Start / Headwaters

Headwaters

Headwaters is a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else.

46 avsnitt • Längd: 35 min • Oregelbundet

Om podden

Headwaters is a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else.

The podcast Headwaters is created by Glacier National Park - National Park Service. The podcast and the artwork on this page are embedded on this page using the public podcast feed (RSS).

Avsnitt

Climate and Electrical Solutions with Katie Pfennigs

30 september 2024 | 47 min

A conversation with Katie Pfennigs, who is the Director of External Affairs and Energy Services at the Flathead Electric Cooperative. This episode was recorded in May 2024.

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Gaby Eseverri, Peri Sasnett, and Madeline Vinh.

Glacier Conservancy: glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

Climate change in Glacier: www.nps.gov/glac/learn/nature/climate-change.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri: This is Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. My name is Peri, and I'm speaking into a microphone pretty much entirely powered with renewable electricity. That's because the Pacific Northwest has a lot of big hydroelectric dams, but also because Glacier has been installing rooftop solar to supplement the power we draw from the grid. This episode is part of our Climate Conversations series about how the world is being altered by the burning of fossil fuels. Over the past century and a half, human activity has emitted enough greenhouse gases to warm the Earth's climate more than one degree Celsius, with more warming on the way. Daniel has been sitting down with experts to talk about how that warming is altering Glacier National Park, our lives and our futures. Like a lot of places, we are transitioning away from fossil fuels here at the park. That means swapping fossil fuel appliances and vehicles with electric alternatives. [mellow beat beginsto play ] As you'll hear in this episode, this is not an easy transition. To do it, we're going to need a lot more electricity -- something like three times more than we currently generate in America. But according to the nonprofit Rewiring America, the good news is that because electricity is so much more efficient, will only need about half as much energy as we're currently using. These climate conversations don't have to be listened to in any order. Each one stands on its own. This one was recorded in the spring of 2024 when my co-host, Daniel, talked with Katie Pfennigs from Flathead Electric Co-op, which is the organization that provides power to the west side of the park. I think I might have learned more from this one than any other in the series, so I hope you enjoy it.

Daniel: Welcome to Headquarters. We're going to talk about climate and electricity and electrical solutions to climate change. Could you introduce yourself? And I'm curious what you like about your job at Flathead Electric Co-op.

Katie: Sure. I'm Katie Pfennigs. I am the community relations manager at Flathead Electric Co-op. It's a lot of fun.

Daniel: Yeah. What do you think's kept you there for almost a decade?

Katie: You know, I grew up in the Flathead. I came back after my undergraduate work, and I just-- I love this area. I love this community. And working at a co-op is so community based. Really, it's just it just feels like a way for me to to have a really positive and significant impact on the community that I love.

Daniel: Yeah, say more about that. What is an electric co-op?

Katie: So kind of a unique, a unique business model. But a cooperative is actually owned by all of the members that we serve. So if you pay a bill to Flathead Electric for your electricity, you are in fact, an owner of the co-op. There is no-- no profit. There are no shareholders. So really, it's just a really neat way to operate a business. Very, very member centric.

Daniel: So nationally there are for-profit electric companies, I assume?

Katie: Yes.

Daniel: And they they create electricity and send it to their customers in order to generate a profit. But that's not what Flathead electric Co-op does.

Katie: Exactly.

Daniel: It's community owned.

Katie: Exactly. Yes. Yep. We were, you know, when we we were very first started it was during the time right after the Rural Electrification Act, which, you know, that act was landmark legislation that that really changed the way that rural America looked in that it provided opportunities for some of the rural parts of our country that had no access to electricity. You know, Flathead Electric is is like all other co-ops in that we had a group of farmers who who came together and pooled resources and got some funding through the Rural Electrification Act to start Flathead Electric Co-op and started very, very small. And we've grown today to serve just over 58,000 members.

Daniel: So the Rural Electrification Act, REA, it was a New Deal, Great Depression-era program. 1936.

Katie: Yes. And then Flathead Electric was was founded in 1937. Following that.

Daniel: My understanding was basically rural areas like this one, like Montana, there wasn't enough money to be made for for-profit electric companies to string power lines out to ranches and small towns.

Katie: You've got it. Yeah. At the time. At the time, a lot of people thought that electrifying the rural parts of our country just was not economically feasible or just could not happen. So it did take legislation to accomplish that, that goal.

Daniel: Wow. And now so that was it was about 90 years ago. And Flathead Electric Co-op has been here ever since then.

Katie: We have. And we've grown and, you know, since then went through a fairly large acquisition. And and we're somewhat unique in that we don't only serve rural areas. A lot of the co-ops in the country just serve the the rural areas, the outskirts of the the municipalities. But Flathead Electric actually serves the municipal areas of, you know, Kalispell, Whitefish, Columbia Falls, Bigfork, and then all the way up to Libby as well, which does make us a little bit unique in the co-op world and also contributes to us being the largest co-op in in the state of Montana by a long shot and second largest utility to Northwestern Energy that's an investor owned utility.

Daniel: Okay. Do you think Flathead Electric, is it also a an energy utility? Is that the category you'd put it in or is that a little different?

Katie: I would put us in the category of an electric utility.

Daniel: Okay.

Katie: Energy really is a much broader concept than electricity. You know, energy really is just the ability to to do work. And electricity is a form of energy where you're taking that work and running it through some sort of a generation facility, you know, whether that's hydropower, so-- which is what powers most of our area, you're right. But that's, you know, taking that that running water, that motion and running it through a hydroelectric dam to generate electricity and then transmitting that to power homes to do a different type of work. Right? In homes and businesses.

Daniel: Yeah. Okay. Here in Glacier, we are then dealing with multiple utilities because we use we're using propane or using natural gas often to heat our buildings. But then we're working with Flathead Electric Co-op. We're getting electricity to run our computers and turn the lights on and everything.

Katie: You know, when someone has access to natural gas, typically that's what they're using for their home, home heating and water heating, which are the two biggest users of electricity or energy in a home, and then the park is very similar. So you might have electrically powered lights and outlets and, you know, whatever whatever else your needs are that aren't hooked to natural gas, aren't hooked to propane.

Daniel: Yeah, exactly. We have a combination of both in Glacier. And one of the downsides to that is that there's quite a bit more greenhouse gas emissions associated with burning fossil fuels like gas and propane. But before we get into that, a big thing that you deal with then is the grid. What is the grid?

Katie: Right. So the grid, if we're just talking about the physical grid, is everything from the generating facility -- so again, I'll use hydropower as as my example here because that's the world I live in. And so everything from the hydroelectric dam, And then that power is then transmitted, right? You have to always have to get power from where it's generated to where it's needed. And the way that that's done is through the rest of the grid, which is a transmission system of of high voltage transmission lines and then a series of substations and transformers that transform that, that high-voltage electricity into a lower voltage that can be carried over a series of distribution lines. And that's what Flathead Electric does as a-- we're a distribution co-op. So we build the distribution system, which is the part of the grid that carries it carries that power to homes and businesses in our service area where that power is again stepped down. So that it can be served right into your your home or your business or whatever that need may be. So there's another another step in that grid.

Daniel: Okay.

Katie: So everything from the generating facility through the transmission system in the substations and then our distribution system and right to where it gets to your your home would be considered the grid.

Daniel: Well, then let's go to the first step in that process. Generation, electrical generation around here, we have several hydroelectric facilities and like regionally, there's a lot of hydroelectric power. So where does Flathead Electric get its electricity?

Katie: Yeah. So the vast majority of our power comes from the Bonneville Power Administration, which is the federal power marketing agency that was formed to market the power coming from federal projects. Most of those federal projects are the federal Columbia River Hydropower System, which is a series of 31 federal hydro projects all throughout the Columbia River Basin, including two that happen to live right in our service area, right? The one I drove by as I was coming up here, Hungry Horse Dam, is what most people are familiar with in our area, but we also serve-- our service area goes up to Libby Montana, which is where the Libby Dam is located. And both of those are federal hydro projects. So, yes, that power is generated by those dams and then a series throughout the rest of the Columbia River basin all the way out to the Pacific Ocean. So everywhere between here and here and there, Idaho, Washington, Oregon.

Daniel: So for the most part, most of the electricity used at least on the west side of Glacier National Park, it's coming from hydroelectric facilities.

Katie: Yes. Well, all the electricity, I mean, really almost all the electricity purchased from Flathead Electric specifically would be coming from those hydroelectric facilities. Yes.

Daniel: But that said, there are wires that all connect to a greater grid that's regionally greater and I suppose even nationally larger.

Katie: Yes. So we are we're part of-- from the transmission system perspective, we're part of what's called the Western Interconnect. And that's really... Most of the Western United States is all interconnected through a giant transmission system. And that allows us to balance the grid, which is obviously very important. You have to to keep the lights on. You have to have the supply of electricity and the demand for electricity have to match up exactly at any given minute to keep the grid in balance. And so having, you know, more of that interconnection helps us regionally do more of that.

Daniel: And on that larger grid than there are lots of generating facilities. There's coal plants and not just hydro, there's solar, there's all kinds of things, right? But locally we can say that pretty much all the electrons we're getting here are from hydroelectric.

Katie: Yeah, I would say I think it's about 85% of our power mix is, you know, those large hydro projects. We've also got, Bonneville also markets a nuclear project, which is about 10% of our portfolio. But overall, yes, Flathead Electric's power mix is 96% carbon free, which is it's just really great for our service area. We're very, very proud of that.

Daniel: That's cool.

Katie: Yeah, we have developed a few local generation projects. They're fairly small projects, but they're still just a great addition to our power mix and locally generated power, which is pretty exciting. So we've got two existing community solar projects and then one that we'll be breaking ground on early this summer. Actually, we're just in the final stages of selling the generation from that project. And then we've also got a landfill gas to energy. So it's methane, taking the methane gas that is produced at a landfill and turning that into electricity. And then we've also got partnership with Stoltza here for a biomass generator. We purchase the power that is created at that facility, and we've got a couple of partnerships for some small hydro projects within our service area as well. And then more and more we're seeing, you know, our members are also joining us as part of the of the generation mix in that they're generating some of their own power as well, not unlike the park up here with the with the solar panels and small hydro projects that exist here. [mellow beat begins to play]

Daniel: Yeah, we've got solar panels on this rooftop right here.

Katie: You do. [beat finishes playing, marking the transition]

Daniel: Well, we're lucky then, here at Glacier National Park because we're looking for electricity that comes without much or any greenhouse gas emissions. So we're really lucky that we have solar here, but we have that most of the electricity where we're getting is relatively carbon-free coming from hydroelectric systems.

Katie: Yeah. Yeah. We're very, very fortunate to have access to the federal hydro system, not only as, you know, hydropower, non-carbon generating resource, but it's also an extremely affordable and reliable, you know, most importantly, as we as, we start to look at significant resource adequacy concerns on our our grid as a whole, that reliability piece is really critical. And what makes it reliable is the ability to ramp it up and down instantaneously to meet the demand that's on the system, right? So we talked about that supply and demand having to be in constant balance and hydropower allows us to keep that in balance as well.

Daniel: So the other great thing about hydro is that it's like the gas- or the coal-fired power plants that are adjustable in that you can pretty easily adjust the amount of electricity you're you're creating and that it's creating electricity, whether it's dark out, whether it's winter or summer. There are real baseload source of electricity.

Katie: Yeah, it's an incredible resource. My favorite by far and, you know, completely renewable. Obviously, the water continues to go through the river and, and it rains and snows again, and it melts, and it-- and the whole system starts over. And yes, we can ramp it up. We can ramp it down to meet expected loads. So, I mean, really, it's kind of the original renewable. Yeah, that's what I like to refer to it as.

Daniel: So hydro is a really important part of the electric transition. It's really important. Part of our solution to climate change really is, you know, getting us a lot of baseload electricity that's relatively carbon free. That said, there are some downsides. We don't want to dam every river for a lot of reasons.

Katie: Right, yes.

Daniel: And that, you know, a lot of the good hydro spots are taken. They're established. It's not like we can just scale up hydro very easily anymore.

Katie: No, we're not going to be building any more large hydro projects. I mean, it's very difficult to site any generation project. But yes, I don't see us-- I don't see us doing that.

Daniel: Yeah. Because then as we're-- as Glacier, as the country, as the region is looking to get more and more of our electricity from sources that don't release greenhouse gases that warm the climate, we are going to need more electricity and less natural gas, less propane, that kind of thing. So there's only so much hydro we can build. So we have, there's some other resources like solar and wind. Let's compare that then to the landfill gas. What do you call that?

Katie: Yes. Landfill methane gas to energy plant.

Daniel: How does that one work?

Katie: So in that case, we are-- we've actually got wells drilled at the landfill. So they're like vertical and horizontal pipes that run through the the trash itself, because methane gas is is generated by all of our garbage. Right. And that's what typically what gets flared off at a landfill. That's where you see the flares. They're burning off that methane because you don't want to put methane straight, methane into the atmosphere. Right.

Daniel: So as the garbage, as the-- as our trash...

Katie: Decomposes.

Daniel: It releases methane, which is a powerful greenhouse gas. Either way, whether you burn it off or just release it, you are releasing greenhouse gases. Yeah. But the idea is you might as well, if you're releasing it, you might as well get some electricity from it.

Katie: So you're actually able to extract that gas out of the landfill through the the piping system, vacuum it out and run it through. Cleaning process and then through a very large generator that's right there on the facility that's interconnected into our grid. And we can produce electricity literally from our trash, which is pretty amazing.

Daniel: Yeah, that's interesting. Lots of the Flathead Electric Co-op members have solar panels on the roof, including us, including in this building. That's great. What are the downsides to that? I mean, the upside is that it creates electricity for free from the sun with pretty much no greenhouse gases. Yeah, it's good for the climate, but we maybe live in a climate, you know, that's it's like it's very cloudy.

Katie: You're looking outside at the cloudy, cloudy, rainy day, right? [laughing].

Daniel: Yeah.

Katie: I the challenge with with solar and wind is really in its intermittency.

Daniel: Meaning it it's not happening all the time. It's not always sunny.

Katie: Yeah. And so we're able to produce a lot of electricity actually. You know, in some cases when you look to the California market, for instance, they're producing way too much, right? So that creates a whole another challenge. They're producing way too much solar when they don't don't need it. But the difficulty, you know, especially when you look at at our area, is that when we need power most to meet like that instantaneous load at peak load, typically there is almost no solar energy being produced and the wind is typically not blowing in those cases either.

Daniel: So is that because our peak loads are like at dawn and dusk when it's not as bright out?

Katie: Exactly. Or they're happening-- you know, we're a winter peaking facility or winter peaking utility, which means that our peak load happens in the winter months. And those-- our daylight hours are short, right?

Daniel: Yeah.

Katie: So almost all of our winter peaks happen in the dark. You know, from a utility planning standpoint, what we're concerned about are only really the peaks. It really isn't that we don't have enough electricity, we don't have an electricity shortage -- we have an electricity shortage during our peaks. And it's not just a shortage of power. It's also a shortage of the transmission that we need to get power from one place to another. Our system's historical peak load that we've ever hit just happened in January during that extraordinarily cold snap, right? Mid January. None of us are going to forget that one.[chuckles] And we hit, you know, what, -40?

Daniel: It was cold.

Katie: It was cold! And we I mean, our system was really it was pushed to the brink. And not just, you know, our system, but regionally. We were we were pushed to the brink of what we have to meet those peaks from a transmission and generation standpoint. And that's pretty scary as we start talking about, you know, resources going away that are helping us meet those peak demands and replacing those resources with something that wasn't generating any power when we needed it. Right then, there was no wind and no solar being generated when we hit that peak.

Daniel: So we're in kind of a bind with climate change, in that globally, there's a tremendous need to reduce our emissions that come from generating electricity through gas and coal power plants. But on the other hand, global warming is not significant enough in Montana that we don't still have cold snaps, that it's not still dark and cold in the winter. So we still need electricity when...

Katie: We do [laughs]. We do. It's it is a challenge. And, you know, I think ultimately most of us all want the same thing. Right? But the how we get there is the challenge. And from a utility planning perspective, it's definitely a concerning time as we look at what this transition is going to look like and not only from a again, a reliability perspective, but how do we keep electric rates affordable with the amount of generating resources and transmission infrastructure that needs to be built to support the load growth expected in our region? I -- it keeps me up at night.

Daniel: So one of the challenges you're describing is that we are phasing out things like coal and natural gas because.

Katie: Yes, those "always on" resources, right?

Daniel: Yeah, those have a lot of greenhouse gas emissions associated with them, a lot of air pollution associated with them. So in many ways this is a good transition to be making. But the problem is at the same time we're increasing the amount of electricity we need.

Katie: Yes. So that's that's a challenge.

Daniel: That's a challenge.

Katie: No matter how you look at it. That's a challenge that we have to overcome. Right?

Daniel: And that we're increasing the need, partly because we're building data centers, we're building like, server farms, but also just population growth is increasing.

Katie: Yeah.

Daniel: People are plugging more things in. On top of that, on sort of the user end, there is an electrification transition happening, where people are electrifying their weed eaters and lawnmowers.

Katie: Yep.

Daniel: They're electrifying their cars. All of these have really positive effects as well. Like there's a lot of air pollution and greenhouse gases associated with those tools.

Katie: Right.

Daniel: Those small two stroke engines generate a lot of greenhouse gas emissions. They generate a lot of air pollution. It's great to electrify them. Plus they're quieter and more efficient.

Katie: A lot of people like them a lot better. Right?

Daniel: Yeah. But that increases the need for more electricity on the grid.

Katie: You've got it.

Daniel: Another thing then, I guess, is locally, solar can't fill in all the gaps. Wind can't fill in all the gaps. We've got hydro. That's great. But we can't fill in all the gaps with other renewables. If we zoom out and look at a bigger region, you know, our region or nationally, you could imagine that we could get solar electricity from Arizona when we're having a cold snap here in Montana. But it's not that simple, right?

Katie: It's not that simple.

Daniel: What's the problem there?

Katie: So the transmission system itself needs significant infrastructure additions to be able to facilitate that.

Daniel: Basically, they're the wires that connect us, that connect Montana to the solar panels in Southern California -- those wires don't exist to a good enough degree to to get us out of this.

Katie: Right. And who pays for that infrastructure need, you know, the billions and billions of dollars of infrastructure that would be needed to make something like that happen. So, you know, that that in and of itself is a massive challenge. And we really, you know, can't possibly overstate that, from not only the cost challenge associated with it, but also just the permitting and, I mean the same way that it's very, very challenging to site generation, it's that much more challenging to site massive transmission lines. Nobody, you know, everybody wants to have power, but nobody wants to look at transmission lines.

Daniel: Of course.

Katie: And so getting those things sited and built, it's massively challenging. There are so many, so many roadblocks. And even I mean, even to get renewable generation built, there are massive, massive roadblocks. Another challenge with wind and solar is just is the land mass challenge, you know, because really today, to accommodate for the intermittency of those resources, even pairing them with batteries, you need about five to-- five to one in terms of the generating capacity to replace a baseload generation resource.

Daniel: So it's this transition in theory, totally works. You know, we have sun shine-- always shining somewhere. We've got wind always blowing somewhere. Plus with our hydro, you know, kind of pulling us along. The problem is that to connect all of this and scale it up costs a lot of money. It takes a lot of work. And paying for that is not easy.

Katie: Paying for that is not easy. Building it in the first place is not easy. Talking about the buildout of, you know, the wind generation, the solar generation, the batteries from a natural resources and rare earth minerals standpoint is challenging. I think we're moving in some positive directions, but it's a much, much larger transition than I think than than we hope, right?

Daniel: If someone's been listening to the other conversations that I've been having in the series, like the consequences of climate change are extraordinary and that on a global scale, the math pencils out pretty well, that it's worth paying for this transition. But those costs are not-- they're not being billed evenly.

Katie: Right. Globally, certainly. Right.

Daniel: Yeah. So the the cost of getting our electricity over the past century and a half from coal and gas has been that it's heated our climate by over a degree Celsius already. It's melting the Park's glaciers. It's doubling the amount of wildfire we're seeing in the past couple of decades already. And all of those impacts are going to continue to get worse. Not to mention all the air pollution that comes from just the burning of those fossil fuels. So it's a critical transition to be making. But it's that doesn't mean it's easy.

Katie: Far from.

Daniel: And then on top of that, some of the impacts of climate change are actually making some of this transition even harder, like wildfire. How is that impacting electric transmission, for example?

Katie: Right. Yes. Speaking of things that keep us up at night, right? I mean, obviously, our region has has seen a lot more wildfire. And it's really, really difficult keeping poles and wires safe and and also not having any of of our system cause wildfire.

Daniel: That is basically that since it's getting hotter and drier, the risk of lighting-- or accidentally starting...

Katie: Of igniting...

Daniel: A wildfire from a power line... That's a real serious risk.

Katie: Yeah, absolutely.

Daniel: Another one could be climate change-exacerbated drought or, you know, if we have really low snowpack, we're a little low this year if we have--

Katie: We're quite low this year.

Daniel: Yeah. So that matters for electricity generation when we're so dependent on hydro.

Katie: It does. Yeah. That has certainly has an impact on the hydro system. You know, we've been very fortunate to have our hydro system have excellent years. But, you know, certainly.

Daniel: This is something you're watching.

Katie: Certainly something we're watching. You know, the other thing that I would mention is just extreme weather in general and the strain that it can create on the grid. So again, we're winter peaking. So we saw some of our coldest temperatures we've ever seen just this past winter. And that was, you know, that produced our peak loads in our area. But in other parts of the region where they're summer peaking, and maybe seeing some more extreme temperatures on the warmer side, you know, that that creates, you know, high loads as well that need to be met, which produces grid strain. Right? The higher the load, the higher the peak demand that needs to be met, the more potential strain on the grid. So just extreme weather in both directions, hot or cold has a grid impact. And, of course, extreme weather events like storms, you know, wind, flooding.

Daniel: Yeah.

Katie: All of which we've seen we just dealt with in our service area with flooding, here in the last couple of years as well. That took out a whole bunch of our system. So, yes, extreme weather in general is a threat to us, to the grid.

Daniel: Yeah. Maybe just to reiterate one of these points, it's frustrating that climate change is obviously increasing the temperatures in the winter in this area and all over the place. It's-- it's the winters are getting on average warmer and so are the summers. The summers are getting on average hotter. But we're not struggling to generate the electricity so much with the average, we're struggling to generate electricity...

Katie: With the peak.

Daniel: With the peaks.

Katie: Yes.

Daniel: And climate change is not eliminating cold snaps in the winter. So we still need-- we still have high peak demands for electricity during those cold snaps in the winter.

Katie: Absolutely. We are in an extraordinarily challenging time. And, you know, I'm a-- I'm an optimist and I think my role in the utility has also led me to be a realist about some of the energy crisis that we are facing at this time. But I also, as an optimist, I always look for opportunity in these challenges.

Daniel: Do you think you get some of your optimism from the fact knowing that Flathead Electric Co-op was created in a moment of great challenge and transition?

Katie: You know, almost 100 years ago, we were-- we were in a transition. Right, that felt daunting. And that we banded together and formed co-ops.

Daniel: A century or more ago when the Rural Electrification Act was passed. That was a time of great transition, too.

Katie: Yeah.

Daniel: Basically, no one in this area had electricity. There wasn't a grid. So we've overcome big infrastructural transitions like this before.

Katie: We have. Yes. Our predecessors faced significant challenges in electrifying all of rural America. And I think, you know, that that movement really, you know, transformed our our nation and laid a groundwork for, you know, a lot of the prosperity that we enjoy today. And we are definitely sitting at the at the cusp of another of another challenging transition and a time that has potential to be, to be very transformative. Power and electricity, while it was, in the rural electrification times, it was very, very nice to have. Now it's, it's essential. It's an essential part of all of our lives. So we we have to find solutions to keep the lights on. You know, the closest that we've come in our region to not being able to keep the lights on -- and many other regions have already have already experienced rolling blackouts, right? That's what happens when you when you don't have the grid in balance. You either take a take a blackout, right, or you do rolling blackouts across an interconnected grid to balance loads. But the closest that we've come to not being able to to meet those reliability needs is during extreme weather events. And particularly when there is, like, a generating system down, right? So there was a weather event in 2021 where one of the main federal hydro systems was having some maintenance issues. And during that event, you know, we came very, very close to not being able to meet peak demands. We were pushed to the brink again, just here in this winter event that was, you know, a regional cold snap. We were pushing our our grid right up close to the to the edge. We're sitting here talking about it and everyone's like, "yeah, but it's fine. Like, it's been fine." And we're sweating [laughing] as the utility, because we've been working really hard to make sure it's fine. And I don't think we understand how close that we that we have come or could come in the case of an extreme weather event or a generation system going down or a transmission system going down or...

Daniel: You're standing next to a cliff that you're looking at carefully. And most people are like, "what cliff?"

Katie: Right. Exactly. Yes. And then in-- we're also looking at growth forecasts is in the, in the northwest the latest snapshots on the load and demand -- that's the growth that's being forecast -- is between 2024 and 2033. So, you know, more or less the next ten years or less. Is like an eight-- over 18% annual energy growth and a 15% demand growth. And those numbers are huge. Unprecedented. We haven't met growth numbers like that before.

Daniel: You're describing a gap between the amount of electricity needed at peak times and the amount of electricity generated at peak times.

Katie: And transmission.

Daniel: Yeah. So it seems like you could try and solve that problem, overcome that challenge from two different directions. You could try and generate more electricity during peak times by building more solar or whatever. Or you could also try and solve that problem by reducing the peaks, getting people to use less electricity during the peaks, get it-- or getting them to use less electricity overall or less electricity at peak times and use it at different times. I suppose you're trying all of these things.

Katie: Great point. Yes, we-- and we are trying all these things. In fact, in fact, Flathead Electric was just awarded a federal grant. It's called the CIDER Grant. And we're one of five co-ops in the nation who is in this national research study on how distribution co-ops can develop distributed energy programs to work with their-- work closely with their members to control loads during peak times, or incentivize their members to control loads during peak times to to help reduce that grid strain and hopefully reduce the amount of new generation transmission that needs to be built, right. So, you know, right now we are in the midst of an engineering study to look at which programs might work in our area. One of those programs might be working with people who have smart thermostats in their homes to reduce the, you know, the temperature settings by a couple of degrees if we're expecting a peak load event in the summer. Which brings down down our loads, brings on energy costs for everyone. Or in the winter, you know, as the case may be here. Another program that the co-op has has actually offered in the past is a similar program that reduces your water heating load during peak times, which, you know, is good from the standpoint that, of course, it reduces our system load, but it also reduces your own personal load at your home, so it reduces your monthly energy costs and people-- electricity costs, and people really like that.

Daniel: Yeah.

Katie: So it's kind of a win win some of these programs, right? And that's what we're starting to see more of on that, you know, that collaboration side is, yes, regionally collaborating, but also the utilities collaborating more with with their members, as we like to say, as, you know, more grid partners.

Daniel: You're describing-- to me, it sounds like a lot of different ways of making the grid and the way we use electricity... making it smarter,.

Katie: Smarter and more flexible.

Daniel: This is something that utilities, I'm sure, have done for decades or the past century, is just charge more during peak times to try and get people to use less and spread their usage out more.

Katie: Interestingly, yes and no.

Daniel: Hm.

Katie: I think Flathead Electric was probably one of the earlier utilities -- not that there weren't others out there that did that -- we we have historically charged more as you used more energy, right. So this is again, this is that difference between our overall energy, so overall kilowatt hours that you utilize in a month, versus what your peak load at your house was, right. So that demand. And historically we've charged more as you've used more energy as an incentive to for you to not use as much energy. But what we've started doing is actually less emphasis on that piece and more emphasis on what we're, what is called a demand charge, which is based on your your peak demand at your own house. What was your highest load that you hit during our peak hours when where we know when we're strained and we're paying more for power? You know, what was your contribution to that load? And then charging for that accordingly to try to help reduce those peaks. Because again, not-- you know, we're not facing the, the shortage of overall electricity. We're really right now, facing that shortage during those peaks. Which is why, you know, us as the utility or the co-op, you know, we pay more during our our system peaks. And so that really mirrors the way that we're paying for power, to charge our members that way. And it incentivizes them to, you know, make choices that are good for the overall grid as well. But what these these other programs that we're talking about do is add a layer to that, you know, that foundational rate design concept that hopefully makes it more meaningful or more achievable for them to take part in those programs and actually reduce their loads.

Daniel: It's an interesting way to think about it that you're so concerned with peak loads rather than just average loads that your payment structure is actually designed for, that you're able to say like, it's not really about how much electricity you use overall, it's more about when you use it that we're concerned with.

Katie: Right. Yes. Which goes right back into that generation conversation, right. The really-- the generation we're concerned about is the generation that can happen during our peaks. That's when we-- that's when we need it. That's when it costs everyone more for us to buy it, and that's when we need it.

Daniel: If someone wants to pay a little bit less for their electricity, they should use their electric clothes dryer in the middle of the day or the middle of the night. Not use it during those peak load hours.

Katie: Depending on how their utilities rates are structured.

Daniel: Yeah.

Katie: If they're a Flathead Electric--Electric member. Yes. [laughs]

Daniel: And in the future, or even now, technologies that automate that will be really helpful in reducing peak loads.

Katie: Yes.

Daniel: Basically smart thermostats or just a dryer, clothes dryer, that's smart enough to know to run when there's less demand on the system.

Katie: Yeah. And what most people now can really relate to is their dishwasher. Like that's the easy one, right? To me, you know, I'm a-- I'm a mom. I've got two young kids. I've got a full time job. It's really difficult for me to not do laundry when I need to do laundry at this point. But my dishwasher, that's an easy one because I can just set it to run four hours later. So I'm not hitting those peaks.

Daniel: As long as they're clean when you get home...

Katie: Yeah, as long as they're clean when I wake up, then I'm good.

Daniel: What you're looking at, then it's just like, okay, well, how do we actually do that?

Katie: Right? Yeah, it sounds great. And it is. But, but figuring out...

Daniel: Is it something that the utility does? Is it something that the homeowner does? Is it something that the car does, or all three together?

Katie: Like, there are all those options. Yeah. And then even from the utility perspective, is it something that like a regional entity does instead so that there's more of a regional spread, right? So Flathead Electric is a member of PNGC, which is a generation and transmission cooperative that has 18 other public power members throughout the Pacific Northwest. So they have more of a regional look at the grid. So does it make sense to do, you know, some of this load control at the regional perspective, or does it make sense for us as a utility to do it to help more control our distribution grid? So there's all of these questions and all of these considerations and factors that go into it. And then you get down to that more granular piece of, okay but how do we actually do it?

Daniel: Yeah.

Katie: What devices are we actually helping a member manage? How are we actually managing those devices? We're looking also at water heaters, we're looking also at generators, we're looking at battery energy storage systems and net metered systems. And, you know, there are all sorts of potential programs that we could be looking at.

Daniel: And it's kind of an exciting area because it's all unknown. But one or a combination of these things will work. And the solution's there -- like it's, it's not as overwhelming as some of these other challenges we're talking about.

Katie: Right.

Daniel: That's cool.

Daniel: Katie, maybe you can talk to us about kind of-- your predictions. The electrification of this region that started in the 1930s... it took decades. And now it's been growing into what it is over the past century. Now we're in the 2020s. What do you see for the rest of this century for electricity in this region?

Katie: Diversification. For sure. Right? You know, as a utility, we're looking at where we can partner to build new generation resources, where we can partner to build transmission and distribution infrastructure that's going to be needed to meet our peaks. We are partnering more closely with members on what's called distributed energy resources. Right. And that's that would include things like, like solar panels that are on this building. But any resource that's distributed outside of the main grid, right, the main point of generation transmission to distribution. So smaller generation projects, you know, that we're seeing more and more of those, you know, those smaller local gen projects. And we're seeing more and more and more of our members become grid partners with us. And I don't really see a future where we don't have increased energy costs, unfortunately. And, you know, I think we'll see, you know, a grid that that hopefully becomes smarter and more able to incorporate, you know, more of those resources because we're going to have to I think we are going to need an all of the above approach to just to meet the load growth, right. Even if we weren't trying to replace a whole bunch of generation that that's set to retire.

Daniel: You're describing a future that's more collaborative that-- where the "public" part of public power is, is more important. What should the average person listening to this-- what would you encourage them to do to get more involved?

Katie: You know, I would encourage them to maybe go on a little bit of an educational journey. And at least have a better understanding of what happens when they flip the switch.

Daniel: Basically, you're encouraging people to find out where their electricity is coming from.

Katie: Yes. I think a lot of people in our area don't understand that they're served by an electric co-op or what that means or that, you know, their their heating is coming from natural gas. That's that's a different utility. And that their light switches and other appliances are being powered by electricity or that if they're outside of, you know, the city limits, maybe they are all electrically heated. And I don't think that... that mostly the general public has a great understanding of of that. And so I think that's a really, really good place to start is is kind of that like grid 101, right. That's where I would start, is just making sure that you have an understanding of what's happening in your own home and your own business. And where it's, you know, where it's ultimately coming from. And then I think you can start to kind of grasp that bigger picture.

Daniel: Yeah, I like that you said, you know, start your education journey. Find out what happens when you flip the switch. And I can imagine a lot of benefit from people saying, okay, so I realize now my stove is natural gas.

Katie: Yep.

Daniel: It's wearing out. I need to upgrade it. Am I going to switch to electricity? There's a lot of climate and air pollution benefits to that. But maybe I should be thinking about efficiency. Maybe I should be thinking about how I'm powering that, you know, with a battery when the power goes out. Or with solar panels on my roof, or just thinking through some of these transitions from fossil fuels to electricity that are happening inside the home.

Katie: Yeah. The reality is that you have more energy choices than ever, right. And our website's a great place to start. And even if you're not a member of Flathead Electric, you're welcome to use those resources.

Daniel: So find out what electric co-op you might be part of, but also go check out Flathead Electric if you need help.

Katie: Yeah, exactly. We try to be very careful to not be alarmist, but just be realistic about the challenges that that we're facing in hopes that our members will be better educated, that they will be better informed, and that they will take a little bit more active role in their in their co-op, in their energy future. And I think that that is that's one of the benefits of of the cooperative business model is that we are very focused in that way.

Daniel: Yeah. That for better or worse, we're living through an era of big change. [chimey music begins to play]

Katie: Yes.

Daniel: And it's going to take all of us getting involved and paying attention to get through that. [beat joins in]

Katie: Yeah, exactly.

Daniel: Well, thanks so much for talking with us today on Headwaters.

Katie: Sure. Thank you very much for having us. [song continues to play under the credits]

Peri: Headwaters is funded by donations to the Glacier National Park Conservancy. As an organization dedicated to supporting the park, the Conservancy funds a lot of sustainability initiatives. From solar panels on park buildings to storytelling projects like this one, the Conservancy is doing critical work to prevent the worst impacts of climate change. You can learn more about what they do and about how to get involved at glacier.org. The Headwaters team includes Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, Madeline Vinh, Sophia Britto, and me, Peri Sasnett. That said, Headwaters wouldn't exist without friends like Lacy Kowalski, Grace Kinzler, Melissa Sladek, Kristen Friesen and so many others. Our music is made fresh by Frank Waln, and the show's cover art was created by Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work with the links in the show notes. I recommend following both of them on Instagram. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can support us by leaving us a review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening! [music resolves and fades out]

Bonus | How to Win at Glacier

20 augusti 2024 | 10 min

A lively debate between Michael Faist and Peri Sasnett about the best activities in Glacier, moderated by Sophia Britto. If you're planning a visit to the park, this episode might give you some ideas!

Glacier Conservancy: glacier.org Frank Waln music: instagram.com/frankwaln Stella Nall art: instagram.com/stella.nall Glacier National Park: nps.gov/glac

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Sophia Britto: Our purpose is to tell unexpected stories about how Glacier is connected to everything else. But today's bonus episode will be a little different. Instead of telling a story, I'm hosting a debate between Michael and Peri about the best activities to do in Glacier.

Michael Faist: Oof. [Gameshow music starts, then fades to background]

Sophia: Hi, I'm Sophia, you're listening to. Headwaters, a podcast from Glacier National Park.

Peri Sasnett: I'm Peri.

Michael: I'm Michael.

Sophia: Here in my hands, I have a ranger hat full of little pieces of paper with different activities you could do in Glacier National Park.

Michael: Okay.

Sophia: I will pull one of these pieces of paper, and on it will be an activity. And whoever speaks first, that's their stance. And the other person has to argue the opposite.

Peri: Oh...okay.

Michael: Here we go.

Peri: Michael and I can get in a fight about anything.

Michael: That's that's the easy part. It's winning the fight... that's the hard part.

Peri: I'm ready.

Sophia: So let's pull the first topic and get started.

Michael: [Paper rusting sounds] Okay. Camping. [Electronic selection sound] Well, I love camping. That's my stance. If you come to a national park, odds are you're here to kind of disconnect from normal life. Unplug, so to speak. Sounds corny, [Peri laughs] but how often do you get to wake up with the sunrise, go to sleep at the sunset. Show off your ability, or lack thereof, to build a campfire. Have s'mores. It's just the perfect national park experience.

Peri: Well, I hate camping. There are way too many bugs. Glacier can be very mosquito at certain times of year. Also, you say "great, you get to see the sunsets and wake up with the sunrise!" In Glacier, in the summer, that is too late and too early. You're not getting enough sleep and fundamentally you're paying someone to sleep on the ground. Hard pass. [Michael laughs]

Sophia: I would give that one to Michael. I feel like bug spray is a thing. [Peri and Michael laugh] If I'm in my tent, I'm relatively safe from the bugs. I'm going to enjoy the great outdoors occasionally. I don't have to do it all the time.

Michael: Okay.

Peri: [Paper rusting sounds] All right. Floating slash tubing. [Electronic selection sound] Love it. Floating the stretch of Lower McDonald Creek from Apgar to West Glacier is right outside my house. And really easy to do after work. And I love that I get to see a part of the park that's right by my house, but from a totally different perspective than I would see it otherwise. Also, great birds.

Michael: I hate floating and tubing because it requires you to have two different vehicles. You've got to put one in where you start, and you have to park one where you get out and you have to spend all that time, waste all that time, I would say, shuttling back and forth. Whereas hiking, you can start and end at the same place, no problem there. Loop hikes, there are not loop rivers. Anti floating. [Peri laughs] You're just baking in the sun the whole time. Sophia: Personally, I didn't grow up near rivers, so I am loving them here. So, I'm sorry Michael I have to side with Peri floating and tubing. That's pretty fun.

Peri: Yes.

Michael: This is too bad. All right... What's next. [Paper rusting sounds] Stargazing. [Electronic selection sound] Well, I love stargazing, and here's why: I don't know the names of almost any constellations, [Peri laughs] and that doesn't matter. I can pick out the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper. Beyond that, it's just like, Earth's screensaver. You could stare at it. It's mesmerizing. It's special to look for comments. It's... I mean, what's better than staring up at the night sky?

Peri: Okay. Night skies. Thumbs up. Stargazing. Thumbs down. You have to stay up. Way too late. Here in Glacier. In the summer. It's not even fully dark till well after midnight. There's too much to be doing during the day. We don't have time to be stargazing at night. It's my bedtime.

Michael: During the daytime that she's so excited about. It's been like, 95 degrees. Nighttime. Cool 70s. Beautiful skies. And also, coffee exists, so.

Sophia: I'm siding with Michael here. Yeah. Love the stars here. You can see the Milky Way in Glacier National Park, which is pretty special. Yeah.

Michael: I'm glad I drew first on that one.

Peri: [Paper rusting sounds] Okay. Fishing. [Electronic selection sound] I don't have a lot to say about fishing. Those who've listened to Season Two will recall that the last time I went fishing, I was six and an alligator ate my bobber. [Michael laughs] So it's just adding work to another activity I'd rather be doing. Like I'm floating down the river on a boat? I just want to enjoy that. It feels like a lot of work to be sitting there, waving a fishing rod around. Or if I'm like, fly fishing, standing in the shallows. Like, I could just be swimming, or eating, or picnicking, you know? I don't need it.

Michael: Well, I love fishing. It is one of the most meditative ways to gain a deep understanding of an ecosystem in Glacier. The park only encourages you to catch or touch one type of animal in the park, and it's fish. [Peri laughs] You're allowed to catch them. There are some that you aren't, but it's just such a unique experience in the park to be able to get to know the aquatic wildlife and have an excuse to just go stand in a river for two hours.

Peri: Michael, how many times have you been fishing in Glacier?

Michael: Twice. [Peri and Sophia laugh]

Sophia: Maybe I need to become a fish girl. I've never been fishing before, which is surprising for being from Texas. But your arguments pretty convincing. Michael. I know you can find out more information about fishing regulations on our website, so if anybody else is interested in hopping on the fish train, check it out.

Michael: Fish train!

Peri: No. [Michael and Sophia laugh}

Michael: [Paper rusting sounds] Driving Going-to-the-Sun Road. [Electronic selection sound] Big fan. Love it. I mean, it's like the ultimate experience here, it's the experience that put Glacier on the map for people to come visit. It's where I would say 90% of the pictures of the park come from, is from driving Going-to-the-Sun, maybe 75.

Peri: Mmm...

And that is because you get to witness three different distinct ecosystems in one two-hour drive. You get to have incredible wildlife sightings from the safety of your vehicle, from bears, to bighorn sheep, mountain goats. You get to drive to over 6600ft. What's not to love?

Peri: Here's what's not to love: driving. What if you take a shuttle so you don't have to drive Going-to-the-Sun Road? You can see all those things, but you can spend way more time actually looking at them. Instead of having to spend all that thought and energy looking at the road, avoiding other cars and said, bighorn sheep and mountain goats. And if you just sit on a shuttle, and let someone else do the driving, you can appreciate the scenery. Its type one fun. There you go.

Sophia: Honestly, the shuttle sounds pretty nice to me. Or being a passenger, I would say. Yeah, I'm siding with Peri on this. [Peri laughs].

Michael: Dang it!

Peri: All right. [Paper rusting sounds] One more... Birding! [Electronic selection sound] I love birding. I love trying to figure out who they are, what they look like, who's singing and... you may not get to see a grizzly bear when you come here. I'm sure you won't see a mountain lion. I'm. A few of you might... But I never have. But almost everywhere you go in Glacier, you'll find birds. You can come at any time of year and see birds. And especially if you come in the spring. They're constantly singing and calling and just making this place richer and more beautiful.

Michael: Well, here's my hot take on birding. [Peri laughs] I love birds. I mean, they are the soundtrack to our mental image of nature itself. But as you said, they are everywhere. I could see birds where I grew up in Ohio, and I can ID them and have a very similar experience. If I wanted to see a grizzly bear, I'd have to go to the zoo. So, birding in Glacier? It's fun to hear birds as you go out and hike, but it's not an activity in its own right. Birds are the background to experiences you could only have here, and that people are coming from across the country to have because they can't have it at home. So that's that's my hot take on birding.

Peri: I'm never taking you birding again. [Michael and Sophia laugh]

Sophia: Honestly, Peri, your passion for birding speaks to me. There's hundreds of birds you could see here, and that's a very special experience. So, I have to side with Peri here, Michael.

Michael: Okay. I disagree, but it has been decided. [Peri laughs]

Peri: It's okay. I won... you... just accept it. [Gameshow music starts, then fades into background] I feel like we covered a lot, but there are so many other activities that we didn't talk about.

Michael: What's another activity?

Peri: I would say berry picking.

Michael: Yeah.

Peri: I love picking huckleberries.

Michael: Classic.

Peri: It's an iconic part of a Glacier summer... just wouldn't be the same without it.

Michael: If you are trying to plan a trip to Glacier and interested in what sort of activities you can find here, check out our website at nps.gov/GLAC and it can help you plan a great trip.

Sophia: We're hard at work on the next season of Headwaters. Stay tuned for bonus content like this and more episodes about your favorite national park.

Peri: Headwaters is made possible with support from our nonprofit partner at the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We are so grateful for all that they do for us. Check them out at Glacier.org. And if you have a moment to leave us a review and your podcast app, that helps us so much. Thanks for listening.

Michael: You know, one activity we missed?

Peri: Hm?

Michael: Podcasting. [Peri laughs] I mean, there are more activities here than we could cut up and put in a ranger hat. I like them all.

Peri: Me too. Despite everything that we just said.

Climate and Living with Fire with Jennifer Gibson

2 augusti 2024 | 42 min

A conversation with Jennifer Gibson, who coordinates post-wildfire response for the National Park Service. This episode was recorded in May 2024.

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Gaby Eseverri, Peri Sasnett, and Madeline Vinh.

Glacier Conservancy: glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

Climate change in Glacier: www.nps.gov/glac/learn/nature/climate-change.htm Whiskeytown National Recreation Area: www.nps.gov/whis

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri Sasnett: This is Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. My name is Peri, and I find the ecology and politics of wildfire endlessly interesting. However, I also recognize that wildfire can be challenging and scary to live with, and at times even deadly. And all of this is made worse by a warmer climate. For this episode, my co-host Daniel interviewed Jennifer Gibson in the spring of 2024. She's the post-wildfire coordinator for the National Park Service. She tells a gripping, emotional, and frankly stressful story about when the park unit she was working at burned almost entirely in a matter of days during the 2018 Carr fire. You probably remember hearing about that fire on the news, and just for clarity, it spelled C-A-R-R, not like a car that you drive. That fire eventually burned 230,000 acres and killed eight people. [mellow beat begins to play] And this story is not as unique as you might think. In 2022, 95% of Sunset Crater National Monument burned. That same summer, a wildfire burned over 95% of Bent's Old Fort National Historic Site. A year later, three national parks in the famously wet Pacific Northwest all had their largest fires on record: Olympic, North Cascades and Redwood. So this conversation is about one person surviving a deadly wildfire. But it's also about how the National Park Service is surviving in a new reality of wildfire, accelerated by climate change. [beat plays for a few seconds and resolves, marking a transition into the interview]

Daniel Lombardi: Jennifer Gibson, welcome to Headwaters. Thanks for coming on. Maybe start with just telling us what's your job.

Jennifer Gibson: Hi. Thanks for having me. My job now is the National Park Service's post-wildfire programs coordinator. So I'm based out of the National Interagency Fire Center. My job now is to assist and help parks in recovering from wildfire. And that's essentially overseeing the Burned Area Emergency Response program.

Daniel: What did-- what was your title during the Carr Fire at Whiskeytown National Recreation Area?

Jennifer: The Chief of Resources and Interpretation.

Daniel: We're talking specifically about the Carr Fire in Northern California. But this story, as dramatic and shocking as it is, it could very easily happen pretty much anywhere in the American West. Of course, it could happen here in Glacier National Park. Obviously, we have big wildfires here, but the kind of unprecedented, fast moving and property and life threatening wildfire that you're describing, there's no reason that couldn't happen here in Glacier.

Jennifer: Yeah, it can happen in Glacier. It can happen in North Cascades. You know, it could be another Whiskeytown or, some parks are burning down, like 70% of Lassen Volcanic National Park burned in the Dixie Fire, 80% of Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation burned in the Woolsey Fire. Look at Lava Beds. So 70% of Lava Beds burned in 2020, the remaining 30% burned in 2021.

Daniel: And we're not necessarily pinpointing any one of these fires and saying this is, this burned the way that it did because of climate change. But larger, more frequent, more intense wildfires is exactly what we expect in a hotter climate that we now have.

Jennifer: Yeah, Whiskeytown had the hottest days on record and the lowest fuel moisture for 1000 hour fuels on record. It's not just one thing. When it comes down to it, it's this... Is it climate change or is it everything coming into an alignment with climate change as a contributing factor? And that could be a really dangerous combination, because I really don't think I don't think science is keeping up with the changing environment. I don't think our management and policy is keeping up with the changing environment. I feel like a bunch of us resource staff or park staff, all of us together, interpreters, whomever, facility managers, we're all standing here now in this age, 2024, and we're watching our parks rapidly change around us. Like, I think this cohort that we have now working in national parks, we are definitely challenged with this whole new unexpected thing called climate change. And with that's intermixed with all these other factors. I feel like we're witnessing the change in our national parks.

Daniel: Yeah. The entering, into a, not a new reality, but a, an unstable and ever-shifting reality. [beat plays to mark a transition] So Whiskeytown has kind of a funny name. What-- what is Whiskeytown, really simply? It's, it's a national recreation area, part of the Park Service.

Jennifer: It is. It's a unit of the National Park Service. It follows the mission of the National Park Service. It is a recreation area, so it's really like the, it's like Golden Gate National Recreation Area, Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area. It's really about recreation for the local visitors.

Daniel: And living there for 20 years, it probably became like a pretty important place to you to.

Jennifer: Yeah, I lived, one mile from the park boundary, so I had a really short commute. So my weekends, if I wanted to get a hike in, if I wanted to go botanizing, kayaking, I always went up to the park. The whole community loved Whiskeytown.

Daniel: For someone who doesn't-- isn't familiar with Whiskeytown, one of the key features is a large dam and a reservoir, a huge lake right in the middle of the park unit. There's a lot of urban areas right next to the the park unit, and it's all a pretty mountainous, forested area.

Jennifer: It is extremely diverse. It goes from 600ft in elevation, up to 6200ft in a really short distance. So it's really steep. So it goes from oak woodlands and grass up to subalpine fir, like Red Fir forest and montane chaparral. It has old growth forests and spotted owls in the higher elevations, but in the lower elevations it has chaparral and chamise and things that you would see at Santa Monica mountains. So that's one of the reasons why I love that park so much, because it was so incredibly diverse.

Daniel: It's basically like all of California smushed into one park unit.

Jennifer: Yeah, totally. And it was great. Like really crazy biotic assemblages living together in the same location, like Pacific giant salamanders and whiptail lizards, like something from a, Pacific Northwest meets the desert, you know, in the same campground. So it's, it's a really cool place, but it has waterfalls, lots of biking trails, lots of hiking trails, kayaking. It's-- it's a really nice place.

Daniel: So we're going to talk about what happened at Whiskeytown in 2018, which was a big wildfire. Just big picture, this was one of the larger fires in California history. What's wild is it's moved down a lot of notches on that records list since then. But this happened in 2018 and it burned-- this is in Northern California around the town of Redding. When did the Carr Fire start for you?

Jennifer: It started the day of initial attack in July 2018. It was hot. We were on the, I think, July in Redding and Shasta County, we were at, triple digit weather, like, it was hot even for Redding for July. About 1:00, 1:30, we heard over the radio that there was a fire near Carr Powerhouse Road, which is next to our historic district, the Tower House Historic District, which is like a concentration of your most important cultural resources, layers of history there, prehistoric, historic.

Daniel: So it's July 2018. The temperatures are getting up into the low 100 degrees. It's very hot. I'm imagining it's not cooling off a whole lot at night.

Jennifer: I think it was like 113, 114, we were bumping up against the highest temperatures ever recorded in the park.

Daniel: Wow. So it's very hot, very dry. And you hear on the radio, okay, there's a fire. And I bet-- I'm guessing that at that point that wasn't unusual. You've heard a lot of fires come in over the radio, maybe even some that summer. And so you go to check it out. At that point, everything feels routine, I guess.

Jennifer: Yeah. No, we -- it was something we do regularly, like, you know, there's fire. We could stand on the highway, tie in with the duty officer, make sure, you know, just be there if they need information, not get in the way. We give them advice if they need it. This is what we do. But this one just went completely sideways. Seeing fire taking off so... spreading so rapidly and erratically, the weirdest thing that I saw was fire zipped around a hillside sideways. Like fire goes uphill, right, naturally, and it follows winds. And it wasn't really that windy out, but it went around sideways, and I'm like, well, that's really weird. And then the fire spotted into this historic orchard where we have these really old orchard trees that were planted in the 1800s so they're unique heirloom varieties. And all of a sudden I started watching them burn and I'm like, oh my God, it's like 20 years of restoration, if not more, trying to save these orchard trees and stabilize them, and we've been working so hard, and we'd just grazed this whole area with goats to keep the weeds down and for fire suppression. And I was standing there on the highway going like, is this really happening? And then it burned down a historic structure that we just restored. And then it spotted behind me on the other side of the highway where that historic house is. It's one of the oldest homes in Shasta County. This was not ever something I could fathom happening at such a rapid pace. And there's water drops, dozers are being pushed, helicopters were overhead... And yeah, within the, the first couple hours it was completely chaotic, like there was nothing we could have done to stop that fire. I think the hard part was, there was a seasonal, she was screaming into the radio, like, "somebody get my therapy dog!" And we're like, oh my god, her therapy dog's in park housing, which is up the canyon. And two of the guys I work with, they went up there, kicked the door down, grabbed the dog -- they got the therapy dog right before the building burned down. And it was it was really, really intense -- like, all the things that I could never, ever wrap my head around were happening so fast. And that was the first hour of the Carr Fire. I'm not proud of a lot of the decisions that I made, but I never thought I would be pushed into making rapid fire decisions like this.

Daniel: So right away, one of your biggest concerns is that because of where the fire starts, some historic buildings, some Indigenous archeological sites, you know, a historic orchard, and park housing, you know right from the start that all of those are threatened by this fire. And so you're making calculations and decisions about how to protect those resources from the very start.

Jennifer: Yep. Yeah. Correct.

Daniel: And some of those choices are hard. Like, I imagine when you're fighting fire, you don't usually want to just, send the bulldozers and all the heavy equipment in right away, because those are obviously destructive in their own way. But if it's a choice between bulldozers or burning up in a fire, you pick the bulldozers. And so that was one of the first hard choices you have to make, it sounds like.

Jennifer: Yeah, so in urban interface parks like Santa Monica Mountains and Whiskeytown, you know, working with bulldozers is a part of, of life. Like you, you have to accept some level of impact to protect communities. So it's-- it's life and property first. More wilderness parks, you know, like parks with sequoias, it might be... life and sequoias might be your priority.

Daniel: That's the kind of decision that you're actually probably used to making. You've been around fires you, and usually you have hours, if not days, to kind of think through the balance between bulldozers and letting a certain area burn or not, like there's usually more time. But in this case, it went from thinking about those questions to then almost instantly it just being about putting the fire out as fast as possible because things were burning so fast.

Jennifer: Yeah. No, the whole park burned in three days, three operational periods. We lost structures, park housing, infrastructure, the community on of French Gulch lost homes, the community of Old Shasta was wiped out, the um, Keswick was wiped out like, by the F3 fire tornado went through Keswick, and then the west side communities. It was completely devastating. And then never could have imagined a F3 fire tornado going into a community, a town where there's homes and a Chase Bank, you know? [laughs in disbelief] So that's unimaginable to me. But again, you know, keep in mind also that the Carr Fire was just, what was it, 4 or 5 months right before the Camp Fire and the Woolsey Fire. And these were other destructive fires. And the Camp Fire was far more destructive than the Carr Fire. So the Carr Fire should have been a wake up call for everybody else. But it caught those communities off guard, too.

Daniel: Yeah. So you said that those first few hours were a literal whirlwind. What happened next?

Jennifer: You know, I had to regroup with my staff. And almost everybody is a qualified and experienced Resource Advisor. So they knew-- they're experienced with fire, they knew what to do. They put on their Nomex and-- but for some reason, throughout the fire, like we kept thinking that we would catch it. Because resources were not limited, like there were no other fires going on in the area. So Redding has like, you know, you have Cal Fire, you have Redding smokejumpers, hotshots, Forest Service, you have all these resources right there in Redding. And so when resources aren't limited, you know, you kind of think like, well, you know, you can throw the world at this thing and we can get it out. But we did. We threw the world at it. And it was we could not put that fire out. And, we launched dozers immediately. And I kept thinking to myself, like, well, we'll catch it, we'll catch it. And, it ended up like each time we, we couldn't catch it. And, we were completely shocked. And I was just completely like, each time I went home, at the end of the day, I'm like, I should start making piles to evacuate, you know? So I would make piles and, but I'm like, "we'll catch it. This can't be." And it was this, state of disbelief, I think. But, I think the third night, about 10:00 at night, I had a coworker call me, and he's like, Jen, you have to go to Whiskeytown Dam. You have to see this. And, I'm like, "it's 10:00 at night. It's hot out, like what's happening?" So I drove up to the park and went to the dam, and there was like hundreds of people on the dam, visitors like-- and they're all out there watching the fire blow up, and it's nighttime. So this is when you have-- the humidity's supposed to go up. Fire behavior is supposed to go down. You're supposed to have some nighttime recovery. But it was still really hot. It was probably like 110 at night. And the fire was plume-dominated fire behavior at night. Like it was behaving like it was three in the afternoon. And my neighborhood was quiet, and I made some piles. I called my neighbor, I'm like, "hey, you guys should think about making piles. I don't-- I think we got another day or so to evacuate. But, you know, this isn't looking good." And I went to sleep and then, about two in the morning, a friend of mine, he's working dispatch for the park, he called me. It's like-- so nobody shows up. You don't get a sheriff doesn't knock on your door. This guy called me and says, "Jen, you need to evacuate now." And I went outside and it was like, a war zone. And there's, like, embers raining down. I could hear propane tanks blowing up. The lights were flickering and the sky was, like, seething. Like like somebody was using a massive giant bellows to just stoke the fire because the whole sky was covered with smoke and this weird orange haze. But it was just like going up and down, and I was like, what the hell's happening? Called my neighbors, they're like, "we're packing." And, then I just grabbed all that I could, and, and my chimes were like, ding ding ding ding ding ding ding, just the chimes hanging on the deck were just, like, going in circles. It was really bizarre. I went inside, I said goodbye to my house, said goodbye to my house plants. Which is a really weird thing to do. I watered them all and I'm like, "I'll be right back, guys, hang in there." And I thought my house would make it. I really did. And at this time I'm really worried about park staff because I, you know, we already lost seasonal housing and I'm like, where is everybody? You know, it's four in the morning. I called her administrative officer. She's like, "I got tabs on everybody. Don't worry. Just get out of there." So my dog and I, with my great grandmother's table, evacuated to a motel. You know, leaving the driveway, I said goodbye to my neighbors and hugged them and showed up at a Motel 6 in Redding and-- with a bunch of other disheveled people, like at four in the morning, just like they're in shock, you know? And I know that they just evacuated. So we were all checking into hotels. So at this point, a significant portion of the west side of Redding evacuated to the east, to evacuation shelters, friends homes, you know, motels. But, you know, we thought that like, you know, maybe everything was going to be okay. You know, maybe the house will make it. You know, "I've been burning piles around my house. It's in good shape, it'll make it." It is just being in a state of shock.

