YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK, Wyo. - For the bison here
in the world's oldest national park, roundups and slaughterhouses
are nothing new.
At times, park managers tried to
foster the bison herds. At other times, they killed them by the
hundreds.
Until the early 1950s, most of the
park's bison were treated like cattle: turned loose in the summer,
rounded up and fed hay in the winter.
Bull calves
were castrated, and salt was spread out for the animals. When their
numbers grew, rangers ran them into corrals much like the ones
drawing so much controversy on the park's borders today. Then they
were killed and processed in the Park Service's slaughterhouse in
the Lamar Valley.
In later years, bison were shot
in the field in the park interior or herded by helicopter into
traps. Then they were trucked to a packing plant in Livingston,
Mont., one of the same slaughterhouses where they go
today.
While the Park Service was reducing herds
in some parts of the park, it cultivated herds in other
parts.
Bison were loaded into trucks and
transplanted to areas of the park where they hadn't been seen in
years, only to be shot later when park managers decided they had
overpopulated the range.
Bison "reductions' -
along with much bigger and more widely known elk reductions - came
to a halt in 1966 when, under intense pressure from hunting groups
and others who didn't like the practice, the park began managing in
ways that left the bison mostly to their own
devices.
At that time there were an estimated 366
bison in the park, down from a high of 1,450 reached in 1954. Bison
numbers grew fivefold, to about 2,000 animals, between 1966 and
1981 - the only time in park history when the bison were left
alone. Prior to this winter's killing season, there were an
estimated 3,000 to 3,500 bison in the
park.
"Natural regulation" is still nominally in
effect, even though bison in the mid-1980s began leaving the park
in large numbers and more than 3,000 have been killed outside the
park since then.
By 1981, bison had discovered
snowmobile trails. Hard-packed winter trails mean higher winter
survival rates, which mean more babies in the spring, causing
unnatural distribution, according to Mary Meagher, a federal
biologist who is the world's top authority on Yellowstone
bison.
Meagher says the outflow of bison could be
stemmed by cutting back on winter use of the park, or at least
halting the grooming of park roads.
That is a
controversial issue. The gateway community of West Yellowstone, for
example, bills itself as "the snowmobile capital of the world."
Thus, Superintendent Mike Finley finds himself on the horns of a
dilemma: Which powerful industry does he risk alienating, livestock
or tourism?
On Jan. 27, the Fund for Animals and
the Boulder, Colo.-based Biodiversity Legal Foundation may have
saved Finley the trouble of a decision. It threatened to sue the
Park Service on the grounds that by promoting winter tourism, it is
violating its statutes to protect the park. And heeding Meagher's
observation, a Humane Society spokesman says the group will work to
halt trail grooming in the park.
Add up the
nurturing, the killing, the transplants and the snowmobile trails,
and you find almost a century of manipulation of Yellowstone's
bison, a story that continues today at the park's
borders.
* Scott
McMillion
Todd Wilkinson
contributed to this report.






