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The Members’ Magazine of The Jefferson Public Radio Listeners Guild October 2010 The Quiet Environmentalist: Grazing on Oregon’s Public Lands

Environmentalist - andyrieber...Environmentalist Grazing on Oregon’s Public Lands By Andy Rieber Range ecologists are finding that in many ways grazing, practiced responsibly, is

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Page 1: Environmentalist - andyrieber...Environmentalist Grazing on Oregon’s Public Lands By Andy Rieber Range ecologists are finding that in many ways grazing, practiced responsibly, is

The Members ’ Magaz ine o f The J e f f e r son Pub l i c Rad io L i s t ener s Gu i ld Oc tober 2010

The

QuietEnvironmentalist:

Grazing on Oregon’s Public Lands

Page 2: Environmentalist - andyrieber...Environmentalist Grazing on Oregon’s Public Lands By Andy Rieber Range ecologists are finding that in many ways grazing, practiced responsibly, is

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The QuietEnvironmentalist

Grazing on Oregon’s Public LandsBy Andy Rieber

Range ecologistsare finding that in

many ways grazing, practiced responsibly,

is highly beneficial both toplants and wildlife.

Page 3: Environmentalist - andyrieber...Environmentalist Grazing on Oregon’s Public Lands By Andy Rieber Range ecologists are finding that in many ways grazing, practiced responsibly, is

O C TO B E R 2 0 1 0 ı J E F F E R S O N M O N T H LY ı 7

f you look at a map, and run youreye along Oregon’s straight-edgesouthern border to the point whereNevada and California meet beneathit, and then travel slightly north and

east, you will see a chain of small, unre-markable dry lakes indicated. This area isflanked to the west by the fertile WarnerValley, the narrow, desolate Guano Valleybordering it to the east. Northward, it isabutted by the sprawling Hart Mountain An-telope Refuge. This remote expanse of ter-ritory, administered by the Bureau of LandManagement, has no particular name of itsown. Locals simply call this “the Desert.”

Aside from the lake beds, a good mapmay also show a number of dotted-line dirtroads, ranging from decent to fictional, wind-ing through this far-flung district. It may

even indicate by means of lines that the to-pography of this area is varying and change-able, but it is doubtful whether it will giveyou any real impression of the landscape’scharacter, unless the map is in your hand,and your boots are planted on its alkali soil.So situated, an early rising visitor might

watch first light touch the reference pointsthat these concentric topo lines suggest.

It is five a.m. and the hard blackness issoftening to gray. In the gathering light,looming outlines emerge of a jagged canyonrim. Down canyon, and rising from the val-ley floor, the light illuminates peculiarlytilted upthrusts where eons ago the earthbuckled and heaved, hoisting great slabs ofthe prehistoric ground high in the air, liketilted tables. This is not mountain country,exactly. It is the broken face of the south-east Oregon desert. Ancient and austere, it isa vast, unadorned starkness.

An observer located on the east rim ofFisher Canyon this morning might also beable to discern through the pale darkness aslow, stately procession making its wayacross the valley below. As dawn ap-

proaches, what might havelooked like a winding blacksnake is revealed to be a serpen-tine stream of the backs of redand black cows, flanked by rid-ers on horseback. As they ap-proach, the cows’ low calls fortheir calves and the occasionalshout from a cowboy ring outechoing in the huge space be-tween the buttes.

This morning, John O’Keeffeand six day workers are movingabout five-hundred head of O’Ke-effe’s Angus-Hereford cattle tonew pasture. They have been rid-ing since four-thirty a.m., to makethe most of the cool morninghours when the cattle will movecomfortably and willingly. Now,they are about to ease their trainof mama cows and bawling tag-along calves through a gate intowhat is called the Mud Flat pas-ture, where fresh forage awaits.

O’Keeffe is a public landsrancher. In the spring and sum-mer months, he turns his cattleout on a BLM allotment, forwhich he has a grazing permit.

The permit entitles O’Keeffe to a certainnumber of animal unit months, or “AUMs,”per allotment, with an AUM equaling onemonth’s grazing for a cow and her un-weaned calf. To maintain his permit, O’Ke-effe must respect stocking limits, turnoutand removal dates, pay annual fees, rotate

his cows from one pasture to another, andkeep facilities such as fencing and watersources in good order.