Daniel: Wow. Over the course of those first few days then the fire, you know, is potentially moving towards your own home and you're in a state of kind of disbelief that it could burn your own home.

Jennifer: Yeah. We evacuated the north side of the park where the fire was. But on the south side of the park we still had visitors. We still had people in park housing. But we thought there was no way the fire was going to cross the lake. Well, sure enough, there was a fire, mini fire tornado or vortex set up, and it lay down horizontally across the ground, according -- I wasn't there -- and spotted across the lake. So this launched a massive evacuation on the south side of the lake of people that were camping and on that side and park housing units. And this was important because I to me, a lot of the law enforcement personnel, a lot of us lived in Old Shasta. We lived on the boundary of the park. They had to make a choice between evacuating, helping their-- their spouses and families evacuate, and they had to make the choice to evacuate visitors. So I think that was really hard on a lot of those emergency responders being at that point. And then they had to clear all those people off the dam who were watching this. It was, again, you know, we never knew this would happen. Yeah.

Daniel: So we talked about, those first hours, we talked about the intensity and challenge of the first few days, and then how on the third and fourth day, people are evacuated, housing is being burned down, and there are vortexes of fire, basically conditions so hot and intense that there's tornadoes made of flames burning and spotting across the entire lake. And the fire is beyond apocalyptic. It's it's really into something new.

Jennifer: When I evacuated the motel, it was, you know, you didn't sleep. You know, you show up at your motel at four, you're like, what is happening? And then, that morning was all about like, "where-- where are the interns? Where are the seasonals? Are they okay?" We got them into hotels. Like, where is everybody on the west side of Redding? Like, you know, people that live there. Is everybody okay? So the park's in a shambles. And I heard that the fire had passed through my neighborhood, but my house had made it and my neighbor's house hadmade it. And I was like, "all right, I did it! You know, like, all my fuels treatments, weed whacking, all my work, you know, I was like, I knew it, I knew I could make it." And so that day was really about sitting and waiting, having park meetings, seeing where everybody's at and trying to get an Incident Management Team in to help, and watching the news and texting. So there's like group texts of park staff going back and forth. And, and it wasn't until like the evening, like the fire activity picked up again and the lights in the motel started flickering, you know, and then the power went off, and I'm like, oh my God, what the hell's happening out there? And I went to another location I saw that had power and air conditioning. And I was watching the news and I could see-- and there's my neighborhood, like where my house is, my neighbor's house is -- it's a crown fire. And people are texting me like, "Jen, your your street's on fire on the news" and the local State Parks superintendent, she's out there hosing down State Park, you know, buildings. And it was pretty traumatic. And people had to evacuate a second time in Redding. So this was another wave. So people in evacuation centers had to evacuate, people in homes that evacuated. So people had to evacuate the second time, I had to evacuate a second time. And that's one of my lessons learned. If you evacuate the first time, don't unpack, because you might have to evacuate the second time. And I got with my dog in my car, and I got on the I-5 and it was packed with people, like it was jammed. And I looked up and I could see that fire tornado. And that's when I really thought -- like it was totally irrational, like, but maybe I was just so exhausted, I had so much adrenaline in my blood, and I really thought that that tornado was going to get me. And I was stopped in traffic on the highway. And that's one of my things, you know, like I get stuck on a highway in traffic when a fire comes. And so I managed to get on an off ramp. And then going north on I-5 was a lot clearer. And I made progress. And I just kept driving. And each hotel they were were packed with people, like there was no vacancy, especially no dog friendly vacancy. So I just ended up driving all night. I drove all the way to Oregon, and it was on that drive that I found out that I lost my house. A firefighter checked on my property and he's like, "Jen, it's gone." And he sent me a text with a picture of it on fire. And, you know, it was good that he let me know. And I'm like, I was just in shock. So it was-- finally made it to Oregon, made it to a safe space.

Daniel: Wow. So it only took a matter of days. But all of Whiskeytown National Recreation Area, this entire park unit, the whole thing burned, right?

Jennifer: Yeah. 97% of the park burned. So the final statistics were 47 structures destroyed. A third of the park staff lost their homes. And then there was significant damage to the concessionaire operations and to a... we have an environmental school, an environmental camp. So all in all, the Carr Fire was 229,000 acres. 1604 structures were lost overall, and eight fatalities.

Daniel: So I'm guessing then the next several weeks were a continued state of anxiety and chaos for you. But of course, it doesn't end there. A lot of your work, I think, then was on the aftermath of the fire and, okay, what happens now that the fire's out?

Jennifer: So the hard thing is that when you have a fire in your park, you're going to sprint. Like you're going to sprint as hard as you can, and you're going to run as fast as you can. But there's like a finish line. You know, it's like you're gonna just -- you're going to just exhaust yourself to that finish line. Once you cross that finish line, the post-fire world is a marathon. Whiskeytown has significant infrastructure. We have the dam infrastructure with Bureau of Reclamation. We have the telecommunications site for the sheriff's office at the top of the peak, highest mountain. And then we had, a major highway goes through the middle of the park. And then we have Pacific Gas and Electric. So we had all these power lines, we have all this infrastructure, and they all had to get online. And to do that we needed to be Resource Advisors again. Even though it's an emergency, you need some level of compliance a little bit, you know, to make sure there's no prehistoric site there you know. You know, I just-- my first day back after I found out my house burned and we had a meeting of the archeologists, myself, and our acting superintendent. And here's this room full of engineers, you know, highway engineers, there's like 25 of them, and they're like, "we've got X amount of million dollars to install these structures to protect our highway, and you guys need to do the compliance." [laughs incredulously] So it's like, so we, we we really kept going and going and going. It was really hard to stop and process.

Daniel: Yeah Jen, talk to me-- talk to me about the mental health impacts of going through something like this. For you, but for the, for the community and for the staff of a national park. What's that like?

Jennifer: It's like the grief that keeps on giving. It's layers and layers of grief. It's grieving my house, my memories and my property that I love so much. Grieving my park and you know, the restoration, all that work put into that park and places that I loved. Grieving my community, my neighbors all moved away. Like grieving with them. You go to all their going away parties, and then you get tired of it. And then park staff start to leave, so you're you're going to they're going away parties. [laughs] And everybody processes it very differently. And that has to be okay. Like, I, saw some people got very emotional right away and they wanted to talk to CISM right away. I couldn't talk to the Critical Incident Stress Management people because I felt like if I took that moment, I wouldn't be able to put myself back together again and keep going. I had to keep going. And we were so busy with trying to get power up and internet up and back in our offices and, utility companies and get the BAER implemented, it-- it took us until we got a superintendent, a permanent superintendent showed up, and he was like, "wow, this-- these people need help." And so he got-- he called EAP, Employee Assistance Program, and he got a clinical psychologist to come and talk to us as a group. And it was like the first time in nine months -- nine months -- that we all sat together as a, you know, employees, and talked it out. And she got up there and she was like, "well, all the other agencies like Cal Fire, the Sheriff's Department, PG&E, all these different entities and agencies, they got employee assistance like the week after the fire. Why did it take the National Park Service nine months? And we were ground zero. We were the most impacted. So that was I think a real important point to me is, you need to get that help in soon.

Daniel: You know, one thing that struck me that you said was that it felt out of control, it felt chaotic, and that maybe even you're not proud of all of the decisions that were made, but that that is the result of the chaos in a moment of such intensity like that. Maybe that's one of the lessons that you have taken from the fire in general, is what's possible in those first intense hours.

Jennifer: We were completely caught off guard. And I don't know if it's complacency, like, you know, you know your park, you know your ecosystems, you know your fire, and you think you know what's going to happen. But it's one of those situations where everything went sideways, like what you knew was no longer reality. And that, to me, is a really good lesson learned. And it translates well over to other parks where, some parks have been doing fire/climate scenario workshops, where they're trying to really think like, what is the worst thing? And the worst thing that can happen, like happened to them that year. Like Lassen had the Dixie fire, Sequoia has lost 20% of their monarch sequoias. Like these things are happening this year, not 20 years out. And so the Carr Fire to me was the worst thing that could happen. Like it was unimaginable, not even 20 years out. It would be like, oh God, I couldn't even fathom having this happen to my park. But it did. It happened in 2018. And that's one of the things that's consistently happening in national parks with not only just fire, but other climate-related disasters. We're completely being caught off guard time and time again.

Daniel: Wow. In your most climate apocalyptic vision of the future, you never thought that the Carr fire could happen. Like it-- that was that was your worst case scenario, darkest imagination of what the future might be. And then it actually happened.

Jennifer: You can see, like what's happening in Yosemite National Park, where there's actually parts of the park that's type converting due to the frequency of fire. And what happened at Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks is also really relevant in that, you know, I think they did climate/fire scenario planning in the late 2000s, maybe 2018, 2017. I'm not sure of the year. But again, they did that thing of "what's the worst thing that can happen to the sequoias? You know, they're pest resistant. They're fire resistant. What's the worst thing that can happen?" And it was like, "well, they become susceptible to pests, and then they become susceptible to fire." And then sure enough, you know, they had the Castle Rattlesnake Complex, I think 2020, I believe. And that took out a significant portion of the large monarch sequoia trees. And then they were like, oh my God, we gotta do something. And then in 2021, they didn't have a chance to strategize, come up with a plan. In 2021, it took out another big chunk of large monarch sequoia trees, which are supposed to be fire resistant. And so 20% of the large trees are dead, like they're a thousand year old trees. And they've survived tons and tons of fire, and we're watching them just disappear. So the park is taking some radical actions. They're being really proactive, and they're really trying to hold the ground on the remaining sequoias. And I'm really-- and so is Yosemite, with their groves.

Daniel: So this is a case study of these, just the really big sequoia trees. And people didn't think they were susceptible to wildfire because they have such thick bark and they're adapted to it. But now we're seeing with climate change, the conditions are just different that the fire is happening in. And it turns out these big trees, they can be susceptible to wildfire. And in recent years they have been and they have been lost.

Jennifer: Yeah. And it's, you know, two years. Like, you know, 2020-2021. Like that's a short time frame to come up with a quick strategy. All right Park, what are you going to do? [laughs] How are you going to hold the line and save the rest of them? You know it'd be nice if you had ten, twenty years to develop a plan and a strategy. But parks are having to pivot pretty quickly and decide what ecosystems, what resources are priorities, what are they going to save and what can you save and then what you can't. So similar to like, probably like glaciers. What can you do?

Daniel: I mean, it sounds like the advice you would give is that like, you're trying to tell people this is a wake up call. Everyone needs to be paying attention and ready to move way faster than they think they need to move. What-- I mean, is there other advice, or is there another lesson that has come across in watching these fires for you?

Jennifer: To me, I-- after the Carr Fire, like I had this sense of panic and urgency where I want to see, you know, people take fuels reduction and defensive space seriously. It's been hard because after going through something like that, oftentimes people perceive you as being like, "well, she's been traumatized. You know, like this is just her processing." I'm like, no, like I think the Park Service needs to invest in preparedness, response and helping parks recover. We have great people working in preparedness, but it's typically in law enforcement or in fire. But it needs to be an interdisciplinary approach. And I'm a fan of facilitated scenario planning workshops where everybody's at the table and you run through scenarios of it, whether it's flooding or fire or whatever. You run through scenarios to make sure you have evacuation plans. You figure out where the gaps are in your plans, and your weaknesses, and you address them. And then make sure you're all on the same page with your priorities. Like if if you did have to evacuate your park. And again, it has to be top down and a priority from your superintendent, all the way up to your regional director and the director. I think another thing parks can do is invest in your Resource Advisor program. If you care about your natural and cultural resources in your park, and you're a fire park, or have the potential of fire, the best thing you can do is get your staff trained, send them out, get them experience. If you talk to these people that have gone through the Camp Fire, or firefighters who have seen fire severity change across the West, I'm sure they will say the same thing. It's just like, I feel like it's Groundhog Day, right? Like park after park is just-- we're doing the same thing every day. Are we getting more prepared? Are we getting better at responding? We need definitely need to get better at helping parks recover. But I don't, you know-- we need to start moving in those directions a lot quicker.

Daniel: This should be a wake up call. They should be expecting the worst case scenario. Jen, I'm curious if you feel like you're healed, if you have fully processed the Carr Fire, or if that's an ongoing thing. And then I'm also curious if, you know, helping other parks and talking to other parks about their intense fire experiences, if that's been a helpful process or, or not so helpful in your own kind of coming to terms with with wildfire.

Jennifer: I think trauma is a bad thing in general, but it's made me wiser or wary. I'm all about being prepared. And going through any sort of traumatic event, it could be like a loss of a loved one, you know, or, whatever it may be, it's horrid, absolutely horrid. But there are moments of beauty and love intermixed, which makes it a really complex emotion. So the strong bonds that I formed with the staff at Whiskeytown going through this with them will always, forever be there. My neighbors and my community, they will always be my neighbors. We'll always reach out to each other. We always send Christmas cards or holiday cards. We're always there for each other. We have this common bond now that we went through something and we made it together, and I think that's the beauty in it.

[beat begins to play]

Daniel: Jennifer Gibson, thanks so much for sharing your story. This has been really valuable.

Jennifer: Yeah, thanks you guys for doing this. I'm so impressed. And thanks for listening.

[music plays under the credits]

Peri: We spent most of this episode talking about a national recreation area in California; Whiskey Town. They have lots more details about fire and climate change on their website, nps.gov/WHIS you can learn more about fire and climate change on Glacier’s website too, nps.gov/GLAC. It is worth underlining how easily this story could be about any other national park, including Glacier. Wildfires burn here almost every single summer—most recently, we had quite intense fire seasons in 2015, 2017, and 2018. Famously, the Sprague fire burned down part of the beloved Sperry Chalet in 2017. A key partner in helping rebuild the Sperry Chalet was our non-profit partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Beyond fire, the Conservancy helps Glacier with many sustainability efforts: from solar panels on park buildings to storytelling projects like this one, the Conservancy is doing critical work to prevent the worst impacts of climate change. You can learn more about what they do and about how to get involved at Glacier.org. This show is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gabi Eseverri, and me, Peri Sasnett. We get critical support from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Kristen Friesen, and so many good people with Glacier's natural and cultural resource teams. Our music was made by the brilliant Frank Waln, and the show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in the show notes. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Bonus | Visiting Glacier in Style

3 juli 2024 | 6 min

Planning a trip to Glacier and don't know what to wear? We've got fashion tips for you, along with the latest news from the park.

Glacier Conservancy: glacier.org Frank Waln music: www.instagram.com/frankwaln Stella Nall art: stellanall.com

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy: Headquarters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri: Welcome to Headwaters. I'm Peri.

Madeline: And I'm Madeline.

Peri: Headwaters is a science and history show about Glacier National Park. And this is a special bonus episode for those of you considering coming to the park this summer or fall. And today we have for you a series of breaking news headlines, each followed by some fashion advice from Madeline.

Madeline: That's right.

Peri: We should just play the little like breaking news. *Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun* [Newscaster music starts] Going-to-the-Sun Road is open all the way to Logan Pass. And do remember you need a vehicle reservation if you're coming in from the west side between 6 a.m. and 3 p.m. Madeline, what fashion advice would you give to someone driving the road?

Madeline: I think people hear "driving," and they're like, all I need are my driving flip flops, what they don't think about is you're going to want to get out of your car. At least once I'd say.

Peri: At least once.

Madeline: Statistically.

Peri: Probably.

Madeline: So pack your hiking flipflops as well.

Peri: Great advice.

Madeline: Thank you.

Peri: All right. [Newscaster music] As of July 3rd, the Highline Trail is not open. The upper half of the Grinnell Glacier Trail is also not open, and something to keep in mind is that even trails that are open, anything at high elevation you may encounter snow, including on the trail to Hidden Lake Overlook. Snow is always wet. It's always cold. It can be pretty slippery or even dangerous, so keep that in mind for at least a few more weeks if you're hiking in the park. Madeline, what do people need if they're hiking on snow?

Madeline: I have two boxes in my head. I've got waterproofing and traction. There's a lot of ways to accomplish that. Maybe hiking boots.

Peri: Sure.

Madeline: If you don't have hiking boots, maybe you have grocery bags and soccer cleats. Why not combine those? So put those grocery bags on your feet. Put those feet in your soccer cleats. Suddenly you're checking those boxes.

Peri: I love that. It's very childhood snow day chic. [Newscaster music] The free shuttles are up and running for the season. You can take the shuttle bus instead of driving, and you don't need a vehicle reservation for that. And you can stop at a bunch of different places along going to the town road. Do expect the shuttles to be full and busy, though. They're quite popular. Madeline, what should people consider wearing for the shuttle bus?

Madeline: The tagline for that whole experience is see and be seen. There are strangers around you. Suddenly you're part of the attraction of the road. If that is something you care about, just wear your favorite outfit.

Peri: Totally. [Newscaster music] In other news, park lakes are open to paddling. Lake McDonald, Bowman, Kintla, Two Medicine are all open to personal non-motorized watercraft if you get them inspected before heading out to prevent the spread of aquatic invasive species. Some park lakes are also open to motorized boats, but those require more extensive inspection. Madeline. What fashion advice do you have for people doing paddling?

Madeline: Everyone knows that you're on water. I don't think enough people are thinking about water getting on you. So maybe think about a poncho.

Peri: Love a poncho.

Madeline: Preferably clear, so that others can see your life jacket and be inspired by your sartorial example.

Peri: Love that. [Newscaster music] The longest running Indigenous speaker series in the National Park Service is in full swing for the summer. That means almost every night somewhere in the park one of Glacier's Tribal partners is giving a public presentation for free. Madeline, what do you wear when you go to an NAS program?

Madeline: I want to be able to focus, so bug protection is top of mind for me.

Peri: Yes.

Madeline: This is the time for a head to toe bodysuit. Pull that out of the back of your closet. If you don't have that, bug net over a wide brimmed hat. Ankle protection. Close toed shoes.

Peri: Yes. Protect the hands and feet.

Madeline: The probisci of the mosquito here? They're strong and they're long. [Peri laughs] And you don't want that getting anywhere near your skin.

Peri: That's great advice.

Madeline: Thank you.

Peri: Finally, our last headline. [Newscaster music] The fishing season is open for summer 2024. Within park boundaries, you do not need a fishing license, but there are still a variety of rules and regulations, so be familiar with those. And remember that all native fish you catch have to be released. Madeline, what's your fishing fit?

Madeline: All right, I've gone fishing twice, [Peri laughs] so I feel pretty qualified to talk about this. I've also seen lots of pictures of people holding fish. So from both those things, I'm going to say pockets.

Peri: Like those vests with all the pockets.

Madeline: Yes.

Peri: Do you put the fish in the pockets?

Madeline: Like, if you want to. I think that's... With pockets, you have options so you can put the fish in there. You can put snacks in there. You can put snacks for the fish in there. And then you also don't want to forget a big smile. That seems to be pretty key.

Peri: The best accessory.

Madeline: Yeah. So it's like people have a really big fish and then they have a really big smile. And...

Peri: And the pocket.

Madeline: They seem correlated. Yeah.

Peri: Well, thanks for the advice, Madeline, and thanks everyone for tuning in. We have more bonus episodes coming soon, and we are also working on a new big season of Headwaters that will be released next year.

Madeline: Headwaters is made possible by our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri: We could not do this without them, and if you want to help us out, you could leave a review in iTunes or your podcast app and share the show with your friends.

Madeline: ITunes? Does that even exist anymore? [Newscaster music fades in]

Peri: Yeah, maybe I'll say Apple.

Madeline: Thank you for listening!

Peri: And Happy Fourth of July.

Bonus | Answering Your Questions

31 maj 2024 | 14 min

A mini mailbag episode answering listener-submitted questions. Send us your questions for future episodes at [email protected] with the subject "Headwaters."

Glacier Conservancy: glacier.org Frank Waln music: www.instagram.com/frankwaln Stella Nall art: stellanall.com

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Gaby Eseverri: [mellow beat playing] Hi, I'm Gaby. You're listening to Headwaters, a podcast from Glacier National Park.

Daniel Lombardi: Hey, Gaby, I'm Daniel.

Gaby: [laughs] Hi, Daniel.

Daniel: And this is the mailbag or Q&A episode. We're answering questions.

Gaby: Yeah. So listeners have provided questions for us over the last week or so. [music fades out] And I'll be asking you what the people want to know.

Daniel: Oh, you're asking me?

Gaby: I'll be asking you.

Daniel: I'm not ready for this.

Gaby: We're releasing bonus episodes this spring and summer to help visitors plan their trips to the park, or to just generally get a feel for what's going on.

Daniel: What do you got for me?

Gaby: What do you think was our most asked question?

Daniel: I think the question that rangers get asked the most is where is the bathroom? But I bet you people want to know when is Going-to-the-Sun Road going to open for the summer.

Gaby: Ding ding ding.

Daniel: That's right?

Gaby: Yeah yeah,.

Daniel: Yeah. Everyone, everyone wants to know when is Going-to-the-Sun Road going to open for the summer because it feels like it's not summer till the sun road opens. Well, sorry, we don't have an answer.

Gaby: We really don't know. We don't have any, like, further, more information than what you know.

Daniel: I could say that it seems to usually open in June -- the roads crew are actively plowing it right now -- sometimes early July, but generally it's sometime in June. If it's like a low snow year and we don't have a whole lot of snow in the winter, then it opens in the earlier side of June. If it is a big snowy winter, then it's probably going to be later in June, if not early summer.

Gaby: Or a rainy spring.

Daniel: Yeah, spring weather matters a lot too. Yeah, yeah. Bad weather, avalanches, all that slows the work down.

Gaby: Yeah. Hopefully it'll be open soon. I'm excited. It will definitely mark the arrival of summer. Angela says, can you just talk about beargrass?

Daniel: I… I will try. Uh, beargrass is not a grass, it is a member of the corn lily family. I mean, it is a flower, basically. It has grass on the bottom, and what people love then is that every few years, each plant will shoot up a big asparagus- Dr. Seuss-type flower that looks like a giant q-tip, sometimes like 3 or 4 feet tall.

Gaby: They don't pop up yearly, right?

Daniel: Right. You know, as spring comes along like this, we're always like, is this going to be a big flower year? When was the last time we had a big bear grass year? But there's always there's always some bear grass and...

Gaby: Yeah.

Daniel: I love it.

Gaby: I guess we'll see what this year looks like. [beat plays briefly] Sridevi asks, what are the places to visit without a vehicle reservation? That's a, that's a big one.

Daniel: Yeah. So in 2024 you do need a vehicle reservation, but that's only to get into the busiest parts of the park during the busiest hours of the day in the peak summer season. So if you're visiting in the fall, you don't need to worry about it. If you like to get up early or drive into the park late, again, you don't need to worry about it. It's just for those peak hours. Now, also, it's not for every area of the park. In summer 2024, entering into Two Medicine or the east side of Going-to-the-Sun Road at St Mary. You don't need a vehicle reservation for those areas either. And I promise they are spectacular areas of the park.

Gaby: Truly amazing. Yeah. Yeah. Okay, awesome. Hopefully that's helpful. And as always, check nps.gov/glac for more information and all of the details about vehicle reservation. [beat plays briefly] Claire wants to know, what's it like working for the park. You've been working for the park for seven years, right?

Daniel: This park, yeah. I've made a career out of working for the Park Service, and I love it. The best part about working for the Park Service is that you are working in and getting to, you know, be a part of these amazing places. I love being a part of something that is like, iconic of our country and our landscape and a thing that we all share together. Working for the parks is amazing. I highly recommend it. Go to USAjobs.gov and watch for ranger postings. [beat plays briefly] Give me another one. Give me a hard one.

Gaby: Okay. Olive asks, what are people most surprised about after visiting?

Daniel: Maybe a big surprise is how cold and how like wet the weather can be, especially in the first half of summer.

Gaby: Totally like in West Glacier or East Glacier it'll be beautiful and sunny, and then you go up to Logan Pass and it's snowing.

Daniel: Like literally snowing. Yeah. The other thing I think that can surprise people about the weather is how in the second half of summer, how hot it can be. They'll be like, oh, it's Glacier National Park, it's the mountains. It'll be cool. But then they start going on a hike with one little water bottle and they're like, oh...

Gaby: It's hot and.

Daniel: It's over 90 degrees. And yeah, it's kind of humid. And yeah, it can get really hot.

Gaby: Yeah. Last summer it hit 100.

Daniel: Wow.

Gaby: [beat plays briefly] So Jack has a question about construction.

Daniel: Okay, Jack, here's the situation. In Montana, we have two seasons: winter and construction.

Gaby: Ha ha. [sarcastic laugh]

Daniel: Yeah. And here we are entering construction season. There's all kinds of jokes about this. You know, the traffic cones, that they put out around construction sites?

Gaby: The bright neon orange.

Daniel: I've heard people joke that that's, you know, Montana State flower. I think other states make these jokes, too.

Gaby: Definitely, yeah.

Daniel: But it's true, the window for construction in Glacier National Park is pretty small because we have such a long winter season, so you have to squeeze all the repair and update, you know, projects into a pretty narrow window. So you can hear the construction going on outside right now. There is construction going on in the park, a whole bunch of different areas, you know, they're working on bridges, they're putting in new sewer lines.

Gaby: They're doing a lot of work. So it will most likely be a part of your visit. Yeah.

Daniel: But if you're just flexible, like it shouldn't be a big deal.

Gaby: Yeah. Not a big deal at all. Check nps.gov/glac for all of those construction updates and all those details as to where those projects are going to be.

Daniel: Yeah, that's basically the answer to everything. Go on our website. Check it out. Yeah. Plan ahead.

Gaby: [beat plays briefly] Okay. This is [laughs] maybe one of my favorite questions that we got. MissCurlyGirly asks, is the damage reversible?

Daniel: This question is sort of silly and also like kind of deep, right, which is fun. Having no idea what curlygirly is actually asking about, I would say let's be optimistic. Let's envision a better future than the one we're living in, you know?

Gaby: Totally.

Daniel: The damage is reversible. We can fix things that are broken and we can...

Gaby: Imagine better futures.

Daniel: Absolutely.

Gaby: [beat plays briefly] This is a little bit of a history question. Are you ready for this?

Daniel: I'll give it a shot.

Gaby: Zach wants to know, how did the whole Glacier-Waterton connection come to be?

Daniel: Well, that is a good question. Basically, there was Rotary Clubs, these are like community social clubs, and they started talking about how these two national parks that share an international border could be and should be an example to the world about international peaceful cooperation. And they sort of developed the concept and everyone liked it, got behind it, and in the 1930s, the international, the world's first international peace park was born.

Gaby: Glacier-Waterton.

Daniel: Well, technically, it's Waterton Glacier International Peace Park.

Gaby: And Zach, if you want to learn more, I would recommend going back to Season One and listening to the Goat Haunt episode where Michael and Andrew dive deeper into Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park.

Daniel: Yeah, that's a good idea. I was I thought you were going to say go to the website. I'm like, oh, people are going to be tired of hearing that.

Gaby: Oh no no, no.

Daniel: Yeah. But it's so true though.

Gaby: [beat plays briefly] I have three from Elizabeth.

Daniel: [laughing] I didn't know three questions was allowed, but okay, let's hear them.

Gaby: What do we do when we see fellow tourists not following Leave No Trace principles? Ooh.

Daniel: Yeah, that's hard. I mean, it's not your job to police other people. That's said, I feel like if you have the social skills and the situation is... allows for it, find a way to be friendly and...

Gaby: And be curious, yeah, I would say ask some questions before we make assumptions as to what people are doing or if they're doing something quote unquote wrong.

Daniel: Yeah, yeah. I mean, if you see something dangerous or blatantly illegal happening, you should definitely tell a ranger. But trust that everyone's doing their best.

Gaby: Totally.

Daniel: And that being friendly goes a long way.

Gaby: Absolutely. How do we convince people that nature is worth protecting as much as people?

Daniel: That's a good question. I like that one. You know, people are nature. The national parks operate with the belief that a really important part about getting people to care about the world around them, and to care about this country's history and making the world a better place is learning and experiencing and making connections firsthand. So that is a really central part of the mission of the National Park Service is to give people an opportunity to come visit natural places like Glacier National Park and make those connections and realize why that's so important to protect and preserve and honor.

Gaby: Yeah, totally. Okay. Elizabeth has one more question.

Daniel: Oh is it, what's my favorite beetle? I knew it.

Gaby: That's exactly right.

Daniel: Mountain pine beetles. A natural insect that eats away at pine trees in the park. It's not good for those pine trees, but it's good for the ecosystem as a whole. And they're cool little beetles.

Gaby: Are these the beetles on whitebark pines?

Daniel: Pretty much every species of tree in the park has an associated species of beetle. So, yeah, whitebark pine included.

Gaby: That's so cool. And if you want to know more about beetles or whitebark pine, you can go listen to Season Two of the podcast. Of course. Thanks, Elizabeth, for those questions. [beat plays briefly] Okay, so the next question is from Lane, who wants to know how has climate change impacted the way the park is managed?

Daniel: Yeah, that's a good question. I mean, it's... it would actually probably be simpler to say how has climate change not impacted the way the park is managed, because it it infiltrates every decision made in the National Park Service at this point. There are broadly four big categories in how the National Park Service is responding to climate change. One is through communication. So just doing things like podcast episodes about, you know, educating on the topic. Then there's science. There are scientists actively studying how a shifting climate is directly impacting the resources or the plants, animals, history, culture and all of that. How that's being impacted. But then on top of communication and science, there is also a whole lot of adaptation work. Basically people studying and thinking about how, okay, we have more wildfire now because of climate change, how do we need to shift our response to wildfire in the face of that? Right. And then the fourth big area of the National Park Service's response to climate change is mitigation. And that means that we're trying to actively reduce the amount of greenhouse gases that are emitted inside the national park, reducing the amount of fossil fuels burned, stuff like that.

Gaby: How are we doing that?

Daniel: Putting solar panels on roofs, switching to more fuel efficient or zero emission vehicles, recycling, composting basically anywhere we can find ways to reduce the park's emissions, we're trying to do that.

Gaby: And that's not just here, right? That's across the National Park Service.

Daniel: Yeah, it's across the federal government in general.

Gaby: That's great. How might visitors see and/or experience everything that you talked about?

Daniel: Well, if you come to Glacier National Park in your electric vehicle, you can plug it in and charge it with pretty much renewable energy resources that we have here, with hydropower. You're going to see solar panels on the roofs of some buildings. But you're also going to experience the impacts of climate change. Almost inevitably, it gets a lot hotter here in the summers than it used to. We have a lot more wildfire smoke than we used to.

Gaby: And of course, the namesake of this park.

Daniel: Everyone wants to come and hike to a glacier, or take a look at the glaciers as they melt. So that's a big part of the visitor experience these days.

Gaby: [beat plays briefly] Okay Daniel, I'm going to close it out with one more question.

Daniel: Okay.

Gaby: Okay. What snakes are in the park?

Daniel: We have two kinds of snakes. They're both garter snakes, we have two species of garter snakes. And neither of them are venomous or dangerous. Snakes are cool. A lot of people don't come here for the snakes, but they really should.

Gaby: [laughing] It's always, "where can I see a grizzly bear?"

Daniel: Never "where can I see a garter snake?"

Gaby: [laughing]

Daniel: Yeah. All right, well, if people have more questions, they can, you know, hit us up on social media or email us here at the podcast.

Gaby: [email protected] [mellow beat begins to play]

Daniel: We'll put it in the show notes too. Our music's by Frank Waln and our art is by Stella Nall.

Gaby: They're both great. Check out their work.

Daniel: Info's in the show notes.

Gaby: Headwaters is made possible with support from our nonprofit partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We absolutely could not be doing this without them. Check them out at glacier.org. If you have a moment to leave us a review in your podcast app, that helps so much.

Daniel: Thanks for listening. [music fades out]

Bonus | How to Level Up Your Trip Planning

16 maj 2024 | 7 min

A mini episode on the various ways to plan a trip to Glacier. Tune in to our next bonus episode where we'll answer listener-submitted questions on the show. Email your questions to [email protected] with the subject, "Headwaters." Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters/ Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://stellanall.com/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

[drum and synth beat starts to play]

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Daniel Lombardi: Hello. You're listening to Headwaters, a podcast from Glacier National Park. I'm Daniel.

Madeline Vinh: Hi, I'm Madeline.

[beat concludes]

Daniel: And the point of this show is to tell stories about how Glacier is connected to everything else.

Madeline: This bonus episode is a little different, though. It'll just be Daniel and I chatting about different resources and strategies for planning a trip to Glacier.

Daniel: We are talking trip tips.

Madeline: Trip tips.

Daniel: Trip tips.

Madeline: We are here in the park. We're here in Headquarters in West Glacier and the Park is pretty quiet right now. But the best time to plan for a trip to Glacier is well before you get here.

Daniel: Mhm.

Madeline: So, Daniel, what are some of the resources that you'd suggest people look into?

Daniel: Well, I think we have to start with official sources. Right? We have a website, nps.gov that stands for National Park Service dot government nps.gov/glac. "GLAC" is short for Glacier. That is your primary resource. That's going to have everything you need to plan a trip to the Park.

Madeline: Okay.

Daniel: Glacier maybe is a hard park to plan for because it's a big place. It's a complicated place, but there are a few other things I think people should know about.

Madeline: Officially or unofficially?

Daniel: Both.

Madeline: Okay.

Daniel: Officially, we have a podcast that's called Headwaters.

Madeline: What?

Daniel: You're listening to it right now. Also officially, we have social media channels. We're always Glacier NPS, whether it's on YouTube or Facebook or Instagram or Twitter or whatever. You can look us up. Follow us and that should help you plan a trip.

Madeline: Cool. Okay, so there are a lot of great sounding official resources but you've kind of hinted at unofficial resources. What do the unofficial resources have that the official ones don't?

Daniel: In general, I think people are sleeping on unofficial trip planning resources. So think of things like Facebook groups, YouTube channels, general blogs, books.

Madeline: Mhm.

Daniel: Let me back out and say that official resources are great. The Park website is going to have when campgrounds open and close. How much things cost? How far are distances between things? When are campfire programs? The park website has all of that stuff and you can trust it. It's a .gov website. You know you can trust nps.gov/glac, but if you're on a Facebook group, I think you shouldn't be expecting to get the facts and the dates and the numbers. You go to a Facebook group to get the opinionated, subjective, you know, human personal-.

Madeline: Mhm.

Daniel: -answers. Let me show you one on the laptop here, if I can get this to open up.

Madeline: Daniel is typing. He's using one finger at a time. He's typing aggressively. You might sometimes hear that.

Daniel: Sometimes I can use two fingers.

Madeline: But today is not one of those days.

Daniel: Okay, so I just went on Facebook and I searched Glacier National Park or National Parks. There are tons, dozens, maybe hundreds of Facebook groups. Gosh, yeah. And they are dedicated to helping people plan trips to national parks. It's an amazing resource that I don't think enough people know about.

Madeline: It sounds like thousands of people know about them.

Daniel: You, you got me there.

Madeline: But I'll compare that to the millions that visit national, national parks.

Daniel: Okay, so this group is it's a private Facebook group that anyone can request to join. It's called "National Park Trip Planning Advice and Help By The National Park Obsessed." And to give you an example of what it's like... Here's a post by Caitlin. Here, maybe I should have you read this.

Madeline: Caitlin says, "Just curious. In your opinion, what has been the hardest national park to plan? I've just started traveling to the parks and will hit my fifth this year, but so far for me, mine has been Glacier.".

Daniel: Ooh.

Madeline: Tough.

Daniel: I liked this one comment that someone responded to Caitlin with. Millie said Glacier was hardest for me, too, because quote, "because of the sheer number of amazing things to see and hikes to do, etc."

Madeline: You know, I don't hate that you can't go wrong here.

Daniel: Here's another unofficial source that I recommend people check out if they're if they're interested in this kind of thing. Go on YouTube. Type in Glacier National Park and look up travel vlogs. You're not going to get dates of campground opening closure, but just getting a visual look at what it's like in the park at a certain time of year, what it feels like to travel. It can be really helpful preparing you before you come visit.

Madeline: Just if you maybe want a little bit more of a visual. Sounds like vlogs are great.

Daniel: So here's a vlog from Nicole from last year. This is vlog "Video 13 Northern Montana and Glacier National Park Solo Female Traveler."

Madeline: Okay, so that's kind of like a POV, day in the life.

Daniel: Yeah, I love it. So this is one woman's experience visiting Glacier, traveling alone. You want to know what that's like okay. This person has already done it and recorded it, and you can get their opinion about it.

Nicole: So I just pulled over to see what the deal with reservations were for Glacier and-.

Madeline: Sounds great. People can look into those. Are there any hazards that people need to be aware of venturing into those territories?

Daniel: Any unofficial source you're using to plan a trip. I think you take it with a grain of salt. So if you're on a Facebook group and you're like reading the comments, it might be helpful. But also just, you know, keep some skepticism in your mind when you're reading through that kind of thing. Or if you're watching, you know, some random YouTube video about the park.

Madeline: Right. Okay. So it makes sense that that would be both a pro and a con. If you're looking for someone's opinion, sometimes you'll agree with that, sometimes you won't. So you still might need to have a little bit of a critical lens going in.

Daniel: Exactly.

Madeline: Okay.

Daniel: All right. Well, this has been just a little bonus episode. We are actively working on future seasons of the podcast, but they're not going to be coming out for a while. So stay tuned. Stay patient, stay subscribed, stay hydrated.

Madeline: All right. Headwaters is made possible with support from our nonprofit partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Daniel: You should check them out at their website. It's glacier dot org because they're our nonprofit partner. The Park's official website though nps.gov/glac.

[drum and synth beat starts to play]

Madeline: If you have a moment to leave us a review in your podcast app, we'd appreciate it. It helps a lot.

Daniel: Next time we're going to do a mailbag episode. So if you have any questions that you want the Headwaters team to answer on this podcast, just send us an email, put Headwaters in the subject line and our email address is [email protected]. We'll put it in the show notes too. Thanks for listening.

[beat fades out]

Climate and Health with Dr. Danielle Buttke

14 maj 2024 | 53 min

A conversation with Dr. Danielle Buttke, who works for the National Park Service at the intersection of human, wildlife, and environmental health. This episode was recorded in September 2023.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

Climate change in Glacier: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/nature/climate-change.htm Public health in National Parks: https://www.nps.gov/orgs/1735/index.ht

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri Sasnett: This is Headwaters, a podcast made in the verdant wonderland that is Glacier National Park. Millions of people come here each year looking for a break from the stresses of everyday life. My name is Peri, and this episode is an interview that my co-host Daniel did with Dr. Danielle Buttke, talking about the intersection of climate change and public health. They talk about how the health of our climate, environment, and communities is all intertwined. This episode is part of a series of conversations we've been having with a wide variety of climate change experts. These episodes don't have to be listened to in any order, each one stands on its own. And they all focus on a particular aspect of the way the world is being altered by the burning of fossil fuels. Over the past century and a half, human activity has released enough greenhouse gases to warm the Earth's climate over one degree Celsius, with only more warming on the way. Throughout 2023, Daniel sat down with experts to talk about how that warming is altering Glacier National Park, our lives and our futures.

[drum and synth beat starts to play]

Peri: I've always been interested in the idea that people and nature are deeply connected. Maybe you know that already, if you listened to our season on whitebark pine. Still, I don't think I was prepared to hear Dr. Buttke explain these interconnections with so much scientific rigor. I was also struck by how profoundly our health is connected to our climate. I think this interview is essential listening.

[beat concludes]

Daniel Lombardi: So thanks for talking to us. We wanted to talk to you, Dr. Buttke, about public health and climate change and how climate change is impacting human health and the health of our natural environment, and how those two things are intertwined and all tangled up together.

Danielle Buttke: I'm excited to be here today.

Daniel: So you have an impressive background, right? You have a Master's in public health. You've studied environmental sciences, and you also have a degree in veterinary medicine, the health and epidemiology of animals. Is that kind of a good summary of that?

Danielle: It is, yeah. I had a little bit of a circuitous route to where I am today. Originally wanted to study and work in environmental science and wildlife conservation, which was where my, my Ph.D. work really focused, and realized somewhat early on that animals knew how to survive just fine. It was really that humans were, were taking over the resources and had basic needs that, that needed to be met before we could ask them to conserve resources for tomorrow. And that's when I switched to public health.

Daniel: So what's your job now? Tell us about where you work and what you do.

Danielle: So I currently lead the One Health program for the National Park Service, and One Health is simply the recognition that both human health, animal health and environmental health are all completely interdependent and interlinked. And when we think about the multiplicity of health outcomes and players, when we're looking at a specific problem, we all benefit when we think about health as a more holistic construct.

Daniel: A lot of times I think your job gets really kicked into high gear when like there's a hantavirus outbreak or something in a national park. Is that right?

Danielle: It is, yeah. Because we share so much of the same biology with other species, we often share a lot of the same diseases. Diseases that pass between humans and animals -- and they can often go in either direction -- SARS-CoV-2 or COVID is a perfect example of that, you know, they're called zoonotic diseases. And that's really where I got my start and where a lot of my work is focused, on those infectious diseases that can pass between humans and animals. Hantavirus is a perfect example of one of those. And so increasingly in our work, we're finding that when the environment is healthy, when we keep those ecosystems healthy, those ecosystem processes are occurring in the way that nature intended. We have many, many fewer disease risks and many, many fewer disease spillover events.

Daniel: Interesting. So I think one thing that's maybe surprising to some people, but talking with you, it seems pretty obvious, that like one approach to studying climate change or thinking about climate change is to think about it through a lens of public health, of environmental health. Do you encounter people that find that surprising, or that's a new idea for them. That these that climate change and environmental health and human health are connected.

Danielle: It's really surprising to me to hear and see how many people have not thought about that connection. In every aspect of the way in which climate change impacts the environment, has a similar impact on human health. And yet studies have shown that few people are aware of those impacts, even if they've personally been impacted by a climate disaster or climate emergency. Because when people understand climate change as an impact to their daily lives and their personal health and their family's health, I think it really helps people to understand why it's so important they take action. And it also helps to clarify the ways in which they can personally take action in their local community, in their home and the environment around them.

Daniel: Yeah. Do you think it's helpful for us to define the difference between health and disease?

Danielle: I think that Western medicine, and my own profession, has focused heavily on disease because it's really easy to see. It's very easy to measure. We have specific tests for specific diseases, and oftentimes it's it's something that we can directly treat. Health is a really difficult thing to measure. Health is not simply the absence of disease, but an individual's ability to thrive within the environment that they exist in, whether it's a human or an animal. And it's therefore a lot easier to understand why health is more directly impacted by climate change than disease per se. Even though we do know that climate change dramatically influences the rate, the types and the severity of infectious diseases. But again, health is much broader than just disease, and therefore the impacts of climate change are much broader than just disease.

[drumbeat plays, marking a transition]

Daniel: What are some examples of climate change really impacting wildlife health and wildlife disease that you've come across in your work?

Danielle: Climate change can influence the actual reproduction of a bacterium or a virus. Under warmer temperatures, or higher or sometimes even lower amounts of precipitation, certain bacteria and viruses can replicate faster, to a higher level, or for a longer period of time. Mosquito-borne viruses are a perfect example of this. When you have a longer, warmer summer, mosquitoes can replicate much more quickly and rapidly, they're present for a longer period of time throughout the year, and those viruses within those mosquitoes can also replicate more rapidly under those warming temperatures. We're also seeing that infectious diseases are changed under climate change because of the ways in which the environment influences where those animals thrive and survive. Avian malaria in Hawaii is a perfect example of this. While neither the mosquitoes nor the the parasite that causes malaria are native to Hawaii, they have become endemic in bird populations and in mosquito populations there. Prior to the warmer temperatures we've seen under climate change, a lot of the native bird species were able to only survive and evade malaria at very high elevations on the mountains in Hawaii. With climate change, those mosquito vectors are moving up in elevation, and those native bird species that are extremely susceptible to malaria, because they didn't evolve with this non-native parasite, are dying out from malaria. And as the mosquitoes move up, there's fewer and fewer refugia, or safe places, for those birds to survive and hide from both the mosquito and the malaria parasite. And we've seen a lot of those native birds go completely extinct because of this parasite. In fact, there's a variety of studies show that there's probably only a few more years left for some of these native bird species to survive without going extinct, if we don't take action now to eradicate that non-native mosquito and that non-native parasite that's present on the island.

Daniel: Wow. So basically, in the case of Hawaii and the birds there, it's a story of climate change and a story of invasive or non-native species in that the mosquitoes and the malaria is historically wasn't there. But this is -- generally, all around the world, what's happening is as the climate warms, these mosquitoes and the diseases they carry are able to spread into new places and impact more people and new species of wildlife as well. Is that right?

Danielle: That's absolutely correct.

Daniel: So we're seeing the potential for these mosquitoes to expand their ranges. Does their range contract alongside, too? As it gets hotter and hotter, they can move to higher elevations and farther north, but then does their the southern end or the lower end of their ranges shrink at the same time? Or are they able to tolerate the heat better?

Danielle: For for many species, absolutely. There is not necessarily an expansion of range. Oftentimes, it's just a shift in the range in which these organisms can survive. However, it's not just climate change that's happening on the landscape. It's also human development of landscapes. And humans create microclimates that are oftentimes much more conducive to having these parasites, whether it's ticks, mosquitoes, pathogens themselves, survive. So, for example, here in Colorado, on the Front Range, we have a lot of irrigation because people like green lawns, they like having trees that might not otherwise be able to live on this landscape. And when we have irrigation, we know we have dramatically increased rates of mosquito-borne disease, such as West Nile virus. And so we have, by altering the landscape, changed the way in which these pathogens can survive and interact. And you have kind of a one-two double whammy of that land-use change that's expanding the range, as well as those, those changes from climate change that are expanding the season under which these pathogens can thrive. But I want to be clear it's not always a unidirectional: more disease because of climate change. If we're seeing decreases in precipitation or longer periods of time between which we have rainfall events, that can impact the survival of of ticks. And so it's not always that climate change is causing more pathogens to occur on the landscape. And maybe in some circumstances that's causing them to contract their range or be present for a shorter period of time. But at the end of the day, humans and animals evolved under very specific, discrete conditions. And when we have more rapid and more unpredictable changes in weather and conditions, this means that we are more susceptible to diseases. And diseases are more able to opportunistically take advantage of new niches.

Daniel: What I'm hearing you say is that, yes, the shift in mosquitoes and disease, the shift in range and the lengthening of the season, those are concerning. But maybe something that's understated here then is that climate change is just increasing kind of the chaos in the system, and the complexity, which makes all of this just harder to manage.

Danielle: That's a perfect way to put it.

Daniel: Well, let's talk about the pika research, then. What's happening with pika and climate change and disease?

Danielle: So pika are amazing little creatures that have evolved to fill a very specific niche at these very high elevation sites. So a big study that we have going on now is to understand how climate change may be influencing the other small mammals that are moving up to those higher-elevation sites. Because they're seeing warmer temperatures up at those higher-elevation sites, they're able to survive and interact with new populations and they're often bringing their diseases with them. And indeed, there's previous studies that have found, you know, certain species of small mammal that are known to be impacted by plague and carry fleas that can very easily and readily transmit the plague bacterium. They are now found at higher elevation sites where pika are also found. So we're really interested in looking at how those warmer temperatures may be driving new species to interact with pika, and they may be bringing the diseases that could potentially kill pika with them.

Daniel: Wow. So if someone hasn't heard of pika before, pikas are these really cute little mammals that are related to rabbits. So they're not really like mouse-like, they're much cuter than that. Size of potatoes, they love to live under the rocks high in the mountains and then like store up flowers for the winter because they don't actually hibernate. They don't sleep through the winter, right? They just hide under the rocks and eat their hay pile all winter long.

Danielle: Yeah. An adorable squeaky potato is a great way to put it.

Daniel: [laughs] So to stay warm in the winter, they hide under, you know, heavy, deep snows. And that keeps it, you know, it doesn't really get a whole lot colder than freezing point -- than 32 degrees. The snow actually insulates them from the colder air blowing around at the tops of the mountains. But then if you have changes in the amount of snow you're getting, or how warm the winters are, you might get less snow. And that could really hurt their ability to survive through the winter. So that's the general climate impact facing pika. But now you're describing something much more nuanced and complicated, and that is all these other animals, squirrels and mice and all kinds of little creatures that that have fleas, that have potentially diseases. And they're moving up the mountains because it's getting warmer up there and it's nice. And so they're interacting with the pika more, potentially sharing diseases. Am I getting that relationship right?

Danielle: Exactly. And I think it also really highlights what we talked about earlier, that interplay between health and disease. It's not just about whether or not a disease is present, it's how healthy is that population to begin with? How resilient is it to changes in its environment, in the introduction to new diseases? When you both have the loss of snowpack happening, as well as the introduction of a new disease, you're much more likely to see declines in that population because they don't have that resilience.

Daniel: So it's like, yeah, bringing some new diseases into a population of pikas isn't great, but so long -- if they're really healthy, then maybe that's not a big deal. But if they're really stressed and not very healthy because they've been freezing all winter long and really struggling, well then disease is going to hit a lot harder when it shows up.

Danielle: It's sometimes even native diseases that these populations may have evolved to handle or withstand the impacts of these diseases under normal conditions. But maybe under the land use changes that humans are causing, combined with climate change, those native diseases that they've previously evolved some sort of equilibrium or balance with are now having really detrimental impacts.

[drumbeat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: Well, let's shift a little bit and talk about some of the impacts of climate change on human health that are a little, a little different than what we've been talking about. One of the primary examples is that well, burning fossil fuels like driving a car or running a coal power plant, that produces, in addition to greenhouse gases which are warming the climate, it's also producing air pollution, which has a big impact on human health. And I'm wondering if you could kind of lay that out a little bit. How does just the use of fossil fuels, aside from causing climate change, how does that impact human health?

Danielle: I don't think we can state strongly enough the negative impact of fossil fuel combustion on human health. Because that pollution that's created, we're directly breathing it, because it's often created in the communities in which we live. It's our actions -- driving our car to work, heating our homes, transporting the food that we eat to the grocery store -- all of those things are happening in the places that we live and work, and therefore we're directly exposed to a lot of this pollution. It's estimated that the combustion of fossil fuels and the resulting air pollution is responsible for anywhere from 8 to 10 million deaths every single year. That is more than AIDS, malaria, and tuberculosis kills -- combined -- every single year. And so it's really easy to make the business case for for clean energy, for for stopping climate change, because even if we're only looking at the direct health impacts of fossil fuel combustion, we can pay for clean energy. We can pay for that transition away from fossil fuels, away from combustion engines, just from the health care savings that we see. By stopping all of those premature deaths, it's decreasing our lifespans. No matter where you live and who you are. Although obviously individuals that live in more polluted communities, which unfortunately is often disadvantaged populations, whether it's people that live in rural parts of the country, people of color, people with lower income, those people obviously you see the brunt of it to a greater extent than more privileged communities. But even people in privileged communities are dying at much faster rates because of exposure to air pollution. It can get very deep into our lungs and it can cross into our bloodstream where our blood is pumped throughout our body. And those little tiny particles of pollution get lodged in our tissues. One of the most direct impacts is when it's lodged in our brain where it can cause a stroke or it leads to dementia. We see much higher rates of dementia in communities with higher rates of pollution. Or it can be in your heart or your blood vessels and it can lead to a heart attack or other types of cardiovascular disease. And so you've certainly met someone, know someone, have personally been impacted by stroke, heart attack, cardiovascular disease. All of those diseases are much worse and much more common because of fossil fuel combustion, because of our exposure to air pollution. And that's really just the start. There's a myriad of other ways in which that burning of fossil fuels impacts our health, but those are the most obvious.

Daniel: Wow. So if someone you know has a stroke, the medical report probably isn't going to say anything about air pollution because we're just not looking into the details that carefully anytime someone has a stroke. You know, we're just trying to help them get better and recover. But in reality, the air pollution is contributing at least some amount to that likelihood of a stroke happening.

Danielle: Absolutely. It's, you know, similar to the interplay of health and disease, we focus on that end result, that stroke. We focus on that disease, but we're not thinking enough about all of those factors that caused that stroke to occur in the first place. And exposure to pollution is is a really, really important one. There was, however, recently one of the first death certificates that had climate change listed. It was in, an I believe, a young person who had died from an asthma attack. And asthma is a much more direct, much more obvious way in which climate change and the burning of fossil fuels impacts our health. But there's there's many less obvious ways and many more insidious ways than simply dying from an asthma attack.

Daniel: It's difficult to parse out how much worse their particular case of asthma is because of burning fossil fuels. But it's certainly exacerbating and worsening these breathing and lung conditions that people might already have or might not already have.

Danielle: And it's not just direct exposure to fossil fuel combustion. It's also those secondary impacts of burning fossil fuels. So under these warmer temperatures, we know that wildfire is dramatically increasing. You know, and the the particles that are released during a wildfire event are having that secondary and compounding impact on increasing rates of asthma, increasing hospital admissions, increasing stroke, increasing heart attack. So it's oftentimes multifactorial, but increasingly, those events are linked to impacts of climate change. We know that, you know, somewhat surprisingly, increased precipitation from climate change in some parts of the country are increasing pollen counts and worsening asthma and other types of air pollution, whereas in other parts of the country, such as the desert southwest, those increased droughts and increased temperatures are worsening the dust, sometimes worsening fungal pollen spores that can cause different infectious diseases such as Valley Fever and worsening the rates of asthma, the rates of of general lung disease and other impacts because of those warmer temperatures.

Daniel: So here in Glacier, what what's probably happening is we're getting longer summers, warmer summers. So there's allergy season in the summer and the season in which plants are pollinating. Like that's lengthening, too. So if you're allergic to tree pollen, like when there's just longer time periods with that pollen in the air.

Danielle: These are oftentimes synergistic, especially when you have warmer temperatures. When the body is overheated, when we have higher, hotter ambient temperatures, it's a lot harder for our body to respond to especially those cardiovascular insults. We see much higher rates of cardiovascular disease and cardiovascular attacks when you have these compound exposures. So it is, as you said earlier, it's just increased chaos.

Daniel: Yeah, increased chaos because it's one thing if your allergies are way worse because of the pollen or your asthma is way worse because of the smoke. But then you have to add on top of that, like, oh, also a heat wave and you don't have air conditioning. Like now you're suddenly really susceptible to like just a common cold, I would think is going to hit way harder when your body is run down from heat and smoke and everything.

Danielle: And we saw this with COVID. We saw that populations that were experiencing greater amounts of air pollution had much more severe rates of COVID-19 disease and death. We know that when your body is responding to pollution and responding to particulate matter, it's much more difficult to fight off infectious diseases, even things such as as seemingly benign as the common cold.

Daniel: Wow. Well, let's talk about the heat, then, because ultimately, that's what we most typically associated with climate change, is burning fossil fuels, is releasing greenhouse gases, and that's heating the planet. And heat is ultimately very dangerous.

Danielle: Most folks are often surprised to hear and learn that heat kills more people than any other severe weather event. And it isn't just direct heat exposure, just as it isn't direct fossil fuel pollution exposure that kills people. Repeated exposure to high temperatures in which your body's not able to cool itself well can cause a lot of long term health impacts. It can decrease kidney function. There's some studies suggesting it may influence the development of other chronic diseases, such as diabetes. It can have long term impacts on your cardiovascular system, and it can influence your ability to withstand those severe heat events in future years. And so it's not just simply did you survive that extreme heat event that you saw. It's what long term consequences are occurring to your body when when you have these, these heat exposure in these extreme heat events.

