At a recent get-together of 435 members
of the Quivira Coalition in Albuquerque, N.M., I visited the future
of the grasslands. In a dark bar, I even met the rancher’s
worst nightmare — a Buddhist vegetarian.
Yet my
glimpse onwards filled me with hope. In fact, I’m surprised
at how closely the time-to-come resembles the idealized past.
Besides ranchers and farmers, the conference welcomed vegetarians
and Republicans and Democrats and Libertarians and Buddhists and
Catholics and Mormons.
All believe that grazing animals
— cattle, sheep, pigs, chickens, llamas or whatever else eats
grass — were perfectly designed by nature to enhance the
native grasses. If the land is healthy, so will be the people who
live there. And the food they raise, whether lettuce or beef, will
be better for consumers as well.
Of course, we ranchers
love to cuss ignorant environmentalists who don’t know
anything about cows. And we environmentalists love to curse stupid
ranchers whose cows leave manure in the creek. For 20 years,
I’ve been both a rancher and an environmentalist, and
sometimes I’ve been embarrassed by my company.
While we’ve been yelling at each other, the developers have
been paving the prairie, covering grass with subdivisions and
Wal-Mart Superstores. Recently, two environmentalists and a rancher
shut up long enough to realize that fighting is a waste of energy.
They saw they valued the same things: clean air and water, open
space, good food, healthy families and communities. They decided to
work together for goals they could agree on.
So they
formed The Quivira Coalition, quivira because early mapmakers used
the word to describe unknown territory, or an elusive dream. Its
motto, “Innovation, Collaboration, Restoration…..One Acre at a
Time,” has attracted a list of partner groups and individuals
that’s as long as my arm, and growing daily. Practical
results include restoration of specific creeks, mines, forests and
grasslands — places you can visit to see for yourself.
I first learned about the group a year ago, after 20
ranchers, environmentalists and scientists met for 48 hours to work
out a position called The Radical Center. First, they declared an
end to hostilities over livestock grazing in the West, noting that
we’re all losing endangered species and communities while we
bicker. Then, they suggested the radical notion of working together
to restore ecological, social and political health to the West.
I read what the Radical Center stood for, and signed up.
Others who have come on board include Wendell Berry, Wes Jackson,
Alvin Josephy, Jr., Bill Kittredge, Patricia Limerick, Bill
McKibben, Theodore Roosevelt IV, Don Snow, Stewart Udall, Gary Paul
Nabhan, Teresa Jordan, Bob Budd.
My dad didn’t say
“ecology” when he was teaching me how to make a living with cattle
in South Dakota. But he taught me the same principles Quivira lists
in describing the goal of “The New Ranch.” We humans moved out into
a natural paradise so perfectly evolved it’s taken us a
couple of hundred years to almost ruin it. Using nature as our
example, we can fix it. “Collaborative stewardship,” Quivira calls
it.
I compare it to getting friendly neighbors with good
toolboxes. As a rancher, I learned from my father and our
neighbors; they knew a lot. They were smart enough to admit they
didn’t know everything. But they also implied that
“outsiders” — anybody not born in the community —
didn’t know anything at all. That’s just not true.
The Radical Center invites outsiders to work with people
who occupy the land — to improve everything on it. My new
Quivira neighbors live on similar land but learned from a different
group of experts. Maybe they can teach me new ways to study what
I’ve got, and figure out how to improve it. And maybe
attending to the land’s health will enable me to make enough
money to keep the land, instead of losing it to asphalt.
The Buddhist vegetarian announced his orientation when he stopped
me as I passed through the bar. He liked my poem “Coyote Song,” in
which I suggest that humans imitate coyotes, who survive in this
dangerous world by paying attention.
“That’s a
perfect expression of Buddhist philosophy,” he said. His name tag
said he worked at Tesuque Pueblo.
“Well, we meat-eating
ranchers may not be Buddhist, but we grew up knowing that,” I
answered. Eventually, we shook hands, somewhat amazed by our
agreement. That’s how things work in Quivira: utter opposites
can discover how much they have in common.
The Quivira
Coalition isn’t the only organization working for change
through cooperation, but it’s got to be one of the best.
Judge for yourself; check out quiviracoalition.org; The Quivira
Coalition, 1413 Second St., Suite 1, Santa Fe NM 87505;
505/820-2544.
Linda Hasselstrom is a
contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country
News. She is a rancher in South Dakota and writer who lives
part-time in Wyoming.
Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.
