I wasn’t born soon
enough to be a cowboy on the West’s old open range. But for
the last 10 years, I’ve been lucky enough to help gather a
herd of up to 500 bison every fall on 30 square miles of Montana
prairie. I live on the reservation, though I’m not a Native
American, and what I’ve seen on the ground contradicts the
negative press that the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes
always seem to get.
My volunteer job was at the National
Bison Range near Moiese, Mont. For the first eight years of my
involvement, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service ran the refuge and
the fall roundups, and the three-day event was made noisy and
stressful by crashing gates and yelling. When the animals balked,
the feds ran them harder. If they continued to balk, a jeep was
brought in to chase the bison, sometimes ramming them with the
jeep’s front bumper until the animals were subdued. Many
times the bison arrived in the corrals with their tongues hanging
out and legs quivering.
But for the last two roundups,
members of the Confederated Tribes of the Flathead Nation
maintained the refuge and were in charge of the bison under an
agreement with the federal agency. The differences were startling.
Each roundup began with a prayer from a tribal member that stressed
concern for the animals’ safety. The Fish and Wildlife
Service roundups had also begun with a prayer, but only for the
safety of the workers.
The other difference was that the
Tribes’ first roundup was completed with time to spare. And
not because the Indians bulldozed the animals even harder than the
feds had. Rather than just chasing the herd all over the landscape,
the Indians were patient. One result was that several groups of
stubborn and cantankerous bison eventually walked into the corrals.
They weren’t pushed in; they just walked in. I was amazed.
Nearly everyone who watched was impressed with the riders’
creativity. Nearly everyone.
The federal staff members on
hand weren’t impressed. They looked on stony faced. The
federal attitude throughout was to hold back. All the training the
Indians got came from one other experienced volunteer and myself.
In other words, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service handed the bison
herd over to the Indians without any training. And this is tricky
work. Decisions must be constantly made involving the welfare and
safety of the animals. Often a large bull bison will enter a corral
that already holds smaller cows or even calves. These animals must
be separated to keep them form hurting or killing each other. I
expected the federal staff to help out during the Indians’
initial work. Instead, I heard, “That’s the Tribes’
job.”
To be blunt, the Indians were set up to fail. On
the first roundup, at least two other former volunteers were on
hand, carrying clipboards. One of them asked me: “Where’s
your clipboard?” and I realized he was there to evaluate the
Indians’ work. He assumed I was there to do the same, and
looked confused when I said I was there to help.
In spite
of that, as I said, the first roundup got done in two instead of
three days. It sounds odd, but I think the animals noticed a
difference, too. They seemed calmer, less belligerent. Yet no
federal staffer ever said a good word to the Indians or to the
volunteers who were there helping rather than”evaluating.” The
second roundup took the full three days, but it also went well. And
again the agency people remained aloof. Actually, “aloof” is a nice
way of saying you could cut the tension with a knife. And once
again, agency staffers refused to answer any questions.
Then came the news stories carrying allegations of harassment
between the federal agency and the Tribes’ employees. I was
surprised to learn that the federal employees felt harassed. From
what I saw, the harassment ran the other way.
I
can’t imagine what it was like for the tribal employees to
work with censorious federal employees month after month. The
behavior of the federal agents was condescending and paternal; some
would call it shameful or even racist. In the end, the Fish and
Wildlife Agency charged that the Indians had made all sorts of
mistakes feeding the bison and tending fences, and it ended the
contact abruptly on Dec. 11, escorting out employees as if they
were criminals.
Mistakes were made, but not by the
Indians. Now, higher-ups in the Interior Department have
intervened, saying that the Tribes deserve another chance to work
with the bison. I agree, but this time let it be a fair chance.
Paul Bishop is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a
service of High Country News (hcn.org). He is an architect who
lives in Polson, Montana.
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