Daniel: There's two themes emerging in this conversation so far, Danielle. One of them is that the impacts of climate change on health are not evenly distributed. They're impacting some people more than others. Another theme that's emerging, that if it's not obvious already, is that none of these impacts are acting alone. They're all interacting together and exacerbating and influencing each other. Well, I want to ask you something more about heat. In Phoenix this summer, they had like almost the entire month of July over 110 degrees Fahrenheit. And that's incredible. Glacier National Park here in West Glacier, I think our record high temperature ever is 100 degrees Fahrenheit. So it's just it doesn't get that hot here. But I'm guessing that you can say more about how it's not necessarily the number that causes health issues. It's not the exact temperature. There's other factors, right?

Danielle: It is often unexpected heat that causes the worst health impacts and outcomes because people are neither behaviorally able to adapt -- maybe you didn't bring sun protection, maybe you didn't plan your hike so that you can take shade breaks, maybe you didn't bring enough water -- as well as physiologically adapt. When your body is gradually exposed to increasing heat, it's able to cool itself more efficiently over time, provided that it has the resources that needed it needs. So it's unexpected heat that's oftentimes the greatest killer. But what our study found was where we had the most severe health impacts and the most number of heat illness events and deaths was in the shoulder seasons. It's when people didn't expect the heat that they suffered the worst.

[drumbeat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: So far, we've talked about impacts of climate change on wildlife health and disease. And we've talked about the impacts of climate change on human health and disease. And now I was going to ask you, let's talk more about where those overlap and intersect, how human and wildlife and environmental health are really inseparable and tied together. Do you think the best examples might be like Lyme disease, hantavirus, West Nile? Should we talk about those?

Danielle: I think those are some of the the most salient examples of how human, environmental and wildlife health are interlinked. However, they're not the most powerful examples in terms of overall health benefits or overall health detriments. Lyme disease and West Nile and hantavirus are all infectious diseases that can be spread from wildlife and or insects to humans, and oftentimes vice versa. And we know that each of these diseases occurs at higher rates and spills over to humans more often when there are aspects of that environment that aren't healthy. We know, for example, West Nile virus occurs at the highest rates in the human population when there are the least number of bird species present and when there is not a very diverse community of wildlife present. It's something that's been referred to as the dilution effect, although that simplifies it quite a bit. It's much more complex than that. But it's the idea that when you have diverse wildlife populations that are present in healthy ecosystems, they essentially can dilute out that disease because they're not all susceptible to it, and therefore it can't simply amplify by passing from one animal to the next to the next. And that means that when you don't have that complete community of birds present, when you don't have that diverse assemblage of wildlife species present, you can see greater rates of some of these diseases. Lyme disease is another example of that. We know that when you have more predators present on the landscape, you have lower numbers and lower rates of transmission in the mouse populations, either because those predators are eating that mouse species that is uniquely capable of maintaining high numbers of the Lyme disease-causing bacteria, or oftentimes because those mice aren't as often to go out there and transmit disease more readily because they're afraid that a predator is watching them. And that's why when we have more natural predators present, when we have a more diverse wildlife community present on the landscape, we have lower rates of Lyme disease in those human communities and that part of of the environment. Wow. So we know that when that ecosystem is diverse and healthy, we generally have lower rates of disease transmission.

Daniel: That's really amazing. To underline that, you're saying that more biodiversity results in less disease for wildlife and people.

Danielle: For many diseases yes, that is -- and generally that is the case.

Daniel: Wow. Can we dig into each of these a little bit then? What is it about having more birds that helps with West Nile disease?

Danielle: Yeah, this is a great question and a really important example of this mechanism of of how biodiversity protects us. There are certain bird species that are really susceptible to West Nile virus, and those bird species can make a whole lot of virus in their bloodstream when they get infected. Corvids, which are things like jays and crows, are examples of birds that that make a whole lot of virus when they get infected. And that's oftentimes why they die from West Nile virus. But before they die, they can infect a lot of mosquitoes, because every single time a mosquito takes blood from that animal, they can pick up a ton of virus because it's at such high density in the blood of that bird species. Compare that to other types of songbirds that are probably more rare, probably don't like living around humans to the same extent that those corvids species do. They may get infected with West Nile virus, but they're much less likely to die from it, and they don't make as much virus when they have it or they never get it in the first place. So when you have those songbirds present that aren't very capable at transmitting West Nile virus, you essentially stop those mosquitoes from feeding on those those jays and those crows and those other species that are really good at transmitting it. And therefore, a fewer percentage of the mosquitoes in that population are going to be transmitting and carrying West Nile virus. The thing is, those species that are really good at transmitting West Nile virus are some of the most resilient to human disturbance. That's why those are the birds you see in neighborhoods, because those are some of the only ones that are tolerant of night lighting that occurs oftentimes in human developments or the noises that occur or the very, very impoverished numbers of trees and diversity of of plant species. A lot of those songbirds need more food than is present in an urban landscape, and therefore they can't live there. And so that's why having more bird species present, as we see in more diverse communities, is associated with having fewer human infections with West Nile virus.

Daniel: This is kind of blowing my mind. And so when we're talking about these diseases and the overlap between wildlife health and biodiversity and human health and human disease, the climate impact is not quite as direct as some of the other things we've talked about, but it's still a factor in that climate change is disrupting the life patterns and the existence of a bunch of these animals and changing the amount of like generalist species, like ravens versus sensitive warbler species that are being impacted by climate change, am I understanding that. Right?

Danielle: Absolutely. And I think it's probably easier to see climate impacts in these wildlife diseases and populations if instead of looking at the negative side of things, we look at the positive side of things because we know that when you have more tree canopy present in a location that's supposed to be forested, you have much greater rates of biodiversity. So more species of birds present, so less or lower rates of West Nile virus transmission occurring there. And you're more resilient against heat illness because you've got shade there, you have evapotranspiration happening from those trees. So they create cooler, more humid micro environments that help your body cool and all of those other species that are just as susceptible to heat illness oftentimes as humans are. It cleans the water. It means you're more you're less susceptible to flooding because the roots of those trees will take that water away. It regulates our environment in so many ways that it both decreases the risk of a lot of these infectious diseases, as well as protects us from severe heat, extreme weather, extreme flooding, drought, etc.. And so, you know, it's it's not just, again, about disease. It's it's really about health writ large.

Daniel: At the end of the day, those diseases are not our greatest killers. They don't have the greatest health impacts. And other infectious diseases where biodiversity can regulate or reduce the rate of disease transmission may have be more important from a number standpoint, even if the example by which biodiversity regulates disease transmission isn't as obvious.

Daniel: Are you saying that, well, hantavirus, Lyme disease, this is kind of scary, but ultimately, like from a public health perspective, asthma, and air quality, that kind of stuff is just way more impactful. Way more important.

Danielle: Exactly. Exactly. When you look at the top ten killers, not just in the United States, but globally, they're not infectious diseases. They're chronic diseases, they're cancer. They're diseases from air pollution. They're, you know, factors and health impacts that are influenced both by climate change increasingly, as well as access to nature. [drumbeat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: So you're describing the health and disease benefits of basically just having more greenspace, having more trees and grass around where you live. Right.

Danielle: Most people can probably think about the way in which being outside might make you feel better. It's not just a feeling. We know that when you are exposed to nature, even if it's in short periods of time, very small segments or what we would think of as not very natural nature, such as a dense city park or even house plants, it can have really profound physiologic impacts that last for quite a long time on us. We know that kids that are exposed to nature, if they walk through a tree lined street on their way to school, they're going to concentrate better. They have better immune function, they have better recall and memory and and better behavioral characteristics. There are studies that have found that kids that are exposed to nature on a regular basis can sometimes even eliminate the need for medication to deal with things such as attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, attention deficit disorder, simply from exposure to nature. We also know that we have significant increases in, for example, natural killer cell function and other immune markers when we are exposed to some of the phytochemicals that trees release, or simply exposed to greenspace, our immune system is better able to deal with pollution as well as infectious diseases when we're exposed to nature. We also know that there's a lot of mental health benefits, not just memory and mental function, but also decreased rates of anxiety, depression, lower rates of crime in communities that have green space present. And all of these is really has been found to be a direct measure or impact of of the presence of nature, even when we control for things such as socioeconomic conditions present in that environment, other other factors that can influence any of these outcomes. You know, regardless of of what your background is or where you live, there's a health impact of nature exposure that we can see if we're increasing the amount of nature you're exposed to.

Daniel: Wow.

Danielle: Yeah. And I think this is really important because while diseases such as West Nile virus, hantavirus, Lyme disease are important, they actually don't kill that many people. They can have a devastating impact on your life if you have some of those long term sequelae of Lyme disease infection. But in reality, the impacts of those diseases pale in comparison with a lot of the chronic diseases such as depression, such as substance abuse, such as suicide, such as cardiovascular disease and cancer, these chronic diseases that kill far more people than those infectious diseases. But those chronic diseases that can be alleviated, if not completely cured or prevented if we have more nature present in our environment and if we have access to nature. We know that people are more likely to participate in healthy behaviors when they have more nature present in their community and environment. We know that people are more likely to be connected to others and their community when they have more greenspace present. And that dramatically increases life span and lessens your risk of dying from any type of extreme event, severe weather, emergency fire or otherwise. Because people are going to check on you. You're less likely to die of diseases of despair such as alcoholism, drug use disorder, and other forms of of mental illness deaths when you have exposure to nature and a stronger, more closer knit community. And so it really influences and improves our health in a variety of ways. Those impacts are much harder to measure than diseases from infectious causes, but they're no less real. Just because we maybe can't can't measure them in the same way.

Daniel: And so oftentimes, like defining what is nature is messy or complicated, but in this case, we're like really loosely defining it, I think, right. Like it's we're talking about just having grass and trees and plants around you. That's what you mean by exposure to nature for the most part. Right?

Danielle: Yeah. And in fact, one of the first seminal studies showing this effect simply looked at whether or not hospital patients recovering from gallbladder surgery could see nature outside of their window, or if they were on a side of the hospital that looked out at other buildings. And they found much faster rates of recovery and better outcomes in those patients who had views of trees outside of their hospital window. And so there hasn't been that much work done to really quantify what types of nature have what types of impact. But the good news is the bar is pretty low. Any nature, whether it's native or not or pristine or not or large or small, is going to have some positive benefit on your mental health, on your physical health, and your community health, and your chance of living longer and healthier and happier. And studies that look at infectious disease, studies that look at chronic disease, studies that look at school performance, anxiety, the list goes on and on. And the other thing that's really important about this is a lot of these diseases are impacted by climate change, but a lot of the benefits of nature go beyond some of the things we've just talked about to, again, reducing your risk of extreme heat, reducing your exposure to air pollution. Trees are one of the best sources of of air filters, right? Trees clean our air to a greater extent than nearly any other type of technology, and trees draw down carbon. They both help us adapt to climate change as well as help to reverse or stop some of the climate warming pollution, pull it down back into the ground so that we're not still seeing the heating impact of that carbon that's in the air. So nature is is so beneficial on so many so many levels. And climate change is really compounding a lot of these diseases that we're exposed to, a lot of these health impacts that we're exposed to. But access to nature can both have a direct impact on our risk of those diseases, as well as reverse or mitigate some of our future risk by by helping us adapt to and mitigate climate change directly.

Daniel: And to be clear, you're not talking about like some special whitebark pine tree in the top of a national park. You're talking about literally any tree is improving our air quality and health while also drawing down carbon along the way.

Danielle: Yes. And this is actually a really important point because the tree that's going to have the greatest influence on your health is the one that's closest to you. But it's local nature that has the greatest health impact because you have the greatest exposure to it. It doesn't have to be large scale. It doesn't have to be as big or beautiful as you'd like it to be. Any nature is going to have a positive health benefit for you if you're exposed to it at a higher rate.

Daniel: Not everybody has the same access to a neighborhood filled with trees and streets lined with trees. Some neighborhoods have more than others.

Danielle: And this is why those health impacts of climate change fall very unequally on communities and hit those vulnerable communities with the least resources. Most significantly, because those communities are less likely to have tree canopy, you're both less likely to have the money or the housing for air conditioning or well sealed housing that can keep that wildfire smoke out, and you're less likely to have tree canopy that's going to clean up that pollution that's there or shade your house so that you're less impacted by the lack of air conditioning during a heat wave. Greenspace is one way in which we can dramatically improve the health of those vulnerable communities, because there's both the really, really beneficial health aspects of having that exposure to greenspace, as well as that really significant need to help them adapt to warmer temperatures, to more air pollution, to more diseases present, to more flooding, to more drought. Trees are going to help with all of those things, and they're beneficial whether or not you're experiencing one of those extreme weather events.

Daniel: So altogether, it's like kind of scary to really realize like how unhealthy and how negatively our environment is being impacted by climate change. But it's also kind of inspiring or exciting that like there's so many benefits to our health from fostering a healthy environment and addressing climate change. That like we have the solutions and those solutions for a lot of these is just like engaging with and encouraging more greenspace in your own neighborhood.

Danielle: And even better, if they could be a food source to you or to to local wildlife, which you know is another impact of climate change we haven't talked about is food scarcity and food insecurity, because we're having more droughts and heat waves and greater chaos. You can't grow crops very well if you don't know whether or not the rain is going to come or how hot that temperature is going to be that summer. And so having more nature present and more types of nature present is going to make you more adaptable and more resilient. And the other really important aspect of having more nature present is that it is one of the only things that the American public universally supports. It does not matter your political views, your economic background, your your ethnic background, everyone universally, over 93% of Americans support protecting more greenspace, whether it's national parks or otherwise, for the benefit and well-being of other Americans. And so it's something we can all get behind as as a climate solution, as an equity solution, as a health solution of having more greenspace present. And if we use that greenspace to to also then, you know, grow local food or have more educational opportunities for kids or have more spaces for us to connect with each other, we're going to see a myriad of other health benefits and resilience benefits against some of these climate changes in the future.

Daniel: Well, this is all been incredible. Thank you, Dr. Buttke, for taking the time to come and chat with us about this.

Danielle: Thank you for the time. But at the end of the day, the the story is is really one of hope and and nature, the health benefits of nature. The best way for you to have an impact. The best way for you to take climate action is right where you are, influencing the people that will listen to you most readily and most willingly and in the way in which you you best know how. Any action you can take is going to be beneficial, but it's going to be most beneficial if it's it's local to you and in with people that that trust and are more likely to follow in your footsteps. And again, everyone supports more nature. Everyone supports more green space. So it's a really good place to start.

Daniel: We have so much to gain by addressing climate change. I love that.

Danielle: It's important to recognize that there's extreme disparity in this country in particular, and access to greenspace and access to shade and access to parks. And it's not simply about what zip code you live in and whether or not you have money to take that vacation and travel to to a national park. It's more about the ways in which our cities were designed and developed that excluded people of color, in particular from living in certain neighborhoods and parts of certain cities because of institutional and structural racism that existed. We know that the practice of redlining prohibited people of color from owning homes in certain parts of the city that were more likely to have greenspace and parks present. And that's why today, one of the thing that predicts your likelihood of having shade or having urban tree canopy or access to green space is sadly the color of your skin. This is a an absolute health disparity in addition to just simply being wrong that we really need to to to remedy not only because it's the right thing to do, but because it has dramatic health benefits and it helps those vulnerable communities adapt to and mitigate climate change in a way that they need it most.

Daniel: So, Danielle, some of what you're describing is the benefits of green space, not just on human health and mitigating human disease, but also just improving like mental health to being in green space. And I'm also curious to see what you think about the benefits of mental health, of like taking action, doing something in your community about green space or about climate change. Like, does that have an impact on mental health or any other kind of health?

Danielle: I think oftentimes we think about it backwards. It isn't that if you have hope, you take action. It's that if you take action that brings you hope. Taking action actually dramatically improves your mental health. And oftentimes people don't know where to start or where to act. The good news is, is that anything you can do in your neighborhood is going to have the biggest impact. And any action you're taking in your local, local neighborhood or community is also more likely to have that positive impact on your health. If you're advocating for a park, if you're planting trees, if you're starting a community garden, we are going to have so much more hope when we take action and we're going to have such a greater impact when we do it through nature based solutions, because they have health benefits that extend far beyond the direct impact on climate and health benefits or impacts. We are increasingly dependent on our local communities to meet our needs, to take care of each other, to support each other through these extreme weather events and these climate impacts and action that we can take, such as improving greenspace locally, is going to make our community more prepared for these events. It's going to provide us a resource that helps mitigate and reduce the impacts of those severe events. And it's just going to make us healthier, happier and more resilient long term. So it's it's really, I think one of the best ways for us to find hope is by taking action to find those nature based solutions where you live and work, because they'll have the greatest impact and you'll see those benefits quite clearly.

[hopeful guitar and drumbeat plays]

Daniel: Yeah, that's great. We have so much to gain by taking action to address climate change from creating more greenspace. I love it.

Peri: Headwaters is funded by donations to the Glacier National Park Conservancy. As an organization dedicated to supporting the park, the Conservancy funds a lot of sustainability initiatives from solar panels on park buildings to storytelling projects like this one. The Conservancy is doing critical work to prevent the worst impacts of climate change. You can learn more about what they do and about how to get involved at Glacier.org. This show is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and me, Peri Sasnett. We get critical support from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Kristen Friesen, and so many good people with Glacier's, natural and cultural resource teams. Our music was made by the brilliant Frank Waln, and the show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in the show notes. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

[music concludes]

Climate and History with Elizabeth Villano

30 april 2024 | 54 min

A conversation with Elizabeth Villano, from the NPS Climate Change Response Program, about telling climate stories and finding hope. This episode was recorded in June of 2023.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

Climate change in Glacier: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/nature/climate-change.htm Climate change across the NPS: https://www.nps.gov/subjects/climatechange/index.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. You're listening to Headwaters, a show from Glacier National Park.

Peri Sasnett: Glacier is usually thought of as a nature park, but it's also steeped in human culture and history dating back thousands of years. My name is Peri, and this episode is an interview with climate change interpreter and park ranger Elizabeth Villano. She talks about how climate change isn't just a nature or science story, but is also a history and culture story, and about how national parks and historic sites across the country can lead that conversation. This episode is part of a series of conversations we've been having with a wide variety of climate change experts. These episodes don't have to be listened to in any order, each one stands on its own. And they all focus on a particular aspect of the way the world is being altered by the burning of fossil fuels. Over the past century and a half, human activity has released enough greenhouse gases to warm the Earth's climate over one degree Celsius, with only more warming on the way. Throughout 2023, Daniel sat down with experts to talk about how that warming is altering Glacier National Park, our lives and our futures. [drum and synth beat starts to play] This is an interview that surprised me. Each turn in the conversation went in directions I didn't expect. I've always known that climate change is a big story that connects to pretty much everything, but I'd never heard it explored this fully. If you enjoy visiting national parks, or especially if you like going to ranger programs, this conversation is for you.

[beat concludes]

Daniel Lombardi: Elizabeth, welcome to headquarters.

Elizabeth Villano: Thanks so much, Daniel. It's great to be here.

Daniel: Will you introduce yourself? Where do you work?

Elizabeth: I work for the Climate Change Response Program, which is the centralized unit within the National Park Service that does climate change communication, resilience, adaptation work for all of the National Park Service sites.

Daniel: And before that, you worked for a bunch of national park sites in the San Francisco Bay Area, right?

Elizabeth: Yeah, I worked at Alcatraz Island, the Marin Headlands, Muir Woods, and Rosie the Riveter World War Two Home Front National Historical Park.

Daniel: Okay, so you're you are a park ranger wearing the flat hat, talking to the public, talking about trees, talking about the history of World War Two, talking about all kinds of stuff.

Elizabeth: And federal prisons.

Daniel: Okay. And now you're working with all the national parks around the country, four hundred-some of them. And you're helping them incorporate climate change into what they're already doing?

Elizabeth: Yeah, I think at last count, there was 424 National Park Service sites across the country.

Daniel: Okay.

Elizabeth: And all of those interpreters have a really important job of engaging the public with their site specifically. Mm hmm. And so I am kind of in the next step up from that, where I help create training materials and actually facilitate and lead trainings that help those interpreters find their own site connection to climate change.

Daniel: Is there a park site that isn't connected to climate change?

Elizabeth: Definitely not.

Daniel: And that is exactly why I wanted to talk to you. We're having this whole series of conversations about climate change in the national parks. And I wanted to talk to you because you are talking to all these other national parks, talking about how climate change is connected to everything we do, including historical and cultural park sites. It's not just about the big nature parks like Glacier.

Elizabeth: Yeah, exactly. And in those big nature parks like Glacier, finding the unexpected connections that sometimes create the deeper meanings for visitors.

Daniel: So there for sure wasn't any like, you know, "aha" wake up moment for you on climate change. Like what underpins, you know, what's your motivation? Why do you want to tell climate stories at all?

Elizabeth: So the mission of the National Park Service is to preserve these places that we're in unimpaired for future generations. Mm hmm. And a lot of people understand when we say things like, don't feed the bears, right? That's not an unimpaired state. That is humans feeding bears. Mm hmm. They understand when we say don't throw litter on the ground. Right. Because that's not unimpaired. If we really want to stay true to our mission statement, then we absolutely have to talk about here's ways that we can reduce our carbon footprint so that these places remain unimpaired for future generations, for people to continue enjoying these beautiful places that we love and cherish so much. That's just another form of advocacy that we absolutely need to do.

Daniel: Especially in a place like Glacier that's so easy to see. And such an important point you're making is that. Climate change is impacting and changing in a negative way. Glacier National Park. And we have to acknowledge that and we have to explore it. We have to talk about it. We have to tell the climate stories of Glacier National Park and of all the other park sites as well.

Elizabeth: Mm hmm. Yeah. Even if your park site doesn't have a glacier to melt or, you know, a sea level rise that will destroy your resource, you're still a part of this larger interconnected system across the nation where if we are protecting the National Park Services resources, you're a part of that movement. So part of my work is developing training tools so that anyone across the Park Service can say, How do I talk about climate change more effectively? And then the other part of that is actually leading and facilitating trainings.

Daniel: And that's one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you, is because I know you're working on a a big resource, a big toolkit called History and Hope, which is a tool that's going to help more national parks, especially national historical parks, talk about climate change and talk about climate change in places that maybe they haven't a lot in the past. Is that right?

Elizabeth: Yeah. The full title is History and Hope: Interpreting the Roots of Our Climate Crisis and Inspiring Action.

Daniel: Okay. I'm I'm really excited to talk to you today. And I want to talk to you about how the national parks can interpret climate change into the future. Maybe a new approach to talking about climate change that's different than what we've done in the past. But let's start with you a little bit. Did you have a moment or a turning point where you started thinking about climate change a lot more or differently?

Elizabeth: Well, you know, I was thinking about if I had a wake up moment in thinking about climate change as a whole, and I realized the answer is no. It's just been a part of my consciousness since I can remember. Mm hmm. And I think that unfortunately, that's just how the trajectory of climate change, knowledge and understanding is going to go. And as you talk with people who are younger than me, especially, there's no wake up moment. It's yeah, I was born into a world that is increasingly in hospitable and is going to change in ways that we can't imagine or comprehend. Mm hmm.

Daniel: You could imagine a climate scientist 30 years ago or something, and they do some experiments or finally read some new research, and they have this wake up moment. But for people, for millennials, for Gen Z, for younger people, there's not moments like that. It's sort of you learn about it before you really understand it. And it's just climate change is kind of an ever present thing. Is that what I mean? That's how it feels for me too.

Elizabeth: Yeah, absolutely. It's just a part of how I view the world. Any time I'm in the outdoors, it's always kind of there in the back of my mind. And I think a part of my journey with the Park Service was figuring out, okay, we have this massive systemic issue and we're only really talking about it in spaces we think of as natural. But of course, this problem is so much bigger than just in natural spaces. Mm hmm. So how do we use park service sites that are more than just natural? All the cultural history embedded into them to help us think through those really challenging issues with climate change?

Daniel: Yeah. Why? Why And how do you think National Park sites, whether they're cultural or historical or natural, like why are park sites so well-suited for communicating climate change?

Elizabeth: I think first I've noticed in myself and other Park Service interpreters that we kind of hold a false binary of what's natural and what's cultural. Mm hmm. We say, like, this park is natural. There's glaciers, there's trees, there's rocks. And this park is cultural. It talks about wars and World War Two. And yeah, every park site has all of it.

Daniel: Like Glacier National Park is known as a natural park. We have grizzly bears. We have glaciers. Right. But of course, there's a lot of cultural and history here. And I imagine in the same way a site like Rosie the Riveter, you know, that's interpreting World War Two history, it's really a culture site. But of course, it is also part of the natural world and about the natural environment. So they're connected. But beyond that, there's something about like place based learning. And when you go to a place, it helps you learn about something like climate change in a different way. I think national parks as a whole are getting, you know, 300 some million visitors were really trusted and park rangers are really trusted. A. Authorities. It makes something so important like climate change, it makes it really important to talk about at such important places like National Park sites, I think. Do you agree?

Elizabeth: Yeah. And when people come to these sites, they're kind of in a different state of mind. Mm hmm. You know, they're on vacation mode. They're more open to learning, receiving information and feel really connected to the place that they're in. Mm hmm. National parks have such an immense power of place, it can kind of transport you into a different way of viewing the world. Yeah. And not just that. I think if you think about who the nation's storytellers are. Mm hmm. We're kind of the only agency or one of the only agencies that's employed to tell stories of our nation's past, as well as a trained workforce who understands how to dig into these histories and help people find their relevance with them. You'll often hear interpreters or the phrase interpretation. Mm hmm. And I used to get a lot like, What does that mean? Mm hmm. I'm not a language interpreter. I don't translate French to English, but I do interpret why this place matters to you and what helps you find your relevance to it. And so that was really the purpose of this project. And this toolkit is finding more ways we can interpret climate change so that we can say, here's a connection in this park site that maybe relates back to your own life more, that relates back to the qualities of being a person existing in a really messy world.

[drumbeat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: How did you start out talking about climate change when you were interpreting to the public? When people ask you about climate change, how how did you approach the topic with people?

Elizabeth: It was pretty dark, really.

Daniel: I think it was the same for me.

Elizabeth: I was working at Muir Woods National Monument, which is a beautiful redwood forest about an hour north of San Francisco, and the fog in and around the Bay Area is decreasing. It's decreased by about 30% since the 1950s. And the redwoods rely on the fog. Uh, so at the end of my talk, I would kind of, you know, the crescendo would be the fog is disappearing. And what is that going to mean for these trees? And I think, you know, I would just leave these really uncomfortably long pauses where I would start imagining the worst and people would start imagining the worst.

Daniel: Mm hmm.

Elizabeth: And I think the the underlying tone of what I was saying is, I'm so glad you're here now because they're not going to be here anymore. Mm hmm. And. When you're engaging with people, when you're doing programs, it's so energizing usually. And I would just leave these programs feeling so depleted and sad and depressed. And we've seen that people who are interpreting climate change, people who are doing the science of climate change, are really starting to feel depressed and worn down because we're so immersed in this topic that feels really hopeless.

Daniel: Yeah, I think you know that That's exactly how I approached interpreting and talking to the public about climate change when I first started as well. I was, you know, I'm not afraid of scary stories. I like the the doom side of things. I definitely early on focused on climate impacts. You know, climate change is causing wildfire to increase. It's causing the glaciers to melt. And here's how these animals are impacted and this is how much hotter it is. And, you know, telling kind of the the heavy impact side of the story, that was definitely the way I went at it. And I don't know that, you know, I would think that that half is important. You have to recognize that. But it definitely feels like there's something missing.

Elizabeth: Yeah. I mean, did you feel hopeful when you talked about that?

Daniel: I... I don't... I don't know that I did. I think I felt really pretty pessimistic, and I'm guessing that's how the audience felt as well.

Elizabeth: I mean, we are just such social creatures. Like if you think about when your friend is sad, like it kind of pulls you down to. Especially like as the authority figure when you were sad. Like people feel that. Yeah. The doom and gloom approach to climate change interpretation. I think it's pretty pervasive. And, you know, I think in part it's because we have a lot of science. There's no disputing really these climate impacts. And so as an interpreter, when you're looking for something to talk about, you gravitate towards these facts and you want to share them with people you feel so passionately about, the place you live in, work in play in, that you want to bring people into that with you. And I just think. You know, if you are a first time visitor to a National Park Service site and you go to a talk about glaciers melting and then you go back home and it's kind of hard to get food on your table or you're worried about making rent or, you know, you're stuck in a city. You kind of forget what it was like to be in that place. Like, what does a melting iceberg mean to you? If you like, picture your eyes and you think about climate change. The images that are going to come to mind are probably. Icebergs, melting polar bears losing their homes. Maybe like lakes that have been dried out from immense drought or wildfires. And I think as a public, as people were pretty good at understanding the natural impacts of climate change and where the conversation has just lagged for a long time, both in parks and media, is what that means for people.

Daniel: Yeah, it sounds like you're saying the national parks are this perfect venue to talk about climate change, but that most of the time we have focused on the impacts of climate change and we haven't really made the connection for, you know, someone visiting a national park, the connection between how the glaciers are melting and why that matters, or why climate change matters for that person's life at home. Like that connection isn't being made.

Elizabeth: Yeah, and that's played out in the data. Americans are really good at understanding the link between climate change and environmental issues. And then just increasingly bad about thinking about the intersectionality of it. We're great at seeing climate change as an environmental issue, but when you start to think about how climate change will impact our economy, it gets worse. If you start thinking about the intersection between climate change and health, it gets even worse. Although I think during the pandemic there was some conversation about the ways in which climate change will start to increase the risk of vector borne illnesses, increase the risk for pandemics. So maybe we've gotten a little bit better at that. But way at the bottom of that list of comprehending is climate change and social justice. The ways that climate change really increases and magnifies the risks which people are already living in today.

Daniel: Elizabeth, you're thinking about how the national parks are a perfect place to talk about climate change, but how the story and the conversation about climate change has been so negative and so impact in nature focused, then I think there was like a moment where that shifted for you. The story flipped around and you started thinking about the climate conversation in national parks in a new way.

Elizabeth: Yeah. So I went from working in Redwoods at Muir Woods National Monument to interpreting war history and homefront history at Rosie the Riveter World War Two Home Front National Historical Site. So Rosie the Riveter is not a place where people come to expecting to think about climate change. There is kind of that question among staff to like, is this really the place to be talking about climate change? This is an event that happened in the 1940s. This has not just doesn't really have any natural resources to speak of. Leave that to another park site. Hmm. But I'm Italian. I'm not good at leaving things alone. And so I started to think about how how to bring in this story here. And the way in which I decided to do it was let visitors make that connection themselves. And so I put up a whiteboard in the middle of this industrial space. Mm hmm. That said, during World War Two, the country mobilized around a common cause. What cause do you want to mobilize around now? And there is a whiteboard marker. And that was it. So people started to throw their responses up. And I collected all the data, and I tabulated and I tabulated per month. Mm hmm. And I put together word clouds where the biggest word in the middle of this word cloud was the thing most responded to. Mm hmm. And so I started to look at which responses had the most traction. And without fail, month after month, no matter what was happening in the news, it was always climate change.

Daniel: Were you surprised?

Elizabeth: I think I was hopeful. Yeah. And I felt empowered. Hmm. You know, it was that idea that I think a lot of the barriers in talking about climate change are more in my head than it is actually in people's minds. You know, they come to national parks. Seeking answers, seeking perspectives of what happened in the past, and intuitively wanting to make those connections to the present.

Daniel: So then what happened next?

Elizabeth: I came up with a ranger talk called When History Rhymes, kind of based off of that idiom that Mark Twain didn't say, but people think he did. That history doesn't repeat itself, it rhymes. So really using this idea of, okay, well, why would we even talk about history if we're not going to try to learn from it? If we are the nation's storytellers, how do we help people draw lessons from that so that we can help them draw their own conclusions and come away from these sites addressing the issues on their minds, which time and time again was climate change.

Daniel: So basically it's like, how can we take the lessons from mobilizing the history of mobilizing for World War two? What can we apply from that to today? Or what do we definitely not want to apply, But like using history as a tool to understand the present and the future. Is that right?

Elizabeth: That's exactly right. And I think World War Two is is actually a great example because a lot of people would come in, would say, oh, that was the greatest generation. That was the last time Americans were really unified. And that's true to an extent. And it also kind of leaves out the ways in which we mobilized at the expense of Japanese-American citizens who didn't need to be excluded, incarcerated. The ways in which they were. And so the way which we default to telling history tends to be pretty cherry picked. And I think that when telling history, it's really important to really encompass everything that goes into it so that when you're thinking about how to create a future, you can kind of course correct from the ways in which we maybe didn't do it well the first time.

Daniel: So there are also lessons from World War Two about what we what we don't want to do if we're going to mobilize and unify as a country. How can we improve this time, From the last time we did that.

Elizabeth: Our mobilization around World War Two was visionary in a lot of ways. Yeah, it brought women into the workforce. It brought people of color into the workforce. It brought people with disabilities into the workforce. I think it was really a time our country said what other creative talents out there exist and how can we utilize them to combat this really large threat that we're facing? This threat of fascism that we all agree is really important? And that that is truly a lesson to be learned in thinking about mobilizing around climate change is how many different pools of talent exist that we can pull from and weave in to climate actions, climate solutions.

Daniel: So there's lessons that things that we can really that can really inspire our response to climate change. And then there's also things like, Oh, we can also do better than we did before. So it's both.

Elizabeth: It also helps us get to the idea of unintended consequences. Mm hmm. Right. Because World War Two, as a person of Jewish descent, I'm not going to say that the emissions we created from World War Two were worth it. Mm hmm. Mobilizing around World War Two was crucial in facing this threat of fascism that was harming people's lives around the world. And if you look at the data emissions trends from World War Two, it's through the charts.

Daniel: Right after the greenhouse gas emissions that were emitted from tanks and industry and building ships and all of that for World War Two. Those greenhouse gas emissions contributed a lot to climate change.

Elizabeth: It was really one of the the key moments of globalization that set forth the global trade routes that today we take for granted so much the ways in which the country flipped itself to bring parts together from around the country faster.

Daniel: It really set globalization and industrialization on a new trajectory.

Elizabeth: Yeah. And then the economic prosperity after World War Two, the ways in which cash was just flushed into the system for the everyday American. Hmm. That also made it so that we were buying a lot more. We were consuming a lot more. Our carbon emissions per person really increased. We went from one car households to two car households. We started getting washing machines. These are all things that are good. But really get to this idea of progress and how progress looks so different for different people and the unintended consequences that can arise from it.

Daniel: It's super interesting to hear you make the connection from, you know, this starting point of responding and mobilizing to World War Two, and then you start seeing all these knock on effects that are very connected to climate change, but also connected to justice and inequality. And that it starts as one thing, you know, or it seems like one thing responding to World War Two. And then you see that it shifts the trajectory of history in a million ways afterward.

Elizabeth: Yeah. And I think that's the coolest thing about Park Service sites, is that every site across the country just has their fingers in almost every period of history you can. And so if you look at all of these sites across the timeline, you actually have a pretty comprehensive picture of who we've been as a society. The decisions that have been made intentionally or unintentionally, that have kind of been steering us towards this current moment of intense climate change.

Daniel: Okay, so now you're working for the Climate Change Response Program and you're talking to park rangers around the country. You've been doing workshops and stuff and you're asking, what do you want visitors to your park to take away from a program about climate change? What have you found out from that, from those conversations?

Elizabeth: The more that we bring out the history of that park site and how people were embedded into that story, the more we see ourselves in it, both in the people of the past as well as who we can become as a future people. I think rangers are searching for ways to communicate to the public that there's still hope and ways to help people find their own place in getting involved.

Daniel: Yeah, which is pretty different from the like, traditional approach which focuses on, you know, nature and animals and the impacts climate change is having on those things, like the impacts of climate change on, you know, melting glaciers. It's pretty different.

Elizabeth: I think grounding people in the realization that there is work to be done, that we are not doomed at this point. Like I actually think we're in the best time to be alive because we're not really locked into anything. We were locked into a certain amount, but it's not it's not concrete from here. There's so many different ways to make it better or worse, depending on the actions we take. And I think that when we as interpretive staff, when we help people realize what their role is in the story, help open up that space, that there are things to be done, then we've really succeeded. And I think there's different ways to do that. And the field as a whole hasn't really come up with the perfect way.

Daniel: At the end of a program on climate change, everyone wants to know, you know, what can I do? What can I do about climate change for me? And what do you say?

Elizabeth: One of the resources I really like to share is called a climate Venn diagram created by Dr. Ayana Elizabeth: Johnson, who's a really prominent marine biologist. She's a Black woman in science, and she really explores the intersection between race and climate.

Daniel: And so she has these overlapping circles of a Venn diagram describing how anyone can get involved in working on climate change.

Elizabeth: Yeah. Okay. And the questions she asks you to consider are: What do you enjoy doing?

Daniel: Mm hmm.

Elizabeth: What work needs to be done? And what are you good at? Hmm. And where the intersection of these three circles overlaps is a space for you to think about your own contribution. I think the good and the bad news about climate change is that it's so big and it's so overwhelming that it can feel almost like there's too much to do. But that also means that almost anything that you find joy in, there's a space for you in a climate solution, in a climate action.

[drumbeat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: So tell me what it's what it's been like talking to people around the country, talking to park rangers around the country about how they are doing climate change interpretation.

Elizabeth: Yeah. So I led a training recently at the Channel Islands. Mm hmm. And one of the things we talked about is trying to put ourselves in the shoes of people who are making history. Hmm. I think we, like, personally have thought about history kind of passively. A lot. Mm hmm. Where it just kind of happens.

Daniel: Where it's, like, governed by forces beyond actual people. And we forget that there are real people with names and, like, feelings involved.

Elizabeth: Yeah, exactly. Mm hmm. And so we. I did this both in my programs and with park rangers, where we came up with a list of social changes that have happened over time. Mm hmm. Things like curb cuts on sidewalks or sewage systems.

Daniel: Curb cuts being like, allowing wheelchairs to go onto sidewalks.

Elizabeth: Yeah. I didn't know this, but, you know, it's only been within the last 30 or 40 years or so that those became prevalent. If you were in a wheelchair before then, it was just hard to navigate cities.

Daniel: Curbs did not have like, slopes that you could go up.

Elizabeth: No.

Daniel: So what about the sewage systems then? What's the story behind that one?

Elizabeth: Yeah, I mean, people just used to toss their refuse out in the street. Right? It was like, kind of gross. And no one was really taking responsibility for cleaning it up. And that obviously created a lot of diseases. Mm hmm. You know, a lot of these social systems that we take for granted today, also, a lot of our rights, our voting rights, our civil rights, the fact that women can have bank accounts and credit cards, these are things that we're not just handed to us. They were fought for by people, like you said, with very real emotions against systems that seemed pretty insurmountable.

Daniel: You're describing an understanding of history that is humanizing. You know, there were people throughout history that created the world we live in today.

Elizabeth: And, you know, I imagine that if you asked an abolitionist, do you think that you can actually fight against this massive economic system that profits off of bodies for free.

Daniel: That being slavery.

Elizabeth: Yeah, I imagine that people would have felt pretty pessimistic about the outcome. Yeah, I don't think it was a guarantee at any point that they were going to win. And I think that reminding ourselves that these people and movements had feelings and doubts and insecurities and were just people trying to rise to a moment to confront a crisis that they believed was important and reimagine a world that didn't rely on the systems that they were lived in and trapped in. That's huge. And helping my thinking about climate change.

Daniel: Yeah, that's really powerful that there's lessons we can apply to climate change today.

Elizabeth: And I think that there's almost a skepticism of rangers about and historians about going into the emotions of history. Mm hmm. We think of history as kind of this set of facts that are almost emotionless. And that's how it's been taught too. Mm hmm. Devoid of the human experience. But when you start to go into that and you start to realize that history is just a bunch of people's opinions smushed together that you're thinking about, and those people weren't living in the same world as us, but experiencing the same feelings as us. Then you start to understand a lot more how to apply that into the future, how to confront the pessimism, the anxiety, the doubt, the insurmountable pity we feel of climate change. And look at times in the past where people have overcome these same feelings and persevered through them to create the world we live in now, that sometimes we take for granted.

Daniel: Yeah, it's really powerful to imagine the early days of World War Two and how daunting that must have felt, or the the fight against slavery, or the civil rights movement or the the right to vote that these were such big challenges. And climate change is a similar challenge today that as an individual, it's pretty easy for it to feel so overwhelming.

Elizabeth: Yeah, I think climate change is one of those issues that both manages to make it feel like it's your fault individually, that anything you do is causing it.

Daniel: Mm hmm.

Elizabeth: But also that there's nothing you can do to solve it. And that tension is really hard.

Daniel: Yeah.

Elizabeth: I think one of my turning points in my own interpretation of climate change came from when I was willing to let myself be more vulnerable with the public.

Daniel: Opening up a little bit.

Elizabeth: Yeah. In my programs, I would literally say to people, I'm going to take off my ranger persona now. I'm going to be me, a human who has a job and wears a badge. And I think by doing that, and giving people space to feel the very, very real emotions around climate change, that's almost a necessary foundation to seeing yourself in the solution for climate change.

Daniel: Which is a big part of what you're trying to do then, is is help park rangers interpret climate change and tell the stories of climate change in a way that. Everyone can feel like they're part of the story.

Elizabeth: Yeah, I mean climate change is a human-caused issue, and it has to have a human-caused solution. And I would say the thing that we know that sets us apart as people is our ability to learn from the past. And so this toolkit really or my approach to climate change interpretation, wants to look at a full picture of the past and really take all of the lessons and all of the humanity we can from it.

Daniel: Good and bad.

Elizabeth: Good and bad.

Daniel: I wanted to ask you about this, you know, to push back on that idea a little bit. Like climate change is so huge and difficult and like it's a tough topic on its own. So why do you want to go dragging history into it? It feels like it could make it even more difficult.

Elizabeth: It absolutely could. But climate change is not a simple story. And so when you try to simplify it and you try to just look at it through a very baseline lens, you're going to get a simple solution. And we know this is not a problem with a simple solution.

Daniel: Okay.

Elizabeth: Yeah, it's interesting. In my career as a Park Service interpreter, the two things I've really focused on are talking about climate change and then elevating these undertold stories. And I found that when I bring up these undertold stories, the things that we kind of think about as touchy.

Daniel: Mm hmm.

Elizabeth: That's when people are push back the most. You know, they're like, "why are you talking about this?"

Daniel: This sensitive topic?

Elizabeth: Right.

Daniel: Okay.

Elizabeth: But my job as a historian, as the nation's historian

Daniel: And storyteller.

Elizabeth: And storyteller, is to tell all American stories. Mm hmm. We have a Park Service initiative called, "telling all Americans' stories." And historically, over time, those stories were from a pretty small group of Americans. They were generally white, powerful, affluent men stories who absolutely had a role in shaping who this nation is. And we were giving them such an outsized amount of attention that when we pull our attentions back a little and bring in other narratives, it almost can feel like a statement, when in reality it's just broadening the picture. At MuirWoods where I worked, the story we told for decades and decades very largely revolved around three powerful, affluent men who absolutely helped save the forest. Without them, it would not have been there. But as a woman who doesn't have a lot of money to throw around and causes, I was like, "okay, so that's not my solution. I don't see myself there." And so when we started to expand the story and say who else was involved, what other characters were in this, then I started to see myself more in it. The women who helped fight for and saved Muir Woods didn't have the right to vote. So if you look at today, some of the people who are going to be most affected by climate change -- youth -- they can say, "Oh, I don't have the right to vote yet, but I can see instances in which people used a different form of social pressure to get the cause that they cared about to succeed."

Daniel: That's interesting. The story of Muir Woods, this park unit in the Bay Area. The wealthy, powerful white men that, that pushed to create and preserve those trees in that forest... That's not the whole story.

Elizabeth: Yeah. And I would say from the time the forest was protected in 1908, up until 2018, that's the only story we told. What that story left out was that for generations and time immemorial, that forest was protected and stewarded by the Indigenous people of that land, the Huimen Coast Miwok, and the first movement to actually try to mobilize around and protect their woods was this elite, upper class white women's group called the California Club, who didn't appear on a single sign. And so when we started to expand that story, to bring in the role of women, to bring in the stewardship of Indigenous people, not only did we show that there were more spaces in social movements, there were more people at play than just the well-known figureheads. Mm hmm. Not only that, but there were these really deep pools of knowledge on how to best steward the place that we all care about so much.

Daniel: Yeah. So you're bringing in these other stories, you're broadening the history of Muir Woods, but you're trying to do this across the Park Service. And it's, it's good because it's more inclusive, like you're including more people in the story. But it's also helpful because you're getting a deeper and richer understanding of who we are and what this country is.

Elizabeth: Yeah.

Daniel: And I think it also maybe helps us imagine who we can be.

Elizabeth: I completely agree with that. I think an argument I hear a lot about bringing up these touchy histories is like, "Oh, you're just focusing on the bad stuff." Hmm. But, I mean, if you think about raising a kid, if you're not talking about the bad stuff, how are they going to learn how to be a better adult? Like, it's that it's those formative lessons that teach us who we were and who we want to become. And I think the more I learn about the power of storytelling, the more I really appreciate our role in doing it. And we've actually found that when people today are listening to the same engaging story, their heart rates synchronize across time, across space, so their heartbeats will literally sync up when listening to that same engaging story, which shows that our bodies are just hardwired for this. Across time immemorial, we've used stories to dictate who we are, whether we're talking about creation myths. Or, you know, biblical narratives or the Grimm's Fairy tales.

Daniel: Or the story of World War Two.

Elizabeth: Yeah, exactly.

Daniel: It really emphasizes the importance of what we're trying to do in the National Park Service and what interpretation is trying to do.

Elizabeth: Exactly. Use that power of place to help people realize their place in a really broad story over time.

Daniel: Elizabeth, where are you seeing some really cool stories emerging from the national parks? Where are you seeing history and climate change really intersect in an interesting way? Because I know you're talking to people all around the country.

Elizabeth: Yeah. This product that I've mentioned earlier, I think at this point we've collaborated with around 40 different park sites around the country.

Daniel: This History and Hope Toolkit and program you're, you're working on.

Elizabeth: Mm hmm. I think sometimes the strongest stories are the ones that are the least expected. Mm hmm. So, for example.

Daniel: Like, everyone expects Glacier National Park to be talking about melting glaciers and climate change. That's old news, right?

Elizabeth: Exactly. Like, how does that really apply to me? Mm hmm.

Daniel: Do you have any examples of parks that are telling these cool stories about history and climate?

Elizabeth: One of my favorites is from Maggie Walker National Historic Site out in Virginia, where it's a woman who was really central to a lot of conversations around Black economic empowerment in the early 1900s.

Daniel: She was a social justice activist.

Elizabeth: Absolutely.

Daniel: Okay. So you don't really expect that to be connected to climate change.

Elizabeth: Right. And, you know, it's a story that by and of itself deserves to be told. Mm hmm. But Maggie Walker also lived through a period where her house went from candlelight to electricity, which at the surface level is like, okay, she lived through a period of technology change. Mm hmm. But then you start to think about how much society changed when she lived through it. Mm hmm. Like, her house became electric. She got a dishwasher at some point or something like that. Like these little things that we take for granted today are actually immense amounts of societal change of everyone who lived through it. Mm hmm. And when we think about the scope of the challenges today for climate change, it can feel big. You know, it's like, wow, so much needs to change. But that has happened time and time and again.

Daniel: So she's living through a really revolutionary time.

Elizabeth: Mm hmm. Yeah. I mean, if there's one trait I would call humans, it's adaptable. Hmm. Especially if there's something that can make our lives better. Mm hmm. So Maggie Walker went from candlelight to electricity? Mm hmm. She went from a horse and buggy to a car. And not just any car, but an electric car, which I didn't know was invented in the early 1900s.

Daniel: Wow.

Elizabeth: Right. So when confronted with a better option, we've taken it time and time and again. And I feel like right now we're we're nervous about the changes that need to happen. But that's just been a part of the experience of being a person over time.

Daniel: And it's cool that National Park Sites can tell that story about how we've gone through these big changes in the past.

Elizabeth: Yeah. And, you know, that's at a historic site in Virginia. But the infrastructure at Glacier has changed over time too.

Daniel: Right.

Elizabeth: It's incorporated these new technologies. So you come here thinking about, oh, the glaciers are melting. We've heard that story. Mm hmm. It's not that it's not an important story. But what if, when you're here, you can also think about the ways that society has adapted to new technologies over time?

Daniel: Right. The first park headquarters was here with, you know, logs of wood.

Elizabeth: Probably from the park.

Daniel: Yeah. And, you know, today we have solar panels on the roof. It's a big change.

Elizabeth: That's a story of the innate creativity, adaptability and just pioneering spirit of people. And I think that's something that when I look to the future, I identify those as traits we really need to embody.

Daniel: And we really need to tell stories like that in the national parks.

Elizabeth: Yeah, exactly.

Daniel: So looking at our past, looking at our history, that helps us. It helps us imagine the future and see how we've gone through these changes before. And I think it can help us think more creatively about the solutions that we're working on right now, like the solutions to climate change that we're implementing. Have you seen that play out or how have you seen that?

Elizabeth: I think that's spot on. I think that sometimes in the environmental movement it feels like there's a crisis of imagination. That we feel like we have to settle for these options that aren't really getting to the root of the problem. You know, if we put-- if we transition to solar panels everywhere, that is fantastic. And I think what that's missing also is that the same systems that have created climate change are also the same systems that have really set up and exacerbated a lot of the social inequalities that we're still very much grappling with. I think in both of these cases, there's the idea of something being deemed as "expendable." And I put that in air quotes, but I'm on a podcast, so imagine those air quotes around the word expendable. Mm hmm. Where we think about people as expendable. We absolutely as a society thought about people who were enslaved as expendable. Mm hmm. We thought about the Indigenous stewards and caretakers of this land as expendable for this idea of progress. And progress has brought us to where we are today. And it was done so with the mentality that there was okay things to sacrifice along the way. And I see that a lot of times in climate solutions as well, where we say, "okay, well, we can get some stuff out of this. You know, we can just try to reduce our emissions without looking at the people or places or land that have been viewed expendable along the way."

Daniel: Tell me about this "yes/and" approach to history.

Elizabeth: Well, the "yes/and" approach, I think, comes from improv like. "Yes... And. I like that idea -- and." Mm hmm. And I think we can "yes/and" the successes of history. And a great example of that is the creation of the National Park Service that you and I both work for. This Service that we are a part of, the National Park Service, was a revolutionary idea. That we should protect places around the country for future generations. Mm hmm. We've been called America's best idea. Mm hmm. But the "and" part of that comes from the ways in which the creation of the National Park Service disregarded the existence, the sovereignty and the intentional land management of the places that we've protected by Indigenous people.

Daniel: So you're saying the National Park Service is a pretty cool idea?

Elizabeth: Yes. America's best. So they say. Yeah.

Daniel: So yes. And we can do better as we go forward. We can do better.

Elizabeth: Yeah. And I think the way to do better now is that we have land that's been protected through this incredible idea -- and -- what are the ways that we can incorporate those deep pools of knowledge from those Indigenous people over time? These are people who have lived and sustained and stewarded landscapes for time immemorial, who have so much knowledge accumulated and built up. And there's actually there's been studies that have shown that land stewarded intentionally by Indigenous people can be more productive, more biodiverse than land that's just been left alone. Kind of reshapes our idea of what a wilderness is.

Daniel: It's kind of hard, I think, for people to imagine the world they want to see. It's easier to imagine the worst case scenario.

Elizabeth: I completely agree with that. And I think, you know, that gets back to what we were talking about earlier, where if you look at movements of the past, I think it was a huge feat of the imagination that they even fought for those big social changes. I imagine that if you were enslaved, thinking about an economic system that didn't revolve around slavery must have been mind boggling.

Daniel: It would have been a really, you know, sci-fi utopian kind of thinking to imagine a whole different world.

Elizabeth: Yeah. And almost any social change you can think of, the world that they fought for was must have just felt incomprehensible at the time. The way that sometimes I feel myself thinking about climate change now, which is when I think about a just equitable climate future, it can almost feel incomprehensible and insurmountable. Hmm. And I think that that's that's par for the course with these movements. That's a part of the process. And it's okay to let yourself feel that and recognize that we've gone through that before. We've come out on the other end.

Daniel: Yeah. That studying our our own history can be an inspiring reminder of that.

[drumbeat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: For people going to interpretive programs, what motivates them to take action on anything, I guess, but what motivates people to take action on climate change?

Elizabeth: I think the verdict is still out, but from what I've seen, the biggest discourse is kind of around, is it fear or is it hope?

Daniel: Like, should this ranger program inspire people and be hopeful so that they'll, they'll take action? Or should it scare them? And should they be worried into taking action?

Elizabeth: Yeah, exactly. You know, I think that there's merit in both. We don't want to sugarcoat the fact that the climate is changing. We are locked in to a degree of changes.

Daniel: Mm hmm. The glaciers here are melting, and the climate has already warmed quite a bit.

Elizabeth: Yeah. And I think that if you try so hard to be hopeful that you don't acknowledge any of that, then you're, you're in a false sense of hope. Mm hmm. And there's one of the biggest ideas I've seen around it is that if you're talking about hope, there's two different types of hope. There's the hope that something will happen. Someone will do something kind of that passive hope, that passive you of history we've been talking about. And then there's an active hope. The hope that if you do something, it can make an impact. And one of my favorite quotes is by an author, Rebecca Solnit, where she says, "Hope isn't just a lottery ticket that you sit on the couch clutching. It's an ax that you break down doors with." And I think that's really where I lean towards, is I want to instill in you the confidence that there's still things to be done, but that it's not just going to happen. Nothing in history has just happened. There are people pushing forces, and you're going to be involved in that, and the causes you care about, or it's just going to happen to you.

[hopeful guitar and drumbeat plays]

Daniel: I love that. Thanks so much for talking with us about all this today.

Elizabeth: Yeah. Thank you so much for having me.

[music continues to play]

Peri: Headwaters is funded by donations to the Glacier National Park Conservancy. As an organization dedicated to supporting the park, the conservancy funds a lot of sustainability initiatives, from solar panels on park buildings to storytelling projects like this one. The Conservancy is doing critical work to prevent the worst impacts of climate change. You can learn more about what they do and about how to get involved at Glacier.org. This show is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and me, Peri Sasnett. We get critical support from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Kristen Friesen, and so many good people with Glacier's natural and cultural resource teams. Our music was made by the brilliant Frank Waln, and the show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in the show notes. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Climate and the Future of Forests with Dr. Tyler Hoecker

16 april 2024 | 39 min

A conversation with Dr. Tyler Hoecker, who studies forest ecology and the changing dynamics of fire as the climate warms. This episode was recorded in August of 2023.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

Climate change in Glacier: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/nature/climate-change.htm Dr. Hoecker’s research: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0378112721009051

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri Sasnett: This is Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. My name is Peri, and I'm talking to you from the dense forests of northwest Montana. This episode is an interview that my co-host Daniel did with forest ecologist Dr. Tyler Hoecker about how wildfires exacerbated by climate change are upending our forests. This episode is part of a series of conversations we've been having with a wide variety of climate change experts. These episodes don't have to be listened to in any order, each one stands on its own. And they all focus on a particular aspect of the way the world is being altered by the burning of fossil fuels. Over the past century and a half, human activity has released enough greenhouse gases to warm the Earth's climate over one degree Celsius, with only more warming on the way. Throughout 2023, Daniel sat down with experts to talk about how that warming is altering Glacier National Park, our lives and our futures. [drum and synth beat starts to play] I find fire fascinating, so I think this conversation was one of my favorites. I feel like I've heard most of the usual stories about wildfire so many times, so I was really excited to hear about Dr. Hoecker's research on how forests are responding to climate change. It felt like a new angle. I learned a lot, and I hope you do too.

[beat concludes]

Daniel Lombardi: So, Dr. Tyler Hoecker, welcome to Headwaters.

Tyler Hoecker: Thanks so much for having me.

Daniel: It feels pretty good that we're talking today, or auspicious or bad, on like just this week the smoke really rolled into the park. We have several new fires burning right around us. It's very much fire season, so it's a good time to have this conversation. Will you introduce yourself and talk about kind of your job and the work you're doing right now?

Tyler: Sure. So I'm Tyler Hoecker. I'm a research scientist at the University of Montana in Missoula. And right now I'm doing research trying to understand how climate change is changing fire activity across the western U.S. and trying to project how fires and forests might change into the future.

Daniel: How did you get into fire stuff, like how did that become the path for you?

Tyler: I think everybody is sort of drawn to fire, in a, in a weird way, you know, fires are pretty important, has been an important like catalyst, you know, for civilization. And so I think it's sort of just a compelling thing.

Daniel: It's kind of a universal concept, that fire and flames draw your eye and like draw you in.

Tyler: Absolutely. Absolutely. It's hard to think about forests in the West without thinking about fire. I remember as an undergrad, I took a a forest ecology and policy class, and we went to a community fire meeting. And I just remember being really fascinated by the process. And it was clear to me pretty quickly that it was really important at shaping forests in the West. And so I was really interested in understanding it. And, you know, it's sort of interesting to think back on that. You know, that was 2010. And, you know, I think fire scientists probably understood what was what was unfolding in terms of fire in the West. But I don't think anybody would have been able to really predict, you know, what's happened in the last 13 years since in terms of the amount of area burned every year. And, yeah, the types of fire events that we're seeing every summer now.