Active, compact, and industrious, O’Ke-effe approaches ranching with the devotionand discipline of a Buddhist monk. Threea.m. wake-up calls and eighteen hour daysare not infrequent on this outfit. Andthough his dour, common-sense talk does-n’t usually wax toward the poetic, it is clearthat for him, ranching is not just a way tomake a living. It is a way of being connectedwith the living world around him. Ridingout through the fragrant sagebrush on a re-cent morning, he confided, “I think of allthose people sitting in rush hour trafficright now, and I feel like I’m getting awaywith something.”

O’Keeffe grazes fifteen BLM pastures onthe Desert. Each year, several of these are“rested,” and not grazed. On the others,cows are carefully rotated from one pastureto another from March through August,staying long enough to eat some, but not all,of the grass. O’Keeffe works closely with LesBooth, the local BLM Range Conservation-ist, or “Range Con,” to make sure his stock-ing levels and rotation schedules makesense in the current forage conditions,which in the erratic east-Oregon climate canchange radically from year to year.

Les Booth is a hard man to catch at hisdesk. His real office is out on the grazing al-lotments, and he can occasionally be seen atthe Adel Store picking up a coffee on his wayout to the Desert to do range monitoring.Summer is his busiest time, and he spends itcovering countless miles on the Desert. Hisgovernment pick-up is thick with alkali dust.

“In the spring and summer and fall, I tryto be out there at least three to five times aweek,” says Booth.

Yet Booth is not out on the Desert justfor the benefit of ranchers. A Range Con’sjob is to see that all of the multiple uses ofthe public lands—grazing, wildlife, recre-ation, wilderness—are tended to. ExplainsBooth, “We go out there, we communicatewith [ranchers], we make sure they under-stand what the rules are, and that they’remanaging the public lands for the benefit ofthe resource... There’s a whole list of thingswe worry about besides just the grazing,and we try to protect all those resourceswhile allowing the rancher to utilize therange.” CONTINUED ON PAGE 16

I

Warner Valley rancher John O’Keeffe regularly moves hiscattle to let grasses rest and grow.

PREVIOUS PAGE: On the move-Cattle line out and head forfresh grass. PHOTOS: ANDY RIEBER

Page 4: Environmentalist - andyrieber...Environmentalist Grazing on Oregon’s Public Lands By Andy Rieber Range ecologists are finding that in many ways grazing, practiced responsibly, is

ologists study complex marine ecosystems,range scientists are people who specialize inthe biology of the ecosystems of grasslands.They are typically not ranchers. They aremore likely to be university professors, gov-ernment employees, or private consultants.Les Booth, who holds a master’s degree inrange science from Colorado State, has abackground in plant ecology, soil science,wildlife biology, and surveying.

The emergence of range science as anacademic discipline has brought a greaterunderstanding of how grazing can be prac-ticed sustainably, and at what numbers.“There’s been a time of much higher stock-ing rates early in this century when rangescience wasn’t as well understood, and it’sgood that those days are past,” observesO’Keeffe. “We’ve had huge reductions innumbers since that time.”

But range science is also exposing somevery positive relationships between grazing,wildlife, and plant life. Far from what peoplehave long assumed, grazing may well be partof the answer to preserving our treasuredrangelands and the wildlife they support.

About GrassHow can biting a stand of bunch grass

be good for it? In quite a number of ways, asit turns out. Dr. Wayne Burkhardt, Profes-sor Emeritus of Range Science at the Uni-versity of Nevada, Reno, has spent a careerexploring the answers to this question. Re-cently, he explained four surprisingly intu-itive ways that grazing can help the rangeflourish.

The Great DebateIn recent years, public lands grazing has

become the focus of intense debate. Likewater, grass is a renewable resource. If man-aged properly, it will flourish, but it can bedegraded and destroyed if overused. Criticsclaim that ranchers chronically abuse pub-lic lands by overgrazing. They maintain thatgrazing promotes invasive species of weeds,and that the presence of cattle negativelyimpacts habitats and threatens the existenceof native wildlife.

