Endangered Species and the Sovereignty of the West

by Mark Harvey

Hollow Horn of the Sioux Tribe

There was a time when the West was truly wild. I don’t mean the gun fights in saloons, the stampede of a thousand cattle, or stagecoach robberies on the high plains. But it wasn’t that long ago when every river from what is now Kansas to the Pacific Ocean ran its course without a dam or diversion, tens of millions of buffalo grazed on the rich grasslands, and beavers built thousands and thousands of ponds across the Rockies. It was but a blink of the eye since apex predators like Grizzly bears and Wolves ruled the land from north to south.

One man who witnessed a nearly virgin West was John K Townsend, the first trained naturalist to travel from St. Louis to what is today Oregon. In a book called Journey Across the Rocky Mountains to the Columbia River, Townsend shares images of a trip that began in 1834, not long after Louis and Clark first made their expedition. Even in bustling St. Louis, where Townsend was provisioning, there were foretokens of what was ahead in the untrammeled country he was to cross. He describes the sight of a hundred Saque Indians with shaved heads and painted in stripes of “fiery red and deep black, leaving only the scalping tuft, in which was interwoven a quantity of elk hair and eagle’s feathers.”

Just a month into the trip, Townsend encounters a trapper who tells the story of having his horse and rifle stolen by Otto Indians in the middle of winter while still far from any settlement. When Townsend asks the trapper how he survived without food on his journey home, the trapper says, “Why, set to trappin’ prairie squirrels with little nooses made out of the hairs of my head.”

About six weeks into the crossing, Townsend describes the various wolves slinking about the camp looking for scraps of food. By his narrative, he does not seem a bit afraid of them but describes the encounters as “amusing to see the wolves lurking like guilty things around these camps seeking for the fragments that may be left.” The contrast of this naturalist’s comfort around wild animals camped out in the true wilds with just a horse, compared to some of today’s self-styled “mountain men,” is stark. For if you turn on most any AM radio station in Montana, Wyoming, or Colorado today, you’ll hear angry men sealed in 6,000-pound pickup trucks on major highways, calling in to talk shows to express their fear and loathing of wolves. My how soft we’ve become. Read more »

Sunday, March 23, 2025

The Domination Game: The American Eagle and the Canada Jay

by David Greer

Bald eagle. Myles Clarke photo.

Countries love their symbols. But what do those symbols tell us?

One of President Biden’s final actions before handing over the keys to the White House was to sign into law a unanimous bipartisan bill, perhaps one of the last of those for a good long time, declaring the bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) the national bird of the United States of America.

Cue media yawn. December 2024 was too replete with Trumpian outrage (for and against) to notice. Besides, hadn’t the eagle as national symbol been settled a couple of hundred years ago?

Actually, more like 250 years ago, when the Continental Congress, having loosed the chains of empire, decided in 1782 to insert the image of a bald eagle on the Great Seal of the United States. On it, the eagle clutches an olive branch in one talon, a sheaf of arrows in the other – prepared for peace or war as circumstances require. The bald eagle must have seemed an obvious pick as a national symbol, the epitome of strength and independence and native to every state in the union. Generations of Americans grew up assuming the bald eagle was their national bird, but that status didn’t become official until the 2024 bill, introduced by Amy Kobuchar, sailed through both the Senate and House and landed on the president’s desk. Read more »

Monday, July 10, 2023

Staying Alive: The Owl, the Orca, and the Human Problem

by David Greer

Northern spotted owl, British Columbia. Jared Hobbs photo.

The northern spotted owl (Strix occidentalis caurina) and the southern resident orca (Orcinus orca) are dramatically different animals that employ curiously similar predation techniques, and both face extinction thanks in large part to their choice of prey.

The northern spotted owl, one of three subspecies of spotted owls, is slightly smaller than a raven and inhabits mature forests along the Pacific coast of North America from southwestern British Columbia to northern California. The southern resident orca, sometimes called the killer whale, occupies the same part of the world and is found primarily in the coastal waters of British Columbia, Washington and Oregon, and most especially throughout the Salish Sea.

Though the extinction threats they face are different in nature, there is one very similar root cause—the fact that they are both fussy eaters.

The diet of the spotted owl consists primarily of two small rodents: bushy-tailed wood rats (otherwise known as pack rats) and flying squirrels. Like most other owls, the spotted owl hunts primarily in the dark. To catch its prey efficiently with minimal expenditure of energy, it has evolved two remarkable and complementary aptitudes: exquisite hearing and silent flight. Unlike some owl species that prowl at night in search of prey, the spotted owl simply perches in a tree, waits motionless, and intently listens. If it hears the scratching of pack rat toenails on a log or the soft impact of a flying squirrel landing on a tree trunk, it unfolds its wings and launches towards the sound. Like other owls, the spotted owl has evolved a structure and texture of feathers that ensures an almost soundless flight. Read more »