Daniel: Yeah. So let's jump into some fire ecology. At one point I was hiking up Mt. Brown and it was kind of in the fall, early fall, the fireweed was blooming and like the sun was rising and kind of glowing through it. And there was the cloud layer was like fog all in the forest. And so I was walking through that and it had burned, you know, like a year before. So everything is charred and crisp and like pretty black. There's no living trees. But in that morning light, it was so beautiful. And for me it was kind of like a pivot point. This, like black backed woodpecker, flew down and landed on the tree in front of me and was feasting on beetles that like the fire-killed trees. And I was like, Oh my gosh, like fire is not ugly. The aftermath of fire can be really beautiful. And I knew intellectually that it's also ecologically important. So maybe we can start with something like that. Like why, why is fire important in a place like Glacier National Park?

Tyler: So one of the things that I like to, to maybe start by kind of acknowledging or stating is that fire, in seasonally dry places, is inevitable. I mean, it's important to think about the benefits and the risks and things like that. And it's also important to acknowledge that it's inevitable. And it's just it is. And it will always, it will always happen in seasonally dry places.

Daniel: Yeah. So like, this place gets dry. There's lots of things growing here -- trees -- it's going to burn.

Tyler: Exactly. And so that means that everything that we see when we look at forests in fire-prone places are shaped by fire. Right? And so the species that we see, that's the forest structure or kind of the age of the trees and the way that they're arranged on the landscape in a place like Glacier, that that is driven primarily by fire and the history of fire.

Daniel: The animals and the trees that have lived here for millions of years have lived here with fire for billions of years. They always have coexisted.

Tyler: Exactly. But the biggest thing is that fires create what we call, like heterogeneity. You know, the opposite of homogeneity. Heterogeneity is variation in species composition, in structure and physical structure of a vegetation. And that heterogeneity confers resilience, right? And so a forest and an ecosystem that's heterogeneous, that's diverse and variable is going to be more resilient to future disturbances, to different pressures and stresses to insects and pathogens to drought.

Daniel: So would you say, when you say that fire creates heterogeneity in an ecosystem, in Glacier National Park, it kind of sounds like you're saying fire creates complexity.

Tyler: Absolutely.

Daniel: Okay. And that creates complexity means different habitats, which means that allows for biodiversity for more kinds of life to live in one place.

Tyler: Absolutely. So biodiversity basically emerges from complexity. Right? A complex system has more niches, has more opportunities for different types of organisms, and that creates a richer system.

Daniel: Compared to, say, a cornfield or like a forest that's all just one kind of -- lodgepole pine say. You know, it's just all one tree. So only certain kinds of birds, only certain kinds of animals are going to live there. You start mixing that up, you burn it and different trees start growing, then you're getting more complexity. You're getting more biodiversity.

Tyler: Yep.

Daniel: That's cool.

Tyler: Yeah.

Daniel: Not every tree in the forest has the same adaptations to fire. Some trees are adapted where they like a little bit of fire. Others, they only grow in places that probably aren't going to burn. So maybe you could break that down a little bit. Like, what are the strategies for trees? What are your options?

Tyler: Right. So trees or plants, you know, have these, as you described them, quirks, right. These characteristics. And in, and in sort of the ecology world we call those traits, but I think makes more sense to call like a strategy. So basically your options are to avoid fire, to be a species that can either hang out for a long period in the understory and during a long fire free period, or can tolerate cool, wet sites where fire is less common and happens never or very infrequently. So those are species like subalpine fir, Engelmann spruce, western red cedar, western hemlock. Those are trees that grow in regions or in microclimates that tend not to burn very often or tend to burn very infrequently. And so there's a long fire-free interval in which they can establish and become dominant.

Daniel: So if you're familiar with the park, then like somewhere like the Fish Creek campground or the Avalanche area. These are like little pockets in the landscape where a creek goes through the middle, they get a lot of rain right there, they get a lot of snow. And so you have a lot of cedar and hemlock, these forests that are really dense and dark and mossy, you can just feel that it doesn't feel like fire comes through there very often.

Tyler: Exactly. Yeah. And so the other strategy or another strategy is to resist fire, and to survive fire as an individual. So those are species like ponderosa pine, western larch, and they have things like thick bark. They drop their lower branches, so that there aren't ladder fuels that would carry flame to the crown. They have rot-resistant wood, so that when their trunk is scarred by fire, that exposed wood doesn't rot. Hmm.

Daniel: And then there's all kinds of species that are-- there's all kinds of other strategies, too.

Tyler: Yeah. And so there's there's maybe sort of a third strategy around what we might say, fire embracing, or fire resilient.

Daniel: Fire loving.

Tyler: Yeah, fire loving. And so these are species that, like in the case of lodgepole pine, they've adapted a strategy where individuals are killed, but they have mechanisms for their genes to carry on. So older lodgepole pine tend to produce some serotinous cones, and they're, they're cones that are closed, and they're bound up by resin. And serotinous cones stay closed until they're heated by fire.

Daniel: They're waiting for fire.

Tyler: They're waiting for fire. And so this is a strategy. This is like putting all your money under the mattress and waiting for that opportunity to strike it big. Right? So the individual bearing those cones is probably dead, as are all of the individuals around it. But what you have is this environment that's perfect for lodgepole pine seedlings. It's bare mineral soil, it's high light, it's low in competition. And so they seed, you know, millions of seeds onto a, into an environment that's perfect for for their regeneration. And so then you have a new single-age cohort that recovers after the fire.

Daniel: Interesting.

Tyler: The other sort of version of being a fire-embracing, or fire-resilient, is to be able to resprout. So that things like aspen or cottonwoods or shrubs.

Daniel: That is they're not good at surviving the fire, but they'll grow back faster than every -- all the other trees. Right.

Tyler: So they survive in a way, their underground structures survive. The top is killed and they can re sprout from that underground. Those underground root structures.

Daniel: It doesn't have to regrow its roots, it's already got them.

Tyler: Yep. It's starting with a bit of a trust fund there and so can do really well.

Daniel: So there's we have all these trees in the park. We've got ponderosa pine in the North Fork, we've got cedar, we've got big dense forests of lodgepole and larch. We've got it all in Glacier. It's a pretty diverse place. So what is the fire regime or what is the history and pattern of wildfire, naturally, in Glacier National Park?

Tyler: Yeah. So, you know, one of the things that's really fun and cool about studying fire in Glacier is that high tree diversity. So you have all of these different individual species that sort of respond and coexist with fire in different ways like we talked about. And what that also means is that the fire regime across Glacier is different depending on where you are. So most of Glacier is what we would call Subalpine forest. So that's forests that are dominated by species like Engelmann Spruce subalpine fir douglas fir, larch, western white pine a little bit.

Daniel: Okay.

Tyler: So these are sort of the mid to high elevation, you know, before you get into that alpine whitebark pine zone. Those are forests that burn infrequently and at high severity. So infrequent in that context means every 150 to 300 years or so.

Daniel: Wow.

Tyler: So that's what we would call infrequent. Mm hmm. And because there's this long time period between fires, there's a long opportunity or a lot of opportunity for biomass to accumulate. And so that means that when fires do come through, they burn at high severity, they burn really hot, they kill most of the trees, they burn off the organic matter on the, on the surface of the soil. There are some places in Glacier that have a more frequent and less severe fire regime. So places like the North Fork, because they're in sort of a warm, dry microclimate and because they have species that can survive fire, that sort of creates the conditions for a more frequent fire regime, which would be burning every 5 to 50 years or maybe 5 to 100 years.

Daniel: So it could be pretty common. Yeah, every five years.

Tyler: Yeah so that's-- and then at low severity, meaning that relatively few individuals are killed in a fire. Right. So maybe some trees are killed, but most of the large mature individuals survive and maybe the small trees in the understory are killed. Hmm. It's also important to note that in a lot of places, those frequent fire regimes were supported by human burning, you know, by by cultural burning, by Indigenous people.

Daniel: Okay. So the park has some areas that historically would have burned pretty regularly, maybe sometimes even as much as every five or ten years, and burning at a fairly low severity. It's clearing out the shrubs and burning the grasses around the trees, burning some of the little trees. But most of the park is stand-replacing fires. Most of the park is not burning that often. In recent years we've had the Howe Ridge fire. We've had the the Sprague fire. What kind of fires are those? Are those the frequent fires or the infrequent ones that happen only every few hundred years?

Tyler: So those two fires together were a really cool opportunity as a scientist, because what we had there was fires that burned in forests that were historically pretty similar on either side of Lake McDonald. And those both of those fires burned almost into that Cedar-Hemlock zone, but mostly in that kind of mid-elevation subalpine forest zone. And the Sprague Fire was really kind of what we think of as typical of the historical fire regime in Glacier. So fire where those trees were in that range of 150 to 300 years old. So you had old forests, pretty big trees, relatively dense and had not experienced fire for a long time.

Daniel: So this the Sprague fire then, I remember when that started, and that's the fire that ultimately burned down Sperry Chalet. This-- this is a fire that you're saying is what we would expect in Glacier National Park, that those trees, 200, 300 years old, they're kind of right on schedule to to burn.

Tyler: Right.

Daniel: But then now things are changing. What is the relationship, if we step back for a second, between fire and climate? We know things are getting hotter. I'm sure that's changing fire here.

Tyler: Yeah. So all fire regimes are driven by three things, basically. By vegetation, climate and ignitions. So we kind of we talk about like a fire triangle defined by those three things. But which is more important or more influential varies from place to place. And so in a place like Glacier, ignitions are not particularly limiting, and vegetation is not particularly limiting. You know, if you think about the forests of Glacier, they have a lot of biomass, right? We have a lot of trees. There's plenty of fuel on the landscape. Okay. And so what tends to limit fire activity in Glacier is climate.

Daniel: Because we also have a lot of lightning strikes.

Tyler: Right. So we almost always have the vegetation ingredient. We almost always have the ignition ingredient, at least during the summer. And what determines whether we have fires and in particular what drives whether we have big fires -- big fires that burn for a long time -- that's really driven by climate.

Daniel: So to put it simply, there are always enough trees here for a good fire. It's really just, is the climate dry enough for it to happen?

Tyler: Exactly. Yeah. There's always enough vegetation on the landscape to burn. And it's whether or not the, the environment and the weather is suitable for burning.

Daniel: So now maybe tell you could tell me some more about then, what are the trends? What's been happening in recent decades? What are we kind of forecasting to see? I mean the headline we know is it's, it's getting hotter. Climate change is warming this place up. How is that affecting fire?

Tyler: Sure. So because climate is a, is a big driver of all fire regimes, and especially in places like Glacier, where climate is the main driver of the fire regime, fire activity is really sensitive to changes in climate.

Daniel: Like big picture, what are we seeing across the American west? I mean, I think we're seeing more fire, right?

Tyler: Yeah. So we're seeing we're seeing longer and hotter fire seasons. So we're seeing that fires can happen for more of the year. They can last longer and they're burning hotter and burning at higher severity, affecting more of the landscape.

Daniel: One study I've seen estimated across the broader American west, something like doubling. We've already seen a doubling of the amount of wildfire burned since the eighties.

Tyler: Yeah. And so we also know that we can see this trajectory of increasing area burned. And the other thing that's different now is that these forests are burning and then trying to recover in a climate that's very different than it was 100 years ago.

Daniel: This is really where your research comes in then.

Tyler: Right, and then seedlings are trying to reestablish in an environment that's several degrees warmer and much drier than it was when the last fire happened. So it's kind of this combination of increasing area burned and increasingly warm, dry conditions that make it more difficult for trees to reestablish after a fire. So that's part of what makes modern fire activity so different.

[drumbeat plays, marking a transition]

Daniel: So maybe we could talk then now about the Howe Ridge fire, and as an example of kind of how the regeneration is changing.

Tyler: Right. Yeah. So some useful context for the Howe Ridge fire is that it burned entirely within the footprint of the 2003 Robert Fire. You know, that was the conventional wisdom in the Northern Rockies is that places that have recently burned are unlikely to burn again for at least a few decades.

Daniel: But so then in 2018, 15 years later, it burned again, like really just the exact same spot. And that was unexpected for fire managers and scientists. Right?

Tyler: Right.

Daniel: Okay. I was watching the fire the night it really took off, burning downhill in a way you wouldn't expect. And a, a woman was watching and crying about the fire. And I was talking with her and I, I didn't really know what to say. And I was like, "well, yeah, I, I didn't think a fire could burn in a spot where it had already burned just 15 years ago." And she was like, "Well, that's climate change. I know it is." And that kind of stunned me. But I was like, I guess she's right.

Tyler: Yeah. And so I talked about how the area that was burned in the Sprague fire was really old and this forest was sort of at a stage where it was, you know, sort of ready to burn. Right. And when that fire burned through, there was all these sort of material legacies left that allowed the forest to recover rapidly. Right. So there are stands that had a lot of serotinous cones. There were big live trees all around the edge of the burned area to, to seed into that area. And when we went back into the the area that the Sprague Fire burned, it was basically like walking through wildflower meadows. It was like a sea of hollyhock, like I've never seen.

Daniel: Wow.

Tyler: And then there'll be other areas that were like a sea of fireweed. Hmm. And that's sort of like what we expect post-fire landscapes to look to look like in the Northern Rockies.

Daniel: So this is really fire being an agent of change and diversity and beauty, the kind of the way we'd expect fire to be here historically or traditionally.

Tyler: Right.

Daniel: And that's the Sprague fire. That's really interesting.

Tyler: Yeah. And so I wasn't here for it, but that's what I imagine things looked like after the 2003 Robert Fire. So the Robert Fire, or like the landscape following the Robert fire, regenerated similar to to what is happening right now after the Sprague fire. Mm hmm. And so we had these, you know, really dense stands of mostly lodgepole pine and larch. But some of the other species that we would expect, like Doug fir and spruce and fir were regenerating in that site. Mm hmm. And then 15 years later, a lot of that standing wood that was killed in 2003, a lot of those snags fell. And so you have a ton of coarse woody debris, sort of matchsticks all across Howe Ridge. So it actually creates these conditions that are really conducive to very high severity fire.

Daniel: Yeah. So basically that's lots of big trees that died in 2003, they're laying on the ground, laying on top of each other. And then all in between those, coming up, are young baby trees that are, you know, less than ten feet tall sometimes. And they're really close together. So now you've got big logs and lots of little bushy trees all mixed together really tightly.

Tyler: Yep. But if you have all these matchsticks and you're going weeks into the summer without rain, you have an opportunity to really dry out these big fuels. And you have all these fine fuels, like you said, sort of right there, intermixed with all of the dead wood. And then you get these warm, dry conditions, you get an ignition, and you get some strong winds, and that can that can burn these very young forests in a way that we haven't observed much before the last few years.

Daniel: Hmm. So then that's where things are a little bit unexpected.

Tyler: Absolutely. So we measured both of these fires two years post-fire. Okay. So the Sprague Fire we've sampled in 2019, and Howe Ridge we sampled in 2020.

Daniel: Two years after they burned.

Tyler: Yep. So kind of the key pieces of information that we were after was, the density of trees -- how many trees are there, you know, per area? And what's the composition? What species are they? Mm hmm. Because we wanted to know how the forest that was regenerating was similar or different to the forest that was there before. And so in general, what we found in the Sprague Fire was that the composition that we sampled in those first few years post-fire was pretty similar to the composition beforehand. So there was a little bit less of the spruce and fir, which you might expect because they're very fire sensitive and they're a little bit more shade tolerant. But we had basically the full suite of species that we saw before the fire, we were able to identify post-fire.

Daniel: So the Sprague Fire like, is an example of the forest regenerating kind of as you'd expect. You see most of the trees that were there, that were burned, you see most of them growing back up.

Tyler: Yeah.

Daniel: And then you're comparing that to the Sprague fire, to the Howe Ridge fire.

Tyler: Right. And so we did the same thing in the Howe Ridge fire, as I mentioned, you know, fires are are really complex and heterogeneous in terms of their severity. We went to places that burned at high severity because we were really thinking about the future, and thinking about as the climate becomes warmer, it's really these places that have burned at high severity that are going to give us the best sort of window into the future climate -- where forests are headed.

Daniel: You didn't survey randomly. You picked intentionally areas that burned really severely.

Tyler: Right. So it's not that those places characterize the whole fire or and certainly not that they characterize the whole park, but they characterize what happens in a forest when it burns twice and when it burns at high severity twice.

Daniel: So what happens?

Tyler: So now we've burned it twice. There's almost no material left on the landscape to provide these shaded microsites for seedlings. We're really far now from seed sources and any of the seed sources that might have been within that burned patch. Like serotinous lodgepole pine haven't had the opportunity to develop. Serotinous cones don't develop on lodgepole pine until about 30 years in. And so you have no serotinous cones.

Daniel: Because they weren't ready.

Tyler: They didn't have long enough to develop and mature and then even non-serotinous cones, these trees are just 15 years old, right? So they're just approaching sort of sexual maturity. So they may have some cones, but probably not very many. Uh huh. So it's kind of, you know, this combination of factors where the post-fire environment is much harsher for regeneration because we're missing this residual forest structure that acted like a canopy. And we're missing a lot of the seed sources that are, you know, essential for the forest to regenerate.

Daniel: So it's kind of like the fire burning a little bit ahead of schedule. Though that may have happened in the past, we don't know quite how often, it's definitely unusual for the past century.

Tyler: Right. So now you're really locked into this trajectory of only the most fire-adapted species can really reestablish in that type of setting. And so what we saw was, you know, the vast majority of our plots were either larch, dominated by larch, or lodgepole pine.

Daniel: So comparing them, the two survey sites, you're swimming through fields of wildflowers on one side, and then on Howe Ridge, are you just baking in the sun?

Tyler: Basically. I mean, it depends where you were, but particularly that south-facing slope of Howe Ridge that you see when you look across Lake MacDonald, you know, that's a south-facing slope. So it's particularly warm and dry. And so that area before 2003, that band along the lakeshore, that was Cedar-Hemlock forest. Hmm. And you can imagine what it's like to walk around in it, in an old-grown Cedar Hemlock forest. It's totally shaded. It's, you know, you have plants that don't even photosynthesize, there's so little sunlight. It's moist, right? Huge old trees.

Daniel: Lots of moss.

Tyler: Yeah. Moss and

Daniel: It's like the Avalanche Creek area

Tyler: It's like Avalanche Creek area. Yeah. So you go from that before 2003 to now, you have a setting where it's super dry, rocky, and it's mostly willow and some aspen, some larch, some Douglas fir seedlings coming back, but really low tree densities, particularly in that area. So I think it's just really striking that in this one particular area, we went from an old growth Cedar-Hemlock forest to a really hot, dry shrub field.

Daniel: Wow.

Tyler: In 20 years.

Daniel: Yeah. Interesting.

Tyler: So it's not that reburns are are everywhere all the time right now. But what makes them so interesting from a science perspective is that we think of them as like this window into the future. Yeah. And so that's why we want to go into those places now and start to understand what's happening. And, you know, the thing with the Cedar-Hemlock forests around Lake MacDonald is those are established centuries ago. Mm hmm. And so not only has there been modern climate change, but, you know, there were fluctuations in climate before the industrial period, and those forests established during what was called the Little Ice Age. So it was a particularly cold period at the end of the Holocene, the last kind of interglacial period.

Daniel: When the park's glaciers were really robust.

Tyler: Right. So that's when those forests established. So they establish in a climate that's really, really different from the climate today. Mm hmm. And so the thing that's cool and fascinating about trees is that they're really long-lived and they're really resilient. So trees can sort of be out of sync with their climate for a pretty long time.

Daniel: Interesting.

Tyler: Right? Because they have these big roots that can access water from a lot of different places. They create their own microclimates. Mm hmm. So the Cedar-Hemlock forests around Lake McDonald have been out of sync with climate for a while. Mm hmm. But what we're seeing is that fire is really catalyzing that change. Mm hmm. Where eventually, if the climate continued on the trajectory that it's on, even in the absence of fire, those Cedar-Hemlock forests may die during a severe drought or something like that. But fire comes through and is really the event that catalyzes that shift in in an abrupt way.

Daniel: Hmm. Can you give me some more details on that? Like what's regrowing? Grass?

Tyler: Yeah, I mean, what that looks like is, right now that landscape is is really dominated by shrubs. It's really open. And in a few decades, it may be like a more open forest that we find really pleasant and desirable. Or it may be that we just have this really prolonged period of recovery, and we may never get a forest recovering in the way that it was before.

Daniel: Hmm. So to some extent, fire re-burning more regularly, burning hotter, more often because of climate change, it's kind of simplifying the landscape a little bit. Whereas historically, traditionally, the wildfire was more of a diversifying agent on the landscape.

Tyler: I think that's a really good way to put it, yeah. And that's what's so hard to grapple with, is that like if we're able to sort of mitigate global climate change, and temperatures sort of plateau, and rates of burning plateau, it's not impossible that the historical forest types that were there can reestablish. But with all those caveats, that would still take, you know, a century to play out and it's -- a century is a long time. For people. You know, it's not so much time for trees, but it is a really long time for people. And so I think sometimes like, us, especially scientists, kind of get hung up on like, well, how permanent is this transition? Like, it's not going to be that way forever. And I think sometimes that's missing the point a little bit. Because it is that way now, and it's going to be that way for the next few decades to centuries. And that's really what matters for us. Right. And yeah, for several generations of people on the landscape.

Daniel: That's what matters for us and for anyone we're ever going to meet.

Tyler: Exactly.

[drumbeat plays, marking a transition]

Daniel: And then I guess if we're making predictions about what Glacier's going to look like 100 years from now, the safest bet is that all of these different things are going to play out in different places. Some places are going to become grassier, some -- it's going to be all of the above, I guess.

Tyler: Exactly.

Daniel: Okay.

Tyler: What that means, though, is that, you know, those are a few different pathways that are all possible and like you said, are are all likely to play out somewhere on the landscape. Mm hmm. What's less and less likely are old forests, and forests dominated by really fire-sensitive species. Mm hmm. So old subalpine, spruce-fir forests, old cedar-hemlock forests, old whitebark pine forests, those are the types of forest that we probably will see less of in Glacier in the future. Or will occupy less of the park than they do now, or than they did in the past.

Daniel: Yeah, maybe this isn't even your job to answer this, but what's the response then? What can we do to adapt to this?

Tyler: I mean, I do think that, yeah, it's not my job to say exactly what we should do. I do think it's my job to try to help to provide information about, this is what we think is happening, and these are the likely scenarios. What we should do about it really depends on what do we value? What do we find desirable, what do we find undesirable? And what are we willing to do? Mm hmm. There's a really useful framework for climate adaptation that was actually developed by the National Park Service Climate Change Response program called RAD: Resist, Accept, Direct. And it's a really useful way to think about, okay, here's where we're headed. And then it helps us to decide, okay, is that where we want to go? And then if it's not, let's think about the options. We can resist -- in Glacier, resistance means when we have a really hot, dry summer and there's a fire in the park, we're going to put sprinklers in Avalanche Creek. Mm hmm. Or we're going to do things like they did in Sequoia and wrap Mylar around precious individual trees. Yeah. Right. That's resisting.

Daniel: Doing everything we can to stop it from burning.

Tyler: Doing everything you can, right? Or or bringing in air tankers and suppressing fires right when they start. Mm hmm. And sort of saying, Yeah, fire -- we know fire is like an important ecological process in Glacier, but we're not really comfortable with the consequences, and so we're going to resist.

Daniel: Mm hmm.

Tyler: Directing might be more like, let's allow certain types of of change to play out, and let's sort of give some nudges or kicks along the way to help the system move in a direction that we find more desirable.

Daniel: Like prescribed burning, maybe.

Tyler: Like prescribed burning, or fuel treatments, or thinning out vegetation to modify fire behavior when it does happen. Mm hmm. Or in the case of like, replanting, maybe we replant with species that are more fire-adapted or more drought-tolerant than what was there before. Instead of just replacing the forest with what exactly what was there before. Right. So that was Direct. And then Acceptance is just saying here in Glacier, we're just going to let things run their course and see what happens. Mm hmm. And just be okay with what that, whatever that is.

Daniel: Yeah. And it could be, you know, in this part of Glacier, in these situations, we accept it. And in this part of Glacier, and in these circumstances, we resist or direct it.

Tyler: Exactly. And so if it looks like we're headed towards a park-like larch forest, we might say, yeah let's accept that. That sounds good. We like, we like hiking through that better than we like hiking through really dense lodgepole pine. Like, maybe that's okay. But when that means, you know, a transition to invasive cheatgrass, maybe that's not acceptable to us anymore.

Daniel: Yeah.

Tyler: I do think it's important to just like, just at least acknowledge, you know, it is hard to watch old growth Cedar Hemlock forest burn. You know, like, even if there are beautiful wildflowers that come up after. Mm hmm. It can be beautiful and fascinating and also sad.

Daniel: Yeah. And it's like, it is a natural part of this ecosystem, and yet it is also increasing in severity due to human-caused climate change. And it is like, a natural thing, and it was also like, toxically unhealthy for our lungs to live in it. [both laugh] Right. Like.

Tyler: Right.

Daniel: It's all of this.

Tyler: Yeah. I mean, I think that's where it adds a lot of complexity to the "what to do about it" as well. Because you can take a perspective that like we're just going to let things play out and be hands off. But the reality is that we are already having an influence on this system. You know, even if we're not out there harvesting trees, you know. And so pretending that we aren't influencing the system is is sort of, I think, a sort of choosing to ignore the influence that we know we're having.

Daniel: That we already have. Not to mention the 10,000 years of history of people intentionally having a lot of influence anyway. So it's like....

Tyler: Right. So I think, you know, it gets tricky and we should be careful about everything we do as, you know, like stewards of a landscape, but, like the context for stewardship is changing really rapidly, and so we might need to get more comfortable with things that we've previously found uncomfortable.

[guitar and drumbeat starts to play]

Daniel: Mmhmm. Well, Dr. Hoecker, thanks for coming in, chatting with me. This has been really, really fascinating.

Tyler: Awesome. Thank you, Headwaters team, for having me. Pleasure to be here.

[hopeful, slightly ambiguous music continues to play]

Peri: Headwaters is funded by donations to the Glacier National Park Conservancy. As an organization dedicated to supporting the park, the Conservancy funds a lot of sustainability initiatives from solar panels on park buildings to storytelling projects like this one. The Conservancy is doing critical work to prevent the worst impacts of climate change. You can learn more about what they do and about how to get involved at Glacier.org. This show is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and me, Peri Sasnett. We get critical support from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Kristen Friesen, and so many good people with Glacier's, natural and cultural resource teams. Our music was made by the brilliant Frank Waln, and the show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in the show notes. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Climate and the Cryosphere with Dr. Caitlyn Florentine

2 april 2024 | 47 min

A conversation with Dr. Caitlyn Florentine, research physical scientist with the US Geological Survey, who studies snow and ice in Glacier. This episode was recorded in May 2023.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

Overview of the park’s glaciers: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/nature/glaciersoverview.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri Sasnett: You're listening to Headwaters, a show from the icy mountains of northwest Montana about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. My name is Peri, and this episode is an interview that my co-host Daniel did with glaciologist Dr. Caitlyn Florentine—about how the U.S. Geological Survey studies the park's glaciers. This episode is part of a series of conversations we've been having with a wide variety of climate change experts. These episodes don't have to be listened to in any order. Each one stands on its own. And they all focus on a particular aspect of the way the world is being altered by the burning of fossil fuels. Over the past century and a half, human activity has released enough greenhouse gases to warm the Earth's climate over one degree Celsius, with only more warming on the way. Throughout 2023, Daniel sat down with experts to talk about how that warming is altering Glacier National Park, our lives and our futures.

[background drum and bass music builds]

Peri: Glaciers are the park's namesake. So digging into the details of the science around them feels like the heart of the park's story. I will say this is a fairly wonky and detailed conversation about glacier science. I studied geology, so I loved it. But I think no matter your background, you'll find it thought provoking.

[music concludes]

Daniel Lombardi: Dr. Caitlyn Florentine, welcome to Headwaters.

Caitlyn Florentine: Hello. Thank you for having me.

Daniel: Can you introduce yourself? What's your job? What do you do?

Caitlyn: Yeah. My name is Caitlyn Florentine, and I work as a glaciologist for the U.S. Geological Survey. I'm a research scientist.

Daniel: So what have you been up to for the past couple of days?

Caitlyn: I've been here in the park doing fieldwork on Sperry Glacier.

Daniel: So you were up up in the mountains for the past couple of days?

Caitlyn: Yes.

Daniel: That's exciting.

Caitlyn: Yes, We had excellent weather.

Daniel: Do you think of yourself as a glaciologist or you study the cryosphere? How do you describe what you do?

Caitlyn: I consider myself a cryosphere scientist, and the cryosphere is the portion of the earth that is frozen. So anything involving frozen water: land, ice, sea ice, permafrost, seasonal snow. So I'm a glaciologist, and I think of it from sort of a geophysical perspective.

Daniel: You approach the study of the cryosphere, you approach glaciology from a very quantitative way. What does that mean?

Caitlyn: Correct. We are interested in being very sort of precise with the numbers. So quantifying the amount of water that's entering and exiting the glacier system, for example. So rather than having a sort of description of the quality of what's happening, we also strive to put numbers to that so that we can start to be a bit more precise and exact in our understanding, which then enables us to connect to other studies and sort of systems of the of the earth.

Daniel: So what made you want to get into this field? How did you get started in the study of the cryosphere?

Caitlyn: I really love the mountains and to be in the mountains and there is a plethora of snow and ice in mountain environments. So I studied geology as an undergrad at Colorado College, and I was really fascinated by earth processes and I knew I wanted to study something on timescales that were relevant to humans. And so I made a choice for graduate school between volcanology and glaciology. And then my sort of recreational interests led to me choosing glaciology ultimately.

Daniel: Oh, that's super interesting. Cool. Yeah, because you could have studied a geology that, you know, spans millions or even billions of years, but you had a desire to keep it on a human scale or closer to a human scale anyway.

Caitlyn: Exactly. My colleagues who study seasonal snow, for example, are inspecting processes that are happening over the timescale of seconds or or hours or days. And it's sort of that opportunity to toggle the window of time that we're considering, I think really captivated me and drew me to the cryosphere.

Daniel: Oh, that's okay. That plus you want to go be able to go up into the mountains for work. So it's a good fit. Well, what makes your work important? Like, why does the cryosphere matter? Why do glaciers matter?

Caitlyn: The cryosphere right now is changing very quickly, relative to what we've observed in the last ten, twemty, fifty, a hundred years. And so that rate of change makes it really important that we not only document the changes that are occurring and understand the sort of pace of that change relative to the historical context, but also that we understand how these systems are working. Because with the rapid change of the cryosphere, so changes to seasonal snow and changes to glaciers, there are consequences downstream. So one sort of motivating example of why glaciers are important is the meltwater that glaciers provide. So a glacier sitting on the landscape will have some discharge of meltwater during the late summer months, at least in this part of the world. And that delivery of meltwater during a time of year that would otherwise be quite dry can be really critical for the aquatic habitats and for sort of broader water resources.

Daniel: I'm hearing you say kind of two things in particular there. One of them is that studying the cryosphere is important because it's changing and it's an indicator of change. So it's helpful in understanding how the world is changing. But you're also saying glaciers and the cryosphere is made of water, and water is important to people and wildlife and everything. They're valuable for that reason. Is that right?

Caitlyn: Yes, exactly.

Daniel: So I don't know if you know this, Caitlyn, but historians think that maybe one of the first euro-Americans to document a glacier here was this military guy John Van Austell, in the 1870s. But the complication is that he didn't realize he was looking at a glacier when he was. And so it wasn't until like ten years later, he came back to the same area inside what is now the park with a geologist. And they're like, oh, that's a glacier. And so then this area starts to be known as a place with glaciers. Of course, the Native Americans, the Kootenai people, the Blackfeet people, they had words describing the ice of this place. They they knew this place was full of snow and glaciers and ice for a long time before that. All of this is kind of me building up to ask you, you know, like some people might be surprised that glaciers are kind of hard to spot, surprisingly. What do you think? I mean, is that does that feel right?

Caitlyn: Yeah. So a glacier as it's now defined, it gets trickier when the ice masses get smaller. So if you're in a landscape where, there's, you're looking down a valley, and particularly at a time of year when the seasonal snow is absent. And so you're just looking at bare rock and bare ice, it will probably be quite evident what is a glacier versus what is not. Also, if you're looking at a glacier that has a lot of evidence of motion. So if you're looking at the terminus of a tidewater glacier and there are giant chunks of ice calving off into the ocean, then the sort of, all of the criteria for defining a glacier—ice that moves—is really in your face and really evident. In a landscape like Glacier National Park, the glaciers are much smaller and you have to hike a lot further into the mountains to observe them. And this has been true for the last last several centuries, if not last many thousands of years. This landscape did have big valley filling glaciers, but that was up to tens of thousands of years ago, maybe 12,000 years ago.

Daniel: So to put that another way, if you go to Alaska or if you came to this area 12,000 years ago, you're going to notice some glaciers, like they're pretty obvious because they're huge chunks of jagged moving ice. But these days in this place, glaciers are covered by seasonal snow. They're covered in rocks. They're they're smaller. It's a more complicated thing to discern. So it's not surprising that visitors today, when they come to the park or scientists a century ago maybe weren't sure at first when they were looking at a glacier.

Caitlyn: Precisely.

Daniel: Well, let's get a definition out of the way, then. Really simply what what is a glacier?

Caitlyn: A glacier is a body of ice that moves.

Daniel: Okay, simple enough.

Caitlyn: And when we talk about glaciers as moving bodies of ice, it's important to understand that, like most of us interact with ice when it's stagnant and it isn't under sufficient stress to deform and flow. But ice is actually a vicious material. So a comparable material would be honey or ketchup. So glacier ice will deform when it's under pressure. So same is how you have to hit a ketchup bottle to get the ketchup to come out of the bottle. So we sort of have two components of glacier motion. One is the ice deformation, the sort of vicious, fluid motion that I just described. And then one is the the sliding of the ice over its bed. When water gets to the bottom of a glacier, it can sort of pop the ice off its bed. And that decoupling and reduction of friction causes the glacier to move.

Daniel: Interesting. One of the things I'm taking away from what you're saying is that nature and glaciers, they don't really fit in a box. We say like this is a glacier, but in reality it's kind of a continuum or a spectrum of of movement of ice and water and rocks. Right?

Caitlyn: Precisely. And that's where science can be helpful for clarifying this complexity and ambiguity that would otherwise be difficult to navigate or interact with. So when we assign a scientific definition for what is a glacier, then we can start to categorize nature and put a more precise understanding to how much water is frozen in the landscape, for example.

Daniel: Mm hmm. All right. Well, can you give me some more basic facts about the park's glaciers? How old are they? When, when did they form?

Caitlyn: Yeah, that's an interesting question. And I think it's important when we ponder that question to understand that because the glacier is moving, it's sort of cycling ice through itself.

Daniel: Hmm.

Caitlyn: Every every year at all times.

Daniel: So because a glacier is moving ice and it's ice that's, you know, cycling through, any piece of individual ice is going to be less old than the footprint or the existence of a glacier in that area.

Caitlyn: Exactly.

Daniel: Okay. Interesting. And so let's describe that process now. I guess simply glaciers, you say, are a mass of ice that's moving. How that happens is you get a lot of snow in the winter. It compresses into ice and then it flows under its weight and melts out the other end. So it's this like conveyor belt of moving ice. How do you define or how do you describe that process, like the glacier anatomy 101.

Caitlyn: Yeah. So traditionally and sort of in our most well behaved, textbook understanding of a glacier, we have this body of ice that stretches from some high elevation zone to a lower elevation zone. And the high elevation zone typically can be described as the accumulation zone. So there's actively mass accumulating every year in that zone. So there's more snow that accumulates, then melts in the accumulation zone at high cold elevations. And so you have this conveyor belt motion and the snow that's accumulating, up high is compressing and eventually densifying into ice, which then is flowing towards the ablation zone.

Daniel: Okay, so basically it's colder up higher and it's warmer, down lower. So the higher zones, you get a lot more snow, it compresses into ice and then the glacier flows and if it's growing, it's going to keep flowing until it reaches a place that's warm enough that it melts.

Caitlyn: Precisely.

Daniel: And that's happening kind of on a seasonal basis, but it's also happening on a really much larger timescale, too.

Caitlyn: Yeah. However long it takes, those particles that are deposited in the high accumulation zone. The sort of timescale of their residence time, if you will, within the glacier will be defined by how fast the glacier is moving. So there are places on the Greenland ice sheet where it takes thousands of years for a snowflake that falls at the top of the ice sheet to make its way all the way to the margin and melt out. The glaciers here in Glacier National Park are much smaller, so the residence times would be much shorter.

Daniel: Like, it might take a snowflake that lands at the top of Sperry Glacier a few decades to reach the melt zone or the ablation zone?

Caitlyn: Precisely. And we have evidence of materials, you know, materials from the human system being deposited up high on Sperry Glacier, for example, and then melting out several decades later. So that's an indicator of the residence time.

Daniel: Yeah. So the evidence we have on Sperry Glacier for that residence time, was there a a ski? That like, got lost up on Upper Sperry Glacier and then eventually melted out?

Caitlyn: Yes.

Daniel: Okay. So do we know like, oh, this ski is from the seventies or something?

Caitlyn: Precisely.

Daniel: So you can say, okay, it takes a few decades for the for a snowflake or a ski to move through the glacier.

Caitlyn: Yes.

Daniel: Interesting. Now, we should explain that moraines are—all the little crumbs of the mountain that the glacier is like scraping off, they pile up around the edge of the glacier, and that's called a moraine. So there's. Yeah. Do you have a good way to explain what a moraine is?

Caitlyn: Yeah. So a moraine is a hill of poorly-sorted rock that's deposited on the edge of a glacier. So it's sort of a sharply crusted hill that hugs the edge of the glacier. And so it will form as those crumbs of rock and sediment are deposited along the margin of the glacier. When the glacier occupies the same position for a long period of time. However, when the glacier starts to retreat, that moraine will persist, so it acts as evidence and demarcating the stamp that of land that the ice occupied for some long period of time.

Daniel: So that's helpful. If you're a scientist without a whole lot of fancy technology a century ago, you can just like hike around in the park and you can see a glacier, but then you can see like, Oh, there's a moraine, and I can see where the glacier used to be because the dirt pile or the moraine surrounding it is far away from the ice now. So I can tell that the glacier is retreating away from where it used to be.

Caitlyn: Exactly.

Daniel: Interesting. Yeah. So there's all these clues of what the glaciers have done in the past using those clues. Do we know how? How old are the park's glaciers?

Caitlyn: Interesting question. There's been a sort of waxing and waning of glaciers in their present configuration. Now, 12,000 years ago, we have evidence, we know that this entire mountain range was encased in ice when we go further back in time. But the sort of predominant thinking and understanding, piecing together other geologic evidence is that these mountains were relatively ice free, roughly 7,000, 6,500 years ago. And then the the present modern glaciers sort of formed and have persisted. So it's it's an interesting, like the question of how old are the glaciers is actually sort of more interesting than one might think because it's not just a stagnant patch of ice sitting on the landscape. It's dynamic and it's interacting with the climate system and then it's physically flowing.

Daniel: That's super interesting. And I think that's like my take away from this whole conversation and is that these questions that seem simple, like what is a glacier? How old are the glaciers? They seem simple, but they actually have a lot of layers. And the more you dig in to it, the more complicated it gets.

Caitlyn: There are physical constraints over how fast a landscape can evolve, and that's what makes the current moment in time that we're living in right now so sort of fascinating. And what really underscores Earth science in general is we can't always look to the past for analogs of how the Earth's system responds to the sort of radiative forcing, or the mismatch between how much heat we're keeping in the Earth's system versus how much is being radiate, like vented back into space.

Daniel: Okay, I really like that because in climate change thinking and sciences, there's a lot of understanding that because we're changing the climate so fast, we can't necessarily look at the past and how the climate has changed in the past to understand how it's going to change in the future. And yet, because we can't see into the future, but we have some tools to see into the past, we end up kind of relying on inevitably and maybe over relying on evidence from the past to make guesses about the future. One thing I know that glaciologists or scientists, geologists were doing here in Glacier National Park a century ago is they're they're taking the cutting edge technology that they had a camera and they're going out near and on the glaciers and they're taking pictures. How does that come back up today? Like, what is the these historic photos? What does that allow for today?

Caitlyn: So if you have a camera today and go back to the exact same location, you can take the same picture. And the only thing that has changed is whatever's changed on the landscape. And so that repeat photography exercise provides a really objective qualitative documentation of how the landscape has changed.

Daniel: And so that was kind of a sub-project that your team at the U.S. Geological Survey started doing in the nineties as a way, Oh, let's collect up these historic photos that scientists took a century ago, and let's take the same pictures from the same vantage point. Let's take it again. We can even try and take it on the same day or about the same time of year time a month and see how how things have changed. So it's it's a very intuitive kind of science. Just what did it look like 100 years ago with a photo? And what does it look like today?

Caitlyn: Exactly. So it provides the starting point for understanding the character of landscape change. And then with our modern techniques, we can start to dig into, you know, addressing questions of what exactly is driving that change? What does that change say about what's going to happen in the future?

Daniel: The repeat photos are cool because they I mean, they answer the most very basic question: are things changing? But it's it's very qualitative. As you say, it's it's not super measurable. We can see that oh, yes, Sperry Glacier is a lot smaller now, but it's hard to measure that. Which shifts us then to the science and the approach to studying the cryosphere that your team has had for the past couple of decades. Where repeat photography is a nice communication tool and a good, you know, starting point to understand the the quality of the change. But now you're bringing Newtonian physics and really measurable science to the glaciers.

Caitlyn: Yeah, and I would say the repeat photography project is a precise scientific exercise. So it is providing a very objective, repeatable, you know, it's reproducible. And it's not, there's no sort of manipulation or prerogative or agenda that's influencing the outcome of that photograph. So it still is applying the scientific method of the objective to capture the same image from the same exact location.

Daniel: Yeah, that's important to remember that the repeat photos aren't just, you know, 100 years ago and today there's actually a lot of intervals in there. And we can repeat photos now that were taken in the eighties or the nineties. And so I think that's important. What you say about, it is a very scientific approach, but it's also a very powerful communication tool to see how things change.

[brief drum & bass music interlude]

Daniel: So you mentioned this at the start, but the past few days you've been up in the park, you've been in the mountains, you've been at Sperry Glacier. So you're still venturing into the field, just like the scientists and the glaciologists a century ago. But it's a little different. Let's talk about about your past few days. What were you trying to do up there and what was it like?

Caitlyn: Yeah. So this week we approached Sperry Glacier to measure the winter mass balance. So we visit Sperry Glacier twice a year: in the fall, and in the spring. And in the fall, we're measuring how much ice the glacier has lost during the mount season. And in the spring, we're measuring how much snow has accumulated on the glacier during the winter season. And so these two measurements give us an understanding of the mass balance, or the mass budget of the glacier. So mass balance is basically the checking account for water mass on the glacier every year. And here in Glacier National Park, we started taking these measurements in 2005 on Sperry Glacier. However, the U.S. Geological Survey has been conducting this mass balance research on glaciers in North America since as early as the 1950s. So the mass balance measurements involve installing stakes on the glacier surface, were measuring snow depth and also snow density. So we're measuring how deep the snow is, and then we're measuring the the mass of the snow. And this year, we've seen a very precipitous decline of the seasonal snowpack. And so we were measuring snow densities that were quite high for this time of year. So usually spring snow densities are maybe 500, 550 grams per cubic centimeter. In the wintertime, lighter, fluffier snow. I mean, at Bridger Bowl, the sort of coldsmoke, as it's referred to, is about 10% water mass. And in a more typical winter snow pack around here, in the sort of wetter climate of Glacier National Park is maybe 30, 40% water mass. And so we were in the springtime, it's maybe 50% water mass. And this week, on Monday, we were measuring 60%. So that's quite dense. And we also were measuring snow depths that were quite shallow relative to what we've measured in the past 18 years. So it was pretty bony. The snow cover is thin,.

Daniel: Pretty bony.

Caitlyn: Probably about a month ahead in the melt season relative to sort of the typical progression.

Daniel: Let me go back to the start of this. So this has been going on since 2005 here on Sperry Glacier, but it's been going on a lot longer around the country and around the world. And when you actually go to do it, it sounds like it gets pretty complicated, but the concepts kind of simple. Basically, you're going up and you're measuring the glacier. How thick is it? How dense is it in the spring and in the fall? And then you can if you do that over time, you can see how the mass of the glacier is changing from winter to summer and over time.

Caitlyn: And it's even simpler than that because we're just measuring the surface. So we're just measuring how much mass is added and how much is subtracted. So we don't actually measure how thick and dense the glacier writ large is. We're just sampling how much mass is entering and exiting the system. So we have these little dip sticks, basically point measurements at stakes around the glacier, and that gives us the starting point for understanding that seasonal rhythm. And then we take those measurements back to the office and we then extrapolate from those points to get a glacier-wide balance. We then calibrate those measurements against measurements from space in order to account for the fact that we're not going to install stakes where there are locations that we can't access on foot. So we're not going to install them in crevasse zones, we're not going to install them at the base of avalanche paths. And so knowing that we have this bias, this sort of systematic bias that we need to correct, we calibrate against different representations of the surface mass balance. So these stake measurements, though, that I'm describing that we just collected this week for field measurements are very powerful because they provide direct measurements of the seasonal rhythm of mass accumulation and ablation.

Daniel: So some years I suppose you're seeing the glacier grow, right?

Caitlyn: So this will be the 18th year of glacial logical measurements on Sperry Glacier. And I think there's only been one year that we've seen a positive balance. And so overall, Sperry has lost more mass than it has gained in the past 18 years.

Daniel: Interesting. So you're taking these measurements of Sperry Glacier and you can see, you can graph it then and you can see it like, oh, it held kind of steady this year. Oh, it dipped a little Oh, it maybe went up a little. But overall, you're watching it trend downward.

Caitlyn: Yes.

Daniel: Now, that seems like a great system, but it also seems like a lot of physical work. You have to get up to the glacier. You have to drill these holes. You have to put in all these stakes and everything. So you're this is really only happening at Sperry Glacier. It's happening a lot of places around the world and around the country. But here in the park, you're only doing it at one glacier. And I'm guessing that that's just because because it's a lot of work.

Caitlyn: Yes, it is logistically demanding. And for that reason, continuous records like this are very rare on our planet. So of the 200,000 glaciers on Earth, only one in every 10,000 has a continuous decades long mass balance record. So it really requires a commitment to repeat these measurements in a systematic way such that there is a cohesive, uninterrupted record. Which is really powerful scientifically, because then it allows us to understand those that seasonal rhythm.

Daniel: Right, because we have repeat photos. The repeat photos can tell us, Oh, look, the glacier got smaller over the past 50 years or 100 years, but it doesn't really tell us what happened in between and these measurements. You're doing the mass balance measurements. They tell you what happened in between.

Caitlyn: Exactly. And they help us to understand how the glacier responds to years where there may have been a big melt season. So a very hot, dry summer. But if there was also a big snow season preceding that, then the glacier may actually be in balance for the year or close to balance, whereas there could be years where the summer melts And sort of the lived experience of being in these mountains in the summer isn't that noteworthy. And then when we look at the cumulative record, we can start to really sort of understand the precise connection between the glacier and the ambient climate.

Daniel: So this is a fairly simple concept. You're measuring the the snow in the spring and measuring how much it melts in the fall. In my head, one of the big changes, one of the big shifts in glaciology happens with airplanes and aerial photography. Can you explain what changes? What does that allow for?

Caitlyn: When you can view the glaciers and the mountains from an aerial perspective, you gain an understanding of how the glaciers are changing across the region.

Daniel: It's too much work to go hike up to every glacier and measure how its mass balance is changing. But once you start being able to take pictures from the air, you don't know how how the mass is changing, but you could start measuring how the area of the glaciers are changing. So in my head, tell me if this is right, aerial photography or even from satellites, I guess—that's a big shift in the study of the cryosphere.

Caitlyn: Yeah, and I'd say it's true not just for the cryosphere, but for Earth sciences in general. Our ability to view our planet from a distance. We have a time series of glacier area at various snapshots starting in 1966, and that was generated by tracing the area of the glacier from aerial images. So pictures taken from airplanes provide that baseline imagery that we can then use to trace the extent of the glaciers. And then if we have aerial or satellite imagery from the modern era, we can do the same thing and then we can quantify the area change.

Daniel: The disadvantage is you don't know how much snow is falling on the glacier in the spring and you don't know how much is melting in the fall. But the advantage is you can look at all of the glaciers in the park at once. You can take pictures of them all. So that that's a huge advantage. So I guess the basis for glacier science in this area, as I understand it, is these aerial images. You have pictures of the glaciers from above. And then that coupled with the mass balance measurements that's just happening at Sperry Glacier, but happening over eighteen years. So those two things together, you start to get a pretty good picture of how things are changing.

Caitlyn: Definitely.

Daniel: And I guess the change that we're seeing is you have these pictures from 1966, and the area is getting smaller and all the glaciers. So that doesn't tell us if they're getting thinner necessarily or thicker or whatever. But it it does tell us that the area is getting smaller. So that's by area. We're talking about a measurement squared. So like square acres or square kilometers, right?

Caitlyn: Yes.

Daniel: So another thing I want to ask you about then, aerial images, that, that starts to unlock a new way of understanding the cryosphere on earth. But with satellites, it also starts unlocking, studying the cryosphere on other planets. So as a fun piece of trivia, like other planets have glaciers, right?

Caitlyn: Yes, Other planets have ice. And it's something that is definitely a point of interest, especially for the search for life on other planets.

Daniel: Oh of course

Caitlyn: There's sort of this tagline, follow the water.

Daniel: Yeah. Which is super interesting and interesting that glaciers on earth are made of rocks and water, but in other places in the solar system, they could be made of, I don't know, nitrogen or carbon dioxide.

Caitlyn: Well, and another factor to consider is like a glacier on Mars will have different dimensions than a glacier on earth because the gravitational force on Mars is different.

Daniel: I mean, the fundamental principles are still the same. But some of the numbers are going to shift because you have different gravity and. Interesting.

Caitlyn: Exactly.

Daniel: Okay. So all of that to me reinforces the importance of of approaching the science in a really quantitative way, having like, ways to really measure the glaciers.

Caitlyn: Exactly.

Daniel: Your research is on the cutting edge of those quantitative methods.

Caitlyn: Yes. So as we've described, we have this glacialogical approach. Which is very logistically demanding and time consuming, but it provides us the advantage of having seasonal information0ù so precise, a precise understanding of winter accumulation and summer ablation. But it's for one single glacier within the mountain range. And then we have the advantage of aerial photography and aerial imagery which provides information about the aerial extent of the glacier for the entire mountain range. And so photogrammetry is a technique that sort of marries the advantage of both approaches. And so photogrammetry is basically leveraging the same sort of phenomena that happens with our eyeballs, where there are two images that are offset. And if there are offset and overlapping, we can use that two dimensional information from the aerial image to sort of recreate the third dimension. And then if we repeat that exercise, say, with aerial imagery from the 1960s and satellite imagery from 2023, we have elevation information from both those years and we can difference the elevations to calculate the vertical change. And then we have a measurement of mass change across the landscape using photogrammetry. And we can compare that to our glacialogical measurements that give us the really fine tune seasonal information.

Daniel: This is kind of blowing my mind. So so basically, by taking two offset pictures of the glaciers from the air, you can use math, geometry I guess, to make a lot of different calculations about the shape, the three dimensional shape of the glaciers.

Caitlyn: Precisely.

Daniel: That's incredible. It sounds difficult to calculate.

Caitlyn: It involves specialized expertise, and actually the technology that, and the sort of workflows that the USGS Glacier Group leverages were originally developed for NASA's missions, for the Apollo missions. So for surveying the surface of the moon.

Daniel: There's all kinds of ways that studying the glaciers is being approached. We've hinted that mostly what you're observing is that glaciers are getting smaller. But let's let's talk about that. So is that true? All the lines of evidence point towards the glaciers are shrinking.

Caitlyn: Yes.

Daniel: Hmm.

Caitlyn: It's important, though, to understand that there can also be situations. Not so much for the glaciers here in Glacier National Park, but glaciers elsewhere where the dynamics aren't necessarily so sort of the flow of the ice isn't always directly coupled to what's happening with weather and snow accumulation and ice melt in any given year.

Daniel: The simple equation is like, well, it's hot in the summer so the glacier melts. If it's not super snowy in the winter, then the summer is stronger than the winter and the glacier gets smaller. But what you're saying is, yeah, that's that's generally very true. But there's there's some real nuances happening on specific glaciers that have more to do with water under the glacier, how steep is the glacier? One I've heard about is wind, right, and drifting. That's a big thing here in Glacier National Park, right?

Caitlyn: Exactly. And so one of those local processes that you just described is the wind drifting and wind scour of snow. Snow, snow, avalanche accumulation is another example. The shading of the surface from the topographic relief.

Daniel: It's not just how much snow falls in the winter. It's also like how much snow falls and then blows onto the glacier.

Caitlyn: Exactly. That redistribution of snow is a big important process for controlling the spatial variability of snow accumulation. And and so it becomes a relatively major influence on the mass balance of these small glaciers.

Daniel: Do you know off the top of your head, kind of the ballpark numbers that we're talking about, how much snow falls in the mountains of glacier versus how much drifts on top of Sperry Glacier?

Caitlyn: That's an open question. We have some ongoing studies that have quantified those different processes, like sort of the direct accumulation versus the relative accumulation, according to, or driven by wind drifts.

Daniel: Is it something like, you know, a high elevation forest in Glacier National Park is going to get a a couple of meters of snow over the winter. But the top of Sperry Glacier, where the wind's blowing, it's going to get like dozens of meters of snow, is that?

Caitlyn: One way I like to think about this topic is there is a glacier there for a reason. So, yeah, it's been favoring snow accumulation and the persistence of that frozen water mass. And that's how the ice forms to begin with. So generally, the, the location of the glaciers particularly now in a time when I mean, this the mountain range here in Glacier National Park is sparsely glacier ice to begin with. And when I say to begin with, I mean, like since 200 years ago.

Daniel: Mm hmm.

Caitlyn: And then with climate warming and conditions trending towards a climate that's less and less favorable to maintaining glacier ice on the landscape, those local processes become increasingly influential in terms of the persistence of ice.

Daniel: One thing that people think a lot about the park's glaciers is like, Oh, they're getting smaller. So as they get smaller, they're going to melt faster and faster. Like that's intuitive. Like, we think that's common sense. But your research has found that's not really quite true, that as they get smaller, they also become more shaded, they become more sheltered and they become relatively more snowdrift, you know—and wind blown snow lands on more of the glacier. So they're almost becoming more resilient as they get smaller.

Caitlyn: Yes. This question of relative vulnerability is really interesting and we're really keen to address that very question of do we see enhanced ice loss through time as the summers get warmer and warmer, or do we see more resilience as the glaciers are relegated to these shady wind-loaded spots? And what we're finding is that that resilience and that sort of niche like refugial setting has a buffering capacity that only can go so far.

Daniel: Mmhmm.

Caitlyn: So then if we once the glaciers experience sufficient melt, it just can't keep up even with that refugial setting.

Daniel: Okay, it helps the glaciers to be shaded and snow drifted and and tucked into their little cirques. But at a certain point, if the climate gets hot enough, it doesn't matter.

Caitlyn: Exactly.

Daniel: But it does seem like it would make predicting when the glaciers are going to be gone, quote, unquote. You know, that that starts to become pretty tricky when you start realizing that it's not just a uniform rate of retreat.

Caitlyn: Exactly. And that I mean, that hits the nail on the head. It's really important to understand how much ice is there to begin with, not just in the footprint, but also in the thickness. Like we do our best to represent these spatially variable processes and models, but having direct measurements of how much where actually—how much snow is actually accumulating at a location really helps us to at least start to constrain that margin of uncertainty.

Daniel: Right. Right. So we we know through a lot of lines of evidence that all of the glaciers are generally retreating and getting smaller. But saying or predicting when they'll be gone is pretty hard to calculate precisely at this point. And it also kind of depends on how you define gone and a whole bunch of other things.

Caitlyn: That's where some of these details really start to start to matter. But every sort of scientifically sophisticated, well constrained, physically informed model of the progression of glacier ice in Glacier National Park portends the continued demise of this frozen water.

Daniel: Well, to wrap up, you were just up at Sperry Glacier. What was it like up there after a winter in the office?

