G
George Wuerthner
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I recently visited the Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge in Southeast Oregon to see how the Warner Peak Fire affected the refuge. The 70,000-acre fire occurred two years ago, in 2024. Although I only had a chance to view a small portion of the fire burn scar, the vegetation recovery was remarkable.
Rock Creek, Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge, Oregon. Photo by George Wuerthner
Grasses had almost completely regrown over thousands of acres. Aspen groves had thousands of new suckers. There was little bare dirt.
Aspen suckers are plentiful just two years after the Warner Creek Fire. Also, note that the fire was not able to burn very far into the aspen grove since aspen’s shade and green vegetation resists wildfire, acting as a natural fire break. Photo by George Wuerthner
This remarkable situation has a reason.
Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge was established on December 20th, 1936, by President Franklin D. Roosevelt to serve “…as a range and breeding ground for the antelope and other species of wildlife….” Yet cattle grazing was allowed in the refuge for decades.
However, in 1995, livestock grazing in the refuge was terminated. How it happened and why is an example of how a dedicated public servant can improve public lands policy.
ENDING LIVESTOCK GRAZING AT HART MOUNTAIN
In the early 1990s, I was invited to a gathering of grazing activists (folks opposed to livestock grazing on public lands) at Hart Mountain Refuge. I drove down to Hart Mountain from Montana, where I lived, and joined about 25 folks gathered around a campfire ring to discuss how we could eliminate cows from Hart Mountain.
Pronghorn “antelope” at Hart Mountain. Photo by George Wuerthner
While we were in a brainstorming session, Barry Reiswig, the Refuge Manager, drove up in a pickup.
Barry Reiswig, refuge manager, holds up a beaver cut aspen bole found among sagebrush. The beaver are gone due to the damage to the riparian area from livestock grazing. Photo by George Wuerthner
Reiswig got out of his truck and slowly approached the group. Tall and confident, wearing a badge and uniform, Reiswig looked a lot like “Matt Dillon in the old Gunsmoke TV series.
After some small talk, Reiswig asked what we were doing; given that many agencies tend to support livestock grazing on public lands, people were guarded in their answers. Finally, someone told Reiswig we were discussing how to remove cattle from the refuge.
A pronghorn buck. Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge was established to protect pronghorn which were almost extirpated from North America. Photo by George Wuerthner
Reiswig said something to the effect, “Well, I’ve been thinking about that myself.” Reiswig went on to say: “According to the original mandate for creation of the refuge, the primary purpose of this refuge is to protect pronghorn antelope and other wildlife. And all other uses cannot harm the primary purposes for which this refuge was established. And if you were to call me into a court of law and if you asked me if livestock grazing was harming the primary purposes for which this refuge was established, well I would have no choice but to tell you yes.”
With that, Reiswig turned, walked back to his truck, and drove away.
The lawyers in our group instantly knew Reiswig had just given them the key to ending livestock grazing at Hart Mountain.
Eventually, environmental groups did call Reiswig into court, and as he suggested, he acknowledged that livestock grazing was having a huge impact on wildlife, including pronghorn.
Western slope of Hart Mountain. Photo by George Wuerthner
The Sierra Club Legal Defense Fund filed a lawsuit, arguing exactly what Reiswig suggested: that National Wildlife Refuges must be managed “for the conservation, management, and where appropriate, restoration of the fish, wildlife, and plant resources and their habitats” and only allow activities on each refuge only when compatible with “the specific purposes for which that refuge was established.”
Ungrazed Bunchgrass at Hart Mountain. Photo by George Wuerthner
Reiswig strategically built a strong case for his position. He invited several scientists to study the refuge and document whether livestock had impacted refuge wildlife. The overwhelming conclusion was that livestock grazing negatively affected the land and its wildlife.
As expected, the livestock community tried to get Reiswig fired, but he had allies who supported him. But it also took a lot of internal fortitude for Reiswig to withstand the hatred he encountered in the local town of Lakeview.
Among other things, Reiswig invited me to spend five days with him touring the refuge to document the impacts. It was a fun trip. Reiswig has a dry sense of humor.
Barry Reiswig walks a down-cut gully (formerly a meadow) damaged by livestock grazing. Photo by George Wuerthner
At one point, we stood over a 30-foot gully eroded in the sagebrush slope and discussed how grazing had eliminated the riparian plants and accelerated downcutting, resulting in the deep ravine. Barry told me how the rancher who grazed the area once told him that the creek had once been a wet meadow, not a gully, and they would often get their horses stuck in the mud when riding through the area. After telling me that story, Reiswig quipped cynically, “Well, we sure fixed that problem.” His sense of humor allowed him to survive the vitriol the local community aimed at him.