With an abundance of negative allega-tions in the air, it isn’t surprising that peo-ple have come to wonder whether grazingpublic lands is a wise use of a precious na-tional resource. Open spaces, wildlife,healthy habitats and fresh, abundant waterare among the things we value most. Yet re-cent research in the field of range science isreshaping the terms of this debate. Rangeecologists are finding that in many waysgrazing, practiced responsibly, is highly ben-eficial both to plants and wildlife. Good graz-ing, they argue, is an environmentallysuperior arrangement to no grazing at all.

This interesting trend was recently notedby renowned journalist Michael Pollen, whoin his groundbreaking book “The Omni-vore’s Dilemma,” observed: “In fact, a grow-ing number of ecologists now believe therangelands are healthier with cattle on them,provided they’re moved frequently.”

Alongside this scientific discussion, amoral discourse is also taking shape. Dis-tinct from a “must not touch” approach toenvironmentalism, many people are redis-

covering a classical form of conservationthat promotes fruitful interaction betweenecosystems and human communities, andmaintains that there can be an importantrole for the human element in supportingflourishing rangelands.

A History of GrazingGrazing has not always been kind to the

range. Prior to 1934, our public lands wentlargely unmanaged. Homesteaders, itinerantsheep herders, and cattle barons all ran vastnumbers of livestock in common on the un-fenced range. In a classic playing out of thetragedy of the commons, these stockmenfrequently followed the destructive principlethat they ought to use all available grass,lest it be consumed by the neighbor’s live-stock. When the grass ran out, these earlystockmen simply moved on. The effect ofthis “first come, first served” approach topublic lands use was egregious overgrazing.

Since then, two major changes have re-shaped the way we use the public range.One is the Taylor Grazing Act, which passedin 1934 to regulate grazing and restore thebeleaguered ranges. The Act introduced asystem of dividing public lands into grazingdistricts, which were further parceled intograzing allotments for individual ranchers,such as those O’Keeffe has a permit for.BLM Range Cons like Booth now work withranchers to ensure that each allotment ismaintained in good health.

Second and more recently is the emer-gence of the field of range science. Manypeople don’t realize that just as marine bi-

Quiet Environmentalist continued from page 8

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LEFT: Pastoral aesthetic-wooden granary, Adel, Oregon. RIGHT: Well-managed grass means abundant wildlife, sustainable ranches, andflourishing rural communities.

Page 5: Environmentalist - andyrieber...Environmentalist Grazing on Oregon’s Public Lands By Andy Rieber Range ecologists are finding that in many ways grazing, practiced responsibly, is

Grazing stimulates growthWhen a grazing animal bites off grass,

the action stimulates growth in the plant.The effect is similar to mowing your lawn.Most of us are well acquainted with the factthat routine mowing stimulates, not sup-presses, grass growth. (Hence the constantneed to mow.) But why should cutting orbiting grass have this effect? First, trimminggrass at a moderate height delays the seed-ing out of the plant, so it can put its energyinto growth. Second, trimming grass keepsdown dead stems and leaves that can accu-mulate and choke new plant growth. It istrue, ungrazed or uncut grass may looktaller than grass that has been grazed. Butthis does not imply that the grass is morevigorous. Like a cemetery plot that has beenleft untended, much of this matter will bedead overgrowth, known as “litter.”

Says Burkhardt, “It’s unhealthy forplants to stagnate and accumulate in theirown excess organic tissue. You tie up nutri-ents in that litter, when it is taken out of thesoil. Grazing is one of the mechanisms forrecycling nutrients back into the soil.”

Ultimately, by the same simple logic thatrecommends deadheading flowers, rota-tional grazing facilitates removal of deadmatter and promotes new, live growth.

Grazing makes plants more nutritious and palatable

Many people assume that wildlife is mostabundant where there are no cattle. Yetranchers have long observed that deer, elk,antelope, and other grazers follow cattle, andare often more abundant on grazed ranges[Anderson and Scherzinger]. This may seemcounterintuitive, since wild grazers wouldappear to be in competition with cattle forgrass. But by extending the growth phase ofbunch grasses, prolonging the period beforegrass gets rank and tall and goes to seed, cat-tle grazing makes these grasses more palat-able and nutritious for all grazers, therebyimproving the quality of the forage.