Caitlyn: The snowpack at Sperry Glacier this year was lower than it has been in past years, and we were struck by how much bare ice was exposed. There's this scour spot on Sperry Glacier, where we often see bare ice even in and throughout the winter. But certainly in the spring, once the melt season has started. However, the amount of bare ice that was exposed was definitely noticeably larger than it has been in the past. The other thing that was striking is that we could hear meltwater, which isn't common for the spring trip so often the spring trip, it feels more like winter still in the Sperry Glacier Basin and it definitely felt like spring. And obviously those sort of qualitative descriptions and the experience of being a human being on the landscape, that informs our sensibility of what's happening this year on Sperry Glacier with this winter mass balance. But the measurements of snow, depth and density will help us to really quantify how much snow has accumulated on the glacier. But it really seems like this melt season is proceeding a lot faster than a sort of a typical melt season.

Daniel: Sperry Glacier's melting out fast. Wow. A lot of your job is very quantitative. A lot of these complex Newtonian physics and first principles that we're talking about, programing out computer models. But it's special. And nice to catch you today right after you're coming out of the field and just having kind of the human experience on Sperry Glacier and on a on a year when it's changing particularly fast.

[upbeat background music builds]

Caitlyn: Yeah, we'll see. We'll have to compare it to other years where we've seen a relatively stout winter snowpack and mild, cloudy summer. So that's the beauty of having these measurements and this record all the way back to 2005. We can really put what we're seeing this year into into context. But thank you for the opportunity to speak with you. It's really nice to catch up.

Daniel: Yeah, this was a good conversation. Thanks for coming, Caitlyn.

Caitlyn: Yeah, you're welcome.

Peri: Headwaters is funded by donations to the Glacier National Park Conservancy. As an organization dedicated to supporting the park, the Conservancy funds a lot of sustainability initiatives from solar panels on park buildings to storytelling projects like this one, the Conservancy is doing critical work to prevent the worst impacts of climate change. You can learn more about what they do and about how to get involved at Glacier.org. This show is created by Daniel Lombardi. Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and me, Peri Sasnett. We get critical support from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Kristen Friesen, and so many good people with Glacier's natural and cultural resource teams. Our music was made by the brilliant Frank Waln, and the show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in the show notes. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Climate and Community with Mike Durglo, Jr.

19 mars 2024 | 32 min

A conversation with Mike Durglo, Jr., climate coordinator and head of Historic Preservation for the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes. This episode was recorded in September of 2023.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

CSKT Climate Resiliency: http://csktclimate.org/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri Sasnett: Welcome to Headwaters, a show from Glacier National Park, which is the traditional homelands of many Indigenous groups that still live in this area today. This episode is an interview we did with Mike Durglo Jr, who's a climate leader at the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes. We talked about how Native American tribes can lead the way through the climate crisis. This episode is part of a series of conversations we've been having with a wide variety of climate change experts. These episodes don't have to be listened to in any order; each one stands on its own. And they all focus on a particular aspect of the way the world is being altered by the burning of fossil fuels over the past century and a half, human activity has released enough greenhouse gases to warm the Earth's climate over one degree Celsius, with only more warming on the way. [subtle beat begins to play] Throughout 2023, Daniel sat down with experts to talk about how that warming is altering Glacier National Park, our lives and our futures. It's critical to remember that Glacier has been a home for people since time immemorial. This has never been an empty landscape. It has been loved and cared for by people for thousands of years. And to find our way through the next century, we'll need to have a lot more conversations like this one. [synth beat contines to play, then resolves]

Mike Durglo, Jr: I call myself a seed planter because just giving people hope.

Daniel Lombardi: Thanks for joining us, and can you introduce yourself?

Mike: Thank you. [Introduces himself in Salish] Good morning, everybody. My name is Standing Grizzly Bear. That's my given name. My English name or my [speaks Salish] name is Mike Durglo. Currently, I'm the department head for the Tribal Historic Preservation Department for the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes. Working for the tribes for, it was 40 years.

Daniel: Wow. Yeah. Congrats. That's pretty amazing. And so that's just down west, southwest of the park, so one of the park's neighbors. Yeah, well, yeah. Give. Give me an overview, then, of what are the climate change impacts that you're seeing on the Flathead reservation, what you're seeing in this area.

Mike: You know, you think about the air quality and what's what's been happening, and even even this year, earlier smoke. I mean, it was early. A few years ago I was driving to my office to work, and there was so much smoke that I couldn't even see the mountains. I live right there, you know, at the base of of the mountains at McDonald Peak, and my office was only like eight miles from my house. But I'm thinking, my grandson had doubles this morning, football practice, double practices. And I'm thinking, I hope that those kids are not outside playing, you know, practicing for football right now in this.

Daniel: Because the air is so toxic.

Mike: Right. And, you know, it was not just the kids, but the elders, and the people that are most vulnerable to the all the smoke. And so we had I don't remember if it was the the Earth Day event that you came to, but it was one of our gatherings where Dr. Lori Byron and her husband attended that. Anyway, I talked about that. I told I shared that story and I shared my concern for the people being out in that smoke. And a few months later, Dr. Byron calls me and says, Mike, would you be interested in putting up some Purple Air monitors? I said, Heck yeah. I didn't really, you know, I was like, So what do we do? And I don't know if you're familiar with them, but they're only about this big, they're inexpensive and they measure PM 2.5 air quality, and they give you real time data. So she sent me seven monitors. We're putting them up around the reservation at seven schools. They have a what's called a flag program that you can, the kids can put out a flag. So if it's a bad air day, they can put out a red flag. If it's a good day, it's the green flag. And there's all these different ones in the middle. And just this year we're putting up I don't remember how many, 14 more? We're going to put them in, inside and outside.

Daniel: So that's great. Yeah. And so that's a kind of climate adaptation, the dealing with air quality, which can be degraded by just burning fossil fuels and cars and stuff. Around here, it's often caused by wildfire, which itself is exacerbated and expanded by climate change.

Mike: Our fire seasons have shifted. So here what we've seen over the last, I don't know, several years is later wildfires burning later in the season. So we're still fighting wildfires in October and November when the fire season used to, you know, go of like from August to September maybe. So climate change isn't the only thing that that messed up there. We we did too, as human beings. I mean, you're all familiar with that one guy, what did he say? [does a silly, deep voice] "Only you can prevent wildfires."

Daniel: Smokey the Bear. [both laugh]

Mike: Yeah. Smokey the Bear is like... A hundred years of fire suppression has not helped. Mhm. To speak. I was invited to speak about historic use of fire on the land. Mm hmm. As you read in some of Lewis and Clark's journals of, you know, walking through this beautiful plains with grass up to their shoulders and it's like that didn't happen all by itself. Mhm. That happened from the tribes living on the land for those thousands of years and you know, using fire as a tool. We didn't follow the bison around, the bison followed where we burned. Mhm.

Daniel: Because the grass would grow back greener.

Mike: We burned those areas and then the bison would go back to those areas and feed. So that it made us easier to hunt. So, you know, a thousand years of that understanding how the land works, it's so, you know, you go back to fire suppression and the way it is now. Climate change plus fire suppression equals catastrophic wildfires. [synth beat marks a transition]

Mike: We were one of the first tribes, right, in the United States to develop a climate strategy. That was back in 2012. My boss and my boss's boss, you know, they were asked several times about what is the tribe's stance, what is the tribe doing about climate change? What are you guys actually doing? And at the time I was the Environmental Director, and I was also the chairman of the RTOC, the Regional Tribal Operations Committee, that's region eight tribes. There's like 17 tribes in Region Eight: North and South Dakota, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah.

Daniel: Why do you think it's important to start with a plan? Like was that always automatic, you knew like, the first step is to create a climate plan?

Mike: Whatever agency it is, it don't matter if it's a tribe or the city or the county or federal agency, all of the different programs focus on a certain aspect. There's fisheries, there's wildlife. They're focused on whatever their media is there. So really, I feel like, and this might be hindsight, right? I feel like the whole process ended up bringing all of us in a in a tighter circle. When when I was asked to coordinate that effort, I wanted ours to be more comprehensive. And we had nine sectors. So air, water, fisheries, wildlife, forestry, people. And also I wanted to make sure that we included traditional knowledge. My dad was really a big support. He was actually the department head for Tribal Historic Preservation when I was the Environmental Director. So he he contributed a lot to that plan. And I always say that one of the most awesome parts of that process was interviewing my elders. So I did eight interviews, and my dad being one of those, and those are all available on that website and you can watch those. And I wanted to make sure that we we very much included traditional cultural knowledge within the planning effort.

Daniel: One of the reasons I'm super interested to talk to you about this is because Glacier National Park, we're in the process of trying to write a climate action plan. So I think what you said about how the importance of a plan early on, at least looking back, was that it brought everyone together and got everyone to kind of get on the same page. Did you find that like people were ready for that or like, was there anyone resistant to like, "Oh, this is going to add more work to me" or anything like that?

Mike: When I started doing climate change work it's like, when people saw Mike Durglo coming down the hall, they would slam their door and lock it and pull their shade because they knew that Mike was going to come and ask them to do more work. I mean, they're already busy. They're already doing their their full time work in their field. And I come along and say, "Hey, I need you to come to our meeting because we're talking about impacts of climate change on fisheries" or whatever. They were already doing climate change work without calling it climate change.

Daniel: Yeah, climate change is one of those things that so often it seems like it's adding on to... It's not even always creating new challenges, but it's also often just like a layer on top of a heavy workload that already exists.

Mike: It's more work. I've been doing, you know, my job as the Environmental Director at the time plus climate. It's really something that you have to be passionate and compassionate about. So the reason I wanted to rewrite the plan was based on that newer evidence, the projections or the the science that we were looking at in 2012 was conservative. Yeah, you know, we had hope. "Yeah. Everybody's going to understand us. Everybody's going to going to get it. That things are changing, that we're we need to start looking at alternative fuel sources and alternative energy and all that stuff, and everybody's going to jump on board." That hasn't happened.

Daniel: So let me recap some of that. It was about ten years ago now, 2012, you all released the your climate plan. And now looking back, it looks a little conservative. It looks a little too optimistic. And we've seen the impacts of climate change, that were predicted back then, we've seen them come to pass much sooner than predicted. And so now you're working on updating, creating a new plan. And it seems clear to me that the CSKT, and you in particular, have been leaders nationally in terms of developing a climate action plan, especially leaders in helping and working with other tribes on their climate plans. Does that feel right?

Mike: Oh, absolutely. In fact, back in 2016, I received an award from President Obama. I got to go to the White House. And that award was for leadership in climate change. It's not that I do what I do to get an award or a pat on or anything like that, but it was very honoring. You know, I was honored and humbled to be there. And that was just for the work I've been doing to help other tribes like Blackfeet, Fort Belknap, the Crows. I've helped different tribes and even up into Canada. [synth beat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: Climate change is impacting, you know, every sector of the wheel of life, as you were describing it, including people and cultural resources. So maybe let's get into that. What is a cultural resource?

Mike: A resource could be a culturally modified tree or a rock cairn, or a fire pit, historical fire pit. Or, I mean, a lot of those are associated with campsites, right? So those resources, like culturally modified trees, how do you protect that from climate change? Mm hmm. In our database and in Glacier National Park's database, we have identified over 300 cultural sites or resources.

Daniel: So to zoom out for a second, you worked on a project where you identified cultural sites and resources, which are basically any evidence or significant item or place that was used by or is used by members of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, either today or

Mike: Yeah, sure.

Daniel: Thousands of years into the past. And so you're identifying those objects. Sometimes they're trees that were modified or used by people, sometimes they're campsites, sometimes they're actual artifacts, sometimes they're just spots and places. And so then you're looking at, how is climate change potentially going to impact these specific resources?

Mike: So I'm going to give you an example of of potential impact to a site that's along a stream, and that is another historic campsite. Well, what's happening at that campsite is the banks of the stream are eroding. Mm hmm. And it's I mean, you know, that's a natural process. But however, what we're seeing is increased runoff in, you know, that -- what we like to see is gradual runoff. Right? Right. In the spring, we want the snow to gradually come out of the mountains, causing minimal damage or minimal erosion. But what's happening is it comes crashing down. Like what we're seeing is that snow melt in an accelerated time period, and all that water comes crashing down the side of the mountain. Well that's causing increased erosion in that certain site, not just that site, but all the different sites along the streams. So we look at what what can we do using Western science to mitigate or to help with the process of slowing that erosion. So we come up with a list of maybe four alternatives: we can put riprap into that site; we can move some of those artifacts that are around the site or in and around the site; one alternative might be do nothing. And that's the things that we present to the elders. And and the elders could say, we don't want you around that site. We want we don't want you doing nothing there. We want you just to leave it and let the natural process take place. So those are the kind of things that we looked at in that project, that pilot project, as far as climate impacts to those cultural sites.

Daniel: And you found there's lots of sites, significant sites in the park in Glacier National Park. And would you say that they're fairly secure and safe, or would you say that there's a lot of threats to those cultural sites?

Mike: It's not just the Confederate Salish and Kootenai Tribes that utilize Glacier National Park. Mm hmm. It was a common use area for a lot of tribes, as you know. Mm hmm. Blackfeet, the Kootenai Bands from Canada, different Blackfeet, Ktunaxa, Piikani bands from Canada, Blood Tribes, and us, used Glacier National Park for millennia.

Daniel: So all these different groups, all these different tribes have connections and cultural sites and cultural artifacts and significant connections to areas in the park. Do you feel like those are fairly safe or is climate change threatening them significantly?

Mike: I think that's part of the process that we wanted to look at when we did this pilot project.

Daniel: You have to figure it out.

Mike: Yeah. In the work that I've done, pretty much all of my career in natural resources, you start out with a base study, right? What do we have, and how how is it potentially impacted? We know that a lot of these sites are pretty safe, but they're all being impacted by climate change and people.

Daniel: What I'm hearing you say is that monitoring and studying and paying attention to how these sites are being impacted by climate change, that's sort of where we're at in the process now is being vigilant. [synth beat marks a transition]

Daniel: Do you feel like tribes across the country are-- how do you think they're facing climate change as as the impacts are accelerating? Do you think they're kind of poised to be leaders and everyone's got a plan kind of ready, or are the tribes struggling to catch up, or is it some of both?

Mike: Yeah, I think it's some of both, really. I think the tribes, the connection that we have with Mother Earth and I'm not saying everybody doesn't have this, but we've lived on the landscape for thousands of years on this landscape, Glacier National Park, the Flathead Valley. And it's all included. You know, we've we've been here for thousands of years. So really, we we understand not so much anymore. I don't think maybe that's one of the things we need to do is reconnect reconnect to the land. Because I, I remember stories from my grandparents and my parents talking about how people really, back then listened to the land, and almost like had a conversation with the land. And it's like they knew by looking at different things on the landscape what kind of winter we're going to have, or what kind of summer or, you know, any the stuff like that. So I feel like we really need to to have that connection and, you know, in order to feel the pain or whatever that we're causing Mother Earth. In order for us to survive, we have to reconnect to that circle. We can't take ourselves out of it. Above it or below it. We are part of it. Mm hmm. So. And I just feel that that's one of the commonalities that tribes have across the whole world is that connectedness. And I know you know, I'm just not saying that, you know, tribal people have that connection. Every nationality -- I don't care if you're French, German, Korean. Everybody has that. My ancestors are buried right here in this ground. That's how you walk every day in your life. And that's like a respect that you realize that these this is where my ancestors are buried. So then you have to walk in beauty to keep those ancestors happy. Mm hmm. And that's right here in Glacier National Park.

Daniel: You were describing this important connection to our earth, to the environment around us, and that everyone can have that, it's a matter of sensitivity. And. And, yeah, learning from your elders. And during the climate planning process, you were able to interview your elders. And I'm curious what you learned from them. You know, that was that you were able to really ask them about that connection to the earth and noticing when the wheel is out of balance, notice that our climate is changing. So were there some clear lessons for you after interviewing that your elders?

Mike: You know, a lot of the those elders talked about how it used to be. My dad talked about how deep the snow was when we when we drove down to the country roads. And Ig Couture from Elmo talked about how the lake used to freeze over every year, and we used to be able to go ice fishing, and he talks about ice skating too, across across the lake. The differences of my dad, you know, looking at maybe 50 to 75 years and talking to his grandparents, so that's another 50 to 70, so we're talking about like 150 years of knowledge, you know, passed down over over time. The cultural and traditional knowledge that our elders passed down to us is more about living in harmony with the land and having respect for that.

Daniel: I like hearing your stories from getting to talk to elders and tribal members from all over the country. It's really interesting. You must have picked up just so many lessons and ideas and experiences along the way. You know, you're not just having conversations locally, but you're having conversations all over. So I'm curious, yeah to just hear any other stories or lessons that you've come across.

Mike: I did a workshop, so when I work with ITEP, we bring in probably 30 representatives from the tribes in the area, and there was an elder woman at that workshop. I was doing my presentation and she was like, "Mike, you know, I'm tired of having to adapt." And when we talked about trying to help them develop plans and strategies, it's like, "hell, we don't have time to plan. We have we're in reaction mode. Our village is falling into the river." Or the ocean. And, you know, their cemeteries are being eroded away because of climate change and increased erosion. Mm hmm. So, you know, they're all in, like, reaction mode and trying to help them develop some kind of a plan or strategy, you know, how do they deal with that? [synth beat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: How are you thinking about climate change these days, in terms of like, what kind of an issue is it? Because a lot of people think about it and they think, "oh, that's an environmental issue or that's a wildlife issue." Or sometimes now we're hearing more people talk about it being a health issue and a public health issue. What is it for you, you think? Is it partly a spiritual or economic, or how do you think about climate change?

Mike: I feel like it's all of the above and people are really starting to understand that. The impacts are spiritual, they're social, they're physical, they're mental. All of these things that are happening around us affect our whole our whole being. One of the programs that came about because we were working on climate change was the EAGLES program. But EAGLES is Environmental Advocates for Global and Local Ecological Sustainability. Say that three times. [Daniel laughs] That was a result of my brother Jim and I just having a conversation one evening about getting youth more involved in what we were doing, right? And the whole idea around that was to engage the youth in doing activities within the schools and within the communities to help, you know, help with like recycling, with putting in community gardens.

Daniel: So the EAGLES program is an effort that you and your brother created to engage the youth on the reservation, to work on sustainability, to work on fighting climate change, to try and be better stewards of the earth. So I think you're saying, you know, that for you, one of the biggest climate solutions that's out there is engaging young people.

Mike: As adults, as older people, we have to take responsibility. We can't just leave it all to the younger generations.

Daniel: You know, the past ten, fifteen years, you've been working on climate change constantly, doing all kinds of really innovative and important work. But it's interesting to me that you're saying that you hope your legacy is the EAGLES program and is working with young people. I think that's interesting that that is the key for you.

Mike: On the reservation and across the whole country on reservations, if you do a good thing or a great thing, they name a conference room after you. Or a road or homesite or whatever. It's like you drive down the road and there's, the road is named after somebody. I said, I don't want a conference room or a road or a homesite named after me. I want people to add that to what I want my legacy to be, that my grandkids will remember me and say, this is something my papa started, and this is why we're here. This is why we're doing what we're doing. That's one of the things that for me anyway, I've always thought of it as, or maybe hoped that this would be my legacy. This is what I want to leave on this Earth when I'm gone. And I was thinking about seven generations from now or, you know, 100, 200 years, and my grandkids, my great grandkids will be here and they'll say, "My papa started this." [synth beat plays to mark a transition]

Daniel: I wanted to just ask you about, you did these interviews with elders and you learned a ton of information about the way the climate is changing and how they're seeing it, and the lessons that they've learned.

Mike: It's kind of one of those things like after I did the the Elder interviews, Sadie Saloway from Elmo, I seen her like two weeks later at Walmart. Right. And Sadie seen me in Wal-Mart. And she's come, almost come running over to me. "Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike! I want you to come back and visit me!" Because I went to her house, and "I thought about so many things after you left. I want to you know, I want to share that with you." And and oh, my goodness, a couple of weeks later, she passed away. So, you know, those are the things that [get a bit choked up] just you know, you think about the value and the lesson that we can take from those visits.

Daniel: And then you didn't get a chance to go interview again.

Mike: Right. I didn't get a chance to go back. In all this work, you know, it's like so important, I think, to to get that perspective of the Elders. And there's so much that's like, I seen something that says when you lose an elder, you lose a library of knowledge. And just like with my dad, and I shared with you that my dad was really a support for the work I did. And he had so much knowledge of our culture and our history and Tony Incashola Senior, and all the elders that -- out of the eight I interviewed, Stephen Smallsalmon's the only one left with us today.

Daniel: Wow.

Mike: So, yeah.

Daniel: The two biggest solutions to climate change that I'm hearing from you is like connecting with the youth and also listening to and talking to the Elders as well. Mm hmm.

Mike: Yeah. And doing everything we can. Mm hmm. Being responsible to our Mother Earth and to each other, I think, you know. [guitar and drumbeat begins to play]

Daniel: Well, thanks so much, Mike. This has been great.

Mike: Thank you.

[guitar music continues to play through credits]

Peri: Headwaters is funded by donations to the Glacier National Park Conservancy. As an organization dedicated to supporting the park, the Conservancy funds a lot of sustainability initiatives from solar panels on park buildings to storytelling projects like this one. The Conservancy is doing critical work to prevent the worst impacts of climate change. You can learn more about what they do and about how to get involved at Glacier.org. This show is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and me, Peri Sasnett. We get critical support from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Kristen Friesen, and so many good people with Glacier's, natural and cultural resource teams. Our music was made by the brilliant Frank Waln, and the show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in the show notes. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

[music concludes]

Climate Interpretation with Diane Sine

5 mars 2024 | 53 min

A conversation with longtime interpretive ranger Diane Sine about a lifetime of watching change in Glacier. This episode was recorded in May of 2023.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

Overview of the park’s glaciers: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/nature/glaciersoverview.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri Sasnett: You're listening to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. My name is Peri, and this episode is an interview that my co-host Daniel did with longtime park ranger and educator Diane Sine about telling stories about our glaciers to park visitors.

Peri: This is one in a series of conversations we've been having with a wide variety of climate change experts. They don't have to be listened to in any order. Each one stands on its own and they all focus on a particular aspect of the way the world is being altered by the burning of fossil fuels. Over the past century and a half, human activity has released enough greenhouse gases to warm the Earth's climate more than one degree Celsius, with only more warming on the way. Throughout 2023, Daniel sat down with experts to talk about how that warming is altering Glacier National Park, our lives, and our futures.

[Theme music fades in.]

Peri: This is one of my favorite interviews in a long time. Diane is an amazing person, a local legend, really. And I found her stories surprising and resonant. She's been visiting the park's glaciers for decades and has seen so much change firsthand. I think you'll really enjoy this conversation.

Daniel Lombardi: So, Diane Sine, welcome to the podcast, welcome back to the podcast.

Diane Sine: Thank you, Daniel.

Daniel: Will you remind people who you are, where you work, how long you've been doing it?

Diane: My name is Diane Signe and I work at Many Glacier. I'm the lead interpreter over there and I have been in the park for quite a while. I've been in interpretation pretty much all my adult life during the summers here and even before that, when I was a college student, I worked at the Many Glacier Hotel. So I've been hanging around Many Glacier since 1980.

Daniel: Wow. So maybe let's start with what is many glacier for someone who's, like, never been to Glacier. And then I am curious to hear about your first time visiting many Glacier.

Diane: So Many Glacier as a region of the park with a rather confusing name. Yes, we get the fact that it's improper English, "Many" is plural, "Glacier" is singular. So there's one of the first problems right there, but it's simply a region of the park. The Many Glacier Hotel is there. And the name came about in the early years of the park, simply referring to the fact that there were multiple glaciers at the head of the valleys, pretty much a glacier at the head of each one of the valleys.

Daniel: Yeah. Which is like four or five glaciers or something. It's not like many, many glaciers, right? A few, right? It's Many Glacier.

Diane: And it sort of sounds like "mini" glacier, as in "tiny glacier." So we get confusion about people thinking that it's "mini glacier." Sure. Hey, maybe that's an appropriate name in some ways.

[Music fades in and then concludes.]

Daniel: What is a glacier? What makes Grinnell Glacier actually a glacier?

Diane: Remember, I'm not a geologist. I'm an elementary teacher. So a glacier, whether we're talking about those massive ice age glaciers that were thousands of feet thick, that carved out these valleys in Glacier National Park, or whether we're talking about the comparatively small glaciers that were here. Well, are here today. And we're part of the Little Ice Age. Places such as Grinnell Glacier.

Diane: To have a glacier, you simply have to have a place where more snow falls every winter then can completely melt during the summers. So over the years, that snow builds up, it accumulates. It actually recrystallizes fairly quickly and it forms a dense ice. And once you have this thick, dense ice, you eventually get—and there are lots of variables—but say when it gets to 70 to 100 feet thick, there is so much mass or so much weight pressure that it actually starts to flow. And so the bottom of the glacier starts to flow and there's actually movement. So a glacier is a mass of a moving ice. And that confuses people sometimes. Sometimes they think, well, is it rolling down the valley? And in the case of all these glaciers in Glacier National Park, they're actually becoming smaller all the time. But there's movement within the mass of ice. There's more accumulation of ice at the upper elevation of the glacier, and then the ice flows through. So whether a glacier is growing or receding is simply a matter of economics. Is there is there more snow and ice being added to that mass every year or is there more melting happening? And the reality here is there's more melting happening.

Daniel: Right. Is there is your summer more intense? Or your winter more intense? And that that balance has shifted.

Diane: So one of the fascinating things you mentioned, the moraine, and of course, that's the end of the maintain trail today. And it's a very impressive mass of accumulation of unsorted material. We call it glacial, glacial till. So there are large rocks and boulders in there. And there also is a lot of just very small, almost sand and gravel. But it's it's fascinating to my brain to try to imagine how long the edge of Grinnell Glacier sat at one place for that amount of moraine material to pile up on top of itself in that one location. And the glacier still moves that moraine material. There's still there's still rocks and boulders and gravel and sand within the layers of the ice and being scraped from beneath and become part of the mass of moving ice. But throughout my lifetime, the glacier has been receding so quickly that the modern, quote, marine material is just sort of smeared across the limestone ledges up there. There's no accumulation compared to what created that moraine. That was the edge of the ice when George Bird Grinnell was up there.

Daniel: So it's a mass of ice that moves.

Diane: That's right. The ice within the glacier moves.

Daniel: How did Grinnell Glacier get its name?

Diane: Grinnell Glacier is named for a guy named George Bird Grinnell and George Bird Grinnell was a well-to-do Easterner. He was very interested in the West. He was interested in conservation issues, really. He came from the background of sort of a gentleman hunter. So at that point, George Bird Grinnell was editor of Forest and Stream Magazine, which was kind of the the big outdoorsman journal of that time. And so in that role, he got to know James Willard Schultz. He read Schultz's writings about this area and became interested in exploring it. So Grinnell first came into this area in 1885, and on that trip he got up up into the Swift Current Valley and could could see Grinnell Glacier from a distance and was interested in it. But then he came back in 1887 with a group of other guys, and they actually hiked up to Grinnell Glacier. And it was on that trip that the friends that he was with basically named the big old chunk of ice that they got to for him for Grinnell.

Daniel: So Grinnell didn't name the glacier after himself. His buddies named it for him.

Diane: Right. It appears that his his buddies named it for him, although it also appears from his writings that he probably was very agreeable to having something named after him, would be my guess.

Daniel: And he did then name a ton of mountains and lakes and everything all around the park. He he was throwing out names pretty easily.

Diane: George Bird Grinnell did name all sorts of features in the park. I think it's it's, it's interesting because if you think about it, any noticeable feature, any real obvious kind of feature would have had multiple names already. It's not like there hadn't been people on this landscape for as long as time goes back. So, you know, the Blackfeet, the Kootenai, everybody would have had names for all of these obvious features, but those names hadn't been written down. Some of the names that George Bird Grinnell applied to features in what is today Glacier National Park, very much reflect the kind of trip that he was on in the 1880s. If you go into the Saint Mary Valley, we have names that he gave such as Gunsight Pass, Fusillade Mountain, Single Shot Mountain. And all of those names came from the fact that George Bird Grinnell was on a hunting trip and was thinking a lot about hunting.

Daniel: Yeah.

Diane: So Single Shot Mountain is actually where he did it. In fact, shoot a bighorn sheep with a single shot.

Daniel: Okay. All right, George. So his friends name this glacier for him. He went back many, many times, from my understanding, to Grinnell Glacier and and saw it over the course of his whole adult life, was making trips up to the ice. And I'm curious if you know anything about kind of his how he saw the glacier and how that might have changed over time, because I think early on he made predictions that, you know, this glacier is going to disappear soon.

Diane: Right. In a way, we're really fortunate that George Bird Grinnell, was a writer, and so he very much left evidence of how he thought and his impressions. And even that very first trip up to Grinnell Glacier is well documented because he wrote the whole story in various installments so that he could publish them in Forest and Stream Magazine. So we know that after those first trips where where this area really inspired him, as it does so many of us. And he he first suggested in an article that he published that perhaps this was an area that should be protected with national park status. And that didn't happen right away. There were a lot of people who weren't excited about that idea. But finally the park was established in 1910 and he continued to come back periodically and visit it. So he went from coming into the Swift Current Valley, hiking up to Grinnell Glacier, where there was no trail. They were just finding their own route. Certainly people had been there before, but there wasn't a record of people having been there before. And then he came back in later years after the Many Glacier Hotel was built, a road all the way into the valley, and then a developed park service trail from the hotel up to Grinnell Glacier. And he saw those changes both in visitation and the changes in the glacier, the ice itself.

Daniel: Yeah, we think about like today, we think about living in a an era of such fast and profound change. You know, now. But from his perspective, he was in an era of profound change, too. He went from really an undeveloped wild area to some extent, and then saw that become a tourist hub and a national park and also saw the climate and the environment really changed the glaciers throughout that time, too. And that would have been, what, from the 1880s to the 1930s. Right.

Diane: He very much wrote about the changes in the area due to the, quote, development and visitation. And of course, that was actually something that was partly due to his efforts. It was significantly influenced by his efforts. But basically, he he felt like he had promoted the idea of establishment of a national park for for a greater good. And yet he felt like what had happened as a result of that had basically ruined or certainly compromised the experience that he had personally first had when he had come into this remote wilderness area.

Daniel: Yeah.

Diane: So it's also interesting because he also wrote about the changes in the ice itself. So glaciers such as the Grinnell Glacier were probably at their largest size in the mid 1800s. So when George Grinnell was up there in the 1880s, you know, that wasn't that long after the maximum size of, quote, modern Grinnell Glacier. And already by his later trips up into the into the valley, I know in the twenties he was documenting that it had changed dramatically and it was a much smaller glacier than he had originally seen. And of course, that was long before any of us were talking about climate change or really understanding what was going on. But he certainly knew what he was observing and understood that there were changes.

Daniel: He saw those changes happening. Yeah. Hmm. Yeah. So we here in the park, we have a chance to see, you know, in recent decades, climate change and glacier melt that is really almost entirely caused by human climate change. But in George Bird Grinnell's era, that was climate change that was mostly naturally the ending of the Little Ice Age.

Diane: And then we have a lot of records from the park naturalists that were were going up there in the 1920s and 1930s. Morton J. Elrod was the first person employed as a Ranger naturalist, leading hikes up to Grinnell Glacier. And he he was a biology professor from the University of Montana. And so in the mid 1920s, he started to document he had noticed that, you know, every year he was having to actually walk farther to get to the edge of the ice when he went to Grinnell Glacier. So Morton J. Elrod started to document, you know, how many steps it was, how many paces, to get from a certain big rock on the moraine that we now refer to as "Elrod's Rock." And so he set the stage for actual scientific research documenting the changes up there. And so we know that there were pretty dramatic changes, quite dramatic changes in the twenties and thirties. And then it appears that that recession of the glaciers slowed down significantly and then took off again actually after I started working here in the in the 1980s.

Daniel: So one of the things that Grinnell was big on was creating a national park here. He was involved in this area for decades before it was a national park. Then in 1910, Congress makes Glacier National Park a reality. One of the things I know you are particularly fascinated in is how does that name get picked? Glacier National Park. Why is it called that?

Diane: Yeah, I am fascinated by by the whole issue of the name of the park. Because while we have really good documentation for a lot of things, we do not have a document that said, "We are going to establish Glacier National Park and give it that name because," fill in the blank.

Diane: So you come to a place called Glacier National Park, and one of the first questions at a visitor center is, you know, "Where is the glacier?" "Where can I drive to a glacier?" "Where can I touch a glacier?"

Diane: And often people are expecting massive ice fields like you have in Patagonia or up in Alaska. They're they're visualizing something different from what we have today. And so I noticed that in my earlier years as a ranger, I would overhear a lot of other people sort of trying to make it okay with visitors saying, "Oh, well, you know, you're not going to be able to drive to a glacier. But really, the park was named for this glaciated landscape from the Ice Age glaciers. So you're experiencing everything Glacier has by, you know, driving up the St. Mary Valley or the Lake McDonald Valley."

Daniel: So it's kind of confusing because the park does have active existing small mountain glaciers. And 10,000 years and more ago, the park was carved by massive Pleistocene Ice Age glaciers. So both are true. But which one was the park actually named for? That's a little bit murky.

Diane: That that's the question. And that's the question I tried to answer in looking back through the historical documents, it's very evident that before the park was established, before they came up with the name, one of the things that people were really excited about was that this was a place south of Alaska in the United States where you could take the railroad up to the mountains and then you could actually get to glaciers. You know, folks, folks were working really hard to hike up to places like Grinnell Glacier or Sperry Glacier. It was really the West Side glaciers like Sperry Glacier that I think led to that name, because in those early years people would come on the Great Northern Railway and they would make their way up to Lake McDonald, take a boat up the lake. There was no no road at that point. And then they would hike up to Sperry Glacier, and this was a place you could actually hike to a glacier. We have plenty of original documents that make it clear that people were really excited about the fact that there were honest to goodness glaciers here. And we have every reason to believe that. That's why they named it Glacier National Park.

Daniel: It was kind of a or it was actually a a tourist package, basically come stay in our hotel and we will take you to a glacier in Glacier National Park. So you look through early park documents, you look through advertisements that the Great Northern Railway had to try and get people to come visit this place. We look at newspaper articles from when the park was established in 1910, and for the most part everyone's talking about the active, small, glaciers in the mountains here. So it seems that that's probably what they named it for.

Diane: Even even the very first superintendents annual reports that we have in the archives, when they just give an overview of this new national park and what it has to offer to the American people. They emphasize that it has glaciers. And none of those writings ever say. They talk about it being a beautiful place with nice scenery. But they never say, "and it has a glaciated landscape, so it should be called Glacier National Park.".

[Music fades in and then concludes.]

Daniel: How what was your first visit? How did you first come to many Glacier?

Diane: I grew up in Seattle and I grew up in a family that did a lot of camping and hiking and visited national parks with our tent. And so I had come to Glacier on family camping trips a couple of times in my childhood, and I actually distinctly remember the first time I was in the Many Glacier area. We spent a night at Granite Park Chalet. We hiked the Highline in from Logan Pass, and then the next day we hiked over Swiftcurrent Pass and actually hiked into the Many Glacier area coming down from the Continental Divide.

Daniel: Wow. Today, most people take the long, bumpy road in from Babb, but you came in on foot, which is seems really special.

Diane: Yeah. We can almost pretend like I'm an old pioneer or something, but it wasn't quite like that.

Daniel: Tell me how that that led into a career in Many Glacier.

Diane: Yeah, I was one of those nerdy national park fans as, as a child, I loved it when our family camping in national parks. I always was excited to go to the ranger talks in the evenings. So I also remember on on that same trip we came back into Many Glacier another day and we went on the Ranger-Guided boat trip and hiked to Grinnell Lake. And I distinctly remember that that hike was being led by a female ranger, and I believe that was the first time I had ever seen a female ranger, because they weren't that common at that point. And I don't know that it was it was an "aha moment" that set the track, but it was certainly an awareness that, oh, that would be a really cool job.

Daniel: You're in an inspiring place, having a good time and you see someone leading a path that maybe you could follow.

Diane: Absolutely. It looked like it looked like a good life and turns out it is a good life. You know, I want to clarify. I really don't feel like I've had a career in Glacier National Park or career as a ranger, because for me, Glacier has always been a passion more than a career. I had a career as an elementary teacher, and then I would spend my summers working as a ranger in Glacier because I was passionate about it. And even though I do it for a little bit longer and I no longer teach, I'm retired from teaching. For me, the park has always been a passion and a choice rather than something that I felt I was stuck in. I guess career doesn't have to be a negative word, but for me I think of it differently.

Daniel: Oh, I like that. Yeah. That the word "career" implies... Uh, it implies an amount of work that you don't necessarily feel. This is just a good way to spend the summer.

Diane: Exactly. And not to gloss over it. There's plenty of work involved. But but I've I've chosen to have Glacier be a positive in my life, more than a negative at any time.

Daniel: But for that, though, you were working for the hotel and you went on a hike up to Grinnell Glacier. I don't know. What do you remember about about seeing the glacier for the first time?

Diane: I very much remember that that first time I hiked up to Grinnell Glacier, I got to the end of the trail at the top of the moraine where where you look, you know, down at Upper Grinnell Lake and across at the glacier itself. And my impression and actually I have photographs of it to back it up was the glacier itself wasn't very far away.

Diane: From from the moraine the glacier was right there, in your face. As opposed to now where it's quite a distance across that basin to get to the ice itself. And now when people hike up there, people get to the moraine and they they look and they take it all in and then they always seem to be enticed to... They want to get closer to the glacier itself.

Daniel: The glacier was big enough. You didn't have to hike further once you got to the edge, that was good enough.

Diane: Exactly. And in those first years when I visited, I never did actually go out on to the glacier itself. For many years then after I started working as a ranger here and leading interpretive hikes up there, we would actually walk on the ice and go out onto the ice itself. But it seems like in those those early years when I was hiking up there as a college student in the summers, it was a more intimate experience just being able to see it from the moraine.

Daniel: You know, On that first trip you took to the glacier in '81, did you think, Oh, this is all going to be gone someday? Or did you see that change coming?

Diane: My memory of when I started working as a ranger and really paying attention to bigger ideas having to do with the Grinnell Glacier. We were fascinated by the stories from the twenties in the thirties when when Upper Grinnell Lake first appeared as the meltwater lake, as the glacier receded and pulled away from the moraine.

Diane: You know, it was fascinating to think that that lake hadn't been there in the George Bird Grinnell times. And of course, we have wonderful repeat photography showing the thickness of Grinnell Glacier and that Salamander (what we call Salamander Glacier today) up above, was simply the upper lobe of a Grinnell Glacier connected by by an icefall there.

Daniel: When George Bird Grinnell first visited it was just kind of the whole back of the valley is just one big mass of ice. And now we have names for the different pieces because they've separated and a lake has formed at the edge of the glacier. So it's really changed a lot.

Diane: I mean, we spend so much time in the park talking about geology in terms of things being millions and a billion years old, and then to to see these changes happening just, just in the short history of the park actually existing, is kind of mind blowing.

Daniel: Yeah. In your first years hiking up to Grinnell, I'm guessing that not a lot of people were talking about modern human-caused climate change.

Diane: I don't remember people really talking about climate change at all in those early years. I was very fortunate to be mentored by rangers like Bob Schuster, who had been around since the mid-sixties. And, you know, he was documenting that since he had started in 1967, he really hadn't noticed changes in Grinnell Glacier. And then suddenly in those later eighties, everything just seemed to take off with rocket speed. And it's it's been changing, it feels like hourly, ever since.

Daniel: Yeah. So in the at least anecdotally, in the sixties and seventies, it seemed like Grinnell was holding fairly steady. But then that really changed kind of at the start of your time going up there.

Diane: I clearly remember that in my early years, leading the hikes up to Grinnell Glacier, what the very special thing was that we would actually lead our visitor groups out onto the ice. We had an ice ax and we had been trained to to be safe and know what we were doing because glacier travel is not something to to take lightly. There are a lot of potential hazards, and we certainly do not encourage people to go out onto the ice today because not only do they probably not have the background to recognize the risks with the crevasses and hidden dangers, but it has also changed so much since we did lead that hike because the edge of the ice has become much more rotten and undercut.

Diane: But my memory is that a couple times during the summer a friend and I, after we had concluded our organized hikes, we'd we'd take a little excursion on our own down to the outlet of Grinnell Glacier. And this is where the water actually came rushing from underneath the ice. And it led down to into the stream that that went over the waterfall and drains that entire valley. And so when we would walk down there, we would be walking across the basin with this massive wall of ice on our right, and then we would get down to where the water came gushing out from underneath the wall of the edge of Grinnell Glacier. And my memory is that at that point where the outlet was, the ice was rising, at least at least 30 feet above me, if not more. I actually I have photographs of that. I'll have to show you.

Daniel: Okay. Where as now, you'd be... It'd be kind of tricky to find a spot where the ice is, what, ten feet high?

Diane: Yeah, today when you get... So today, to take that walk that I would take. In the late 1980s down to the outlet. You're simply walking across this open limestone wide valley in a way it's it's a hanging valley where where I had ice on my right. Today, there are all sorts of plants and wildflowers growing up. We actually have small trees that are growing up. It's it's like that very first step in plant succession. After that, those soils have first been exposed after they were covered by ice for for thousands of years. And it looks much more raw and rocky. I've heard people describe it as almost a moonscape, as if we had any experience on the moon. But with that raw, open, rocky-ness, I, I see people just wandering all over the place and yet they're not thinking about the fact that they're compact in that soil. They're actually stepping on and tiny plants and and we're really threatening that that future glorious subalpine meadow.

Daniel: Yeah. Do you remember when you first heard about climate change as a concept? Like, modern-day human-caused climate change?

Diane: The first thing I remember is when I was an SCA, Student Conservation Association, intern for the Park Service, working at the St Mary Visitor Center. And I remember that one of the books that was for sale there at St. Mary was what I remember as a as a children's book. It was not a scholarly tome by any means, but basically a children's book about climate change. And I can remember picking that up off the shelf and reading it during my spare time, which even there is a rather amazing change because there's never a spare moment in any of the visitor centers in Glacier today. But there were moments I could read a book and learn at the desk.

Daniel: Wow. Yeah. So you are you find this kid's book in the visitor center and it kind of explains the basics that, humans are changing the climate, and causing the glaciers to retreat. And that's one of your first at least one of the first times you can remember really seeing that put together.

Diane: I feel like that that was the beginning of providing me with a framework to then take in other information, be interested in learning more.

Daniel: All right, then let's talk about a pivotal moment in Grinnell Glacier history, and in maybe the history of climate change, happens when Vice President Al Gore visits the glacier.

Diane: That was a pretty big deal to have the vice president to have the vice president come to Grinnell Glacier on a day trip from Washington, D.C. was not your typical day in Glacier National Park.

Daniel: Okay.

Diane: And I first became aware of it because suddenly we had all of these men in khaki fishing vests and earpieces wandering around the Many Glacier Valley. And it it turned out they were the advance-team for the Secret Service.

Daniel: And they're trying to blend in.

Diane: They so did not blend in.

[Laughing]

Daniel: Okay. So then what ended up being your job, your role, for the Vice President's visit?

Diane: Yeah. So in 1997, I was in the middle of my teaching career in in Kalispell. And then it turned out the Vice President was coming and we needed to have all sorts of extra personnel. And so I was asked if I if I was available to help that day. And I wasn't available because I was a teacher. And that was the day I was supposed to be in the classroom. But I called my principal and I pleaded, I have this chance to be involved in this event with the Vice President. "Could I please use one of my personal days for the school year?"

Diane: So that's what I did. And it turned out that my job was to deal with the media that was going to go up the trail ahead of the vice president.

Daniel: Okay.

Diane: So the Secret Service had been telling us that Al Gore was in very good shape and he was a good hiker and that he was going to have no problem hiking up that trail. And the people who were handling all the logistics understood that the media wouldn't necessarily be in as good shape as the Vice President.

Diane: So the media pool was a combination of local Montana media and then all sorts of national folks. And I remember them telling me that they'd they'd boarded a plane in Washington, D.C. (They had boarded Air Force Two in Washington, D.C.) at something like 3:00 in the morning Eastern Time. And they they flew out to Malmstrom Air Force Base in Great Falls. And then at that point, they got on three Chinook helicopters—

Daniel: Wow!

Diane: —that flew them to what we used to endearingly call "Babb International Airport," which is a pasture in Babb that used to have an air sock on it. And I remember that they had to go down and get the cows out of it.

Daniel: Shoot them out of the way.

Diane: So they'd brought in the special armored vehicles from from elsewhere and a motorcade that picked them up and drove the entourage up to Many Glacier Hotel. And at that point, the Park Service had built a big stage at the end of the hotel where there was a view of Salamander Glacier and the Grinnell Basin behind.

Diane: And he gave a speech about climate change. The whole purpose of this trip, as he was Vice President, he had a passion for trying to raise public awareness to the issues of climate change.

Diane: And so he gave his speech there—I missed the speech because as soon as the the the entourage arrived at the Glacier Hotel, the, quote pre-positioned press and I jumped on a boat and then eventually got up to the head of the valley. And we started hiking at their pace so that we could get up there ahead of the vice president.

Daniel: Okay. So Al Gore is giving his speech about global warming. And you didn't get to see that part because you were taking the reporters and the press up, up the trail to meet everyone else at the glacier.

Diane: Right. One one of the humorous things about that day was when we had had the Secret Service running around the entire week before. The Secret Service knows bad guys. They know security, but they were in a panic about bears.

Daniel: Oh, of course.

Diane: Just like many visitors to Glacier National Park that have no idea about bears. They were under the impression that there was a bear lurking behind every corner that was going to be an incredible threat to to the Vice President. And, of course, the the risk of anything happening in Bear country is incredibly low.

Daniel: Of course.

Diane: And but but it's understandable. So I can remember as we were hiking up the trail, I look up the hillside and periodically stationed up above the trail throughout the hike, I could look up and I would see a secret serviceman accompanied by a glacier National Park ranger to protect the Secret serviceman from bears.

Daniel: Of course.

Diane: The trail was completely open for hikers that day. There were there were regular hikers just hiking on the trail and running into the Vice President.

Daniel: So there was like—what was the the mood? Do you remember? And what did Al Gore think of it?

Diane: He actually hiked with Dan Fagre, who was our our local expert on what was happening with climate change and with the with Grinnell Glacier. And so he hiked with Dan Fagre and with Dave Castiel, who was our our senior ranger interpreter in the valley at that time.

Diane: So as part of that effort that Al Gore had as vice president tied in with that, you may remember he came up with a national speaking tour is the way I remember it, that that then turned into a book called, "An Inconvenient Truth." And from my perspective, it was really that era of him coming out with "An Inconvenient Truth" that really got the general public talking about climate change. And and certainly having the same kinds of varied viewpoints and opinions.

Diane: And it's unfortunate, in my opinion. Well, here I go with opinions, but it's it's unfortunate that that something that really is scientific has has become so polarizing. But I feel like that was the first that I became aware of that polarizing aspect of it as well.

Daniel: His visit really brings a lot of attention to the concepts of global warming and climate change. So that just starts to become a more talked about subject in America. But it also makes that connection between global warming and Glacier National Park, like, forever cemented together.

Diane: So it's no surprise that when we're in a place called Glacier National Park, it's an easy concept, rather iconic for national and even international media to pick up on Glacier National Park and its disappearing glaciers. And so that is something that from that Al Gore time on, it seems like the public is very aware of that, no matter where they're from.

Daniel: Yeah. Did you note did you see that play out in front of your eyes then? You know, in the summers after the vice president's visit, you're leading people on hikes up to Grinnell Glacier. And I'm guessing that people's questions and how people felt about seeing the glacier started to shift around then.

Diane: Yes. In my first year leading hikes to Grinnell Glacier, we weren't talking about and people weren't asking about current changes up there because there wasn't anything that noticeable in front of our eyes right then. But certainly since then, it's something that people are very aware of and their frequent frequently asking about.

Diane: And I've always felt like my goal as an interpreter in Glacier National Park isn't so much to educate them as to the minutia of the science, but simply to to show them what we're seeing on the landscape.

Diane: One of the incredible tools we have are those repeat photography examples that were there—there was actually a guy with a big old camera on that George Bird Grinnell trip to Grinnell Glacier in 1887. So we have a photographic record of what has been going on in that valley since 1887.

Daniel: Wow. And so that really helps you show and illustrate that change to people who are hiking up to Grinnell for the first time ever. You just show them a picture what it used to look like.

Daniel: Grinnell Glacier has gone through periods of very, you know, somewhat stable periods. It's gone through periods of rapid retreat, which we're seeing more and more of in recent years. And there's been kind of a, as that glacier retreats, a changing in how much water it's impounding and the we call the lake, "Upper Grinnell Lake." And that's changed size over time because of the way the ice is or isn't blocking that water from draining down the valley.

Diane: Right. And in my early years leading the hike up to Grinnell Glacier, the glacier itself impounded Upper Grinnell Lake. And then we knew that there was a channel that the water from Upper Grinnell Lake was following underneath the ice and then popping out in that dramatic rush and the outlet where where I'd walk along the the steep wall of ice and see the water coming out. Today, the glacier is not impounding the lake at all. There's there's still a significant meltwater lake up there, but it is flowing, flowing freely past the glacier, to the outlet.

Daniel: Right.

[Music fades in and then concludes.]

Daniel: One of the cool things about the National Park Service is—and about this park—is that we are getting to see this what is usually a very long geologic process. We are seeing it play out in on a human timescale, a human lifetime. We're seeing ice retreat and then plants and trees and things grow back into place. Like that's pretty wild.

Diane: And I feel like that's one of the things that makes the hike to Grinnell Glacier such an incredible opportunity for people today. I see people have all sorts of emotional responses to that area. It's beautiful. It's it's gorgeous. It's it's stark. And to be up in the Grinnell base and close to the lake, to the upper lake and close to the ice itself is really unlike any place else people experience in Glacier National Park. And today, people understand that that ice is disappearing and it's not going to be with us forever. And people express a lot of sadness about that. And I certainly feel that that sadness, that sense of loss as well. But at the same time, I try to focus on the incredible opportunity we have that, this is in a national park. It's a place that we do have the opportunity to actually be connected to what's happening. It's not just something that we're reading about in the news. It's not just some lingo about climate change, but because of these resources protected by the National Park Service, people are able to experience that up close and see it for themselves and and have that much emotional response, which perhaps is what people need to have in order to take climate change seriously.

Daniel: To understand it. So do you encounter a lot of people feeling sad or grieving or saying goodbye to the glaciers when they come on your hikes?

Diane: I do find a lot of people who are who are sad and almost distraught in some cases, and I've been amazed in recent years how many visitors I have met throughout the park who verbalized that they came to Glacier National Park because they want to see this place before the glaciers are gone.

Daniel: Wow. So when when you encounter those visitors that are distraught, what's what's your approach? What do you try and tell them?

Diane: Well, I certainly don't tell them how to feel. I give them the information that that I can share about what has happened at Grinnell Glacier in the past, what seems to be happening. Right now. We it's it's very unlikely that anything could change that eventuality right now.

Daniel: Hmm.

Diane: But I try to focus on the fact that there are things that humans do still have control over with climate change. Certainly the rate of change, you know, how extreme it's going to become or are things that are still within our control and the human species is pretty incredible.

Daniel: Right.

Diane: We we have incredible abilities with technology and problem solving. None of it's going to be easy. And I think that's in my opinion, that's where we are right now, is that as a society, perhaps we're wrestling with how much we're willing to commit to to solve a problem that is not simple.

Daniel: It makes me think of how special of a place this park is in Grinnell Glacier especially. And the you know, as a ranger, you going up there and using the place to help people figure out how they can be a part of that change, how they can, what they can do.

Diane: And that's one of the amazing gifts of a national park, is that it's a place that each person can experience individually. And and if they have some of those sad feelings up there. Perhaps that's okay. Perhaps. Perhaps that's a good thing. I try to not leave people in despair. I try to to point out some of the positives that can come about simply because of that awareness and and some of the positives. You know that there are endless possibilities. But at the same time, I'm not the one to tell every body that things are going to be okay.

Daniel: Yeah. So, Diane, when you hike up to Grinnell Glacier these days, how does it feel for you?

Diane: In a way, I guess it feels profound. It feels... It feels like a gift for me personally that I have been able to experience this valley over enough years to actually see the changes myself. It's it's not something that I have to read about and and wonder, you know, "What is this climate change thing? What's really happening?"

Diane: Whether we had words for it or not. I have experienced and seen incredible changes up there. And I think it's natural that with changes, I think for many of us, there's a sadness. There's there's a longing for the way things used to be.

Diane: It's not just the glacier. This park has a visitation today that's double what it was when I started working here. And so there there are changes in the glacier. There are changes in the visitor experience. And of course, there is a sadness. And yet I do I do feel excitement that at least we have places like Glacier National Park where I'm able to to see and experience these raw, real realities.

Daniel: Yeah... When you think about all the people, you know, driving and flying out for vacation at Glacier and or when you think about the Vice President flying and all these helicopters and airplanes to get there, there is a kind of contradiction, you know, in the amount of fossil fuels being burned for us to go see and say goodbye to this glacier that's melting because of the burning of fossil fuels.

Diane: Life is not simple. The world is not simple, and the world is not black and white. I lead a life that's dependent on on a lot of fossil fuels. And here in Glacier National Park, as the Park Service, we really do care about these issues. And yet one of the most iconic experiences in Glacier National Park is driving going to the Sun Road. Our park is known worldwide as being the park with the iconic road, the first National Park Service road, where actually driving the road was the experience as opposed to simply getting from one point to another. So it's all wrapped up and it's all complicated. And I think I think it's a slippery slope when people expect there to be easy black and white answers.

Diane: To a certain extent, I feel like we look at the Grinnell Glacier base and we understand Grinnell Glacier is receding and for a moment we just need to be with that reality. And then the next step is that maybe we'll be able to start doing something about it.

Daniel: Hmm. That's really well-put. How have you changed since your first visit to Grinnell?

Diane: My hair got gray. That happened ridiculously early, though. I think one way I have changed is that I have accepted that reality. That things aren't simple and they're not black and white. I think when I was younger, I wanted to jump to answers and I wanted to know it all. And I wanted to think that I had all the answers. And now I'm not so sure that there are easy answers for most of the things that I wrestle with. But I believe we need to keep wrestling and and we'll find our way to an answer at some point.

Daniel: And being okay with living in that complicated, contradictory gray area.

Diane: And accepting the fact that a place like Glacier gives us that opportunity to feel more connected to the world, at least at least for me, I can't I can't speak for other people. But protected places such as Glacier allow me the time and the space to ponder and problem solve and process some of those issues.

Daniel: I think you're, of course, connected to the Many Glacier area, to Grinnell Glacier. But do you feel like you're kind of part of it?

Diane: I think it would be presumptive of me to to be part of it, but it's part of me. Many Glacier is a huge part of me, and for that I am very thankful.

Daniel: Well, thanks for coming and talking to us, Diane.

Diane: Thank you, Daniel.

[Ending music fades in and plays under credits.]

Peri: Headwaters is funded by donations to the Glacier National Park Conservancy. As an organization dedicated to supporting the park the Conservancy funds a lot of sustainability initiatives, from solar panels on park buildings, to storytelling projects like this one, the Conservancy is doing critical work to prevent the worst impacts of climate change. You can learn more about what they do and about how to get involved at Glacier.org.

Peri: This show is created by Daniel Lombardi. Michael Faist. Gaby Eseverri, and me, Peri Sasnett. We get critical support from Lacie Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Kristen Friesen, and so many good people with Glacier's natural and cultural resource teams.

Peri: Our music was made by the brilliant Frank Waln, and the show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in the show notes. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Glacier’s Bats: A Story of Grief and Hope

20 februari 2024 | 28 min

The twin stories of bats facing white-nose syndrome in Glacier, and a volunteer who dedicated so much of his life to studying them. With disease and decline on the horizon for bats, what does the future look like?

This episode is in memory of Lewis Young.

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and Peri Sasnett

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Gaby Eseverri: This spring and summer, park biologists were out all night trying to catch bats.

Lisa Bate: Tonight, we're trapping at roost. Our goal is 25. Yes. So what we're going to do is really we're going to catch 30 and then we're just anything after that, we're just going to we can look real quick and see if you see anything odd, if you do we'll collect it.

Lisa: We don't have Lewis with us. You guys are filling the shoes of Lewis.

Kaile Kimball: Nearly impossible shoes to fill.

Lisa: Big shoes to fill.

Gaby: They're catching these bats to do a swab test for white nose syndrome. A deadly disease that thus far hasn't been found in Glacier. But it's not too far away.

Gabby Eaton: Trapping went so well, I think that everyone worked together really hard and we had a good time.

Megan Potter: We're unbelievably efficient. We process a lot of bats. We saw no signs of white. We kept our bats very warm and very happy, very cozy.

Kaile: And how how were the bats? What you think?

Megan: Oh, they were amazing. Yeah, they were just the sweetest little things ever.

Gaby: And while I couldn't join them for the survey, I did catch up with them a few weeks later, when they texted me to run over to their office because the results of the tests were in.

Gaby [field]: I'm feeling nervous. I can't imagine how they're feeling.

Gaby: Lisa just texted us today that she just got the email, the email telling us if the bats here in Glacier National Park, if they have white nose or not.

