In rural areas it has recently come back in vogue to say, “Everyone wants to be a cowboy until it’s time to do cowboy stuff.” Infusions of cowboy hats, boots, and western wear in popular culture have been called the “Yellowstone effect.” Are you a Beth, a Casey, or a Jamie? Hint: No one wants to be a Jamie.
But, when it is time to do the real work of cattle raising, it is still considered by many to be a denigration of the natural environment rather than an act of stewardship. Prime example: the settlement of ranching and dairy operations at Point Reyes.
Under the settlement agreement, all but two of the ranching operations within the Point Reyes National Seashore will cease raising livestock in the national park in the next 15 months in exchange for compensation. In the current agricultural environment, each ranching and dairy family should do what is best for their needs. However, it is a shame they had to make the decision with the added pressure of a lawsuit looming over their grazing leases signed with the National Park Service.
It is also a missed opportunity for a public-private partnership that could have generated income for all involved.
Historic ranches and dairies with legacies stretching back to the 1850s are getting harder to come by. Rather than shuttering those operations in favor of the tule elk that live along the Point Reyes coastline, why not consider a partnership?
The ranches and dairies could have remained in operation as both working cattle and dairy producing businesses while retrofitting for tourism and educational outreach. The environmental community could have set up non-invasive viewing sites for the tule elk and other native wildlife and various plants local to the area for a nominal fee to be donated to upkeep and maintenance of the sites as well as providing necessary care for the animals. The park service would have retained the grazing leases – continuing to generate funds for its purposes as well. That is a hat trick for a win that gives everyone continued opportunities.
The trouble with devolving into a culture of instant gratification and having the world at our fingertips is that we have forgotten how important legacies are. Generational agricultural operations provide a glimpse of past and present colliding. In one corner of a historic ranch, one might see a pair of spurs hung on the wall from the first generation to ride a horse over the land while parked in the driveway is a UTV used to move livestock in the modern era. Dairy farms may have stools stashed away, remnants from milking parlors of old, while today they may have automatic milkers that allow cows to “milk themselves” whenever they feel pressure in their udders.
As technology changes, historic ranches and farms have adapted to preserve what was good about the “old ways” and embraced what is good about the “new ways” of working in agriculture. If they hadn’t, they wouldn’t be historic farms and ranches, they would be something else.
That is not to say the tule elk herd does not deserve care. The National Park Service estimates their number at just 5,700 and notes they are a species unique to the California coast. The story of the tule elk, ironically, is one that remains today because of a “conservation minded rancher” who saved what were believed to be the last tule elk left in the United States in 1874.
His focus was not the myopic one we so often encounter today. Henry Miller recognized the need for preservation of the native elk while continuing to operate his ranch along Point Reyes. His dual focus should have been kept in mind before the recent lawsuit pushed his modern compatriots into a settlement that local community members have said feels like a “death.” Maybe, in the future, better compromises will be sought so more death-like experiences are not the norm for our agricultural legacies.
Pam Lewison is a fourth-generation farmer based in Eastern Washington. She is also the Ag Research Director for the Washington Policy Center.