A similar preference for “grazed” plantsshould be familiar to anyone who has everraised a garden. As plant eaters, we humansalso favor tender green shoots which aresweet and rich in high-energy protein. Butwho has not left his garden for a two-week va-cation, only to find that upon returning, the

lettuce and herbs have grown tall, leggy, andhave seeded out? The lettuce is now bitter, theparsley woody, the basil tough and fibrous.

Yet a well-tended lettuce or parsley orbasil plant can be judiciously “grazed” allsummer, and continually provide sweet, ten-der shoots. Likewise, rangeland grasses thatare judiciously grazed can continue to at-tract wildlife with more palatable, nutri-tious, growth-stage forage.

Grazing reduces fireWhen range fires occur, they destroy es-

sential habitats for important sagebrushsteppe species like sage grouse and prong-horn antelope. Dry, dead plant matter burnshotter and faster than living plant matter.And the more dead litter there is, the hottera fire can get. Because grazed range has amuch lower accumulation of these finefuels, fires are less frequent and less intenseon rangeland where grazing occurs. [Davies(1)].

Obviously, fires cannot be entirely elim-inated. But researchers have also found thatgrazed range that does burn is much lesslikely to come back as invasive cheat grass,compared to burned ungrazed range.[Davies (2)]. This is because range that hasbeen grazed has fewer fine fuels, and there-fore does not burn as hot. Less intense firesare less likely to entirely destroy the rootsystem of bunch grasses, while hotter firesare more likely to destroy the entire plant,opening the door for cheat grass invasion.

Ranchers like O’Keeffe also play a directrole in fire prevention. As on-site custodiansof these ranges, they can respond rapidly toa fire, preventing large-scale devastation. Ina similar way, ranchers have often spottedand eliminated outbreaks of noxious weeds,such as medusa head and pepper weed, longbefore they become intractable monocul-tures.

Grazing is part of a natural biotic system

“Grazing is not something man in-vented,” emphasizes Burkhardt. “It is not aninsult to nature. Grazing and the use ofgrass is a natural, fundamental process inthe biology of the Earth.”

The fossil record shows that the nativegrasses on these Great Basin ranges evolved

at a time of heavy grazing pressure duringthe pleistocene era [Burkhardt]. During thattime, numerous large grazing herbivores—mammoths, camels, horses, bison—so-called“megafauna,” roamed these ranges.

“[R]ange grasses evolved with grazingpressure,” says Burkhardt. “The pleistocenemegafauna evolved along with those plantsin a natural grazing system. The lack oflarge grazing animals on this landscape isan anomalous condition. To think that live-stock grazing is an insult is utterly amazing,if you spend a little time reflecting onthings.”

Burkhardt stresses that in a world whereindustrial agricultural production has be-come the norm, grazing represents the lasttruly natural food production system, re-quiring no inputs of fertilizers, herbicides,or fossil fuels.

“Grazing performs a function, a positivefunction, for the maintenance of plant com-munities. That’s not to say that grazing incertain ways can have bad effects on ourplant communities. It certainly can, if graz-ing isn’t done in the proper way.”

What, then, is the proper way to graze,in order to reap the benefits that grazing po-tentially offers?

“We have to attempt to make our graz-ing systems mimic the kind of system thatthese plants evolved under,” Burkhardt ex-plains. Hence the employment of the restand rotation system; it approximates a nat-ural grazing system by allowing plants torest, and by grazing them at different timeseach year.

As Burkhardt sees it, in the final analy-sis the issue of whether cattle are good orbad for rangelands is ill-posed. Rather, thisis at root an issue of good or bad manage-ment. Poorly managed grazers can cause de-struction to riparian areas and tograsslands. But well-managed cattle providea sustainable, and in many ways, beneficialpresence on the range.

The Simple Mathematicsof Grazing

Adopting Burkhardt’s perspective, therelevant question is: What motivation isthere to be a good manager?

People often forget that unlike other

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natural resource users, ranchers are rootedto the land. Ranchers are, as O’Keeffe likesto put it, “in this for the long haul.” Wherethey graze is also where they live, and oftenhave lived, for generations.

For O’Keeffe, the need to care for thisrange is as simple and obvious as a desertdweller’s need to prevent the fouling of hiswell. In either case, care of a vital natural re-source is the key to ongoing existence.