[Footsteps and door creaking open.]

Mixed Voices: Okay. Hi. You actually been waiting? We haven't opened email yet. I want to be here for this. Please. Do you think he is? Really?

Gaby: Hey, Lisa.

Lisa: Hi. Did you guys hear? I got the results for white nose swabbing? Bat swabbing? Oh okay.

Gaby: When did you get the email?

Lisa: I've been in the field all week. And yesterday, when I got back, I noticed that it was in my inbox.

Lisa: Oh, I guess I'd better find it. I don't know... You can see how my emails reproduce in the inbox. Oh, it's from Emily. Maybe Emily. Yeah. Let's try this. There it is. It's from Emily. Oh, good. So I also took over Lewis Young, who passed away this year, and their house. They came back negative for PD. Hmm. Would you? They asked me to convey this information to Linda. And so I'll do that. Oh, maybe it's just that one, you guys. This is just at his house. Oh, sorry. False alarm guys.

Mixed Voices: Oh, okay. That's really good. Okay. So, yeah.

Gaby: False alarm. The results for the bats tested in Glacier aren't back yet. But it's still great news from another site in northwest Montana, the home of Lewis Young.

Gaby: Welcome to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. I'm Gaby.

[Theme music fades in.]

Gaby: This episode is about bats. Disease and decline are on the horizon for Glacier's bats and their future seems uncertain. Lisa says it's not a matter of if, but when. This story is also about one man who loved bats, who dedicated so much of his life to conserving them.

[Theme music plays in full.]

Madeline Vinh: Act One: Dusk.

Gaby: Glacier's wildlife team hosts an event called "Going Batty" every summer. The public comes and gets to see bats up close. As the sun sets they welcome the attendees and give us all a short introduction. Their enthusiasm spreads throughout the entire crowd.

Lisa: The main focus is just to give people a chance to see bats up close and learn about the amazing role they play in our ecosystems and some of the risks and threats they face and what people can do to help bats. And there's an old saying that you kill what you fear and you fear what you don't understand. So we take this as an opportunity to help people understand bats.

Gaby: That's Lisa Bate. She's a wildlife biologist with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy. She's in perpetual motion, and her staff, who are half her age, have trouble keeping up with her. She studies the park's birds, and if those 250 plus species weren't enough to keep track of, she added ten species of bats to that list as well.

Lisa: So far we have documented ten species and that's why we started the bat inventory and monitoring program. I came to the park in 2009 and I've always loved bats. I was the nerdy little kid in the meadow putting rocks in socks and throwing them up in the air and watching the bats come after them. I never really understood why I thought they like them because they were white socks. But, you know, I didn't know about echolocation back then.

Gaby: I feel like bats get a bad rap. I think it comes from their associations with Halloween and vampires and like the general nighttime, but they're really remarkable. There are more than 1400 species of bats in the world. Bats are the only mammals that fly. They're expert echo locators and they pollinate over 500 plant species. So the next time you eat mangoes, avocados or bananas, you should thank a bat. And if you need another reason to love them, they eat millions of insects, every night.

Lisa: I mean, I'm amazed at what scientists have learned about bats just in the years that I've been studying them. You know, we didn't know a lot, but there was just been this race against time to learn as much as we can before we lose species or, you know, massive amounts of populations of bats. But when I got to the park, I started hearing about this disease called white nose syndrome. Have you guys...

Gaby: And white nose syndrome is terrifying. It's a non-native fungal infection that is killing bats as it spreads all across North America.

Lisa: It was discovered in a cave in New York in 2006. And it just some cavers went into a cave and saw these bats just hanging there. And they had this white powdery fungus growing on their nose. So they alerted biologists to it. Biologists started going in the caves and saying, oh, yeah, something's really wrong here.

[Somber synth music fades in.]

Gaby: This fungus loves cold, dark and damp places. So it infects bats while they're hibernating over the winter, often in caves when they're all together. Lisa likes to say that a big brown bat, for example, needs the equivalent amount of fat of one pat of butter to make it through to spring. But when that fungus infects a bat, it makes them restless and active, burning that fat that it needs to survive the winter. This can mean starvation.

Lisa: And any time about arouses from hibernation, they are using critical calories to get them through the winter. Think of that little pat of butter. I mean, how long would a pat of butter last us? Not very long.

Gaby: But the White Nose syndrome response team has a map that shows how the fungus has spread since 2006. In 2010, it reached Missouri. In 2017, it reached Texas. And in 2020 it reached Montana. And where white nose has spread, their populations have been decimated. At some sites, it's killed between 90 and 100% of the population. And even though it's not in the park yet, we know it's coming.

[Somber synth music fades out.]

Lisa: We really knew nothing. No formal surveys had ever been conducted. We had like visuals of four species and acoustic recordings of two others. And of those four visuals, one bat, the big brown bat was roadkill. So that was our database. And I was like, Oh my gosh. So I started collaborating with the biologists in Waterton, and then in stepped the Glacier National Park Conservancy, and they funded the first bat inventories here in the park, and that was in 2011.

Gaby: But Lisa couldn't do all of this on her own. The Conservancy support was critical, and so were the contributions of other scientists, including Lewis Young.

[Light synth music fades in.]

Lisa: I took over the program and then with volunteers, mainly Lewis Young. He's a retired Forest Service biologist, and he has been such an integral part of Glacier's bat inventory monitoring program. And I'd really like to honor him tonight. We lost him in April very unexpectedly, but without him there behalf of the bat program here at the park. And then Leah Breidinger, she stepped in and started helping, Lewis taught you a lot, I know, too. And, Gabby, you learned from Lewis. So a lot of us have really grown under the teachings of Lewis. So, you know, we're all just trying to fill his shoes, which are huge shoes to fill.

Gaby: Lewis loved bats. He worked with a lot of animals in a long career as a wildlife biologist. But he called bats the underdog of mammals, and he always rooted for the underdog. I remember meeting him last year at Going Batty that year, and every time he trapped bats, actually, he wore a certain accessory.

Lisa: Usually when we were here, he would do the fun fact part and wear his big bad hat.

Gabby: He had like these hats that are fuzzy black bats with wings out the sides and then little eyeballs. It's like he was a giant bat. Yeah. Yeah.

Gaby: It's like he wanted the bats to feel at home in his presence, and he welcomed them into his yard as well, which he basically turned into a bat sanctuary.

Gabby: So, Lewis, he was the bat house expert here in Montana.

Gaby: When I was a student at the University of Florida, I would often bike by a section of campus where the air was particularly pungent. There are three bat houses each, a little bit bigger than the size of a dorm room mounted on poles 20 feet above the ground. Together, they house almost half a million bats. These are way bigger than a backyard bat house, but they all provide bats with safe places to live. With their natural habitats in decline, setting up a secure and consistent home for them is an act of kindness, of love.

Lisa: I love going to his house. He had what I called a bad house garden. It's funny, one of my techs said that to and she went looking for flowers. I'm like, "No," he just had three massive bad houses up on post, 20 feet up.

Gaby: Decades ago, he and his wife Linda, built a small bat house in their backyard, but they quickly realized it wasn't enough. So soon after, they added a medium sized one, then a double. Then the condo went up. Lewis suspected that there were about 1200 bats living in their yard, and Linda joked that her neighbors, blissfully unaware of these extra residents, never had a mosquito problem. How many ways do you show those you love that you care about them? Lewis showed up for bats in every facet of his life. Volunteering countless hours, collecting data and training other scientists, helping raise public awareness and providing a refuge for them at his own home.

[Somber synth music fades in.]

Madeline Vinh: Act Two: Dark.

Gaby: It's dark now and people are starting to reach for their jackets. There are bugs everywhere, which is kind of annoying for me, but really good news for bats and for the scientists trying to catch them. They'll assess each bat and gather data on the population before releasing them back into the night. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I start seeing blurry figures rapidly flying above me. I'm torn between wonder and worry for their fate.

Gaby [field]: What's a good spot? What defines a good spot?

Gabby: Oh, a place that bats would be flying to forage on insects or to get a drink of water.

Gaby: That's Gabby Eaton. She works with Lisa on the wildlife team. They use something called a mist net to catch bats because the nets are so fine that they're basically impossible to see, especially in the dark.

Gabby: So sometimes we look for places in the trees where there's openings, and then on water, we just kind of think of where they might be flying out from the woods to forage over the water here.

Gaby [field]: So this net is set up under a bridge. Has it been successful in the past?

Gabby: Yeah, I think that's why we did it. Yeah.

[Distant train horn and bird song.]

Gaby: They're hung in strategic places where bats might be flying. So in the forest or under the bridge where the smooth water of McDonald Creek slips by.

Lisa: We just saw our first bat of the night here at the bridge this year, and they've been seeing bats up there in the forest longer.

Gaby: So now I am walking over with Lisa over to their truck and they have all of these tools and equipment ready because it's time to process the bats.

Lisa: ... we try to process them as soon as possible...

Gaby: Okay. The wildlife team keeps the bats in little cloth bags where they really seem content. If it's a cold night, Lisa will tuck the baggies inside the top of her waders to keep the bats warm. In processing them. The team will measure their wings, calculate their weight, determine their sex, and so much more. All of this information helps clue them in to what species it is.

Leah Breidinger: So the first thing we do is weight, right, Lisa?

Lisa: Yeah.

Leah: Well, put it on the scale in the bag and zero it. Then we'll take the bat out. There's our little bat.

Mixed Voices: Oh it's so cute, little buddy!

Gaby: This is my favorite part of the night, and I suspect it's everyone else's too. Lisa dims her headlamp and inspects each bat carefully. They're adorable, in an ugly-cute kind-of-way. They have shiny, soft looking brown fur with leathery wings and little wrinkly noses like a pug. Someone on the internet called them sky puppies.

Lisa: Do you hear that sounds. Thanks for letting us know.

[High pitched bat chittering sounds.]

Gabby: Okay. 7.8 grams.

Lisa: 7.8?

Gabby: Yeah.

[High pitched bat chittering sounds.]

Lisa: What happened? Oh, they're swarming. Oh, because it's emitting distress calls. Oh, yeah. Sorry, little guy.

[Synth music fades.]

Gaby: Watching them feels like opening a doorway into a world I so rarely see. Everything that goes on while I sleep each night. To have up close what is normally a shadow flitting by is to see a sliver of darkness in light. This little creature has such a different experience on this earth than my own. Hunting by echolocation and thriving in the pitch dark. Where I am helpless.

[High pitched bat chittering sounds.]

Lisa: I'm sure it's a female... looks like a female.

Mixed Voices: [Sounds of handling a bat.].

Mixed Voices: Female? Female.

[High pitched bat chittering sounds.]

Lisa: Then we're going to check for reproductive status, see if she's pregnant. I doubt she's pregnant. She would have pups by now. We palpate the abdomen.

Leah: So I kind of just feel like that and I don't feel anything. You usually can feel something pretty hard in the stomach if they are pregnant. So. No, not pregnant, is what I would say.

Gaby: At Going Batty last year I watched as Lewis processed one of the bats. He gently but quickly assessed the bat, but something seemed different. They released it and he kept reviewing the measurements he'd taken. A few days later, I got an all employee email with great news. Lewis had identified a new species in the park, a western, small-footed myotis. Even knowing the inevitable future of these bats, he was still working so hard to study and protect them.

Lisa: And then look at the nipples, then we can tell--and this is one of the hardest things on earth to do, find a nipple on a bat. We can tell if you can see the nipple, we know she has given birth at least once. A young female that has never given birth, you really can't even find the nipple. And then you look for the hair around the nipple and you can and you can even squeeze the nipple to see if they're still lactating.

Gaby: There are tears throughout the night as memories of Lewis come up. The team quietly honors him in practicing the techniques he taught them. His expertise and enthusiasm are missed, and so is his kindness.

Gaby: When did you meet him?

Gabby: I first met Lewis when I was the conservation intern through the Conservancy. I was a freshman, so I was like 19. He's a retired wildlife biologist who just volunteered with Lisa and loves bats more than any other person that I've ever met.

Gaby: Really?

Gabby: Yeah.

Gaby: His wife, Linda, told me that he didn't start working with bats until a ways into his career, after a moment in 1980 when he came home as excited as she'd ever seen him. He'd found a bat trapped in a fence and managed to successfully release it. Something about that moment started a 40 year devotion and many sleepless nights.

Gabby: He just was incredibly passionate about helping bats, and that's really all he cared about. I mean, he cared. He cared about other things, too. But yeah, it was like his main focus. And he was just a wonderful person to be around. Mm hmm.

Gaby: Does this year feel different?

Gabby: Yeah, for sure. Yeah, he would do the the bat facts with his bat hat on, and he was really soft spoken. So I think people had a hard time hearing him. But he had, like, all of the facts memorized by heart. And it was just so cool that he knew all of that.

Gaby: Because he just lived and breathed bats.

Gabby: We had a training for a white nose swabbing this spring, and he had such an impact that at the beginning of the training they said, we just want to let everyone know, Lewis passed away. And we were all so, so... were grieving him because he was such an amazing part of the whole, like, Montana's bat community. So, yeah. Far reaching. Yeah. Yeah. His wife donated all of his bat tracking gear to us, and so I had to go through all of that. And Lisa didn't want to go through it because it was like too hard for her to kind of look at it. But he had all these little trinkets and stuff in little notes inside his trapping gear that were just like, It was really sweet to see all that.

Gaby: One thing that Gabby found were holding bags for the bats. Linda made a bunch of them by hand years ago, using fabrics with all kinds of patterns and colors. The team's favorite is the Mickey Mouse one. Lewis had his own set of nets as well. And the team tells me they've used his, all summer.

Gabby: He's an inspiration, and I hope to be as amazing as he was and his legacy is. Yeah...

[Music fades in.]

Gaby: Linda was kind enough to tell me more about who Lewis was when he wasn't wearing the bat hat. He grew up in the Ozarks and was always passionate about animals. They met in grade school, she says sixth, and he says fifth. But she always knew she loved him. He was the cutest boy in school. They started dating in high school and married after graduating. She put him through college while he studied wildlife biology, and she would have been totally shocked if he had picked anything else. Throughout their lives, they observed the natural world, always together.

[Music plays and concludes.]

Lisa: Mites? Insects? Parasites?

Leah: I did see one mite, I'm not I'm not finding the nipples, Lisa.

Lisa: Well, she's old.

Leah: Well.

Lisa: Can I look at her?

Leah: Yeah!

Lisa: She's not obviously pregnant. I mean so often it just stands right out. But, you know, it was... Oh, there is a nipple right there. Now squeeze it a little. Did you see milk come out? No.

Leah: No.

Lisa: No. Okay. So she has...

Gaby: The tiniest thing.

Lisa: Well, was really hard to find, but she obviously hasn't given birth this year.

Gaby: They don't seem to love being handled and they make chirping sounds and try to nibble Lisa's gloved hands. But it doesn't take long to process each bat, and they do one final test before letting them go. It's unusual to detect white nose during the summer months. That's why they swab for it in the spring. But they look for it just in case.

Leah: So you can check for white nose syndrome by using the UV light and it'll fluoresce orange. But we've got to turn off our headlamps to do that.

Lisa: In this light, you don't want in anybody's eyes. And this is when we do our swabbing. This is our last step. Oh, that looks really clean.

Leah: So we'd be seeing orange flecks if it had white nose.

Lisa: Let's look at the other wing. I don't see any scarring either, but it did have nubby ears, right?

Leah: Yes, it did.

Lisa: And we record all that. Okay.

Leah: It's always great when you don't find it.

Gaby: For a few moments. It's quiet and everyone holds their breath while they wait to find out. This bat doesn't seem to have it yet. But I try not to think about what could happen this winter or to the 1200 bats that live in Lewis's backyard. Well, those houses be empty someday. Are they safe?

[Footsteps walking on gravel.]

Lisa: Okay, Now you want to release her? Yeah.

Gaby: Lisa and I turn off our headlamps and walk to the edge of the forest to release the bat. There's no light, no chirping, no noise. Everything is quiet. She pauses for a moment, as though she's saying goodbye, and then sets it free. I wonder where it will go.

[Synth music fades in and out.]

Madeline Vinh: Act Three: Dawn.

Gaby: I knew this day was coming. And it's here. It's a cool, clear morning and I soak in the warm sunlight peeking over the ridge as I walk over to meet the wildlife team. We're about to find out the news we've been waiting for.

[Footsteps walking on gravel.]

Gaby: So I'm walking over to Lisa's office because she messaged me that she finally got the real email.

Gaby: Are you feeling nervous now that...

Lisa: You're here? Yeah, I always get nervous. This is from the National Wildlife Health Center. And this is where we sent our swab test to go. And these are our results to find out--

Gaby: --so this was from the swabs that you collected in earlier this spring.

Lisa: Yeah, on the east side.

Gaby: And so right before, what do you think is waiting for you inside of this email?

Lisa: I think it's going to be negative. And the reason why is because I have not received any phone calls.

Gaby: I see Lewis his legacy everywhere as I look around at the team. Their courage and dedication in the face of everything that is to come. Their hope for the future and their love and commitment to these sky puppies. Lewis His passion was contagious. Linda tells me that he loved working with Lisa and mentoring the young wildlife technicians, but that was the best part.

Lisa: Oh look, great news: "Thanks for all you do for bats!" Yay!

Gaby: Aww! Oh wow!

Lisa: That's really good. Yeah...

Gaby: Lisa's teary eyed, and so am I. I think of Lewis, and I'm comforted that this news would have brought him joy.

Lisa: Yeah. This is great news for Glacier.

Gaby: So why is this good news if it sort of feels inevitable?

Lisa: Our hope is that our North American bats build natural immunity against white nose syndrome. So the more time we have here in Glacier without the disease here, maybe some of those bats are developing immunity.

[Theme music fades in.]

Gaby: Even in some of the areas that were hit the hardest by white nose. Scientists are now finding that bat populations are slowly, ever so slowly, starting to come back.

Lisa: So we're just watching and waiting, and hoping for the best for these guys...

Gaby: Linda tells me that she still loves watching the bats emerge from the houses in her backyard. I like to think they remind her of Lewis.

[Ending theme music builds under credits.]

Peri Sasnett: This episode is in memory of Lewis Young.

Peri: Special thanks to Lynda Young for generously sharing her memories and stories with us. Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park and is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We could not make the show without them. You can learn more about what they do at Glacier.org. Headwaters is made possible with help from Lacey Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, and so many people throughout the Glacier community, especially the natural and cultural resource teams. We're grateful for all of you.

Peri: Our music this season is by the brilliant Frank Waln. The show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in our shownotes.

Peri: Lisa Bate, Kaile Kimbal, Gabby Eaton, Megan Potter and the whole wildlife team were instrumental, and many thanks to the very batty Sarah Gaulke for answering all of our bat questions and for encouraging us to tell this story. And an extra shout out to Madeline Vinh for coming through in the clutch.

Peri: Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving us a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Kaile: It's definitely worth staying up late for, yeah. Oh, my goodness. This is amazing. This is the best moment of my life. I'm in love. I'm going to cry.

Does Hiking Impact Wildlife? Check the Camera

6 februari 2024 | 30 min

What do animals do when we’re not around? One way to answer that is by using remote cameras. By focusing on two camera studies in Glacier, we learn more about two animals in the park, and those of us who visit it.

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and Peri Sasnett.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael Faist: My parents met working at a camera store, so we always had a lot of camera gear around the house. But when I was 13, my parents gave me my very first DSLR with a big chunky frame and a zoom lens. I had a tiny point-and-shoot camera before that, but I was convinced something that could fit in my pocket would not be enough camera for our family vacation to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado.

Michael: The Rockies were unlike anything I'd ever seen growing up in the Midwest. And armed with my new camera, I took pictures of everything. The view from every scenic pull out, every wildflower. Photogenic cloud or notably large pinecone. But one picture from that trip that stands out in my memory is a photo I took of a moose. The first moose I'd ever seen. Neck deep in a lake holding its massive antlers above the water as it swam from one side to the other.

Michael: It was gone within a few minutes, and the photo, looking back on it, wasn't all that impressive. But I think about that moose often as one of the first experiences I had with a wild animal. At least one bigger than a squirrel. It kickstarted a fascination I still have with the natural world and an appreciation of the power the photography has to capture moments like this. Wild animals in the wild.

Michael: It's no wonder that cameras are one of the most common accessories you see around Glacier today. They are the lens, pun intended, through which many of us see and remember national parks. But cameras are also increasingly being used by scientists to study the same animals us visitors feel lucky to see especially remote cameras which trigger when they sense movement. These "camera traps," as they're called, can reveal glimpses into a side of Glacier that we can never see, how wildlife behave when there are no people around.

[Car sounds]

Michael: We are in the car.

Peri Sasnett: Where are we going?

Michael: We're driving up the road out of East Glacier that heads towards Two Medicine, looking for a camera.

Peri: And what's the camera looking for?

Michael: The camera is looking for moose. Largest member of the deer family. Very charismatic. Big noses.

Peri: I feel like charismatic is debatable.

Michael: I love moose.

Peri: I think a lot of people love moose and a lot of people think moose are one of the uglier creatures.

Michael: What? How could you think Moose are ugly?

Peri: I'm not saying I think that, but I've heard people say that.

Michael: Gangly? Yes. Ugly? No!

Peri: Weird little dewlap thing dangling.

Michael: [Laughs] It's charming!

[Theme music fades in.]

Peri: Some say charming.

Michael: You're listening to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. I'm Michael.

Michael: In this episode, we're zooming in on two different animals one big and one small, one you may have seen and one you may have never heard of. They'll help us understand the increasing use of cameras in the field of wildlife biology and reveal that even if you leave no trace, you have a bigger impact on the natural world than you might think.

[Car sounds]

Michael: We're turning just before the road to the Two Med entrance. Going off the pavement.

Michael: Peri and I went out for a day to check on a wildlife camera with Landon McGee.

Landon Magee: Ah, yeah, so my name's Landon Magee. I'm a Master's student at the University of Montana in the Wildlife Biology program. I'm an enrolled member of the Blackfeet Tribe.

Michael: We were joined by one of Landon's technicians, Ethan Rowe. The two of them are working for Blackfeet Nation Fish and Wildlife, leading a moose study on the Blackfeet reservation and the eastern portion of Glacier National Park.

Landon: You know, they love kind of where areas people call them "swamp donkeys" just because they kind of similar by and they like to hang out in the swamps and wade through the ponds and eat kind of some aquatic vegetation can find them long stream bottoms, creek bottoms, river bottoms...

Michael: And Landon, who has been placing cameras all over the place this year, was nice enough to take me and Peri to the easiest-to-reach camera in his whole study.

Landon: Yeah, so we're just going to head about 50 yards into this big aspen stand here.

Michael: [to Landon] Great, we'll follow your lead.

Peri: Sweet! I mean, this looks like moose habitat.

Landon: Yeah.

Michael: Now I find moose to be really interesting and not even slightly ugly. As the second largest mammals in North America, they're really strong. Bull Moose's iconic antlers can grow up to five feet across, and they use those antlers to fight over female moose.

[Grunting moose sounds and clattering antlers.]

Michael: Which is a great excuse to remind folks to stay 25 yards away from moose and other non-predator wildlife in the park.

Landon: Like any other animal. Give them their distance, you know, just let them do what they need to. You know, it's, you know, the added stress of people trying to get up close just puts more stress on them that they don't really need.

Michael: But at the same time, moose are seen as gentle giants. We see them as being so friendly that they usually have Canadian accents in movies like the Disney movie, "Brother Bear.".

[Clip from movie begins playing.]

Brother Bear Film Clip: "Oh, look, I am sorry. If I was driving this never would have happened, eh. You never let me drive you never let me do nothing. Oh, trample off, eh! I said I was sorry. Let it go. I can't believe you totaled a mammoth."

[Clip from movie fades out.]

Michael: And maybe this blend of strength and friendliness can help explain why Moose are so popular. We ran a People's Choice Awards contest on Glacier's Instagram a few years ago, and moose were voted the most popular animal in the park, beating mountain goats and grizzly bears.

Michael: But despite all their charisma and their massive size, we don't actually know much of anything about how they're doing as a species around Glacier.

Landon: You know, we really didn't know what their status of the moose population was on the Reservation. And then the park hasn't done like any kind of moose study in I think somewhere close to 60 years. So they really didn't know anything about their moose population currently either. And so Blackfeet had listed it kind of as a "species of interest." And yeah, just that just I guess, snowballed into this project.

Michael: I checked. There haven't been any moose studies in the park in 60 years, but Landon's changing that. His study is measuring the moose population on the Blackfeet reservation and much of the east side of Glacier. And to do that, he placed cameras like the one we're at today throughout his study area. And all of the cameras were placed at random.

Landon: Sitting down and trying to pick, you know, 100 camera locations of where, you know, would be good spots would be very time consuming and hard to do. And of course, it introduces a lot of bias. And so having this truly random sampling allows you to get into places you thought you'd never go your whole life. I know there's, there's been a few that I've been to both summers so far.

Michael: And so we're visiting this easy to reach camera to make sure it's still working. Landon's technician, Ethan, walked us through the check up.

Ethan Rowe: When we're arming the camera, we like to put it waist-high, so it would just sit, like, somewhere right here.

Peri: That's like knee-high on a moose!

[All laugh]

Ethan: Yeah. So right now we're doing a revisit, so we're just checking up on the camera, just if the camera was still functional. We changed the memory card at all... and if we did, the I.D. Of it.

Michael: The downside of randomly distributing your cameras, though, is that while some are 50 yards off the road and easy to hike to while holding a microphone, others require miles of bushwhacking through areas with no trails. Honestly, it sounds a little heinous, but that hasn't deterred Ethan.

Ethan: And hikes are a big plus of it, you know.

Peri: Are you sure?

Ethan: I really enjoy the hike sometimes, even though I like to complain along the way. I think when I'm done with it, I really tell Landon, "I really appreciate it out here."

Michael: With these randomly placed cameras set far enough apart to avoid double counting the same moose during a certain time frame. Landon can run all the data through a computer model to estimate how many moose live here. And the data isn't just a bunch of ones and zeroes. It's pictures, which for Landon, has been fun to look through, but a lot of work.

Michael: [to Landon] With, you know, dozens of cameras out at a time, like, how many pictures do you capture over the course of a summer?

Landon: Last year, we did 100 cameras. And I think with all of those, we had over, just a little over 2 million photos.

Michael: [to Landon] 2 million!?

Landon: Yeah. Thinking about that: these cameras are set to both motion detection, (so anything that walks by, grass blowing, anything will set it off), but it also takes a picture every 15 minutes. Part of a time lapse function on the camera. So it has both of those modes going the entire summer.

Michael: [to Landon] So 2 million, how do you go through that?

Landon: A lot of time bent over at a computer.

[All laugh and drum beat music fades in.]

Michael: Blowing grass... waving branch.. blowing grass... Moose?

[Drumbeat music stops.].

Michael: He had some research assistants to help sort through these images. And some companies are even marketing A.I. tools that promise to speed up the process. But despite manually sifting through 2 million photos, Landon was excited about the results.

Landon: You know, I guess looking through the cameras last year, there was a lot more sightings than I had anticipated. We were a little worried that we weren't going to get a whole lot of moose detections just because of how, you know, just having these cameras in the middle of nowhere. And what are the chances of a moose, you know, walking by my camera in such a large area?

Michael: Landon emphasized that one of the things he loves about these photos is you get to see how Moose behave when there's no one around to watch.

Landon: One of the cooler photos or videos we had on the video cameras we had out last year was a moose calf nursing. And you could hear like the sucking noise of the calf just going to town.

Peri: Wow, that's amazing!

Landon: Yeah, it was cool. It's probably the best video I have.

Michael: This is the audio from that clip.

[Nature sounds and sucking sounds fade in.]

Michael: To paint the picture, the calf is mostly hidden by thimbleberry bushes as it reaches up to its mom. An adult female moose can easily be six feet tall and weigh 1,000 pounds, while a newborn calf weighs as much as a small dog like a corgi.

Landon: And this getting that firsthand view into, you know, what their life looks like when nobody is out here. You know, they've there's probably been some areas where they've never seen a human or a big gray box strapped to a tree. And so seeing what they do and how they interact with that, it's been pretty cool.

Michael: [to Landon] I guess, just as a baseline, like why why use cameras as a tool in the first place instead of like going out in the field and sitting around all day?

Landon: Well, I think I mean, a lot of the stuff that I'm trying to do can be accomplished with more invasive techniques like collaring, capturing, chemical immobilization, helicopter, all that, just really invasive kind of stresses animal out a lot and also costs a lot of money.

Michael: As with so many things, the biggest factor is cost. There are a lot of species deserving of study and relatively little money to go around. So you have to have a good reason to get a wildlife study funded for Landon's. It's the fact that moose hunting funds a lot of conservation work on the Blackfeet Reservation. Blackfeet Nation Fish and Game, along with Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks, issue a small amount of moose tags every year, permits to hunt a moose on Tribal, state or federal land. But to be clear, not in Glacier National Park.

Landon: Say, do an auction system until they bid on the tag. And I think the starting bid for moose is like $14,000. And we usually get it up to like $30, $35,000 for a moose tag. Yeah. So, I mean, that's a huge source of revenue for the department. I mean.

Michael: By better understanding the number of moose on the Blackfeet Reservation. Fish and Game can issue an appropriate number of tags without fear of harming moose populations as a whole. And on top of that, we'll also get insight into the moose in Glacier, which speaks to one of the appealing traits of camera traps. They're pretty cheap. High quality cameras are getting less expensive every year, and the only expense beyond that is the time it takes to install and remove them. Landon, Ethan and their small team can realistically study a huge area.

Landon: You know, Moose don't know political boundaries, so, you know, you're going to have moves that are going back and forth and whether you're going to get them on the reservation during your time, sampling is going to be difficult to predict. And so having cameras in the park kind of allows you to understand that transboundary movement.

Michael: Landon's work stands to help Glacier and the Blackfeet Nation manage Moose, but his study is still underway, so there's no population estimate for him to report just yet.

Landon: People always tell me that, you know, "How many moose out there?"

Peri: Let me get back to you in a couple years.

Landon: Give me two years. I'll let you know. [everyone laughs]

[Music fades in]

Michael: We'll have to stay tuned to see what Landon learns down the road. But you don't have to wait to see the results of a camera study. You just have to look to another animal.

[Music concludes]

Alissa Anderson: So they have these very specialized adaptations for living in the deep, deep powdery snow environment. I don't know. I mean, they're cats. You know, cats are kind of weird.

Michael: This is Alissa Anderson. Starting in 2019 as a grad student at the University of Montana, Alissa led a camera trap study of a mammal in Glacier that is far more elusive than moose, the Canada Lynx.

Michael: [to Alissa] Have you ever seen the lynx in person?

Alissa: I have only seen a lynx associated with a live trap for research, so I consider that to be cheating. I did work for one winter trapping for research. I walked up to the trap there just like I had one lynx that literally I think it was singing death metal to me.

[Clip of a lynx yowling]

Michael: It's rare to see any wildcat in Glacier this summer. After ten years of working and living here, I finally saw my first mountain lion. And they're four times bigger than lynx are.

Alissa: It's funny. And then you get all these tourists who go to Glacier for one day and send you these videos, and they're like, Hey, is this a lynx? I'm like, "Oh my God, I'm hike that trail 10 million times. You have no idea how lucky you are!"

Michael: But while I'd guess few park visitors have even heard of Canada Lynx, they're a really fascinating animal and they're perfectly suited to live in Glacier.

Alissa: They are a specialized cat species that has evolved to live in what we call the Boreal Forest. So, you know, mostly across Canada, Alaska. And then that Boreal Forest does reach down a little bit into the lower 48. Part of their specialization is that they specialize in eating snowshoe hare. It's the vast majority of their diet.

Michael: Lynx and their favorite food, the snowshoe hare, both have huge feet relative to their body weight, which allows them to run on top of deep snow. I found a great example of this in a 1976 documentary called "Day of the Lynx." In the clip, filmed in the winter, you see a coyote sneaking up on a snowshoe hare.

[Clip from "Day of the Lynx plays.]

Day of the Lynx narrator: "A coyote has been diligently following the trail of a snowshoe hare. It flushes, running in the direction of the big lynx."

Michael: Then you see the lynx, tall tufts of black hair on their pointed ears, comically large feet, poised and waiting.

Day of the Lynx narrator: "It can run atop the snow, unlike the coyote who breaks through the crust and travel slower. The coyote stays doggedly on the trail, but he's too late. The Lynx has made the kill.".

[Clip from "Day of the Lynx concludes and synth music plays briefly.]

Michael: Glacier has seen less and less snow over the years since the park was established. The park gets 30 fewer days each year of freezing temperatures compared to 1980, the equivalent of a month that used to be freezing cold. The now isn't. So for lynx, this cold adapted animal, climate change is a huge concern. Big enough that they were listed under the Endangered Species Act. Their threatened status encourages groups like our very own Glacier National Park Conservancy, to fund Lynx research like Alissa's.

Alissa: The main facet was what we call an occupancy survey. So where are we detecting them? What kind of areas are occupied by Lynx?

Michael: Landon is studying moose by counting them, since he's doing a population estimate. In contrast, Alissa's study wasn't designed to count lynx, but to figure out where they live, and where they don't. And she focused her cameras on park trails.

Alissa: Like a lot of carnivores have been found to use human trails You know, you have a higher probability of detecting by putting cameras on trails.

Michael: [to Alissa] They can get anywhere much faster on trail.

Alissa: Yeah. And so having cameras on trail means that you can put cameras out without using any kind of bait or lure and still have, you know, a decent probability of detecting carnivore species or these, like, more rare, elusive species.

Michael: Landon's randomly placed cameras make sense for his population estimate and works well in part because Moose are six feet tall. Lynx, on the other hand, are just two feet tall and would disappear in a lot of Glacier's brush. Focusing on trails is a great way to spot lynx. It works great for Eliza's occupancy study and helps her avoid most of the bushwhacking that Landon has to do. But she still used a lot of cameras.

Alissa: So we used 300 and, I want to say, 305 cameras for the Lynx occupancy study, four cameras per cell across the whole park, basically.

Michael: And searching through these images it wasn't just lynx she got pictures of.

Alissa: I think my favorite was porcupine. I think we got, I want to say, 13 porcupine. Which is the same number we got bobcat. We got hardly any bobcat. More porcupine than I expected.

Michael: Porcupines are another poorly understood animal in Glacier. Ever since the eighties, they've been an increasingly rare sight, and nobody's really sure why. Data from Alissa's lynx-focused work could contribute to separate research on porcupines or other species in the park.

Alissa: So we also have this big trove of data on every other species of wildlife that happens to use trails in Glacier, which is a really cool and powerful part of cameras, I think.

Michael: But of course, she also saw a lot of lynx. In total, they captured 404 images of lynx and the cats showed up on 25% of the cameras she put out throughout the park. Many images were simply lynx walking by, but others were more unique.

Alissa: We did get one set of photos of a lynx walking by with three little kittens running around in front of her with their tail sticking up and just looking cute. So that was cool. We got one photo of a, well, looks like to be a juvenile snowshoe hare of the year running in front of the camera, being chased by a lynx, which was super crazy.

Michael: [to Alissa] Oh, and I'm sure they run out of frame so you never know what happened.

Alissa: I don't know. But they were very close, like within to think of each other. So I have a feeling that, yeah, young one did not--

Michael: [to Alissa] Didn't make it.

Michael: And this study in Glacier adds to a larger body of research in northwest Montana. The audio of a Lynx vocalizing that we shared earlier--

[Clip of lynx yowling plays.]

Michael: came from a monitoring project looking for rare carnivores in the Swan Valley, south of Glacier. It was shared with us by the Southwest Crown Collaborative and Swan Valley Connections. Knowing where lynx live now allows us to notice when and how they're impacted by climate change and other stressors, and that'll help the park manage for their success. These photos have also been exciting for park visitors and employees because they're a window into the hidden lives of our wildlife.

[Music fades in.]

Alissa: We got a handful of wolverine, I think maybe 12 or something, and that's always fun. You never see so many of these animals, or very rarely. And it's just a really cool way to just, you know, see what all is around you and using the same trails that you're using. It's sort of funny; there were a couple of times when you just going through the photos, you know, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, and organizing, it'd be like a grizzly bear or even once, I think a lynx, you know, within minutes of a human-

Michael: [to Alissa] Really?!

Alissa: -like, in the exact same spot, you're like, Wow, I wonder how that worked out?! Yeah.

[electronic music fades in sampling the "Day of the Lynx" narrator saying, "During what we call, The Day of the Lynx!" then music fades out.]

Michael: But Alissa's research also revealed another, more surprising, conclusion.

Alissa: Yeah. So basically more or less half of the park, the east side of the park, stayed closed to the public in 2020.

Michael: Because of the timing of a lesser study, 2019 through 2021, her work overlapped with the arrival of COVID-19. And because of the pandemic in the summer of 2020, half of Alissa's study area was closed to the public as a precaution to limit the spread of COVID. The Blackfeet reservation shut down. And the park, who shares a boundary with the reservation, closed its eastern entrances to support that precaution. Areas west of the continental divide remained open, but eastern entrances like St. Mary, Many Glacier, and Two Medicine, were closed. This posed a roadblock for Alissa's research, but there was an agreement that allowed for limited administrative use so long as nobody stopped on the reservation, even for gas. And Alissa's research made the cut.

Alissa: So we were very fortunate and grateful to be able to continue our work on the east side during the summer of 2020. And it did provide a really unique opportunity, sort of more of an experimental design.

Michael: It was a perfect setup for an experiment she never could have arranged otherwise. One year of data with wildlife and people, and one year with wildlife and no people.

Alissa: We had cameras out in the same exact location during the same time period, different years. But like, you know, June 15th till August 15th or whatever in 2020. And also in a year when the park was open to the public and there were thousands of people and like hundreds of people every single day walking in front of those locations. So we were able to compare wildlife activity and presence and detection and those two different scenarios.

Michael: Right away, comparing the open and closed years revealed a pattern.

Alissa: For the most part, most of the findings were that when there's fewer people around, you know, the animals were being detected more frequently or at more different places. You know, I think some of the ones that were strongest were elk and coyote.

Michael: Coyotes were seeing way more often when there weren't people around.

Alissa: Coyote kind of surprised me, honestly, because, you know, they're kind of a generalist species and they can, you know, get used to stuff.

Michael: And I mean, you see pictures in some communities where they're like riding the subway! So you'd think they'd be more kind of comfortable.

Alissa: Yeah, that kind of surprised me that they had such a strong reaction, negative reaction to increased human use.

Michael: That same trend was observed in a lot of animals, including lynx, moose, bighorn sheep and black bears, although it wasn't true of every species. Foxes were the opposite. The probability of detecting a red fox was higher in the summer with people on trail.

Alissa: So, you know, one theory could be we found more foxes because we were finding fewer coyotes, and coyotes are dominant over foxes. And so that's, you know, an explanation. That's just, I think that's super interesting.

Michael: This is something I feel like I and a lot of folks have anecdotal understanding of. It feels like deer like to be around people, whereas you're encouraged to make noise on trails so you won't run into a bear, as bears generally don't want to be around us.

Michael: But when that personal experience becomes a statistically significant research conclusion, it made me reconsider the impact I have on this place.

Michael: It's tempting for me to imagine if you're following all the principles of leave no trace, you know, hiking up to Avalanche Lake like you're not disturbing anything. The park is kind of behaving as it would be if you weren't there. And your paper seems to imply that that's not true.

Alissa: Even if you don't hit an animal with your car or you're not hunting an animal or you're not throwing rocks, an animal or your dogs not chasing an animal simply by existing on the landscape and walking on trails, I mean, we do have an influence on wildlife activity patterns and space use, simply just by being there.

Michael: This hits at the core of the Park Service's mission, to preserve and protect the natural world here, while also providing for the enjoyment of visitors. Two goals that seem to be in tension with one another. A dual mandate at odds with itself.

Alissa: So it's a really interesting conundrum. I think you were saying, sort of the dual mandate of the park, right? I'm certainly not going to advocate for closing the park forever to people. I think that's insane. I think it is kind of interesting to imply that that's necessarily bad. I don't want to say that that's necessarily bad like humans have existed on this landscape with all of these animals, you know, forever. It's just it's interesting and it's something that I think, you know, now we certainly need to think about and consider a little bit more carefully because we have thousands, millions of people, you know, hiking down some of these trails, you know, over the course of just a three month period.

Michael: I've talked for years with visitors and colleagues about this tension in the NPS mission, but I'd always pictured it applying to large scale management decisions like wanting to build a new parking lot. It felt like something I could avoid on a personal level by doing the right thing, which in hindsight feels a little naive. I like working here because I felt like my work can have a positive impact. But Alissa's study left me wondering if the best thing I could do for lynx and moose, is leave.

Michael: But at the same time, the reason I care about wildlife is because of experiences I've had, in nature. Experiences in national parks, like that mediocre photo I took of the first moose I'd ever seen. And it's unlikely so many people from around the world would care about this remote corner of northwest Montana if they'd never been here, if they'd never had the chance to connect with it on a personal level, to go hiking in the mountains, to see wildlife in the wild, forming memories that last a lifetime. Finally, the only way for Glacier to responsibly manage animals like moose and lynx, is to understand them, which takes research, sending passionate, curious people out into the park to learn more.

Ethan: Yeah, you know, that was my first camera did by myself. You know, I guess it's just the bird leaving the nest.

Michael: People like Ethan, the wildlife tech working with, Landon on the moose study. After two summers with Landon, Ethan is pursuing a degree in wildlife biology this fall at the University of Montana.

Ethan: You know, I always wanted to be out here doing this type of work, and I think that's a big motivation for me, is that, you know, not a lot of people are out here and that, you know, as me and him just trying to make a new step into history.

Peri: Moose pioneers!

Alissa: I mean, I guess it's the idea of do we only care about species for the viewing enjoyment of the public or do we care about them for their intrinsic value on the landscape and also for their important ecological roles? And if you care about that and you care about every species.

[Closing theme music fades in.]

Peri: Alissa's research suggests that even treading lightly, we will have an impact on the natural world here--it's unavoidable. But if we can accept that, it encourages us to think about the kind of impact we would like to have.

[Closing theme music plays fully under Peri reading the credits.]

Peri: Our music this season is by the brilliant Frank Waln. The show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in our show notes.

Peri: Special thanks this episode to Landon Magee, Ethan Rowe, Alissa Anderson, Mark Biel, John Waller, and Swan Valley Connections and the Southwest Crown Collaborative for sharing their amazing lynx growls. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving us a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Chasing Waterfalls: The Search for Glacier’s Hidden Wildlife

23 januari 2024 | 23 min

Chasing one of Glacier’s most elusive species, and getting comfortable in the dark. This is the story of Black Swifts in Glacier.

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and Peri Sasnett.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri Sasnett: How many animals have you walked by and never noticed? How many species live around you that you've never even heard of?

Amy Seaman: Most people are kind of excited that they had no idea another thing existed and I think that is-it's like yet one more mystery.

Peri: One of these unknown species is a rarely seen creature that most people here have never heard of. They live behind waterfalls and can travel up to 90 miles an hour.

Amy: Yeah, it's fun because they're really dark and you just think it's a bat or something, so we started calling them black lightning.

Peri: To have a chance at seeing them. Most of the time you'll need to leave the trail, bushwhack for hours with alders swatting you in the face and mosquitoes trying to bite you as sweat drips down your face. Then those same alders lend a hand. As the terrain turns steep and you use them to pull yourself up precipitous slopes. Then the shrubs fade away and you're clambering up a steep field of loose rock, feeling them shifting as you step and hoping they stay put. Oh, and by the way, it's 4:00 in the morning, so it's pitch black. [theme music fades in; starting with a mandolin] Finally, you reach the base of a waterfall where the rocks are slick underfoot and it's loud from the pounding water and cold and damp from the ever-present mist. And this is where you find them. Black swifts.

[theme continues; a drumbeat, a flute line, and other instruments come in, before the music finishes]

Peri: I'm Peri, and you're listening to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. I love birds, seeing them, hearing them, and also counting them. This year so far, I found 242 species and counting, but I've never seen a black swift. For a lot of birders, seeing a brand-new species can be a highlight of your month or even of your year. It's called a life bird. I've looked for black swifts every summer I've lived here, but I strike out every time. They're basically big black cigars that fly thousands of feet in the air, and they're incredibly hard to see. But today, I'm going out with Amy Seaman from Montana Audubon and her team to survey for these elusive birds. And hopefully I'll be in luck. But this isn't just a story about me going birdwatching. It's a story about learning to feel comfortable in the dark and how to cherish the mysteries we may never solve.

[birds singing]

Amy: Once it shoots out, your eye might not pick it up until like out here, where it's out further from the waterfall and I think part of that is just the speed they come out.

Peri: [in the field] Which is how fast?

Amy: So fast.

[laughter] [voices slowly fade under the narration]

Peri: That’s Amy. She's an all-around bird expert, but has spent a lot of the last ten summers looking for black swifts in a collaborative effort between Montana Audubon and the Park with support from the Glacier Conservancy. With her help, I thought it'd be a lot easier to find them, but it is definitely not easy.

Peri: [in the field] So birds are basically too fast to see in your binoculars.

Amy: They really are.

Peri: And if you want a glimpse of them, you're going to have to do an alpine start.

Peri: [in the field] I rolled out of bed at 3:05, got dressed and brushed my teeth and tumbled down the stairs and had just enough time to zoom out the door into the car to then drive an hour to get here.

Peri: So I'm tired. There's rain in the forecast and it's also fully dark outside. Black swifts are early risers, much earlier than me. They're not quite nocturnal, but they aren't just active during the day either. Amy and other researchers have had the most luck looking for them around their nests at dawn or dusk.

Peri: [in the field] We’re on the side of the Going to the Sun Road, where a creek flows below the road through a culvert, and we're starting to hear the first birdsong. And we're staring at a waterfall, [birds singing] trying to see these little black specks moving at 90 miles an hour.

Peri: Black swifts are aerial insectivores, meaning they catch and eat bugs as they fly, especially flying ants. One study found swifts regularly flying at altitudes over 13,000 feet, and they're almost always flying. When they're not nesting, they spend 99% of their time in the air day and night. That's something like eight months of flying. [pensive synth music fades in] How do you study a bird that basically never stops? [birds singing] [sound of rushing water fades in]

Peri: [in the field] So how long have you been doing swifts surveys?

Amy: This is actually year ten, the beginning of the 10th year.

Peri: [in the field] Oh, wow.

Amy: Yeah. Which is so fun to think, but it's fun. We have just as many questions, but we have learned a lot more. [music fades out]

Peri: [in the field] So when you started, you didn't know how many birds there were, didn't know how to look for them, didn't know what their nest sites really looked like.

Amy: Exactly.

Peri: But despite the things that Amy and others have been able to learn, there's plenty of mystery left. And Amy loves it.

Amy: [to Peri, in the studio] I've always wanted to know what's around me. That was a lifetime goal of like when I'm a kid and I want to grow up, I want to say, hey, I'm on a hike, and what is this thing that I'm walking near or pretty flower that I'm looking at? Then you're like, wait, there is stuff we don't know. So it was this whole circle of like-

Peri: You're a black swift explorer.

Amy: I can't believe there's a bird that we found the sixth nest of in the state.

Peri: That's incredible.

Amy: It's a wild sentence, and it's so fun, and you're like, we didn't know where they wintered until 2012.

Peri: [narration] Scientists have learned about many birds migrations through banding programs that started in the early 1900s. But it wasn't until 2012 that we started to learn where swifts migrate. Using tiny geo locators, researchers in Colorado discovered that they were wintering in the lowland forests of Brazil. But where exactly our swifts from Montana go, is still a question, but we do know that they're declining. A 2016 report compiled by Partners in Flight estimated dramatic declines since 1970. Climate change, pesticides and habitat disturbance are all pressuring these birds. So much about them, especially Glacier’s population, is unknown.

Amy: And I'll never forget my first year at Sperry Chalet meeting a person who had hiked here for decades and had never heard of this bird. And he could name every plant on the side of the trail. So he's like, well, what are you guys here for? And we’re like, oh, actually, these birds right up in this waterfall that he's-you mean you can look out from the chalet and you've seen for years, and then he was just floored.

Peri: And Amy's been working to study swifts and spread the word about them for the last ten years.

Amy: There's enough sites now to start monitoring to a number of birds because, of course, at some point, you know, funders want to know. Conservationists want to know like, well, what's the number? Are we running out? Are they declining? Are they not? [pensive synth music fades in]

Peri: Personally, I'll just be happy if I get a little glimpse of just one.

[birds singing] [rushing water sound fades in]

Peri: [in the field] Okay. Have I missed anything?

Amy: Not yet. Just staring.

[Peri chuckles]

Peri: I'm standing with Amy and her team, [music slowly fades out] all of us staring intently at the waterfall, coming out from under Going to the Sun Road. I'm bundled up, but the cold, damp air is still somehow seeping in.

Peri: [in the field] It's 5:25 now. I still see no swifts, although it's seeming less absurd that I might be able to see them now that it's a little lighter. But it hasn't happened yet.

Amy: We do call them the swifting hour. There's like a certain light that starts to settle in in the morning or night, and you're like, oh okay, this is I can feel the activity now…

[Amy’s voice fades under narration]

Peri: Maybe Amy could feel it, but I was not at her level.

[birds singing] [rushing water sound fades in]

Peri: [in the field] So I'm just looking at the waterfall in my binoculars and we talked for like two hours yesterday about how you can find the nest and what to look for and this kind of nook or crevice or the whitewash from their pops out of the nest. And they made it all seem very straightforward. And I am befuddled.

[rushing water sound fades out]

Peri: Needless to say, seeing a swift, even with Amy's help, was not going to be as simple as I'd hoped. But compared to most of their sites, which involve not just a drive but hiking miles off trail to get to… this is a breeze.

[rushing water sound fades in]

Peri: [in the field] So is this like the cruisiest survey spot you guys have?

Amy: Yes. [Peri chuckles] I would say I've never rolled up and I was like, I'm going to wear Crocs just because I can this morning. [Peri chuckles]

Peri: It was enough of a challenge for me to get up at three in the morning and grateful we did not have to backpack here or bushwhack for hours up a mountain.

Amy: So like swifting is not for the faint of heart.

[Chuckling]

Peri: You would be right.

Amy: Also, because you get so excited sometimes like, oh, I'm going to have a heart attack because of my excitement level. [Peri chuckles]

Peri: I can't say that I was at heart attack levels of excitement, but some booms of thunder did start to get my heart going. [thunder and rain fade in]

Peri: [in the field] Okay. Status update. It's 5:59 a.m. It's thundering quite a bit, seeing some lightning off to the north. I still have seen no swifts. I don't know if this is looking promising.

[thunder and rain get louder]

Amy: Shoot. I might just put my rain jacket on. If it's pouring, we won't survey, but we have done some like half rainy ones.

Peri: It's honestly hard to tell if it's passed on yet because the storm clouds have made it so dark. We take refuge in the car and the storm lets loose. [car door opens and closes] [thunder and rain intensifies] Rain is coming down in sheets and pouring off the cliffs above the road. In a way, the wet weather is appropriate. Black swifts nest behind waterfalls peeking out through the mist with their big dark eyes. As the clouds empty around me and my nose fogs the car window, I suppose I'm getting a glimpse of what their habitat might feel like. [rain and thunder fades out] One question I had was why did they so often nest behind or around waterfalls in the first place? There isn't conclusive evidence, but experts think it serves a few purposes. The first is to avoid predators, and another possibility is climate control.

Amy: But then, apparently the water is good for the temperature to be cool because they're not fluctuating.

Amy: Like they're not getting so hot either-

Peri: [in the field] It’s just steady.

Amy: Yeah I think it stays basically like 45 degrees all the time.

Peri: Glacier has plenty of waterfalls in the spring, fed by melting winter snow. But by late summer, most of them run dry. Black swifts are smart enough to only pick waterfalls that will protect and cool their chicks all the way until the end of summer. And those can only be fed by glaciers and persistent snowfields, which this park has a lot of.

Amy: [in the studio with Peri] We have realized that this-they love Glacier National Park. There are more nests here than in the rest of the state combined, that we know of.

Peri: But as temperatures warm with climate change, the sources of these waterfalls, those glaciers and snowfields are declining.

Peri: [in the studio with Amy] Because I guess you could see the swifts as a bit of a canary in the coal mine. And as you say, like the waterfalls or where they are, they can't move up in elevation, but also they feed on insects. And so as insects decline, like, that's even more invisible.

Amy: Yeah. And I think you're totally nailed it because part of the interest in studying black swifts isn't just that they do have a unique place that we just didn't know about them, but they totally share a decline with other aerial insectivores and the jury's kind of out on exactly what issues are happening…[Amy fades out under narration]

Peri: This is one of the biggest motivations for their studies in Glacier, trying to figure out what the population is like and how worried they need to be.

Amy: And it also helps us know like, oh, maybe we don't need to hit the panic button either right away. There is a lot of great habitat in Montana, and it could be that we have a lot more of these birds than we thought.

Peri: But all of Amy's work can still only go so far.

Amy: We can also learn only what we can learn in Montana. We don't know anything that these birds are encountering on their migration or on their wintering grounds.

Peri: And even with ten years of data from Glacier and efforts in Colorado and Idaho, we still know remarkably little about these birds compared with almost every other species I might see on a morning walk. It makes me wonder what else I'm missing.

Amy: If a tree falls in the forest and you don't hear it right, like what happens? [pensive synth music fades in] And then so it's like if a black swift disappears from a waterfall, but we never know they were ever at the waterfall. To me, there's something really interesting that's lost in that.

[mellow synth music gets louder]

Peri: Still hiding out from the rain, talking with Amy in the car, I've pretty much lost all hope of seeing a swift today. Maybe of ever seeing one. I feel like the thunderstorm is an embodiment of climate change and all the threats these little birds are facing looming over all of us. As the park's glaciers retreat and disappear, people notice and they care. But does it matter if a bird that I might never see disappears? Can you love something you've never seen?

[music continues]

Peri: [in the field] All right. It's 6:38 now. The storm has abated. [car drives by] [birds singing] There are a lot more cars now. I'm still seeing no swifts, but... so you would normally survey until 7:15. [car drives by] We have another like half hour. So do you think you see any swifts?

Daniel Lombardi: I mean, there is like a smudge back there that could be something, but it's not moving and…

Peri: Right. I see a smudge, but I don't see…

Technician: I’ll put on the data sheet, smudge on nest. [group chuckles]

Daniel: Yeah.

Amy: I'm pretty sure this is a bird. It's a bird. There's a bird.

Peri: There's a bird. But I'll take a look on the scope and see if I can see anything of what I just thought was a blob.

Daniel: Was it a smudge or a blob?

Peri: A “smob”?

[Daniel and Peri chuckle]

Peri: It’s tucked away back in this little nook. And I can see a white blob above the smudge. See, I thought I saw it move, but now I'm second guessing myself. [cars drive by] Maybe I'm just moving. Oh. Oh, I see the, yeah, I see the tail. Oh, my God. It's huge. Okay. I thought it was going to be a tiny little bird, but it's huge.

Amy: It's big.

Peri: Oh! [Daniel laughs]

Amy: Kind of crazy because you're like, this doesn’t-

Peri: I was looking for, like, a tiny little swallow sized bird.

Peri: Oh! it moved its head. It's very exciting.

Peri: [narration] Thousands of people drive on the road past this nest site every day and would never know these birds are living their lives here. I've driven past this site dozens and dozens of times. But now I'll look for them every time I drive past.

Peri: [in the field] You can see it so well now. You see its eyeball and see its little wings cross over its tail. It's looking at me.

Daniel: It's in a really small space. [cars drive by]

Peri: Yeah. It's like it's wrapped up in its little sleeping bag of moss and rock.

Peri: [narration] That black swift perched underneath a waterfall, peering back at me from its damp ledge felt like a glimpse into a whole part of Glacier that usually hides out of sight.

Peri: [in the field] It has black, shiny wings and black feathers, and I can see a little tiny bit of white on the front of its face and a big black eyeball kind of looking at me. So it's like a little bit of light, but mostly dark, which was also our experience in this survey. They do a whole lot of things in the dark, and mostly we can't really see them during the day and most of their lives are in the dark. But we're learning a little bit more each year and each survey.

Peri: [in the studio with Amy] In all these years, what do you think you've learned from black swifts?

Amy: I think the biggest personal change that I've seen has been sort of a minor one, but I've realized that it actually does run quite deeply into life, and it's that I really am more comfortable at night being a nocturnal person, walking around in the dark. Even in my own house or in the creepy basement [Peri laughs] or in other people's creepy basements. I think it's really impacted my comfort level with, you know, trusting yourself and all your intuitions and when fear is real and when it's not real. And I think people really do have so much more than we let on to stuff because I've gone to things like in the night and then gone back to the place and like noticed that I'm walking right by the same exact rock or something. And I'm like, I mean, I tried to go the same direction, but my body has some kind of memory, like from like, how did myself take myself to this exact place? Honestly, just operating more comfortably with less light has been a very liberating feeling. I don't know if we learn it as fear is from movies or what it is when you're little and you do have that fear of the dark thing.

