’s Henry Mountains has brought these bison back, and another in the Grand Canyon has corralled plain bison since the 1990s. “The idea that we’re going to go back to an open prairie — it’s not practical,” Dood said. “Is that what we want? Of course not. But there’s a way to work with everyone so that these animals get a voice and get to get out from behind the fences again.” Organizations from the National Wildlife Federation to the American Prairie Association are working together to bring the bison back. But advocacy can only go so far, Dood said. Montana FWP has also worked to get bison out into the open again, and the FWP efforts are in the final stages of public comment. Some restoration locations include Thompson River and the Terry Badlands. There remain issues, from disagreement with the National Park Service to the strong critique of the ranching front. But Dood insists there is a future for bison in Montana. “This issue has different meanings to different people,” Dood continued. “To some people, they see bison as a threat. And that’s fine — we can work to minimize that threat. Others want to see them roam wherever they want. And we’ll work with them to change that.” To Tom DePuydt, the rancher, the issue is that people are getting involved in a place where they don’t understand the land. They don’t understand how he, and other ranchers like him, has helped the land flourish around him with his own cattle and grazing methods. But there are not enough people in Phillips County, DePuydt said, to go up against the waves of conservation groups and agencies who are working to reintroduce the bison. “The problem is that other people are coming in and imposing their plan on us,” DePuydt said. “What do we do? We’ve taken care of this land. We love this land. “We’ve gotten a lot of attention from this,” DePuydt continued, with a sigh. “And they just don’t understand how much we’ve put into it. I guess, in some ways, we’ve been both blessed – and cursed – with this beautiful land.” [hr style=”striped”]