I wrote a piece and submitted it to High Country News, where Ed Marston was editor. Marston was a pro-ranching advocate. Marston never published my piece. I did publish it in Wild Earth.
Beyond inviting the media to tour the refuge, Reiswig also gave numerous talks in urban centers like Reno, Portland, and Bend to explain how livestock was degrading the refuge.
Native bunchgrasses dominate a slope just two years after the Warner Peak Fire burned the area. Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge, Oregon. Photo by George Wuerthner
As a result, livestock grazing was terminated in 1995 for 15 years and has never been reinstituted. Consequently, Hart Mountain Antelope Refuge is one of the largest parts of the Great Basin free of livestock. (Adjacent Sheldon National Wildlife Refuge in Nevada, which Reiswig also managed, removed all livestock by permit buyouts.) Livestock removal rejuvenated the ecosystem.
WILDFIRE AND THE RECOVERY
It has been 35 years since livestock was removed from the refuge, and scientific studies have documented significant improvement in wildlife and riparian habitat at Hart Mountain.
Bunchgrasses above Rock Creek, Hart Mountain NWR two years after the Warner Peak Fire burned this area. Photo by George Wuerthner
But removing cattle grazing has also had another benefit. After a wildfire, the landscape at Hart Mountain appears to follow a different trajectory than in other parts of the West where livestock still degrades the land.
Dense grass cover adjacent to Rock Creek riparian area., Hart Mountain NAR. Such areas in other livestock grazed areas tend to be bare soil due to livestock trampling and grazing. Photo by George Wuerthner
At Hart Mountain, I saw a nearly continuous carpet of native grass species. Where the fire entered aspen groves, it appeared to have quickly self-extinguished. Green aspen stands tend to be moist, cool areas that act as a barrier to fire spread.
Cattle in the Fremont-Winema National Forest near Hart Mountain. Livestock trampled riparian area lacks vegetation, has compacted soils, and eroded streambanks. Photo by George Wuerthner
In other parts of the West, cheatgrass is taking over the landscape. Cheatgrass, an annual that is highly flammable, is promoted by livestock grazing. But in my cursory walk through the Warner Fire burn area, I saw only minor patches of cheatgrass, perhaps relicts of the past 120 years of livestock grazing.
The golden grasslands were particularly beautiful at sunset.
Aspen regeneration from roots, called suckers, is abundant after a fire kills the top stem bole. Photo by George Wuerthner
The retirement of livestock grazing at the refuge also allowed Rock Creek (as well as other riparian areas) to restore itself. The creek deepened. Willows increased. The soil became spongy and held more water. Even after years of drought, I got wet feet hiking along the Rock Creek riparian zone.
Typical riparian area found on most grazing allotments in the West. The streamside vegetation like willows is missing. The steam channel is wide and shallow. The soil is compacted. Ochoco National Forest, Oregon Photo by George Wuerthner
Grass forms a continuous carpet adjacent to the creek where, in the past, cattle drawn to the water had created nearly bare, compacted soil or, in the parlance of the range “science” community, “sacrifice zones.”
The riparian area is like a natural sponge. Even after years of drought, I got my feet wet walking through the wet spongy soils along the creek. Photo by George Wuerthner
The fire burned off mature sagebrush, which is an important plant for pronghorn, sage grouse, pygmy rabbit, and other species. Sagebrush does not readily recover quickly from wildfire and tends to have a fire rotation of decades to hundreds of years depending on the species.
Seedling sagebrush among bunchgrasses just two years after the Warner Peak Fire burned this area. Photo by George Wuerthner
I did, however, see some small sagebrush here and there among the grasses, but it will take a long time for the sage habitat (as opposed to individual plants) to be restored in the burn area. However, without livestock grazing and trampling, even sagebrush has a better chance to restore itself to the landscape.
LANDSCAPE AMNESIA
Pronghorn grazing below Hart Mountain in dense vegetation just two years after the Warner Peak Fire. This is the kind of view we could have across the West if livestock were eliminated from public lands. Photo by George Wuerthner
One obstacle proponents of livestock removal from public lands face is that cattle and sheep grazing is so ubiquitous that few people can imagine a “healthy” landscape. The result is what I call landscape amnesia. Without significant controls or places without livestock, the average person has no idea how much domestic livestock has damaged and continues to degrade our public lands. One benefit of Hart Mountain is that anyone can see what the rest of the West could look like if we eliminated livestock from our public lands.