Peri: It's very primal. I mean, we spend so much time trying to light up the darkness, whether it's our car headlights or our, you know, turning the lights on in our houses or even leaving our porch lights on all night.

Amy: It's just oddly satisfying. You know, like this just makes life easier when you take off a layer of worrying.

Peri: I like that, though. It's not like you go out there and try to make the dark more light. You can just become more comfortable in the dark.

Amy: Yeah, absolutely.

Peri: One thing you said earlier was like, these birds love Glacier so much. And I don't know, I kind of got me thinking like, does Glacier love these birds back? And there's like, I think that there's so much effort going into studying them. It kind of makes me maybe say yes now. [Peri chuckles]

Amy: I think so. I think Glacier and the Conservancy has supported the effort seriously over the years, and to me that's just really cool because that is I mean, these birds are impacting a greater landscape, but they need Glacier to nest and survive and reproduce to, you know, keep having black swifts. And then I think the community of people love that because when people are here, they're totally enjoying nature and then hopefully passing that down. I mean, as Montana Audubon too, we are advocates for conservation and it really does take knowing and caring about something to advocate for, especially if it's a policy decision that will impact climate change or something like that. You do have to know the birds.

Peri: [narration] I guess I'm still not sure if you can truly love something you don't know. [haunting violin fades in] But now I've seen a black swift and I think we bonded. And I know I don't want to lose them.

Peri: [in the field] How does it feel?

Amy: They’re still there and that really makes me happy. Actually, to your question of how does it make you feel, when you see them again after ten years, I don't know why, but I still get so excited and I do love them.

Amy: [in the studio with Peri] When we were lucky enough to see that nest today, you get that small little bit of just ultra excitement that they're still there and just knowing that they're there, even though you don't see them all the time, it's just like, gosh, this whole life's happening and we have no idea and that made me brought a lot of joy here.

Peri: We've learned a lot about these birds, but can we ever know very much or will-will they always kind of be a mystery to us?

Amy: That type of thing is so interesting to me. And I think just because we can't exist in their habitat comfortably for much longer than a few hours, I think there is definitely going to always be the part that is just too dark for us to see.

[music builds, then fades to play softly under the credits]

Peri: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park and is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We could not make the show without them. You can learn more about what they do at Glacier.org. Headwaters is made possible with help from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek and so many people throughout the Glacier community, especially the natural and cultural resource teams. We're grateful for all of you. Our music this season is by the brilliant Frank Waln. The show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links and our show notes. Special thanks this episode to Amy Seamen and the whole black swift team. Montana Audubon, Lisa Bate and Kaile Kimbell for all the pickles. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving us a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Art, Science, and Alpine Potatoes

9 januari 2024 | 29 min

The cutest animal in Glacier may be at risk of disappearing, but it's hard to study an animal that lives under rocks, high in the mountains. How can we understand the hidden parts of the world around us?

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and Peri Sasnett.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael Faist: [to Lucas and Alyssa] Do either of you have a particularly good pika impression?

Alyssa Quinn: Lucas does.

Lucas Moyer-Horner: I do. I can give it a try. "Eep! Eep!" Eh. Kind of like that. The thing is, there's different "eep" dialects.

Michael: [to Lucas] How interesting.

Lucas: Even within the park, sometimes you'll hear one that sounds like it has a hoarse voice and or one that you sort of assume must be a really young one, because it has a really kind of a meek and high pitched eep. And then others are pretty strong eeps. But but they're all eeps. They're not whistles like the rodents do.

Michael: Pikas are the cutest animals in Glacier National Park. No contest.

Lucas: Pikas are lagamorphs. So the order group of mammals that they belong to called lagamorphs includes rabbits and hares. Pikas are about the size of a Idaho potato, classically, is how folks like to describe them, and it fits well.

Michael: They're like little fuzzy Idaho potatoes. I mean, even their poops are cute.

Lucas: Pikas’ poop is the only one that is almost a perfect little sphere and pretty much the size of a peppercorn. So if you see tiny little peppercorns, that's for sure going to be like poop.

Michael: [to Lucas] I've heard people joking about using old pepper grinders as they're like a collection container.

Lucas: Seems dangerous. [both laughing]

Michael: This is Lucas.

Lucas: My name is Lucas Moyer-Horner. I'm an instructor with the University of Utah, and I'm also a pika researcher.

Michael: And Alyssa Quinn.

Alyssa: You can call me Alyssa. I am a writer of primarily fiction, and I am currently an assistant professor of creative writing at Kenyon College.

Michael: The two of them have spent a lot of time in the mountains looking for pika this summer, and they're also a couple.

Lucas: The very first time we met was me giving a bear safety talk, and Alyssa was in the audience.

Alyssa: Yeah, and I thought he gave a very good bear talk, like the best bear talk I had heard. So I was like, I need to get to know this guy.

Michael: [to Alyssa] Bear talks can be convincing. Life-saving advice.

Alyssa: He gives a very calm bear talk, which was reassuring. [both laughing]

Michael: Lucas and Alyssa came here this summer because of a mystery. Pika might be in big trouble. If you search for them online, you'll see headlines like this: "pikas disappearing from parts of the West;" "the world's cutest mammal on the brink;" and "the American fur ball being threatened by a warming climate." But if you search for pikas in the mountains here, I'm not quite sure what you'll find. That's why Lucas and Alyssa are here, to help us learn more about what's happening to pika in Glacier. [theme music begins to play] But I wanted to talk to them because they argue science alone isn't enough to understand pika or the threats they face. And so, if not science, what else could help us? [Headwaters theme music plays, with flutes and drums, as pika "eep" sounds play]

Michael: You're listening to Headwaters, a show about Glacier National Park and how it connects to everything else. I'm Michael. In this episode, we're exploring how science and storytelling can shed light on the American pika. And my guides are Lucas and Alyssa.

Lucas: I think that one hike we did where we walked through some talus was the only time I tried to find a hay pile. And I was lucky enough to find one.

Alyssa: Yeah, we saw two... We saw two pikas together, which was a very rare occurrence. Yeah, that was exciting. So, yeah, they just flock to you now.

Michael: As you'll hear, Lucas and Alyssa come to a love of Pika from different spheres of the brain. Lucas's lens is science, while Alyssa brings the mind of a writer. For a few months this summer before work pulled Alyssa elsewhere, she helped Lucas conduct pika surveys. [to Alyssa] Was this your first time surveying pikas this summer with Lucas?

Alyssa: Yes, it was.

Michael: [to Alyssa] How'd you like it?

Alyssa: It's very fun. It's very hard work. It's.... Yeah, I definitely was a blob, I slowly de-blobbed over the course of the summer, but now I'm back to blob-ifying again until next summer. The... It's exhausting because you hike these sometimes very massive peaks, and that's fun. You get to the top. It's gorgeous. You're excited, you've hit the peak, you're kind of ready to turn around and head for home, but instead you have to spend multiple hours up there doing the survey. And that can be really strenuous, too, because you're clambering over these giant boulders up and down, up and down, and trying to keep track of where you've been.

Michael: Our story starts back in 2007, when Lucas, then a PhD student, led the first large scale pika study in Glacier.

Lucas: Our extent of our research is the entire park. So the 1 million acre Glacier National Park is where the surveys take place, and we try to cover as many different patches as we possibly can.

Michael: That word "talus" describes a hillside of loose rocks and boulders, and are the only places that pika live.

Lucas: Basically, they can only be found where there are piles of big rocks. They use the spaces between those rocks as a refuge from extreme temperatures, whether it's too hot, too cold. And they also can use those areas to escape from potential predators.

Michael: So the first step is to identify where this talus or pika habitat is even found.

Lucas: Yeah, I think I've probably covered around two thirds-ish of the park. That's been one of the ongoing efforts was to get up high on ridges and peaks to try to look and see where talus occurs in the park.

Michael: Once they know where the talus is, they'll visit each patch and look for pika.

Lucas: And we're looking for any signs of a pika. So that could be seeing a pika, hearing a pika finding a pika's hay pile, or finding pika scat.

Alyssa: We sometimes go by the Pika Poop Patrol because we are also collecting pika poop.

Michael: Pika poop is currently being used by other researchers studying pika genetics to see how different pika populations are connected to one another. It's not Lucas's project, but he and Alyssa are helping out.

Alyssa: Yeah. How many Ziploc gallons of books are full of poop now? In the cabin?

Lucas: In the cabin? I think we're up to four.

Michael: That's four gallon sized bags of peppercorn sized poops.

Lucas: Conveniently pikas, they're active during the day, so we can survey for them during the day and be more likely to see them and hear them. And they also are solitary and defend their territory from other pikas. So that means if you find if you see a pika, you know that there's not going to be another pika within about a ten meter radius of that pika.

Michael: This summer, 15 years later, he's surveying the same spots all over again to monitor how they're doing and see how pika populations have changed over time.

Lucas: So we'll go to the GPS location where this survey started 15 years ago, and then we'll attempt to survey the same part of the patch that they did. Hopefully the entire patch.

Michael: Alyssa has experienced this work firsthand in the field, and she's also created some of her own written work based off of Lucas's research. Like a poem titled Ochotonidae, the Latin name of pika.

Alyssa: So the poem is a cut up poem, which is a poem that takes an existing text, in this case, I took Lucas's paper "Predictors of current and long term patterns of abundance of American pikas across a leading edge protected area." Catchy title.

Lucas: Thank you. [laughing]

Alyssa: You're welcome. I took that article and I cut out a bunch of pieces of language from it and then rearranged those pieces to form a new poem. And I allowed myself to change capitalization and punctuation. But no, no language.

Michael: The poem spans several pages, many of which look like Alyssa took white out to most of Lucas's paper. The few scattered words left behind tell their own story.

Alyssa: His is longer. [all laugh] Mine has a lot of whitespace. There's small phrases, words and phrases sort of pasted across the page, separated by large gaps.

Michael: We asked if she'd read an excerpt for us.

Alyssa: Here we go. [subtle synth music plays] "We acknowledge that scale and size are efforts to avoid division by zero, to minimize the error of man made structures, julian date, observer bias, train tracks. And finally, we acknowledge that our ability to identify patterns has been extremely null, especially in centuries made of days."

Michael: This isn't the only piece Alyssa has written about pika, and she'll read a short story for us later in the episode.

Michael: [to Lucas] Lucas, are you much of a writer?

Lucas: No. As you can tell from the title of the paper that they used. [all laughing]

Michael: The two of them approach this topic from such different vantage points, but each helps the other see their own work in a new light.

Alyssa: It's the absolute best thing in the world to have him around and to have his very different perspective sort of constantly there. There are times when he'll sort of drop a piece of knowledge that he has that I'm like, "You knew this thing all along and you haven't told this to me yet?!" Like this amazing sort of biological factoid that you have just been sitting on for years.

Lucas: It's exciting. It's like new perspectives on life and interactions and networks, and it can kind of sort of reinvigorate my interest in my own investigations and science that I'm doing, think about things in new ways, and I think that can help your science be better science. As a scientist who part of my work is looking at the effects of climate change, and it can sometimes seem like, you know, you're writing your notes in your diary as the Titanic is going down. About, you know, just how big the hole is and what caused it and all these things. Art has opportunity to be much more impactful.

Michael: Alyssa and Lucas are both driven by a concern for pika, as these little potato shaped animals grapple with climate change. And each of them approach their work with scale in mind, knowing that their results, whether in research or creative writing, are driven by the scope of their project.

Lucas: And so, you know, it really depends on how much you're zooming in or out, what it is you're observing, and what types of questions you're asking.

Michael: Alyssa mentioned this specifically with her cut up poem.

Alyssa: One reason I wanted to try this was to think about what it might-- since I'm interested in scales of space and time, so what happens when you zoom really far out or really far in? And so I wanted to try doing that to a paper. What would a zoomed out version of this paper look like?

Michael: So to understand the threat climate change poses to pika, I wanted to start with the big picture. We know what pika are, but what are their lives look like? [to Lucas] On a social level, Why do you think pika are so endearing to people?

Lucas: Why are pikas so cute? You know, humans seem to really like baby animals, and I feel like pikas, when they're fully grown adults, still seem like they're little babies. So that's [laughing] that's my analysis. And they're mammals, so they're fluffy.

Alyssa: I think people also like this image that they are hard working. They work all summer to collect this hay and to store it. Um, and that seems industrious to us. It seems like they they really, you know, deserve to survive the winter if they work that hard. I think it's easy to kind of attach that-- that meaning onto them as well.

Michael: That industriousness Alyssa mentioned? They have to do so much work gathering hay all summer because they don't hibernate over the winter, like so many other mammals here.

Lucas: They are going to stay awake and survive in other ways during the winter, unlike rodents who love to just sleep, you know, two thirds of their lives, which is a pretty cool approach too. Pikas, since they can't hibernate, have to collect food to make it through the winter. And so that's what a haypile -- that's the primary purpose of a haypile is they'll collect vegetation, store it, usually under a sort of a big airy rock where it can dry out, and then presumably just hang out underneath the snow, which is really good insulation, and eat their haypile during the winter.

Michael: [to Lucas] Yeah. One way I've heard it described as an analogy to try to communicate how much food pika are setting aside is that if they were as big as we were, they would be collecting the equivalent of several school buses worth of food every year.

Lucas: Right.

Michael: If you see pika frolicking through rocky hillsides, it's usually because they're collecting plants to eat or trying to pillage their neighbors hay piles, despite the fact that they're related to most of their neighbors. If you hear them make their telltale "eep," it's a predator response.

Lucas: So I mentioned, you know, the kindly pika neighbor that warns they're cousins and mom and dad and other relatives that live nearby by eeping. But the problem with eeping is that that alerts the predator to your individual presence. So you're really endangering yourself by warning your neighbors. So a pretty altruistic move. But there's been studies where people have introduced like images and stuffed predators to see how pikas respond. And most often the one predator that they did not eep in the presence of was the weasel.

Michael: [to Lucas] Hmm.

Lucas: And so the thought there is that weasels are such good predators on pikas that it's not worth eeping, because it's going to get you. [bpth laugh]

Michael: But besides being cute, busy, and altruistic pika are known for being extremely sensitive to heat.

Lucas: Yeah, pikas just can't handle getting warmed up very well. The thought then is well, pikas will avoid being active above the rocks when it's hot outside because it'll cause them to overheat. And if that is the case for much of the summer, then they might not be able to collect enough vegetation to survive the winter under the talus for their haypile.

Michael: Around the time of Lucas's first study, researchers observed pika elsewhere in the U.S. were disappearing at lower, warmer elevations.

Lucas: And so that was one of the initial kind of alarm bells saying, hey, perhaps there's some impacts here of temperature on pikas.

Michael: [to Lucas] So pika have a really limited ability to thermoregulate like we can sweat when we're hot, dogs can pant, but pikas have to live in an environment that can keep them cool. So higher elevations or staying under the rocks when it's hot outside. And changes to the temperature outside could affect where they're actually able to live, right?

Lucas: Yes.

Alyssa: I would add that they are considered ecosystem sentinels, meaning that they can sort of indicate the status of an ecosystem affected by climate change. Temperatures get above a certain level, I think, lucas It might be 68 degrees?

Lucas: Yeah.

Alyssa: A pika is going to begin to experience physiological stress. And also if it gets too cold in the winter due to, for instance, a decreased snowpack in the mountains caused by climate change, then the pikas don't have enough insulation when they're under the rocks. And so they can also die of cold. And so thinking of pikas as ecosystem sentinels, it's been interesting for me because that means that they're not only an animal to study, they are like a metric, like mercury in a thermometer. And so they're a way of reading an environment as well.

Michael: I've always thought of science as a tool of illumination. Lucas's research is like turning the light on in a dark room by taking a census of pikas in Glacier. He'll reveal how they're doing, shining a light on the big picture. But when you zoom in and look closely, there are still places that light doesn't reach. [synth beat begins to play]

Alyssa: It's pretty easy to begin to forget what your object of study is. I mean, you're engaged in these sort of daily routines of surveying and, you know, looking for these signs and following these procedures. And at least I found myself, like, forgetting that there is an actual sort of living being somewhere on the end of of this data.

Michael: From a professional academic distance, the consequences of pika decline can feel abstract. Reading scientific papers that quantify their demise, my first thought is that one day I might not be able to see them anymore. Not the difficult reality of what happens to a pika who can't take the heat.

Alyssa: And so, yeah, I do hope that that is something that art can bring to the table. [synth beat finishes playing]

Michael: Alyssa channeled these thoughts into a short story called Detection Probability, which I asked her to read for us.

Alyssa: All right. Detection Probability. The day before they declare their love, he takes her up a mountain. They are looking for Ochotona princeps, the American pika, which he conducted research on years ago, before his grant ran out and his postdoc ended and he took the job here, teaching section after section of freshman biology. She wants to see a pika very badly, because she is in that stage of the relationship where she is hungry to lay claim on all that happened to him before she entered his life, desperate to be able to imagine his life in all its distant invisible weaving, right up until the point it crisscrossed her own. She is twenty-nine and he is thirty-three and she thinks of the many years they existed on this earth simultaneously but without each other, traveling their untouching paths. It is difficult to give reality to his life before her, difficult to infuse it with solidity. The other night, in bed, she flipped through an entire photo album while he poured her bourbon and fed her spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream and she said, Who is this? Where is this? What year is this? Now, on the mountain, he says: “Look in the shady spaces under rocks. And keep an eye out for hay piles.” They climb over talus in the sun. They are at an elevation of 8,000 feet, on a south-facing slope in the American west. Near them but out of sight are several ground squirrels, one hoary marmot, a black rosy finch, two Clark’s nutcrackers, 300,000 worker ants, fifty-seven miller moths, thirteen checkerspot butterflies, and one wary wolverine. Also nearby but out of sight are several hundred pieces of colored microplastic, a floppy hat lost long ago, an oxidized Coca Cola can, and a rotting map of the region, its pages waterlogged and warped so the contour lines ripple up in waves, rising like topography, like some ragged paper range. “I can’t see anything,” she says. Tonight, after coming down the mountain and driving through the summer dark back to town, they will lie next to each other in his bed and each will want to say the words—I love you—but they won’t. Each will want to say it but instead they’ll lie in silence trying to imagine what the other one is thinking. They’ll steal glances at each other, struck suddenly by the other’s opacity. Who is this person lying naked next to them? Who is this stranger? Is there a mouth behind those lips, are there eyes behind those lids, are there organs below the skin of this stomach? And they will feel suddenly that the months they’ve known each other are nothing, nothing at all, that this person still remains dark and impenetrable as the interior of a mountain. And they will fall asleep this way and dream strange dreams which in the morning they will pretend they have forgotten. All of this will happen but not yet. “I can’t see anything,” she says. “I’ve seen them here before,” he says. The pika they are looking for is in fact on the far side of the mountain, three thousand feet higher up. The sun is hot, hot, hot these days and the alpine air is thin and ragged with the heat. The pikas are migrating higher and higher to survive. He knows this is the case elsewhere but for some reason he doesn’t think about it happening here. They continue looking under the same rocks. Three thousand feet above them, a pika carries a mouthful of vegetation back to its hay pile, which lies drying in the sun. A stockpile for winter. When temperatures drop, the pika will burrow underground to be insulated by snow, emerging only to retrieve its secret hay. But this year the winter will be warm. There will be very little snow, and the paradox of this is that there will not be enough insulation to protect the pika. Huddled underground it will grow still, then even stiller, then turn to a corpse from the cold. The hay will go soggy in the warm and early spring, will begin its years of slow decay. All of this will happen but not yet. “We might be too low down,” he admits. He’s explained to her about pikas’ sensitivity to climate, their migration to higher elevations. The problem, he said, is that mountains are cone shaped. The higher up you go, the less space you have. She imagined all the plants and animals of the alpine ecosystem being drawn upward as if by a magnet, growing increasingly condensed, until they reached the peak and ran out of room. She imagined them clustered there at the top, tangled up in each other, fur and leaf and blossom and wing, and then she imagined them lifting off the mountain, rising up off the earth, streaming into the air and away. A kite string of flora and fauna, floating higher and higher, piercing the atmosphere, scattering into space. “I’m sorry we didn’t see any,” she says as they climb back into the car and head for home. “Next time,” he says. The sun is sinking in an orange flare. “Tell me again about your summer of research,” she says. He tells her. She tries to imagine it. The sun sets and now it is night. Alyssa: This is fiction, just so everyone knows.

Michael: [to Alyssa] Okay. [all laughing]

Alyssa: This is clearly not us at all. [synth beat plays to mark a transition]

Michael: We often turn to art to see the world from a new perspective. And Alyssa's story challenges common thinking that the best way to comprehend something is from a bird's eye view -- at an almost impersonal distance. But by blending the fates of pika and the people studying them, Alyssa closes that gap.

Alyssa: The real shared thread is the limits of knowledge. Whether we're trying to know another person, or trying to know a nonhuman species who hides beneath rocks. We are always limited in our ability to know the other, and we have to rely on imagination to know anyone or anything. And so the characters in this piece, they are unable to access the pika because climate change is messing things up. And so it's not that the world doesn't quite work the way that they've learned it works, and they are also, to an extent, unable to access each other even as they are falling in love. There is this perpetual distance that they are aware of and trying to crack open, and that that sort of dark center that lies at the core of of all things essentially is the connection between the two.

Michael: Science tells me often and in painful detail about waves of heat crashing around the pikas' shrinking mountain islands. Despite that, the pikas' suffering is invisible to me. I hear them eep as I hike up the mountain. And maybe someday I won't anymore. Alyssa's story lingers on moments that research often seems to ignore. Describing the suffering felt by pika that's implied by these studies, but that's easier to look away from -- applying what we've learned through research to a story that's personal, intimate, even. In the end, Lucas and Alyssa suggest that truly understanding what's in store for Glacier's pika, or reckoning with the impact of climate change on any living thing, demands searching for the story beyond your experience -- asking how the big picture is felt on a small scale, and using science and creativity in tandem.

Alyssa: It's been said by many people that the climate crisis is in part a crisis of the imagination. We lack the capacity to think long term. We lack the capacity even to think to next week, let alone decades from now. So again, these questions of scale that we are not particularly good at conceptualizing. And so I think that literature and hopefully, you know, innovative literature, literature that's trying new things, can help us to strengthen those imaginative capacities. I don't want to put too much on the back of literature. [chuckles] That's a lot to do to save the world. I think there's other smaller things that it does, too, such as just articulating the griefs that a lot of us are feeling right now. [somber synth music begins to play] Navigating a world where we see so many things we love falling away and just giving voice to that experience, I think is also a valuable task that that fiction can accomplish. [synth beat continues to play]

Peri Sasnett: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park and is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We could not make the show without them. You can learn more about what they do at Glacier.org. Headwaters is made possible with help from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek and so many people throughout the Glacier community, especially the natural and cultural resource teams. We're grateful for all of you. Our music this season is by the brilliant Frank Waln. The show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in our show notes. Special thanks this episode to Lucas Moyer-Horner and Alyssa Quinn, along with Kylie Caesar and the Crown of the Continent Research Learning Center, for introducing us to their work. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving us a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Surviving a Near-Death Fall in a National Park

19 december 2023 | 32 min

Morgan Bell spent 10 seasons working on Glacier’s trail crews—one of the toughest and most demanding jobs in the park. Until a single day—a single step—changed everything.

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and Peri Sasnett.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Gaby Eseverri: Note: this episode deals with an intense accident in Glacier. Please take care while you're listening.

Morgan: I remember this distinct feeling of getting off that hitch, and having that weekend to myself, and just being completely content with life. I remember that moment of just like, Oh, I'm so happy and I feel so good with where I am and who I am right now.

Gaby: So what happened on the walk back?

Morgan: I was on an incline, and when you walk on an incline and snow, you kind of like lean in: kick, kick, kick, dig, kick, kick, kick, dig. So I had kicked into the snow, that there was enough where I had kicked in and exposed it that I actually kicked in to ice. And I stepped on it, and it just took me out immediately.

Gaby: You fell.

Morgan: I did.

Gaby: You fell off the Highline.

Morgan: I began to slide. Yes, I fell off the Highline.

Gaby: Every community—a high school, a workplace, a national park— has its set of stories: local legends, colorful rumors and cautionary tales told in hushed whispers. They come and go, as people do, but I think some of these stories are etched into the fabric of these places. When I moved to Glacier last year, I started to learn the stories and characters of my new community from the stories we've told on Headwaters, to the old locally-famous characters I see referenced everywhere. Like Joe Cosley, the notorious park ranger and poacher. Or Josephine Doody, the moonshine mogul. One of these stories is that a trail crew employee once fell from the highline trail onto Going to the Sun Road and lived. It's almost beyond belief. And it felt a little taboo to know this about one of my neighbors. To know what happened, but not know them.

Music: [somber flute music starting]

Gaby: To know what felt like their secret, but not their telling of it. This year, I became friends with that person. And I quickly realized that they don't see it as a secret. This story that I saw as a dark piece of their past was something that they brought light to. And in doing so, brought light to so much more. You're listening to Headwaters, I'm Gaby. This is a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. In this episode, we talk about how one event can change a life. This is a story of Morgan Bell's relationship with Glacier: a career on trail crew, and how a single day, a single step, changed everything.

Gaby: Do you get the sense that you'll go down in park history? Park lore?

Morgan: I think, with such a substantial experience and story of survival, yes. I think my name will be associated with this place for a very long time. My name is Morgan Bell. I am a concession management specialist here at Glacier National Park, and I have been employed here for 22 years.

Gaby: What brought you to Glacier then? What brought you to Montana?

Morgan: I had received a letter from Glacier National Park in the mail advertising positions for trail maintenance.

Gaby: Had you ever been to Glacier?

Morgan: I had never been to Glacier. In all honesty, I had never even heard of Glacier National Park.

Gaby: [laughing] Okay, cool. So when you came out here at 22 to work trails, this place sort of represented adventure.

Morgan: Yeah, it really set a stage for me to be my own person. It was my first time on my own.

Gaby: 22. Yeah. So what was working trails like here when you started?

Morgan: It was super intense. It was exposing, not only to the elements, but emotionally, you know, like personal level exposing—of being embodied in the woods with strangers for six months.

Gaby: And you're physically doing a lot of work because you're clearing trails?

Morgan: Yeah.

Gaby: Yeah. What does that actually mean? And what are you actually doing?

Morgan: It consists of typically a season that runs from April to October. And you, primarily in the spring, are focusing on clearing downed trees that would have fallen through winter storms.

Gaby: Okay. So to get them ready for visitors.

Morgan: Yeah, yeah, for hiking. So we'd go out and clear trails with chainsaws, sometimes crosscuts. Clean all of the drains so that water can move off of the trail. We build structures so all of the bridges that you cross across creeks and rivers.

Gaby: So it's taking a lot of you physically to be able to do all of that.

Morgan: Physically and then mentally. I mean, you're put into the wilderness and working hard and building relationships. But it really laid the foundation and gave me a glimpse into my, like my ability of self, what I could and couldn't do. It was a really strengthening period for me.

Gaby: So tell me about this culture of trails.

Morgan: There's a lot of pride in it. There's a lot of ownership and there's a lot of longevity.

Gaby: If you're a newbie, it's like, Are you going to stick around?

Morgan: Are you going to stick around?

Gaby: Yeah. Are you going to be a, what do you trail people call themselves, trail dogs?

Morgan: Trail dogs.

Gaby: Okay. [laughing]

Morgan: Yeah. Yeah, trail dogs. It's a right to become a trail dog. You have to work for it. It's a sense of pride to become one. Yeah. To become part of the pack. There was an authenticity to the relationships that you could build with individuals in such extreme environments. It was a community that provided instantaneous support. It was a wave of, like, experiences with each other.

Gaby: Hmm.

Morgan: We have ten days where it just pours rain on us.

Gaby: Everyone's unhappy. Everyone's miserable.

Morgan: Everyone's unhappy. Yeah. Yeah. But that somehow connected us, and we still got the job done. We still had fun. We still made our meals together. Yeah.

Gaby: So you moved here when you're 22, you started trails.

Morgan: Mm hmm.

Gaby: At some point, you became crew lead.

Morgan: Yeah. So typically, each crew, depending on the district, is made up of anywhere from 4 to 6 individuals. My crew that year was myself (the crew lead), and then I had a maintenance worker, and I had two laborers. I had a lot of, I was very excited and had a lot of pride to be a trail lead.

Gaby: How old were you when that happened?

Morgan: 32. I really started to see how Glacier had shaped me into the individual that I was becoming. I can hike a trail, like I can in my mind, I can envision a trail without being on it because I've been on it so many times.

Gaby: That makes me think of knowing our homes in such an intimate way.

Morgan: Mm hmm.

Gaby: And so these trails are sort of. Yeah, like a home.

Morgan: It is home. It is home. You know, I have a favorite tree. I have a favorite rock.

Gaby: Aww.

Both: [laughing]

Morgan: And I have memories built in certain areas right? There's like, those keynote moments that are kind of ingrained in my being. I became very integrated with Glacier. I identified with it. There's an intimacy of how I connected with Glacier. My literal blood, sweat and tears were put into the ground.

Gaby: From working trails.

Morgan: From working trails. Trails exposed me to the deepest parts of myself. It built a level of strength and identity within me to understand myself. That was like a level of intimacy. Who would I be as an individual if I wasn't shaped.

Gaby: By trails.

By trails. It solidified that this was where I was supposed to be. I'm all about universal signs. [laughs] And there was a moment before I came to work here. I was working in a physical therapy office at the front desk. And there was a calendar that I had, and one of the photographs I really admired. And so once the month had passed, I tore that page out and stuck it on my wall and would just look at it. Fast forward, and I'm standing at the top of Logan Pass, and I look around and I was like, [gasp], this is that picture. And so that was a pivotal moment for me where I was just like, This is where I'm supposed to be.

Gaby: Logan Pass is the highest place you can drive to in Glacier, home to the highline trail. The highline is cut steeply into the mountainside, and parallels Going to the Sun road for several miles. When I hiked the trail, I was surrounded by beargrass and other colorful wildflowers in bloom, and I was sweating as the warm summer breeze hugged me. When Morgan and her crew were there on that day in 2012, it was still spring: gloomy and snowy, and her cheeks were pink from the cold mountain air. She was there to get the trail open, clearing it of snow and debris to get it ready for the thousands of eager boots that hike the highline every summer. This is no easy task on any trail. But now imagine one with drop offs so steep that it feels like every butterfly in the world made its way to your stomach. As if that weren't enough. Out of snow and ice to the mix.

Morgan: The morning had started, July 3rd, 2012, but it was raining and it was like a low cloud cover. Definitely still spring-summer in the high country. Historically, trail crew is responsible for blasting snowfields on trails of high use. So we walked out, got to our destination—the last snow field we needed to assess—and then we geared up and begun our walk back to the trailhead. One of my trail members was in front of me. I was second in line in the group of five, and him and I were just chatting up a storm. We were just like having a really good conversation. And we had crossed a number of snow fields by this point and we had approached our last one that we needed to cross. I got pretty far across it, and I could see there's seasonal water. This part, section of the trail, seasonal water flows. What had happened is that water had froze, and created like an ice layer. I was on an incline and when you walk on an incline in snow, you kind of like lean in, kick it, kick, dig, kick, kick, kick, dig. So I had kicked into the snow. But there was enough where I had kicked in and exposed it that I actually kicked in to ice. And I stepped on it, and it just took me out immediately. It was fast. Like, it wasn't like a "whoopsie" slip, it was like a slip. Hit the ground. Start sliding.

Gaby: You're still on snow and ice.

Morgan: I'm traveling, still on snow and ice. Yes. And I was crossing, the snow had kind of collected in a couloir of sorts, or like a you know, a natural chute that had been created through this water feature.

Gaby: Okay.

Morgan: So snow ran from the trail all the way to the road. It's not fluffy, It's not soft. It's not playful. It's icy, hard-packed, compacted snow. Very.

Gaby: Rough.

Morgan: Rough and hard.

Gaby: And if anything, it's only making you slide faster.

Morgan: Faster. Yeah. And the slope of which I was sliding was also steep. I hit the snow immediately, and began to slide. And I recall when I first fell, I was on my back and I was going headfirst, downhill. I attempted to self arrest with the hand tool I had, which was a shovel. So it's a method of putting it across your body and trying to dig it in and use it as a break. I didn't have crampons or an ice axe. That wasn't something that we typically carried with us. I was able to like, spin myself around with my shovel, and then I was feet first going down, trying to break.

Gaby: So now you're seeing.

Morgan: Now I'm seeing.

Gaby: The ground.

Morgan: The ground and where I'm going. But I'm like laying on my back still and trying to use my shovel. At some point, my shovel was ripped out of my hand. And I lost it. And I remember in that pivotal moment, it was so fast, but everything was like so slow in that moment. And I remember just being very aware of what was happening, but extremely like, methodical in my actions. So once I lost my shovel. I flip myself back onto my stomach. And so now I'm traveling. Feet first on my belly. And my only attempt to slow myself down was to expand. So I put my arms out, starfish, essentially. Put my arms out really far. Began to dig in with my hands and my nails. My feet started to, like, kind of really push my toes into the snow. I remember, like the sensation of my face dragging on the snow, and the sound of it, the speed of it.

Music: [low, dramatic bass music starts in the background]

Morgan: And like the snow that I was gripping and moving across, like flying around me. And like, screaming, it was incredibly loud. Really, really intense, primal fear, like loss of control and completely terrified. What my crew members experienced as well is that they heard me yell, I can't stop.

Gaby: So they're hearing you while they're still standing on the highline?

Morgan: Yes. And they're watching me. They can see me sliding down. At a certain point, they lost sight of me and didn't know what the outcome was, but knew that I had made it to the road because from the highline they could see the road itself, but they could see vehicles going around.

Gaby: Something.

Morgan: Something.

Gaby: On a slippery patch of hard snow and ice. Morgan slid 350 feet from the highline. That's more than the entire height of the Statue of Liberty. Then she free fell another 12 feet onto unforgiving pavement. Onto Going to the sun Road.

Morgan: I remember a majority of the slide and at some point I lost consciousness, on the snow field. And I came to on the road. I don't know the duration after I fell, like if it was seconds, minutes. I remember like being on all fours, you know, on my belly and just kind of like lifting my head and seeing blood everywhere, like pooled up on the on the road and all over my face. I was like, Oh, my gosh, okay, I'm on the road. And at that very moment, it was like these little black shoes came running up and came within my view. And I was almost like in Child's Pose, hunkered down, and this individual was saying to me, like, are you okay? Where did you come from? I don't know how clear I was in communicating, but I recall saying I fell from the highline. I'm trail crew. I was on the highline. I slid. I recall laying down instantly, feeling a lot of pressure in my head. Intense pressure in my head, in my face. Just holding my head.

Music: [music fades, shifting to background flute music]

Morgan: And I recall people coming in. So visitor service assistants from Logan Pass came down to assist. They started performing an assessment on me of my injuries and stabilizing me, you know, my C spine and everything like that. The individual who had come upon me on the road was actually a registered nurse from Billings. From what I understand, Rangers got on site and Alert—which is an emergency helicopter—was called, and took off immediately to come LifeFlight me to the hospital. And so I was put on a board and put in the back of the shuttle bus and transported to Big Bend. And once Alert was on site, they put me in an induced coma and got me in the plane or in the helicopter, and we took off.

Music: [dramatic flute concludes]

Morgan: I would never be who I was again. Even with complete healing, I would always be different. It would never be the same. That trails would never be the same, that my life and my activities and my existence as I knew it would never be the same.

Gaby: Do you remember waking up in the hospital?

Morgan: Mmhmm.

Gaby: Was it where you confused or.

Morgan: No, I was incredibly ashamed. I remember my supervisor, who I have great admiration for. He was there in the room. They got the call that I had woken up. I was in the ICU, and the first thing I said was I'm sorry. [laugh] I remember him just being like, will you stop it? You know? Like, why are you apologizing to me? Like, no apology is necessary. I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed. I felt that I had let the team down through my actions. Because I understood the consequences of what had happened not only to me but to the program as well.

Gaby: In the days following the park, halted all trail crew operations while they investigated the accident. For the next season, there were new safety guidelines in place for snow travel. And every year since, trail crew does mandatory snow and ice safety training where they practice using ice axes and crampons, and setting up fall protection. Morgan's accident changed the trails program and the culture of snow safety throughout the entire park. Heads up. Morgan is about to describe her injuries. If you're not interested in listening to the details, you can skip ahead 2 minutes.

Gaby: So when you woke up at the hospital, what were the physical injuries?

Morgan: Starting from the top, traumatic brain injury.

Music: [low base music starts playing in the background]

Morgan: So I had had a swelling of the brain. So to stop that, what they had done is shaved my hair, just the top portion of my scalp, front portion, and created a laceration from my right ear to the apex of my head.

Gaby: Like, they cut that open.

Morgan: They cut that open well and essentially peeled back down and drilled three holes into my skull, which alleviated the pressure of the fluid building up inside of there. While they did that, I had also sustained multiple fractures to my face. And one of the more sustainable fractures that I had was completely shattering my forehead. So they went in and pieced it together with metal pieces that ironically are called Dog Bones. I broke my nose. I lost my front tooth, chipped it. I had multiple lacerations on my face, the most extreme being my upper lip, which had been torn off and my cervical area and neck. I had,uh, bilateral dissected carotid arteries, which essentially is the bands around my carotid arteries had exploded. I then had a right dislocated shoulder and a lacerated liver. So majority of the injuries were head and neck. Every single one of them was life threatening.

Gaby: Did you feel like you looked different? Like it was a different person that you were looking at after the accident?

Morgan: Yeah. And that was really hard to look at myself. Really hard to look at myself after the accident. [emotionally] A lot of like, sadness for what I had done. It was just hard. It was hard to like, I don't feel myself as vain, but it's hard to look at yourself with, in a different context, when something on your face changes or on your body change. Essentially a stranger. The shell of me had changed. I had identified with myself for so long as someone in the mirror meant to be looking and seeing the holes in my head and the scar on my forehead.

Music: [flute music comes in in the background]

Morgan: And the abnormal angle of my nose and the shift of my eyes and all of it. The missing tooth, the shaved head.

Gaby: So there is this reckoning that you're going through with identity.

Morgan: There was a reckoning of the identity not only like physically, but a reckoning of the loss of my identity of self and who I presented myself as. What I did.

Gaby: Yeah.

Morgan: Who I was. It was wiped clean in one fall.

Music: [flute music concludes]

Morgan: This loss of self and identity, and my former relationship with Glacier, for a very long time challenged me and put me in very dark places. You know, depression came naturally with it. I get covered by the darkness, and there's times that I can let it put me on the ground and be at the depths of it. Ultimately. There's an essence of my being that shines brighter.

Gaby: Did the fall at any point feel like it defined Glacier for you? Like you were sort of avoidant of this place because it was too intense, to go to Logan Pass, or too intense to go through the entrance station?

Morgan: Never.

Gaby: Never.

Morgan: No. I'd be remiss to say that it wasn't. Moments of anxiety driving up the road and approaching the shoot.

Music: [background synth music begins]

I know that none of this occurred out of vengeance, that I did something wrong to deserve this. I was eager to come back and connect, such an integral part of my being. It was a loss. I was grieving. I was grieving Glacier. I was grieving that I wasn't able to immerse myself in it. And that I had to be home. There was nothing I wanted more than to be here. This place means a lot to me, and I care immensely for every square inch of it. And so, I have apologized to Glacier. We've come to an understanding together that that wasn't intentional. I have a direct line of sight of the garden wall from the foot of Lake McDonald. And while you can't see the exact location that I fell, it's still the general area. And I have allowed the wind to carry my words up valley. And I have allowed the wall's words to carry down to me. I honor it. Dubbed the chute, like, "Oh, shoot." [laughs]

Gaby: Oh, chute.

Morgan: Yeah, "Oh chute!"

Gaby: That's what you call it when you go by it?

Morgan: Yeah. You know, I. Yesterday I drove the road and I said hi to it as I passed it. I spotted it I was like, Oh, there it is.

Gaby: Oh, chute.

Morgan: The Oh, chute. And I don't pass it and associate it with the memories of falling. It's just like, wow, there is that pivotal point. The memories of the fall [sniffle] aren't associated with it anymore.

Gaby: I don't think anyone would have blamed Morgan if she decided to leave this place after experiencing what she did. For all its beauty, Glacier has seen some truly horrible things: Morgan's accident, and so many others. This place has stories that I will never really know, or for that matter, understand. Maybe all places and communities do. But I think Morgan is right that to really know a place, a community, means honoring that darkness.

Music: [music fades out]

Morgan: There's not a conversation where it's like, me without Glacier. It has been such an integral part of my life for two decades on so many levels. It's where I have worked. It's where I've experienced loss. It's where I fell in love. It's where I raised my daughters. It's where I have some of my closest relationships and life memories embodied. It is here.

Music: [swelling string music begins]

Morgan: The epitome of a trail dog is like strength and tenacity. You know, and I was exemplifying that like tenfold by surviving. It was just the circumstances,.

Gaby: Right.It was ice.

Morgan: It was ice. It was an accident.

Gaby: It was an accident.

Morgan: Yeah. I sometimes ponder with the idea of like, was it intentional? Did it have to be me and did I get to survive? For the purpose of what I am now. It was supposed to be me. So it's it's really curious. Like, where would I be?

Gaby: Yeah.

Morgan: Where would I be without this experience? Where would I be without this place? So I appreciate you guys. Thank you very much for letting me share my story.

Gaby: Well, we love you.

Morgan: I love you guys, too. Thank you so much.

Music: [Dramatic music swells, and plays out under the credits]

Peri Sasnett: Headwaters has a production of Glacier National Park and is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We could not make the show without them. You can learn more about what they do at Glacier.org. Headwaters is made possible with help from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, and so many people throughout the Glacier community, especially the natural and cultural resource teams. We're grateful for all of you. Our music this season is by the brilliant Frank Waln. The show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in our shownotes. Special thanks this episode to Morgan Bell for sharing her story so candidly and gracefully. We also appreciate Duncan Lennon and Cameron Aveson for all of their insight into the trails program. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving us a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Living Seasonally: Advice from a Lifelong Ranger

5 december 2023 | 33 min

We sit down with Chuck Cameron, a lifelong Glacier Ranger, to learn about his incredible and unusual career.

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and Peri Sasnett.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael Faist: Have you ever met somebody for the first time, introduced yourself and had a nice conversation only to walk away and immediately forget their name? I have. It feels like one of the great shared human experiences to have that guilty conversation with yourself. Was it John? Jim? Shoot. Which makes it all the more surprising when you meet someone who seems to be immune to that phenomenon. Someone like Chuck Cameron.

Chuck Cameron: My name is Chuck Cameron. [squirrel chirping loudly] There's a squirrel.

Gaby Eseverri: [laughing] There's a little squirrel.

Michael: [in the field] All right. One more time without the squirrel [laughing].

Chuck: Yeah, without the squirrel. [clearing throat] My name is Chuck Cameron, and I'm a wilderness ranger here in Glacier.

Michael: Chuck has been a ranger in Glacier longer than I've been alive, and he's a bit of a local legend. Even so, after meeting me once for 30 seconds at a party during my first season here, he remembered my name months later, shook my hand and was happy to see me. Which felt nice because I'd heard Chuck's name a lot. He's the sort of person that everyone you meet knows and loves, and the incredible stories you hear about them don't seem to line up with the calm and mild-mannered person you've met. But while Chuck has led a long and storied career here in Glacier, the most surprising part of that career is that the park terminates him, every fall. Well, kind of. A common question we get from visitors is what does it take to be a park ranger? And while there is no one answer to that question, as there's no one type of park ranger, a good answer is you've got to be willing to move every six months. Ninety five percent of Glaciers visitors come between May and October. So it makes sense that the park doesn't really need most of its staff in the wintertime. So to find a career in the NPS, a lot of people move across the country every six months, bouncing between summer and winter jobs. My friend just told me last week he's moved 48 times. And for most, the ultimate goal is to land one of the few competitive permanent positions in the Park Service. I've always seen that as the path to an NPS career. But it wasn't Chuck's.

Michael: [in the field] And how long have you worked here in Glacier?

Chuck: This is my 42nd season.

Gaby: 42nd?

Chuck: Yeah.

Gaby: Woah! That's a lot of seasons. I'm on-I'm on season two [laughing].

Chuck: You-You only have 40 to go, and we'll be the same [Chuck, Michael and Gaby laughing].

Michael: Chuck's been a seasonal his whole career. One of the few people I've met in Glacier who can say that. [theme music fades in] I wanted to sit down with him because I think his unusual path says a lot about the unusual job that is working for the National Park Service. Equal parts, delightful and stressful, noble, yet often bizarre. But I also think that few people could have had the career that Chuck has. And I want to know how he did it. [theme music plays, with the strumming of a string instrument, a flute, and drumbeats].

Michael: You're listening to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park connects with everything else. I'm Michael. [music fades] And today I invited lifelong Glacier Ranger Chuck Cameron over for dinner.

Michael: [in the field] [laughter] Yeah, let's go to the porch.

Michael: Chuck's a laid back guy, very tall, the warm smile, and he's easy to get along with. You can tell just by looking at him. He showed up to dinner wearing an aloha shirt cooler in hand,.

Michael: [in the field] [someone cracks open a canned beverage] Serve yourself, we've got pulled pork and coleslaw sandwiches.

Michael: The plan my fellow producer, Gaby, and I came up with was to sit around the campfire with Chuck and share stories. But unfortunately, a much larger fire had just started a—wildfire seven miles away, so we were under a strict burn ban. No campfires. So instead, I made pulled pork sandwiches and we settled down on a porch with a view.

Chuck: Thank you. That was delicious.

Michael: [in the field] You're Wilderness Ranger now. What was the first job you had here in the park?

Chuck: I worked on the trail crew as a Laborer in Many Glacier in 1982.

Michael: Was that the first time you ever came to the park?

Chuck: The first time I'd ever been to Montana.

Michael: Woah.

Gaby: Really? From where?

Chuck: Well, I worked actually at Rocky Mountain National Park in 1980 and 81, right out of college. But I was looking at the map, and I saw Glacier National Park, and I like the sound of the name. It just sounded cool. And it was in Montana, and I'd never been here. So I threw in an application and they called me up and offered me a trail crew job.

Michael: There are 745.9 miles of trail in Glacier, and each year the park hires 50 to 60 people across 12 different crews to maintain all that mileage. They clear dead and downed trees, brush the trails to minimize how much thimble berry and thistle you have to walk through, dig drains to move water off and make steps. Honestly, they do a lot of work that often goes unnoticed.

Chuck: I liked being out for ten days at a time with the same people, and you build this sort of bond with this crew you’re on because you're working, cooking, eating, sleeping in all kinds of weather for ten straight days and you learn to rely on each other a bunch. It's just a really unique work situation, I think. You know, I never really thought like everybody working at JC Penney, like hung out after work and cook-went home and cook dinner together.

Gaby: Shared the same room.

Chuck: Share the same room, or slept the same tent or…

Gaby: Yeah.

Michael: During his time on trail crew, Chuck worked on a lot of trails, but he highlighted one especially odd project.

Chuck: Uh, I think the most craziest season I had on trail crew, we cut the International Boundary Swath in 1987 and [someone in the background says “wow] I was a crew leader on the east side and it hadn't been dealt with in 20 years.

Michael: Glacier’s northern boundary is the U.S.–Canada border, and since the 1860s there has been a swath, a gap through the trees to mark where it is.

Chuck: It marks the international boundary and it's has monuments, steel obelisk monuments spaced out the entire 5,000 mile international boundary.

Michael: To keep trees and brush from filling in the swath, it's needed periodic maintenance in 150 years it's been here.

Chuck: And it's a 20-foot-wide swath cleared of all vegetation, so you can see from monument to monument, basically. Yeah, we spent 80 days, ten-day hitches at a time doing nothing but clearing the boundary.

Michael: [in the field] Jeez.

Gaby: Wow.

Michael: So Chuck and his crew were cutting it out by hand in the late eighties. But I'd heard a rumor that in the sixties, someone decided to use Agent Orange to clear the swath. The infamous ingredient used in napalm.

Michael: [in the field] …said at one point, they used Agent Orange to clear the boundary swath.

Chuck: They did, that's what they had done the time before we cut it by hand. They defoliated it from the air, which wasn't very accurate. And so the boundary swath was this like snaking thing through the. And so our job was to straighten it out and so we surveyed it as we went from monument to monument.

Michael: You're redrawing the line.

Chuck: Redrawing the line, yeah.

Peri Sasnett: That’s a lot of responsibility.

Chuck: Well, it was and it was kind of nutty because sometimes the swath was just going through the forest. There was no like, cut. It was just point A to point B. [someone laughs in background] We just up the side of one mound and down the side of the, you know, [someone in background days “wow] and we went around beaver ponds. We handed tools up cliff bands, you know, five-gallon cans of gas up through these cliffs, you know, [someone chuckles and someone says “wow” in background] to get to the next bench and keep going.

Michael: Because normally trail crews working on trails requires a lot more thought and care into where the trail is placed than many people realize, and so the boundary swath is kind of atypical. It's like, yeah, straight ahead-

Gaby: Straight across.

Chuck: Yeah, our-our slogan, and we made a T-shirt, was, uh, “total destruction is the only solution,” [lots of laughter] [bass line fades in] which is it's a line from a Bob Marley song about nuclear war, and that's kind of how we felt about it.

[bass line continues and fades]

Michael: But like all seasonal jobs, Chuck's season on trail crew came to an end. Every fall, you've got to find something else to do. This is when a lot of folks crisscross the country to work in warmer southern parks. But those jobs are few and far between and pretty competitive. It's not really a sustainable solution for most people.

Michael: [in the field] But, uh, what did you-what do you spend your winters doing? How did you string together the other six months of the year?

Chuck: That worked out. I was really lucky in that regard because I got a job on Big Mountain, and I worked on the ski patrol there for 26 years.

Michael: Big Mountain is home to Whitefish Ski Resort, less than an hour from Glacier.

Chuck: Ski season and this season fit together extremely well, and about the time I'd get sick [clears throat] of ski patrol and in April they'd lay me off and I'd get to come here and do something completely different. And then about, you know, late September, I get sick of working here, [laughter] and they'd lay me off here and I'd have a couple of months off in the fall to go do whatever, and then I'd go back skiing again.

Michael: Ski patrol in the winter, trail crew in the summer. And Chuck’s season cutting the border swath highlights that a lot of work in Glacier is extremely physical.

Gaby: So was this your-was this year hardest hitch?

Chuck: Yeah, that was my-I felt invincible at the end of that summer.

Gaby: I bet.

Chuck: I thought, if I can do this, I can do anything.

Gaby: Yeah.

Chuck: So then I quit trails and got a Ranger job. [everyone laughing] Basically.

Gaby: That’s-I mean that's cool a way to go out from trail crew.

Chuck: Yeah.

Gaby: Yeah.

Michael: After his summer on the border swath, Chuck got a job as a Law Enforcement Ranger. He went to Law Enforcement Academy with one of his trail crew friends. And after that, got a job in the Belly River, a remote part of the northeast corner of Glacier.

Chuck: And I worked for a guy named Dave Shea, who was an incredible wealth of knowledge, a scientist just, you know, knows everything about everything. And, yeah, a great guy to work for. My first year in there, so that was awesome. He started here in ‘67, I think, or something.

Michael: [in the field] Was that intimidating? Like to have your first Ranger job kind of… with him?

Chuck: No, it was great. He's so humble and just so knowledgeable and not afraid to share knowledge. You know, like, he would just take me out and show me all these things. And Belly River, the old wagon roads, the old cabin sites, the tracking and birds and just... Yeah, he-he's amazing. And he just took me under his wing, and I spent the whole summer with him.

Michael: This is the sort of job I feel like most people picture when they imagine being a park ranger.

Chuck: You know, we patrolled every day because that's why you're there. You know, we were up one valley or the other… into the campgrounds, talking to all the visitors, checking permits, um, digging out fire rings, cleaning pit toilets, just making sure everything's still working.

Michael: [Chuck’s voice fades out in the background] If you want to learn more about life as the Belly River Ranger, we interviewed Lora Funk, who has that job now, in our last episode. We'll have a link in the show notes. Lora learned from Chuck, and Chuck picked up the tools of the trade from his mentor that first summer.

Chuck: It was great. And then unfortunately, at the end of that summer in 1988, we're sitting around in the behind the ranger station having dinner, and he said, “I just want to tell everybody this is ViVi’s and my’s last summer here.” And I'm just like, what? I just got here, you-you can't leave. You know, this is my first year. I want to keep working. You know, I was going to plan on working with him for a long time. It was good for me. I got the Lead Ranger job in there, you know, and spent the next nine years in there. But it was hard for me to adjust from being trail crew, you know, the kind of the renegades of the Park Service, right? You're kind of out there, out of uniform, doing whatever, digging in the dirt and, you know, and then to a Law Enforcement Ranger.

Michael [in the field]: Yeah.

Chuck: Wearing a uniform.

Michael: In the uniform, in the campgrounds.

Chuck: You know, people come to the Ranger Station when they're in trouble or need something, and so the typical day can be very atypical very quickly if somebody shows up at 8:00 at night.

Michael: And to hear Chuck tell it, there was a bit of a learning curve to becoming this new type of ranger.

Chuck: I was hiking back down from Helen Lake, I think, and I got to the foot of Elizabeth and there was a beargrass flower in the trail, the whole stalk and the flower. And I thought, mmm, that's kind of weird. And I just walked by it. And then there was another one. And then another one and another one, and I'm like, this is not natural. So I started picking them up and I had this huge bouquet of bear grass flower stalks in my arms. I don't know that I could have carried 150, but I had 100 on my bed in my arms. [laughter]

Michael: Following the trail of beargrass flowers, Chuck found a Boy Scout troop at the nearby campground.

Gaby: You've had the entire trail time to just get angrier and stew...

Chuck: Every one I picked up.

[laughter]

Michael: A lot of work on trail crew is physical, but working with the public, keeping people in the park safe, can require a lot of empathy and patience. Chuck's known for his people skills today, but all skills take practice.

Chuck: So I walked in there and I'm holding these things and I didn't handle it very well because I was taking it personally, which is a huge mistake when you're a law enforcement ranger. You cannot-I learned that this was a good lesson for me then. Don't take it personally. It's not about you. It's about, you know, education, and, you know, I've learned that. But then I'm like, does anybody know what these are? And this kid looks at me, he goes, yeah, that's bear grass. I said, yeah, and it used to be alive till all you guys killed it all. And I look over [someone says “uh-oh”] and this kid is got his jackknife out and he's carving his initials in the bench he was sitting on in the campground, and I'm like, can you knock it off? [laughter] Can you quit doing that? And he looks at his buddy and he goes, I don't think he likes us. [group erupts in laughter] Very astute.

Michael: For ripping up 150 beargrass flowers, the troop leader got a $50 fine. Chuck's the first to say that he took that incident personally because he cares about the park and the Belly River. He was essentially its caretaker after all.

Chuck: We saw some great northern lights over the years…the stars, the full moon. You know, it's just, it's magical sometimes. It really is. Yeah. Never got tired of it.

Gaby: It feels like kind of like romantic. Do you remember it that way? Did it feel that way or was it sort of tougher and rougher than-than what we imagine?

Chuck: I think the anticipation was always really great. It's just like, wow, you know, first trip up to Elizabeth Lake or up to Helen or wherever you were going and knowing nobody'd been in there maybe since October. You know, stuff like that just made it really adventurous.

Gaby: Yeah

Chuck: What I liked about it, you know.

Michael: But despite all the things that kept Chuck there for nine summers, he couldn't stay in the Belly forever.

Michael: [in the field] All this to say what pulled you out of the Belly?

Chuck: [chuckles] Life. [bird sings] So I was in there-I left there in ‘96, but I got married in ‘94. I had bought land in-in ’89, and by that time in the mid-nineties, I was starting to try to build a house and my wife got pregnant. And so I was in Belly River with a pregnant wife trying to build a house outside of Whitefish, and it just wasn't working out that well. [bird continues to chirp]

Michael: For context, the Belly River Ranger Station is a three-hour drive and six-mile hike from Whitefish.

Chuck: It was too hard to do that, and so, um, I decided to leave after the summer of ‘96 and work on the house, and our son was born in January of ’97 [bass line fades in], but my wife and I climbed Mount Merritt while she was pregnant with our son.

Gaby: Wow.

Chuck: So that was pretty cool. [laughs]

Michael: That's unbelievable.

Chuck: Yeah, I have a really good picture of us sitting on the summit of Mount Merritt.

Michael: Now that he was closer to home, Chuck moved on to another position: bear crew. [baseline fades out]

Gaby: What was the bear team?

Chuck: Our job was to default to wildlife calls in the McDonald district.

Michael: And there are no shortage of these types of calls. Each year, there are hundreds, some years, nearly a thousand bear related incidents in the park. That's everything from bears causing traffic jams on roads to more serious incidents, like getting into improperly stored food.

Chuck: You know, the bears get all the press, but we did all kinds of wildlife stuff. Goats and sheep and marmots and skunks and bats and, you know, anything that anybody was having an issue with wildlife, the bear team would get to go deal with it.

