As the 21st century unfolds, it’s becoming
clear that we need more family farmers and ranchers on the
land, not fewer. We need them not only for the food they
provide, but also for a lesson in how to live on the land.
It’s an ironic turn of events.
For decades, livestock grazing in the arid
West was attacked by environmentalists — vilified as an
“irredeemable” activity that had to be ended on public
lands, pronto.
Environmental activists extolled the sins
of cattle in the scientific literature, full-page
advertisements in major newspapers, colorful coffee-table
books, and countless articles and lectures. Some cited
writer Edward Abbey, who famously described the Western
range as “cowburnt” and denounced cattle as “hooved
locusts.”
Abbey died in 1989, and although the
anti-grazing campaign grew more boisterous and contentious,
it never really recovered from the loss of its charismatic
leader. In fact, you could say the movement crested in 2001,
when the national membership of the Sierra Club rejected the
adoption of a “zero cow” policy for the organization by a
2-to-1 margin.
There were many reasons for rank-and-file
Sierra Clubbers to vote the way they did, including a rising
awareness that ranchers were trying new methods of cattle
management that looked to the health of the land as well as
the animals.
But I believe there was another, far more
important reason. Those conservationists understood that a
different sort of crisis in the West had quietly displaced
the grazing debate. And this new one would have far more
serious ecological consequences. I’m referring to the
general sustainability crisis on everyone’s lips these days.
The issue began with concern about sprawl,
the way unchecked suburbanization was chopping up open space
and threatening wildlife populations. Next, we started
worrying about our water — its quality and quantity — who
controlled it, and who needed it.
Then Al Gore made a documentary, and
suddenly the specter of planetary-scale ecological
devastation became the talk of the nation. Today, our
concern has spread to questions about global food supplies,
energy depletion and the possible limitations to economic
growth.
All of this makes the “grazing wars” of
the 1990s feel like a historical footnote. Now, I think it’s
time to look at the ranchers who remain in business in a new
way. I’m convinced that ranching has a lot to teach us about
what sustainability can mean on the ground. For one thing,
grass, unlike petroleum or natural gas, is a renewable
resource. It works using the original solar power of
photosynthesis. If it gets the proper nutrients and moisture
and isn’t grazed too frequently by any species of herbivore,
it can regenerate itself endlessly. It has done this for the
past 66 million years in North America.
By managing grass and water sustainably,
ranchers can teach those of us who live in cities important
lessons about stewardship, about ecological limitations, and
about respect and humility toward the natural world.
Ranchers can also teach us about the
“low-carbon footprint” benefits of producing high-quality
grass-fed meat — food produced without hormones and with
minimal fossil fuel inputs. Better yet, we can participate
in this history lesson by buying and eating food that comes
from local farmers and ranchers.
Many ranchers can also pass on important
lessons beyond food. Some have joined large-scale
collaborative conservation efforts, some have taken the lead
on restoring damaged riparian areas on their land, some are
improving wildlife habitat for rare or endangered species,
some are protecting open space through conservation
easements, and some are sharing their success stories with
the wider world.
On many ranches around the West,
sustainability is not an ideal, it’s a reality. Is
everything perfect? No. The rising price of diesel, for
example, threatens the financial well-being of many farms
and ranches, which often operate on razor-thin profit
margins. The West’s much-vaunted wide-open spaces look
pretty, but they are hell on a landowner’s gas budget.
Is there still overgrazing? Yes,
unfortunately. But we can’t afford the luxury of attacking
all ranchers as if they were all alike. The challenges
confronting us are too pressing. We need to look to one
another to make living in the West work. Healing is one of
our tasks this century, and I’m happy to report: On the
West’s cattle ranches, it’s already begun.
Courtney White is a contributor to
Writers on the Range, a service of High Country News (hcn.org).
He lives in New Mexico, where he is the co-founder and
executive director of The Quivira Coalition.
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