Rock Creek, Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge, Oregon. Photo by George Wuerthner
Grasses had almost completely regrown over thousands of acres. Aspen groves had thousands of new suckers. There was little bare dirt.
Aspen suckers are plentiful just two years after the Warner Creek Fire. Also, note that the fire was not able to burn very far into the aspen grove since aspen’s shade and green vegetation resists wildfire, acting as a natural fire break. Photo by George Wuerthner
This remarkable situation has a reason.
Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge was established on December 20th, 1936, by President Franklin D. Roosevelt to serve “…as a range and breeding ground for the antelope and other species of wildlife….” Yet cattle grazing was allowed in the refuge for decades.
However, in 1995, livestock grazing in the refuge was terminated. How it happened and why is an example of how a dedicated public servant can improve public lands policy.
ENDING LIVESTOCK GRAZING AT HART MOUNTAIN
In the early 1990s, I was invited to a gathering of grazing activists (folks opposed to livestock grazing on public lands) at Hart Mountain Refuge. I drove down to Hart Mountain from Montana, where I lived, and joined about 25 folks gathered around a campfire ring to discuss how we could eliminate cows from Hart Mountain.
Pronghorn “antelope” at Hart Mountain. Photo by George Wuerthner
While we were in a brainstorming session, Barry Reiswig, the Refuge Manager, drove up in a pickup.
Barry Reiswig, refuge manager, holds up a beaver cut aspen bole found among sagebrush. The beaver are gone due to the damage to the riparian area from livestock grazing. Photo by George Wuerthner
Reiswig got out of his truck and slowly approached the group. Tall and confident, wearing a badge and uniform, Reiswig looked a lot like “Matt Dillon in the old Gunsmoke TV series.
After some small talk, Reiswig asked what we were doing; given that many agencies tend to support livestock grazing on public lands, people were guarded in their answers. Finally, someone told Reiswig we were discussing how to remove cattle from the refuge.
A pronghorn buck. Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge was established to protect pronghorn which were almost extirpated from North America. Photo by George Wuerthner
Reiswig said something to the effect, “Well, I’ve been thinking about that myself.” Reiswig went on to say: “According to the original mandate for creation of the refuge, the primary purpose of this refuge is to protect pronghorn antelope and other wildlife. And all other uses cannot harm the primary purposes for which this refuge was established. And if you were to call me into a court of law and if you asked me if livestock grazing was harming the primary purposes for which this refuge was established, well I would have no choice but to tell you yes.”
With that, Reiswig turned, walked back to his truck, and drove away.
The lawyers in our group instantly knew Reiswig had just given them the key to ending livestock grazing at Hart Mountain.
Eventually, environmental groups did call Reiswig into court, and as he suggested, he acknowledged that livestock grazing was having a huge impact on wildlife, including pronghorn.
Western slope of Hart Mountain. Photo by George Wuerthner
The Sierra Club Legal Defense Fund filed a lawsuit, arguing exactly what Reiswig suggested: that National Wildlife Refuges must be managed “for the conservation, management, and where appropriate, restoration of the fish, wildlife, and plant resources and their habitats” and only allow activities on each refuge only when compatible with “the specific purposes for which that refuge was established.”
Ungrazed Bunchgrass at Hart Mountain. Photo by George Wuerthner
Reiswig strategically built a strong case for his position. He invited several scientists to study the refuge and document whether livestock had impacted refuge wildlife. The overwhelming conclusion was that livestock grazing negatively affected the land and its wildlife.
As expected, the livestock community tried to get Reiswig fired, but he had allies who supported him. But it also took a lot of internal fortitude for Reiswig to withstand the hatred he encountered in the local town of Lakeview.
Among other things, Reiswig invited me to spend five days with him touring the refuge to document the impacts. It was a fun trip. Reiswig has a dry sense of humor.
Barry Reiswig walks a down-cut gully (formerly a meadow) damaged by livestock grazing. Photo by George Wuerthner
At one point, we stood over a 30-foot gully eroded in the sagebrush slope and discussed how grazing had eliminated the riparian plants and accelerated downcutting, resulting in the deep ravine. Barry told me how the rancher who grazed the area once told him that the creek had once been a wet meadow, not a gully, and they would often get their horses stuck in the mud when riding through the area. After telling me that story, Reiswig quipped cynically, “Well, we sure fixed that problem.” His sense of humor allowed him to survive the vitriol the local community aimed at him.