O’Keeffe’s cows, like his father’s andgrandfather’s, must come back to the Desertyear after year to graze, nurse calves, andbreed. Through the rest and rotation system,the cattle graze the range, but also allow thegrasses to rest, set seed, and store root re-serves. This well-managed grazing systemcreates a chain of sustainable growth andregrowth. But if O’Keeffe overgrazes thisrange, the chain will break. Without abun-dant summer grass, O’Keeffe’s cows would-n’t be able to feed their calves, or even atsome point, themselves. In plain economicterms, several years of abusing this rangewould spell disaster, and a quick end, forO’Keeffe’s operation.

Conserving Open SpacesIt is worth considering what would hap-

pen if, as some groups have advocated, thisrenewable resource were no longer availablefor grazing.

Ranchers like O’Keeffe would go out ofbusiness. No longer viable for agriculture,their ranches, which currently provide vitalhabitat to native wildlife, would inevitablybe bought up by developers. As has hap-pened in so many other rural communities,development would bring fragmentation ofthe landscape. New roads, power lines, scep-tic systems, and the inevitable proliferationof three-acre ranchettes and vacation homeswould be carved out of the sagebrush. Sage

grouse and antelope would have to find newhomes, away from the spread of civilization.

Habitats are not the only thing thatwould be lost to development, if public landsgrazing were to end. Ranches like O’Keeffe’sare a vital, living part of the fabric of LakeCounty history. But pre-planned communi-ties of cookie-cutter ranchettes and mobilehome houses destroy the beauty of thesepastoral, agrarian landscapes.

Today in the Warner Valley, a travelercan still pass a hundred year-old barn, or spysandhill cranes wading in the irrigatedmeadows in springtime. At harvest time,they can see bales of hay in symmetricalranks casting long evening shadows acrossthe pastures, or perhaps see a cowboy’shorse hitched at the Adel Store, patientlyawaiting its owner within.

The pastoral has a value all its own. End-ing public land grazing would destroy impor-tant habitats, and eliminate a sustainable,regional food source. But further, if these his-toric ranches are sold, subdivided, and devel-oped, the exceptional beauty of Lake County’sremote rural landscapes, and its untamed pas-toral aesthetic, will be irretrievably lost.

Day’s EndThe sun is setting on the Desert. Ac-

companied by Skinner, his ebullient bordercollie, O’Keeffe is putting out salt and open-ing gates among the deepening shadows,preparing for yet another move in the morn-ing. In the middle distance, curious prong-horn antelope observe his movements. Thesefellow grazers are a ubiquitous presence onthe Desert, their slender silhouettes punc-tuating the wind-scoured skyline. This fleetarmada turns suddenly about, exploding ineffortless motion. Skimming the sage, theirwhite sterns flash in the mellowing light.

Other creatures make their living on thisrange. It is not uncommon to meet an avun-cular badger, trundling about his eveningbusiness. Or to spy the mottled backs ofsage grouse, as they bob and weave theirway through the brush. Above all—and atthe root of all—there is grass: bowing on del-icate stems in the breath of evening air.

John O’Keeffe doesn’t have a bumpersticker on his pick-up that advertises his loveof this Desert. If he did, what would it say?That this land sustains him, and his family?That it is his past? His future? Or perhapsthat this rugged world of sagebrush and an-telope is all he has ever lived, or hoped to?The dried mud and thick alkali dust adher-ing to his pick-up, accumulated over count-less days of tending to cattle and range, saythese things in their own way, quietly.

The O’Keeffes and the other ranchers inthe Warner Valley are a part of this land-scape. They are a part of its history. Theyare a part of its rhythms. They are a breedof quiet environmentalist, maintaining a wayof life that is inextricably linked to the well-being of the land. In the busy din of sloga-neering, it is easy to miss this intimateconnection between people and landscape.

But out on the rim of Fisher Canyon,where the last of the evening light is beinggently extinguished, quiet sounds have away of speaking with great voices. No mapcan tell you who has cared for this range fora hundred years. But the whispering grassesknow, and they will tell you, if you are lis-tening.

Andy Rieber is a free-lance journalist. Sheholds degrees in philosophy from Smith Col-lege and the University of St. Andrews, Scot-land. Adel, Oregon is her home. Contacther at [email protected]

A part of the landscape — John O’Keeffe,accompanied by his border collie Skinner,watch the sun rise over the Desert. PHOTO: ANDY RIEBER