I wrote a piece and submitted it to High Country News, where Ed Marston was editor. Marston was a pro-ranching advocate. Marston never published my piece. I did publish it in Wild Earth.
Beyond inviting the media to tour the refuge, Reiswig also gave numerous talks in urban centers like Reno, Portland, and Bend to explain how livestock was degrading the refuge.
Native bunchgrasses dominate a slope just two years after the Warner Peak Fire burned the area. Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge, Oregon. Photo by George Wuerthner
As a result, livestock grazing was terminated in 1995 for 15 years and has never been reinstituted. Consequently, Hart Mountain Antelope Refuge is one of the largest parts of the Great Basin free of livestock. (Adjacent Sheldon National Wildlife Refuge in Nevada, which Reiswig also managed, removed all livestock by permit buyouts.) Livestock removal rejuvenated the ecosystem.
WILDFIRE AND THE RECOVERY
It has been 35 years since livestock was removed from the refuge, and scientific studies have documented significant improvement in wildlife and riparian habitat at Hart Mountain.
Bunchgrasses above Rock Creek, Hart Mountain NWR two years after the Warner Peak Fire burned this area. Photo by George Wuerthner
But removing cattle grazing has also had another benefit. After a wildfire, the landscape at Hart Mountain appears to follow a different trajectory than in other parts of the West where livestock still degrades the land.
Dense grass cover adjacent to Rock Creek riparian area., Hart Mountain NAR. Such areas in other livestock grazed areas tend to be bare soil due to livestock trampling and grazing. Photo by George Wuerthner
At Hart Mountain, I saw a nearly continuous carpet of native grass species. Where the fire entered aspen groves, it appeared to have quickly self-extinguished. Green aspen stands tend to be moist, cool areas that act as a barrier to fire spread.
Cattle in the Fremont-Winema National Forest near Hart Mountain. Livestock trampled riparian area lacks vegetation, has compacted soils, and eroded streambanks. Photo by George Wuerthner
In other parts of the West, cheatgrass is taking over the landscape. Cheatgrass, an annual that is highly flammable, is promoted by livestock grazing. But in my cursory walk through the Warner Fire burn area, I saw only minor patches of cheatgrass, perhaps relicts of the past 120 years of livestock grazing.
The golden grasslands were particularly beautiful at sunset.
Aspen regeneration from roots, called suckers, is abundant after a fire kills the top stem bole. Photo by George Wuerthner
The retirement of livestock grazing at the refuge also allowed Rock Creek (as well as other riparian areas) to restore itself. The creek deepened. Willows increased. The soil became spongy and held more water. Even after years of drought, I got wet feet hiking along the Rock Creek riparian zone.
Typical riparian area found on most grazing allotments in the West. The streamside vegetation like willows is missing. The steam channel is wide and shallow. The soil is compacted. Ochoco National Forest, Oregon Photo by George Wuerthner
Grass forms a continuous carpet adjacent to the creek where, in the past, cattle drawn to the water had created nearly bare, compacted soil or, in the parlance of the range “science” community, “sacrifice zones.”
The riparian area is like a natural sponge. Even after years of drought, I got my feet wet walking through the wet spongy soils along the creek. Photo by George Wuerthner
The fire burned off mature sagebrush, which is an important plant for pronghorn, sage grouse, pygmy rabbit, and other species. Sagebrush does not readily recover quickly from wildfire and tends to have a fire rotation of decades to hundreds of years depending on the species.
Seedling sagebrush among bunchgrasses just two years after the Warner Peak Fire burned this area. Photo by George Wuerthner
I did, however, see some small sagebrush here and there among the grasses, but it will take a long time for the sage habitat (as opposed to individual plants) to be restored in the burn area. However, without livestock grazing and trampling, even sagebrush has a better chance to restore itself to the landscape.
LANDSCAPE AMNESIA
Pronghorn grazing below Hart Mountain in dense vegetation just two years after the Warner Peak Fire. This is the kind of view we could have across the West if livestock were eliminated from public lands. Photo by George Wuerthner
One obstacle proponents of livestock removal from public lands face is that cattle and sheep grazing is so ubiquitous that few people can imagine a “healthy” landscape. The result is what I call landscape amnesia. Without significant controls or places without livestock, the average person has no idea how much domestic livestock has damaged and continues to degrade our public lands. One benefit of Hart Mountain is that anyone can see what the rest of the West could look like if we eliminated livestock from our public lands.