Michael: [in the field] Do you have any memorable, like specific wildlife encounters from that time?

Chuck: Uh, yeah, lots. Well, one of the funniest ones, if you want to hear a funny one, was the auto shop called one day and said, we have a marmot in our auto shop over here.

Michael: If you don't know marmots are big squirrels. Montana's version of the groundhog.

Chuck: And this marmot had crawled up into the engine well of one of the road crew trucks and ridden all the way down from Logan Pass and ended up in the auto shop. And like, okay, I'm on the bear team. We'll go get this marmot. So it was in their breakroom over there, and they had it trapped in the break room and it was behind the refrigerator. Well, so I had a live trap and I thought, okay, we'll pull the fridge out and put the trap down and the marmot will step in it like they should, and it'll all be done. Well, the marmot had no interest in leaving the back of the refrigerator, [laughter] so we pulled the refrigerator and I was kind of leaned up on top of it, sort of poking down there with a stick, trying to get this marmot out of there. But he had gone in under the compressor of the refrigerator like there was no back on it down by the floor and he'd gone way up in there. He or she. Gave the trap to this guy, and I put on leather gloves and I reached in there and I grabbed this marmot by the hind legs [shocked laughter] and I started to pull him out from under the refrigerator, but this marmot grabbed the refrigerator with his front feet and he would not let go. [group erupting in laughter] And he's squealing like crazy, making some god awful noise, and so I'm yanking this marmot. Finally he lets go and I just stuffed him in this life traps and slammed the door and oh my god…

Michael: Did you drive it back to Logan?

Chuck: We let him go at Packers Roost. I'm not going all the way up there. You're just going to climb in another engine. [group erupts in laughter] Unbelievable. Marmots are strong. I don't know if you know that, but marmots are really strong.

Michael: So far, Chuck's career has focused on, among other things, physical work and people skills. Bear crew required getting to know the park's wildlife up close and personal.

Michael: [in the field] So did you-was it in college or in Law Enforcement Academy when you learned how to wrestle a skunk or leg talk down an aggressive bear? How did you learn how to do this?

Chuck: Trial and error. [laughter] Never gonna do that again. Um, I don't know. You just, you get thrust into it and you just sort of do it, you know, figure it out. I wasn't afraid to ask questions. You know, if we had something like that, I needed to talk to the biologist about, I would certainly go talk to the biologist about what you think we should be doing here. But I didn't go to school for wildlife biology or anything. I have a liberal arts degree, so I wasn't college training by any means. It was on the job training basically my entire career.

Michael: Finally, I wanted to ask Chuck about climbing. He has a shout out in the “Climbers Guide to Glacier National Park,” which is essentially the local mountaineering Bible.

Michael: [in the field] When did you-when did you climb everything? Because it seems like you climbed a lot. [laughter]

Chuck: I tried to climb every peak in the Belly and I didn't quite get there, but yeah, well, when you're in there nine years, you have a lot of time to climb, right? [laughter] Uh, actually my boss in there told me that if you don't climb up Mount Cleveland this summer, you're fired.

Michael: Mount Cleveland is the tallest peak in Glacier, and it's been the site of some infamous accidents.

Chuck: Uh, he said that visitors are climbing these mountains. They're going to get hurt or disappear. You need to know the routes. You need to know where they're going. So you need to get out there and start climbing all these peaks. I said, great, I'll do that.

Michael: Chuck has a lot of funny stories from his time in the park, but there were a lot of serious days too. Thanks to his knowledge of climbing routes and the park landscape. Chuck started helping with search and rescues, and he was good at it. Good enough that the park asked him to get certified as a helicopter manager, and he's been helping with search and rescues on the ground and in the air ever since.

Gaby: Had you had interest in going into search and rescue or was it sort of just like a function of being Law Enforcement in a national park?

Chuck: No, I like it. It's uh, it's a really interesting part of my job. I really-I enjoy it. So, no, it was more than willing… [audio fades under Michael]

Michael: Unfortunately, search and rescues happen every year here in Glacier. In the last three years, there have been over 200. And they're not just climbing accidents. Folks get lost on trail, and are reported missing by friends and family. Others wind up in trouble from exposure to heat or the cold.

Gaby: When you worked search and rescue, what were the outcomes that you expected, especially when there is like those low percentages of…finding…?

Chuck: It's based on time. Time, right? How long is this person been out there and what was their plan? If we even knew what their plan was.

Michael: Searches often include huge teams of people covering all the places that person might have been.

Chuck: People can survive for pretty extended periods of time, and based on the weather, what kind of shape they’re in, they have any food with them. But if they fall 500 feet off a cliff, they're not going to survive. And so if you can search an area really thoroughly, day one, you know, everybody's like, we're going to get this person. Day two, we're going to get this person. Day three, they're still viable. You know, we know this person can still be alive. Once you get six, seven, eight, ten, nine, 15 days down the road and it's like, this person's probably not alive anymore. You never want to feel that way. You know, you always want to know that they're still alive, you can find them. Drives you crazy when you can't, you know, It's like, where are they? They still could be alive. Now, where are they?

Michael: [in the field] I came across an incident that the guy, he was trying to get to Longbow Lake in the North Fork.

Chuck: Oh, yeah.

Michael: Oh, you knew who he was?

Chuck: I found him. [laughs] He was a baker at the Polebridge Mercantile, and he went on a hike to Longbow Lake and never came back. And so we started looking for him, and we had ground teams, and uh, Longbow is above Akokala, off trail. We had a helicopter in the air.

Michael: Chuck was actually assigned to a ground team with the subject's nephew.

Chuck: And they sent us up on the ground up this creek drainage. Oh my God, it was a horrendous bushwhacking. And we were just beating the bush, going up this creek and yelling this guy's name. And we're out there yelling, yelling, yelling, thinking, you know, he's not out here. This is stupid. And then we hear all of a sudden, we hear a voice up in the woods. And I’m like, did you-I looked at this guy. Can't remember the kid's name. Did you hear that? He goes, yeah. So we start yelling. He goes, Dan, Dan. And we hear this voice. Yeah. Holy crap. [laughter] And so we bushwhack our way up to where we heard this voice and there he is. And he has this huge gash in his head. He'd been out 48 hours maybe at that point, um, had no recollection of what happened to him. Um, It appeared to me he fell off a cliff or something from his head trauma. Once we found him, I think everything that was keeping him going left. He was just like, I'm rescued now. I'm just like, done. And anyway, we're in the middle of this lodgepole thicket, basically, an alder thicket. And I was like, okay, now what are we going to do?

Michael: The trees were so dense they couldn't lower a litter for the guy down through the trees, let alone land. So instead, Chuck asked for chainsaws.

Chuck: So anyway, they flew us in a couple of chainsaws, and we spent like 2 hours cutting a landing zone out of the woods right in the middle, wherever. 40-, 50-foot diameter hole out of the woods, maybe in a couple of hours and we brushed it all down.

Michael: This allowed the helicopter to land and take the guy to the nearest hospital.

Chuck: And he went he ended up in the hospital for like 11 days. He had a brain bleed. Yeah, he had a major issue going on. He wasn't going to make it, maybe another day, but…

Michael: [in the field] But he made it.

Chuck: He made it. He’s alive and well.

Michael: Chuck's colleagues are quick to say that he's the kind of person you want involved in a search and rescue because he cares so much, even if the result is ultimately to give a family closure. And thanks to folks like Chuck, most search and rescues in Glacier end like this. Maybe someone's a little banged up, but they're alive. Out of the over 200 that have happened here in the last three years, 96% of the people have survived.

Michael: That must’ve felt pretty good.

Chuck: It felt great. Found one alive. Saved him. Yeah, it was awesome. But I did miss the Willie Willie Nelson concert on Big Mountain that night, though, [group laughs] which I had tickets to.

Gaby: You saved a life but you also missed Willie Nelson.

Chuck: Missed Willie Nelson on Big Mountain.

Michael: Through all of the search and rescues, the bear jams and stubborn marmots, Chuck stayed seasonal.

Chuck: Made it easy for me. I didn't have to move. I built a house. I had a family going, but I didn't have to find a job. I didn't have to think about what I was going to do at the end of the season, which is really stressful. And I live that life for a while on trail crew, and it gets old, you know, you got to pack, you got to go find a place to live, you got to find a job. And it's stressful and it drives people out of being seasonal in the Park Service, I think. But for me it was easy because I never had to move. I just drive east in the summer and north in the winter, you know, from my house, and it was no big deal.

Michael: And while he dodged the difficulty of moving every six months by settling down in Whitefish, moving isn't the only hard part about these jobs. Seasonal positions usually don't provide full benefits. They don't come with a retirement plan. Each year you come back, more of your friends move on, off to another park. And there's a limit to how high you can climb the career ladder as a seasonal.

Gaby: We talk about seasonal turnover and like how hard seasonal life can actually be. And so why-why stay through it all?

Chuck: Uh, I don't know. You know, I've never really been a… I'm content a lot. I'm not necessarily the grass is greener over there kind of person. I've never even applied to another park, ever since I started working here.

Michael: It's worth noting Chuck has support and stability at home. His wife has a year-round job in fire communication, but at work Chuck points out that as you move up the ladder, you can lose a lot of the duties that drew you to the job in the first place.

Chuck: Yeah, I like being in the field. You get a permanent job here and not all of them, but in the ranger division, if you go permanent, you're going to be pushing paper a lot more than you are when you're not permanent.

Michael: Of the rangers I've known who are long time seasonals, all of them had a permanent career on the side. Teachers and professors who have the summer off, or even a lawyer who can choose their own caseload. All of them found some way to squeeze in being a seasonal ranger. All of them except Chuck.

Chuck: I tell people I made a career out of not having a career. [group laughs] Basically. I wouldn't trade it for anything, though. No regrets. You know, there are some great permanent jobs here, don't get me wrong, but there's just the way overloaded people working here and it's just-you see it, you know? And I just never wanted to try that.

Michael: [in the field] Yeah.

Michael: But I'd say if Chuck has a secret to how he stayed seasonal so long, it's how much he loves this place. And all of it too. The scenery, the wildlife, the plants and the people.

Chuck: I just like it here. I just like the whole persona of what Glacier is. Always have, from the minute I got here. And don't get me wrong, I've had some bad days here. You know, there's been some days where I'm just like, oh, man, I got to get out of here. You know, but that just doesn't last long, you know? Yeah. We owe it to the park to take good care of it and do the best we can. I really firmly believe that. And so whether it's small world stuff or big world stuff, and there's big world stuff going on like climate change and all that. My world is very small world. You know, I pull weeds. You know, I clean out fire rings. I pick up trash. I educate visitors, that's a huge part of it, super important part. Building advocates for the Park Service. If I can get somebody to, like, buy into the idea of the Park Service and advocating for it, you know, success.

Michael: [in the field] I think that is a nice segway into the rumors I've been hearing about this maybe being your last season. Is that true?

Chuck: It is true. It's not a rumor. I'm wrapping it up.

Michael: It's not called retiring when you're seasonal. What is it called?

Chuck: Quitting. [group erupts into laughter] They’re going to try and hire me back and I get to say no.

Michael: Chuck loves Glacier, and it's clear Glacier loves him right back. He invited us to his retirement party, which happened a couple of months after our interview, and we arrived to find every parking spot full. Cars lining the road to the venue and people from every stage of his career who'd shown up to celebrate. Here are just a few of the nice things they had to say about him. He's humble. He hates leading. But everybody looks up to him. He's trusted. [haunting violin music fades in] He spends more nights out camping in the park than his colleagues half his age. He's a mentor, a moral compass, and he never forgets a name. And over and over again. We're going to miss him. Chuck's career captures what it's like to work for the Park Service, and he's been a role model for a lot of the people who work here today. Our last question for him, what comes next?

Chuck: You know, I've been stuck in the Glacier rut for so long, I've never even been to the Cabinet Mountains. You know, um, there are all kinds of little mountain ranges around Montana, we got like 54 state parks. I've only been to, like three of them. I just want to do go look around and see what else is out there, you know, and maybe just have the time to do it and feel like doing it.

Gaby: I guess on the still-on the same question of reflection, was your career everything that you expected or...

Chuck: I don't know that I had any expectations. I think it was just this new adventure to Montana. [laughter] You know, you just go check it out, see what happens. Yeah.

[music builds, then fades to play softly under the credits]

Peri: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park and is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We could not make the show without them. You can learn more about what they do at Glacier.org. Headwaters is made possible with help from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, and so many people throughout the Glacier community, especially the natural and cultural resource teams. We're grateful for all of you. Our music this season is by the brilliant Frank Waln. The show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in our show notes. Special thanks to Chuck Cameron and everyone who shared memories or stories of Chuck at his very fun retirement party. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving us a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Can Ranger Traditions Survive into the Future?

21 november 2023 | 29 min

We meet a ranger who lives in one of the wildest corners of Glacier—a place where age-old tools and skills are still practiced daily. But do traditional skills, or this way of life, still have a place in a rapidly-evolving world?

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and Peri Sasnett.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri Sasnett: Picture a National Park Service Ranger station. What does it look like? Maybe a big log cabin with a mossy pitched roof and a creaky screen door? Glacier does have plenty of those, but my office is in park headquarters, which has some strong mid-century middle school energy. And working here, I'm always happening upon obsolete relics of bygone eras. Handwritten memos, ink stamps, a fax machine... I haven't found a typewriter yet, but I wouldn't be surprised to find one lurking in a drawer. Only a few decades ago, people in this building used those things all the time. But like a lot of people, many rangers' jobs have changed pretty dramatically in the last 40 years. Mine definitely has. But in this episode, we're spending a day with a ranger whose office equipment and duties haven't changed much at all in 40—or even 100—years.

Lora Funk: Can you drag this dead goat out of the waterfall? That's a weird one. The marmot's living in the toilet again!

Peri: Meet Wilderness Ranger Lora Funk. She has long, sandy blonde braids and bright blue eyes. She wears the park uniform with a little mud on her boots, and she loves to laugh at the absurdities of life in the backcountry. I immediately want to be her friend.

Lora: My laundry is a bucket with a metal plunger that people call an Alaska Maytag, and I think it gets the clothes cleaner... But I don't think people necessarily think my clothes are clean. [laughs]

Peri: Alongside her colleagues, General and Tank—both horses—and Ellen the mule, Lora helps steward and patrol the Belly River Valley of the park.

Lora: Yeah if someone were to say, like, picture a historic ranger station and a iconic valley... It's Belly River.

Peri: One of her favorite things about the Belly is that there are no roads. So unlike the rest of Glacier's Ranger Stations, you can't drive here.

Lora: The Belly River Ranger Station is located six miles into Glacier's wilderness. [sounds of horse footsteps in the background] You either have to hike in or ride a pony.

Peri: I interviewed Lora in the ranger station, but also while she lugged gear around and rode a horse, who occasionally took an interest in my microphone.

Lora: Would you like to be interviewed, General? Hello. Hello. [loud snuffling and sniffing sounds] He went for it! [another loud sniff] Is he going to eat it?

Michael Faist: Just sniffin.

Lora: We have two rangers, myself and Alison, the commission ranger. There's a trail crew which varies in size 2 to 4, and we have three had a stock, and that makes up our entire staff.

Peri: The Belly River Ranger station is a brown log cabin—a Park Service specialty—with white window frames and a flagpole out front. It sits between a creek and a wide open meadow where the horses graze and its covered porch faces west towards steep sided, rocky peaks. It's a very traditional scene, and so is life out here.

Lora: So I live off grid. I live in a one room cabin there with a propane stove. And we do get running water for a few months of the season. Otherwise, we have to haul our water from the creek. I do not have a bathroom connected to my house. I have to walk through the outhouse. Yeah I mean, you start to lose track of time and age and everything out here. Some of that kind of stuff fades away because then you're like, is it 2020 or is it 1920? There's elk running around and there's a fence that looks just about the same... I'm reading books and hauling my water from the creek.

Peri: When I tell my friends I work for the Park Service, I think this might be what they picture. But in a lot of ways, the agency is looking to the future—trying to modernize our infrastructure, lower our carbon emissions. And tell our stories differently. Parks have podcast now, for example. It seems like a vestige of the past to come to the Belly and see Lora still riding horses, packing gear on mules and living in the backcountry. And honestly, I wonder how long this way of life this type of ranger can last. But I know I want to experience it before it's too late.

Music: [Headwaters theme begins playing; starting with mandolin, then a drumbeat, a flute line, and other instruments layer in before the music finishes]

Peri: I'm Peri, and you're listening to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. And today, I'm tagging along for a day in the life with the person who might have the coolest job in the park.

Lora: All right. Today, we've got the horses, the mule, saddled, and we're going to head out. Take care of ranger business.

Peri: Today's "ranger business" is going up toward Helen Lake to pick up and pack out some leftover supplies. Michael and I walk in front of the stock while Lora rides, since apparently they prefer to follow us.

Lora: Come on, keep up with the humans. Keep up with the humans.

Peri: Apparently, horses have abandonment issues. So even though we didn't really need both Tank and General, everyone came along for the ride. [drumbeat of music plays]

Lora: [talking to the stock] All right. How does everyone feel today? [clinking of tack and gear] Okay. Good. Good. Yep.

Peri: For most park staff, our ranger business is pretty specific: giving a campfire program, studying plants, managing the park's budget, making a podcast. But for Lora, almost anything could be her ranger business on a given day.

Lora: I am, like, I'm a wilderness ranger and I am specially trained on the Wilderness Act and wilderness values and character. But in the end, my day to day is a lot of general ranger duties, whether it's bear management, EMS maintenance, pulling weeds.

Peri: There are specialists for each of these things: bear biologists, search and rescue, trail crew, invasive plant crew. But Lora and other rangers like her pitch in to keep things going day to day.

Lora: Well, it takes a whole team to manage Glacier. That's why we have the experts. And so I'll call them in if we have something major. I can fix a toilet, but if the whole outhouse goes down, I gotta call trail crew. [drumbeat playing] A lot of people talk about the quote, "Jack of all trades, master of none." But the full quote is "Jack of all trades, master of none. Better something than nothing done." And that's kind of what I live by out here.

Peri: And this is much the same as the ranger business that rangers have been doing in the Belly River for decades. Take this entry from an old log book in 1994.

Chuck Cameron: September 14th, 1994. Patrol with Bob on stock to Elizabeth Lake head to deliver additional gear and supplies to the trail crew. Dug out the firepit and replaced the campground map with an updated version. Also pulled another handful of hawkweed. Chuck Cameron.

Peri: Every day when Lora gets back from the field, she writes down the day's activities and events In a big green government issued logbook. She and her predecessors have been doing this since the earliest days of the ranger station here. From Chuck 30 years ago to some of the earliest Belly River Rangers back to 1929.

Joe Heims: June 5th, 1929. Station to Red Gab Pass and return. Distance 16 miles, mounted. Object: cleaning trail and looking over trail conditions. Game seen: one mountain goat, two deer, one elk. Weather clear. Temperature 41 degrees at 7 a.m. Joe Heims.

Peri: But these days, this type of work is becoming more and more rare. Even this ranger station used to be staffed in the winter, but hasn't been for a long time.

Lora: Spots like mine that are remote are, I think there's less and less these days.

Peri: Glacier has only a handful of wilderness rangers, and just a single backcountry ranger station. And throughout the Park Service, these kinds of places, and the people with the skills to staff them, are disappearing. [drumbeat plays]

Peri: In addition to all the odd jobs Lora does, a huge part of her job is talking to park visitors, most of whom are on multiday backpacking trips. As we hiked up the trail past Dawn Mist Falls, a scenic and loud waterfall, we ran into our first hiker of the day.

Lora: [waterfall sound in the background] Hi there, how's it going?

Backpacker: Good, how are you?

Lora: Good. Where you coming from today?

Backpacker: Lake Helen.

Lora: How is it?

Backpacker: Beautiful.

Lora: Good!

Backpacker: I think it's quite the best view out there.

Lora: Yeah, a lot of people say that.

Peri: She asks where they've been and where they're going.

Lora: Cool. Do you have a permit I could take a look at.

Backpacker: Oh, yeah.

Lora: Helen, Glenns, Goat Haunt. Cool! What a great trip.

Peri: And she'll chat about their trip, making sure they have what they need.

Lora: Any questions about anything they covered in the permit office?

Backpacker: No, I think I'm good. Hopefully this uh, the food gets lighter.

Lora: Yeah. I mean, every pass will be easier.

Backpacker: Yes. Yes. Yes.

Lora: Yeah. Have fun on your trip! Belly River is my favorite place, but Goat Haunt's second, and you're going to both. So.

Peri: And sometimes they have something more unusual to report.

Lora: You know, maybe they saw a bear or a wolf or something really interesting that I can then report to the biologists or, you know, like I was saying, they often will report whether the food hang pole's damaged or the marmots living in the toilet again. [laughs] [drumbeat plays briefly]

Peri: Most days, though, she patrols, checks the campgrounds, gives the pit toilet a once over, makes sure food is stored properly, and gives a helping hand where it's needed.

Lora: So every once in a while I come across a food hang and it's not high enough.

Peri: Most backcountry campgrounds have a food hang pole where you toss a rope over and then pull your food up, securing it ten feet off the ground, just high enough to keep it away from curious bears.

Lora: [to camper] Oh, hi there! How's it going? Yeah, I just lifted your hang cause it wan't the ten feet.

Camper Yeah. Sorry about that. That was my first bear hang, so.

Lora: Oh, okay! Well...

Camper Not the prettiest.

Lora: It's okay! Just make sure, like, if you notice, I had it all the way to the top.

Camper Do you actually mind showing me what knots you did.

Lora: Yeah, I'll show you!

Peri: Today, Lora uses her educational ranger charm to teach a camper the best knots for the job.

Lora: So I use a form of a trucker hat. And so then what I do is I come through... [drumbeat plays]

Peri: It's about six miles from the ranger station where the gear was stashed for us to pack out. So we had plenty of time to chat as we walked through the forest and along the choppy turquoise waters of Elizabeth Lake, with colorful Seward Peak and the sheer Ptarmigan Wall beyond.

Lora: I'd never been to Montana before I got this job. I'd worked at Olympic as a wilderness ranger intern in college, and I always thought I was going to go back there. But then I got this job and I was like, "Oh, I guess Glacier's my place."

Peri: [to Lora] So did you always think about being a backcountry ranger or working for the Park Service? Was that always something you were interested in?

Lora: Definitely not. [laughs] I went to a liberal arts college and my major was American Studies, and I had a thesis that focused on public land history. But I took that summer internship at Olympic and realized, Wow, this is what I need to be doing. This is where I'm happy.

Peri: And it makes perfect sense that someone who loves history but wants to work outside would end up working here and living in a log cabin.

Lora: So if you're talking to me about Glacier or Belly River, I often go into the history part versus anything else.

Peri: [to Lora] Is that part of what drew you to go to the Belly River?

Lora: Definitely. The history and the legacy of Belly River. Um, having a mentor, Chuck Cameron, that worked here in the eighties and nineties. He got to share a lot of his experiences out here and the experiences of his mentor. So continuing on that legacy and preserving the Ranger Station, the institutional knowledge, passing that on... Is something that really drew me to Belly River.

Peri: Chuck is one of the voices you've heard reading logbook entries from his time in the Belly River in the 1990s, along with one from Joe Heims in the 1920s. Both were rangers in Glacier for over 40 years. A long line of rangers connected by the tools they use, the horses and mules, and the way of life that makes up this job.

Lora: It's definitely a connection to the past. We're using similar Decker saddles on the stock. That technology hasn't changed much. Yeah, we're using the same tools. I mean, literally some of the same tools that have been around for a long, long time. And yeah, we're patrolling the same trails. It's a different experience day to day, but they were doing patrol reports, we're still writing in the logbook every day what we got up to. [drumbeat plays]

Chuck: September 22nd, 1992. Patrol to Stoney Indian bench today to pull the three plank bridges for the season. Went up there with a wrench and came back with a wrench, a Pulaski, old wire, a huge tarp, an empty Southern comfort bottle, an old 10 pound syrup can, and a fishing net. Quite a haul for one patrol. South winds, 67 degrees, at 1930 hours. Chuck Cameron.

Peri: [in the field] And so, yeah, what are we packing out today?

Lora: So today we are packing out old parts of an inverted U food hang.

Peri: It's not a difficult hike to retrieve the old food hang pole. But all the same, I'm glad I'm not being asked to add a 25 pound chunk of metal to my pack.

Lora: So the reason we're having the ponies do it is because this would be more awkward for a human, and we might take multiple humans to do what Ellen can do by herself.

Peri: Glacier has a staff of packers who supply trail crews in the backcountry for eight day hitches or carry gear in for bat biologists or the fish crew. But for a few sections of metal pipe, Lora and Ellen can manage.

Lora: So there's definitely a technique to mantying loads, and with practice people can become really quick and really neat with theirs.

Michael: Like you?

Lora: I would not say mine is the prettiest. [laughs] I've seen some very lovely loads come through.

Peri: Packing loads on a mule is quite an art. Ever since horses and mules were domesticated thousands of years ago, people have been packing things on them. And Lora is quick to say she's no expert.

Lora: I'm not a packer, I'm a ranger who happens to pack. I learned from other experienced rangers, I learned by going along with the packers over the years, learning from them and their different styles. But this spring I had the opportunity to go to the Nine Mile Wildlands Training Center in Missoula and attended their basic packing course. And I got the opportunity to attend this thanks to the help and funding of the Conservancy. Which I really appreciate.

Peri: Mules are especially popular for packing because they're strong and sure footed. Their personalities vary, but Ellen is a keeper.

Lora: But mules are fun. They've got really strong personalities. Each one one's very different.

Michael: How would you describe Ellen's personality?

Lora: [sounds of packing and tying straps] She's very social. She's patient with me, you know, because I had her two years ago, so she was helping me learn. Affectionate, even. But she'll give you a look. She's like, "What are you doing?"

Peri: Basically, Lora puts the metal pipes into boxes that look like giant dresser drawers. Ellen can carry one load on each side, and after Lora makes sure they weigh the same, she wraps them up in a canvas tarp called a manty, and then finally ties them onto the metal rings of the pack saddle with some elaborate rope work.

Lora: Sometimes you see it in their eyes when a weird load comes over. They're like, "Really? You're going to put that on me?"

Peri: It seems straightforward enough, but it takes a lot of adjusting to get the load to set just right. It's kind of like packing and repacking and adjusting your own giant pack for an overnight trip—except way heavier.

Lora: [talking to Ellen] All right. Ay ay ay. All right.

Peri: [to Lora] A lot of packing seems to me to be tying and untying things.

Lora: I think you got it.

Peri: [to Lora] Am I ready to be a Ranger?

Lora: Your, you're a Ranger packer.

Peri: Spending the day with Lora, I feel lucky to see her in action and get a glimpse of what she and her predecessors have been doing here for over a hundred years. But there aren't many people who know how to do these things anymore. And I guess part of me is wondering, does anyone need to know how to do these things? Do these traditional skills still have a place in the modern world? How do we decide what's worth holding on to?

Lora: I was reading like a book where it's like, one of the tests in the application to become a ranger was, can you saddle and pack a horse properly and quickly? And it was just part of like the job application and the interview process. And everybody could ride and pack and shoe, and all the ranger staff could could do it because it was just the way of life out here, of surviving.

Peri: This isn't the case anymore, though.

Lora: You see older rangers that are reaching towards the end of their careers and the younger folks can't ride or pack. And it's something that rangers have been doing for a hundred years. And so it's like it does it ends now, or do people like me start learning and riding and packing? And we have a lot of young packers in the park, but specifically like the Ranger Packer.

Peri: I'd argue that it's a good idea to keep these thousands of years old skills alive just because—whether it's practical or not—so we don't lose them. But for Lora, it's not just nostalgia.

Lora: I value it because I get to use it day in, day out here to do my job. And I can do my job better with these three.

Peri: [to Lora] Because it's useful.

Lora: Yeah.

Peri: It's like, this is the easiest way to get a bunch of heavy stuff from point A to point B if you're not going to get a helicopter out here, which is expensive and dangerous.

Lora: It's practical, but it's also iconic. So it's that dreamy scene of, you know, the string going through the mountains, over the passes, through the valleys.

Peri: Today, that was us. And it felt like a link to something I didn't know I was missing. And I get the sense that's how a lot of people feel when they come here.

Voice actor September 1988. I live in here with two horses and a mule. And some people would say that I'm a fool, no power, no phone, and all alone. But I say Belly River is a home with a family and friends I've made over the time. I have precious memories that will always be mine. Written by Chris Burke for V.V. O'Shea.

Peri: We get back late in the day, and Lora takes care of General,Tank, and Ellen before sending them off to their evening pasture. The peaks turn rosy with alpenglow, the nighthawks call, and Lora gives us a tour of the station. Which is a functioning Ranger Station, of course, but is also basically a museum of Belly River history.

Lora: So this is the Ranger Station office. We have a library, medical supplies, base station radio. The telephone doesn't work anymore.

Peri: [to Lora] For the record, the telephone is like a 1900 telephone with the little bells that look like eyes and the little, the receiver on the side. [both laughing] I feel like I would describe this room as filled with ranger whimsy.

Lora: I think that's probably accurate. [laughing] We have a typewriter that I think was used until the nineties. Maybe we'll get it back in working condition. Some fun drawings of the mules that were worked here in the past. A photo of the old Bear Mountain fire lookout. And then next to it is Joe Cosley, the first Belly River Ranger.

Peri: Some homes have a photo of the pope hanging on the wall in a place of honor. The ranger station has a portrait of Joe Cosley.

Lora: I do not look to him for my values and ethics based on his actions. But uh, but he's—he's an icon for here. Infamous...

Peri: Joe Cosley, the first Belly River Ranger, was hired under the rationale that to catch poachers, you should hire a poacher. Unfortunately, he never really stopped poaching. But that's a story for another time.

Lora: We also have the historic Belly River file, which has old newspaper clippings, any stories or interviews that people have done about Belly River?

Peri: [to Lora] I feel like not every wilderness district is like this.

Lora: Definitely not.

Peri: It's easy to romanticize these old traditions and ways of life, but it is hard work.

Lora: They always ask me like, "This is the dream job." You know, "how do I get your job?" But they never ask me that question when my head's inside of a pit toilet, or I'm covered in just gross mud and it's pouring down rain.

Peri: And it's not just the physical challenges that can make this lifestyle tough to maintain. There are also logistical challenges to arranging your life in a way that you can do this job. And not everyone can do it.

Lora: At this point in my life, I don't mind being seasonal. I like the change. I like the work. It's just harder and harder to live in this area on seasonal wages and to find housing available in the winters. Logistically, it becomes more difficult when you're trying to balance multiple jobs, multiple health care plans. I've had five health care plans in one calendar year from seasonal work. So I'd like to do this as long as possible, but who knows what the future holds?

Chuck: [drumbeat playing] May 8th, 1990. It's a fine day here in Belly. I'm in for the 1990 season and glad of it. About 40 elk, 4 white tailed deer, and 4 Canada geese on the way in, snowing the whole way. Stored shutters in the annex and caught a glimpse of the saw-whet owl in the large aspen to the east of the pasture. Fine dinner and cribbage lessons provided by Ursula. Good to be back. Chuck Cameron.

[music playing, with a historic audio clip saying: the Stetson that I'm wearing is the hallmark of the Ranger profession. I always tell them, "Put your hat on. That's what makes you a Ranger." Echoing: I always tell 'em, put your hat on, that what makes you a ranger.]

Peri: No one person can do this job forever. But you'll learn a lot if you stick around for a decade or two, and you can pass that on to the generations after you.

Lora: I mean, some of the most beloved rangers of Glacier have come through Belly River and yeah stayed a long time. Tracy 16 seasons. Bruce as well for a long time Dave Shea was here. Chuck Cameron. And then Joe Heims, you know, staying here through the winters. I wish they would let me do that, but I'm just a seasonal. [both laugh] Definitely the people that have worked here before, or currently do, hold this place close to their heart, and it's something we all share.

Peri: [to Lora] Well, and I think it's like the relationship goes both ways, too. It's not just like "I live here and it's pretty." It's like I, like I take care of this place every day. And it takes care of me.

Lora: Yeah. And I think that there are definitely people and cultures that have been like that for a long time. And I think I didn't necessarily grow up in that. And I think a lot of us didn't.

Peri: I know the Park Service preserves historic buildings and objects—basically the Ranger Station and a lot of what's in it. But maybe it's also part of our mission to preserve ways of life, and skills and traditions that, if we're not careful, might otherwise go the way of the fax machine in my office.

Lora: We would lose a connection to the past, and we'd lose very practical skills in what and how we manage these lands.

Michael: Yeah, and it feels like this building would go from being like a living home and workspace to kind of a museum.

Lora: Yeah, it would just be a memory, yeah, a memory of the past, or this is what it used to be like instead of "This is what we're doing now." We're still living out here. We're still ranging.

Peri: I came to the Belly for a peek back in time, but if Lora has her way, this might be a look forward to. There will be other Belly River Rangers decades from now, packing mules, looking back at her entries in the logbook, and taking care of ranger business.

Chuck: [wistful violin music begins to play] October 4th, 1989. Final morning in the station. Mopped the floor, final cleaning, covered the generator, shutters on, I guess that's it. It's been a fine season. Please take care of this place, whoever uses it. It is a unique place indeed. Radio 10-7 and I'm gone. South winds and 60 degrees at 1200 hours. Chuck Cameron.

Peri: That's our show. Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park and is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We could not make the show without them. You can learn more about what they do at Glacier.org. Headwaters is made possible with help from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, and so many people throughout the Glacier community, especially the natural and cultural resource teams. We're grateful for all of you. Our music this season is by the brilliant Frank Waln. The show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in our show notes. Special thanks this episode to Lora Funk, the whole Belly River staff, including Ellen the Mule, and the trail crew for letting us use their cabin. We appreciate Chuck Cameron reading his logbook entries, and the park's archives staff for giving us access to them. And shout out to Alex Stillson for always being willing to lend a hand. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving us a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Peri: In this episode, we shared a few log entries from Chuck Cameron, former Belly River Ranger, and a mentor to Lora. Well, this year, he's retiring.

Lora: He's done really incredible things, saved lives—like literally saved lives. And has meant a lot to a lot of people. And I've heard a lot of Rangers say, I want to be like Chuck. And that kind of gives me hope.

Peri: In our next episode, we sit down with Chuck, and hear about his legendary career in Glacier..

A Growly Bear and the Invention of Bear Spray

7 november 2023 | 36 min

Bear spray saves lives, but where does it come from? We follow a Glacier grizzly to learn the story.

Learn how to use bear spray, in the St. Mary episode of Season One: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/confluence-st-mary/id1542669779?i=1000501502018

Headwaters is created by Daniel Lombardi, Michael Faist, Gaby Eseverri, and Peri Sasnett

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael Faist: This summer, I came across the story of a bear nicknamed Growly. Growly was a grizzly bear who lived in Glacier National Park in the 1970s. And when he was young, he lived a normal bear life. His mom taught him how to pick huckleberries and dig up glacier lily bulbs. He swam across his first creek, caught his first animal, and—after a couple of years—struck out on his own, ready to take on the world. We also know that by age seven, Growly got into some trouble.

Music: [dramatic drums start playing]

Michael: You see, when you're a bear trying to pack on the pounds before winter, you've got to eat a lot. And if you want to eat, say, 150 calories, you could find and pick 150 huckleberries. Or you could eat one Twinkie.

Music: [quiet contemplative music starts]

Michael: Bear management records from 50 years ago are light on the details, so we don't know exactly what Growly did, but we do know he was labeled a, "problem bear." A term often used to describe bears who associate people with food. More often than not, problem bears aren't malicious or uniquely ill-tempered, they're smart. They know that they need a lot of calories to survive the winter and happen to live around humans who leave a lot of food lying around. One account stated that Growly wandered through a busy campground searching for food. Another claimed that he followed his nose to an empty cabin, "vandalizing" it to get food inside. He hadn't hurt anyone, but this habit suggested it was only a matter of time, and park managers decided to remove him. The next time Growly followed his nose, he followed it into a trap.

Music: [upbeat flute music starts playing]

Michael: For some bears, this is where the story ends. But for Growly, this is just the beginning. Growly would soon leave Glacier, and would go on to change how all of us recreate in Bear Country—and play a part in the creation of bear spray.

Music: [Headwaters theme begins playing; starting with mandolin, then a drumbeat, a flute line, and other instruments layer in before the music finishes]

News Clip: So this is what helped save our lives.

News Clip: I'm going to spray you.

Sound Effect: [spraying sound].

News Clip: She took two steps into the cloud and made a 90 degree turn and then ran out of there.

Music: [Theme music finishes]

Michael: You're listening to Headwaters, a podcast about how Glacier National Park connects to everything else. And in this episode, we're talking about bear spray. I'm Michael.

Daniel Lombardi: I'm Daniel.

Michael: For people who might not be familiar, Daniel, what is bear spray?

Daniel: Bear spray is, it's basically a self-defense spray. Like a pepper spray. A really strong pepper spray that you spray at a bear if you're being charged or attacked.

Michael: Right. And it's become a central part of the visitor experience here in Glacier, because we have one of the highest densities of grizzly bears anywhere in the lower 48 states.

Daniel: Yeah. So most people who come to the park, they're picking up bear spray at the airport on their way here or at basically any store around in the whole area.

Michael: Gift shop, grocery store, all over.

Daniel: It's an essential item around here.

Michael: And if you see a park ranger out and about, they will have a can with them. And if you go on a hike with one, they'll likely sing its praises sometimes, literally. I went on a hike with a Ranger this year who wrote a whole song to let wildlife know we were in the area.

Ranger Frank: [singing loudly to the tune of Jingle Bells] Grizzly bears, grizzly bears, grizzlies in the way. Get off the trail, cause if you charge, with pepper, you'll get sprayed.

Michael: Thanks, Ranger Frank.

Daniel: Oh, wow.

Michael: [smiling] Yeah, it was very good.

Daniel: I love it.

Michael: But while bear spray is ubiquitous now, it hasn't been around forever. So in this episode, we're diving into the origins of bear spray, and meeting some of the people behind the hottest lifesaving accessory in bear country.

Music: [dramatic drums play]

Michael: [in the car] I think it's this red roofed building.

Daniel: My first question for you then, Michael, is like, what actually is bear spray? What is it made of? And how do they how do they make it?

Michael: Right, how do they make the stuff? And that was my first question, too. And it turns out we don't have to go far to find the answer because a lot of bear spray is made locally, right outside of Glacier.

Daniel: [in the field] Where we at?

Michael: [in the field] We are at the Counter Assault Bear Spray factory in Kalispell, in the Flathead Valley. Hello, I'm Michael. I'm looking for Randy?

Randy Hunt: That's me.

Michael: [in the field] Nice to meet you.

Randy: How you doing?

Michael: [in the field] It's been nice to me, Randy. Thanks for having us.

Randy: Come on in.

Michael: And luckily for us, Randy Hunt, head of operations with the brand Counter Assault, invited us for a tour.

Michael: [in the field] And you manufacture everything right here in house?

Randy: Yes, everything. So our we bring our pepper oil in from, you know, it's brought from the other side of the United States, actually grown in India. And is brought herec and we mix the pepper oil here into different solvents...

Michael: If you're wondering how to use bear spray, you should check out our St Mary episode from our first season. There will be a link in the show notes for this episode. But with Randy, I got to learn what goes in the can. And the central ingredient, unsurprisingly, is pepper oil.

Michael: [in the field] And you said the pepper oil, you get it from the East Coast or other side the country, and it's grown in India. That's one thing I didn't really grasp, was like you're getting it from actual was like cayenne peppers? Or

Randy: They're a they're a heat chili. So if you think your jalepenos they've got heat content in Scoville heat units, there are about three to four thousand scoville heat units in a jalepeno. Your habanero is around 150 to 350,000. We're running 3.2 million.

Michael: They get the oil from peppers or chilies in the genus Capsicum, which includes everything from pepper in pepperoncinis to cayenne peppers.

Daniel: [surprised] So it's like, they're like real peppers that go in food!

Michael: And because it's all from real peppers, it's a food grade oil, which on its own would be safe for consumption. Technically.

Randy: So you can use it, it's safe to eat. You can actually fry chicken wings in it or french fries. You probably won't want to eat them because it will clear everything out of ya.

Michael: [in the field] [laughing]

Randy: But but yeah.

Michael: And this oil is in more than just pepper sprays. It's found in everything from hot sauces to pharmaceuticals, like arthritis cream.

Daniel: Okay, but that's not all that's in the can. There's something else besides peppers mushed up in there.

Michael: Yeah, the pepper oil is actually only 2% of the ingredients, because if it was just pepper oil, it would harden in the can and be useless.

Randy: When you spray it. If you think, if you cook bacon, it will solidify when it cools down and it turns white. But we've got to keep the oil in a liquid form. So we put a solvent in there instead of shooting hard pieces of like, bacon grease out of at the bear,.

Michael: [in the field] [laughing]

Randy: It keeps it in a liquid form in the air.

Michael: So so even though pepper oil is only 2% of the ingredients, bear spray's three times more potent than pepper spray for humans. And so the ingredients are: the pepper oil, a solvent to keep that oil liquid and a propellant to launch the spray.

Michael: [in the field] That's the pepper oil.

Randy: Yep.

Michael: [in the field] [laughing] Oleoresin Capsicum. 3.2 MOS, 40lbs.

Michael: What would you say it looked like, Daniel?

Daniel: It looked just like hot sauce! Yeah, it looked like hot sauce.

Michael: Like a dark, thick, hot sauce. It was. [laughing] I mean, it smelled hot, too.

Michael: [in the field] And so how much of this goes into each bottle or can, like, the pepper oil?

Randy: These two containers ten gallons will make about...

Michael: They were actively filling these cans when we were there. Randy was saying like these two 10-gallon buckets of the pepper oil concoction will make over 1500 cans of bear spray. So a little bit goes a long way.

Randy: Goes a long ways, but it's still not as far as we would like it to go, because, yeah, there's some some spendy food grade oil.

Michael: [in the field] I bet.

Michael: So while there are many brands of bear spray today, Counter Assault holds the distinction of being the first. Opening back in 1986, they helped pioneer this formula of pepper, propellant, and solvent that reputable brands widely use today.

Randy: You know, across the board, all the bear sprays are using a really hot pepper oil, and all of them are going to work. And the biggest thing is: people are safe and the bears are safe. And that's what it's been refined down to, is using a product that's not going to hurt people, it's not going to hurt bears, keeps everybody safe.

Michael: Bear spray's non-lethality—the fact that bears that get sprayed with this will turn around, but ultimately be unharmed—is not only a huge selling point, but it helps explain why bear spray exists at all.

Music: [dramatic drums start playing]

Michael: Ever since Glacier was established in 1910, grizzly bears were on the decline. When the U.S. was founded, there were an estimated 50,000 grizzlies in the lower 48 states living everywhere from Canada to Mexico, between Iowa and California. But by the mid 1900s, Euro-Americans had all but exterminated them. There were less than a thousand grizzly bears left in the lower 48, largely isolated within large public lands in the west, like Glacier and Yellowstone. Something that's still true today. But while national parks are often seen as safe havens for wildlife, the relationship between glacier and grizzly bears was fraught in the mid 1900s. Grizzlies or bears in general were a huge attraction for park tourism, but not in the way they are now.

Daniel: Right. This was an era where a very typical part of the visitor experience was to feed the bears like out of their car, throwing out pieces of bread alongside the road, feeding bears.

Michael: Yeah, like this "animals as a spectacle" approach. The second director of the Park Service, Horace Albright, was actually a huge fan of feeding wildlife in parks. He encouraged the creation of bear feeding platforms in Yellowstone, and Yellowstone even opened a zoo at one point for people to come look at captive animals.

Daniel: Wow.

Michael: So it really was a different relationship than the one we have with wildlife today. And predictably, it had some consequences. Like, encouraging bears to seek out humans when they're hungry seems like a disaster waiting to happen. And it eventually led to tragedy. In 1967, two visitors camping in separate areas of the park were killed by grizzly bears who'd come to their campsites in search of food. These shocking deaths later came to be known as Night of the Grizzlies, and were the first grizzly fatalities in Glacier's 50-year history. In response, Glacier completely overhauled all of its bear policies. They closed some campgrounds, outlawed giving food to wildlife and installed bear proof trash cans. They also found and killed the bears responsible and faced a lot of pressure from the public and even some policymakers to kill more. The park superintendent at one point issued a memo, here daniel, can you read it?

Daniel: Okay. "When a grizzly bear appears in any area of visitor use, it will be immediately destroyed by a park ranger." Wow. That is a pretty aggressive stance for a park to take against bears.

Michael: Yeah, it was pretty intense.

Daniel: The park is taking a very aggressive stance to kill bears in order to keep people safe.

Michael: Mhmm.

Daniel: But as a species, at this time, they're actually becoming very threatened in the 1960s and 70's.

Michael: Right, as Glacier is dealing with these events, grizzlies are identified as an endangered species by the federal government, which demands a broad recovery effort. you know, scientists started studying how many bears were left, what their habitat needs were—insight that would help them recover and hopefully help our two species coexist.

Daniel: So they need to know more. Park managers are looking for more data about bears in general. But if we zoom in on the story we're looking at here—that is the history of bear spray—you can see this emerging need for a tool that allows people and bears to de-escalate conflicts in a non-lethal way at an individual scale.

Michael: Yeah. Which brings us back to Growly, the bear who apparently didn't like grapefruit.

Janet Ellis: And he told the story that the main thing Growly hated was grapefruit,

Michael: [on the phone] [laughing]

Janet: But he liked oranges fine, he figured out how to slice an orange open. He had really long claws.

Michael: After being captured in Glacier National Park in 1976, Growly was sent to Churchill, Manitoba. A town in northern Canada known for its polar bears.

Janet: I was a research assistant.

Michael: That voice is Janet Ellis.

Janet: And I spent four months on the bears study with the Bears in 1978.

Michael: Janet is currently a Montana state senator, but she spent a few months helping zoology grad student Gary Miller conduct a study on bear behavior.

Janet: The University of Montana had a bear lab up there, way far from town.

Michael: There were four bears in this study. Two grizzlies, Growly and Snarly, and two polar bears nicknamed Magdalen and Guen. Janet helped take care of them.

Michael: [on the phone] So what does it look like to take care of a grizzly bear in a lab?

Janet: So it was cleaning the area. It was feeding them every day and making sure they had water. The Hudson Bay store was the local grocery store in Churchill. And so we would get meat scraps and vegetable, you know, whatever food that they were willing to give away. And that's what the bears lived on.

Michael: Each bear was monitored dawn to dusk, body temperature, heart rate, posture. Reading through the paper, I really liked these little drawings that showed bear body language. And it turns out Janet drew those.

Janet: I did illustrate Gary Miller's master's thesis.

Michael: [on the phone] Oh, you drew the the bear outlines of their different postures?

Janet: Yeah, I did all that stuff.

Michael: Oh those are so cute!

Michael: Finally, one by one, they'd bring the bears into a 13 foot by 20 foot cell, with a drinking well for water and a barred metal door. From outside the cell, an assistant would provoke the bear into charging, approaching the door and stomping if necessary.

Daniel: Wow. That so that's all it took to get them to charge at the gate of the cage?

Michael: Most of the time. Yeah, I mean, Janet said that every bear was different. The polar bears were pretty docile. And one of the grizzly bears, Snarly, was actually really easily provoked. She said that he'd charge whenever somebody just approached the door.

Daniel: So they approached the cage door and the bear could see them and would just charge at the door.

Michael: Mhmm.

Daniel: Wow.

Michael: And when a bear charged, they would deploy a deterrent to hopefully stop them in their tracks. They tried different. Sounds like a handheld boat horn.

Sound Effect: [boat horn noise]

Michael: A referee whistle.

Sound Effect: [whistle blowing]

Michael: They played a recording of a bear growling.

Sound Effect: [sound of a bear growling]

Michael: It was actually a recording of Growly, the bear, growling—which might be how he got his name. And they tested a popular item marketed to alert bears to your presence. Bear Bells.

Sound Effect: [small bells jingling]

Michael: Here's an excerpt from their research, read for us by a voice actor.

Voice Actor: Twice when small bells were tested on growling, he slept through the test. The bells were of the type that are sold to hikers in Glacier and Yellowstone National parks to warn bears of their approach. In these tests, the assistant stood at the door of the cell and rang the bells. Growly was not more than six meters away and never woke up. The idea that small bells will warn grizzlies before approaching clearly needs reevaluation.

Daniel: I've definitely heard a lot of bear bells on the trail here in Glacier, but the problem is I don't hear them until the person's like right next to me on the trail. So yeah, they're just not loud enough to really alert a bear.

Michael: Yeah, I've heard that, you know, the thing you're bothering the most by wearing bear bells is yourself. And it wasn't just sounds. They tried strobe lights. They waved a giant piece of plywood, and they sprayed bears with chemicals or irritants like onion juice and Windex.

Daniel: Oh, wow.

Michael: And they also deployed a product called Halt, which was a pepper spray developed for postal workers who were getting bitten by a lot of dogs in the fifties.

Daniel: While they were throwing everything at these bears. But before this, there really weren't that many choices.

Michael: Yeah, I mean, it seems a little strange now that they'd be trying things like Windex, but there weren't non-lethal deterrents available at the time, so they were just seeing whatever would work.

Daniel: Hmm. So after they tried all this, what were the results?

Michael: Well, sounds like the handheld boat horn worked pretty well, but only if they were extremely loud. And the boat horn also apparently didn't work in low temperatures. The bells and whistles didn't do much. The giant piece of plywood could stop a bear, but the effect didn't last very long. However, Halt—the postal worker pepper spray—worked really well.

Daniel: Hmm.

Voice Actor: Each time it was tested, the bear charged until it was sprayed. The bear then turned and ran to the farthest corner of the cell where it rubbed its eyes and blinked vigorously. In one case, Snarly went to the water well and washed his face with his paws.

Janet: That's the only thing that would stop a charging bear. And that was true with Grizzly bears and polar bears. I mean, they couldn't see! Even if it was for a couple of minutes, and they would just stop and it would freak them out.

Michael: [on the phone] Hmm.

Janet: And so, yes, it was the only thing—because we had again, mentioned boat horns and bells and all kinds of things. So it, it was a precursor.

Michael: Thanks to Growly, Snarly, Magdalen, and Gwen—who endured around 20 tests each—the paper that came out of this study concluded with this line:

Voice Actor: The results of Halt dog repellent in the laboratory indicate that effective repellents can be developed.

Music: [dramatic drums playing]

Daniel: So the study up in Churchill, it showed that this dog pepper spray works pretty well. I mean, was that it? Did they just then package it up and sell it as bear spray?

Michael: There were a few steps in between. So the University of Montana was funding the study Janet was a part of, and with this conclusion that a deterrent could be developed. They started funding a follow up study.

Daniel: I'm guessing that at University of Montana, they were using different bears?

Michael: Yeah. This second study had a new set of bears, including one problem Bear from Glacier that was labeled in the study as a roadside panhandler.

Daniel: Oh, wow.

Michael: And these new bears were sent down to Fort Missoula.

Daniel: Who led this follow up study?

Michael: So the student that was working on this study was named Carrie Hunt. And it's funny, newspaper articles that you read about Carrie go out of their way to highlight that she is five foot one, 115pounds, and just like the first study in Churchill, is provoking these 500 pound grizzlies into charging in order to test these deterrents.

Daniel: So this had the same premise as the first study?

Michael: Yeah, very similar. A magazine actually interviewed Carrie about the experience.

Voice Actor: Hunt step to the barred door of the bear's cell, by stomping her feet, she provoked almost all the bears into charging. More than once, concrete dust flew from the hinges as a huge bear rammed the cell door.

Voice Actor: Even though the situation was controlled and there was no way I could get hurt. It was still frightening. The power and aggression of an angry charging grizzly is overwhelming.

Voice Actor: If the bear charged it received an application of the repellent being tested.

Michael: A lot of the things they were testing were very similar to that first study, they did sounds like in this case rock music. They did Halt, that same dog spray.

Voice Actor: Everything from tear gas to rock music was tested, but only a commercial dog repellent spray had any significant effect. The spray's active ingredient was capsaicin, a derivative of red peppers.

Michael: Ironically, the study was actually funded by a competitor to what we now know as bear spray called Skunker.

Daniel: Oh..

Michael: Can you guess what soccer is?

Daniel: I'm guessing it smelled really bad.

Michael: Yeah, it was a synthetic skunk spray. And turned out Skunker didn't work, and it just kind of made the bears sad.

Daniel: [laughing] I'm not surprised.

Michael: They didn't leave the area. But Halt, once again, did work. The only problem was that's not how people have bear encounters in the wild.

Daniel: Sure.

Michael: You know, and this tiny can of pepper spray, designed for a dog that's biting a postal worker, like it doesn't shoot far enough. It's not strong enough. And so Carrie highlighted that, you know, this is a really promising thing to follow up on, but it would need some refining. It needs some iterating to turn it into an effective bear deterrent for public use.

Daniel: So now there's two studies that are both showing that some kind of pepper spray is probably going to work pretty well to stop a charging bear.

Michael: Yeah.

Daniel: But to work in the real world, it needs some modifications.

Michael: Right. And this result started to trickle out into, like local Montanans that either were connected to the university in some way and found its way to a guy named Bill Pounds. After hearing Carrie's results, he reached out and offered to help refine it, and eventually that collaboration turned into Counter Assault.

Randy: Over the years has been refined, has got different propellants, it's got different concentrations of the pepper.

Michael: One of the big things that they worked on was the delivery method. You know how the spray would leave the can?

Michael: [in the field] Yeah, you mentioned the spray. That was one thing I realized I hadn't mentioned, because like some of the earlier brands were shooting six feet in, like a pencil-thin stream, like Wasp killer.

Randy: Right. So that stream, you're not going to hit a bear from 30 feet away in the eyes, especially when you're in a panic yourself. I mean, I don't care who you are, you're going to be in a panic when a very charging at you. They wanted that shotgun pattern, as it's called, a fog pattern. Fog.

Daniel: Okay. So this this is part of the process we saw. They're taking a canister full of the ingredients and they're putting like a spray nozzle on the top of it that shoots the bear spray out into a fog or a cone.

Michael: Yeah, exactly. And through testing and conversations with bear biologists, you know, they refined that fog into a spray that would last 7 seconds and shoot 30 feet.

Randy: That fog is going to get in the sinuses. It's going to get in the eyes. It's they're going to inhale. It's going to get in all the mucous membranes, the lungs. That's what changes their senses, and they just stop. It's it's a shock to their system like it is ours.

Michael: There were some obstacles along the way before bear spray was widely adopted. There were fraudsters making weak knock offs, and some serious misunderstandings, like thinking you used it like bug spray, or that it was a spice rub you could buy at the grocery store.

Voice Actor: When I first heard about bare pepper spray, I rushed right down to Albertsons to see if that store stocked it. But alas, though, I looked among the spices, the cooking oils, and even in the meat department, I found no bear pepper spray.

Michael: That was from a newspaper article back in 1999. So it took a lot of education and messaging to get people to understand and carry bear spray. But what really got people on board was its track record. It was working.

Larry King: He and his family were in the sights of three bears, recently managed to get away.

Michael: This is a newscast from Larry King where he's interviewing a guy who had to use bear spray here in Glacier.

Larry King: Sounds like Jack was lucky. What happened, Jack? What happened to you and the Bears?

Jack Hanna: Well, Saturday night, Larry, just Saturday night, my wife and I went to Grinnell Glacier in Glacier National Park. We lived here 20-something years. It's a favorite place to hike.

Michael: So the story is about this group hiking the Grinnell Glacier Trail when a bear started following them, and after following them for a little while, started running at them.

Larry King: I waited to get about 30 feet and unloaded one blast. It kept coming. My wife stood about ten feet right in my face. I just went bam, right in his face and ran away again.

Michael: Bear spray stopped it in its tracks.

Larry King: So this is what helped save our lives.

Michael: A lot of stories like this come up when you Google bear spray, including this line.

Voice Actor: Thanks to God, a friend and pepper spray. I'm still here.

Michael: That quote comes from a bear attack survivo,r who would go on to found his own bear spray company called UDAP, which is based in Butte, Montana. Testimonials like these have slowly won people over, and even folks who doubted a pepper spray could work as well as a firearm.

Randy: You know, like I said, I was retired military. I'm a gun guy. It's fine. But these guys are like, Well, I need my gun. Okay, well, you're still trying to hit something, if it's a charge—that you've got a kill zone that's, you know, maybe grapefruit-sized, that you have to try to get a bullet through. Well, you may not be able to do that. And I don't care, I carry weapons, but I carry bear spray when I go in the woods.

Michael: And because of this effective track record, Glacier suggests all visitors to the park carry bear spray. Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks recommends all hunters carry it, too.

Michael: [in the field[] So how many cans do you put out from here in a year or a month?

Randy: Now, in 2021, we did 375,000 cans of bears spray. And it's just education. That's what's helped. Back in the day, a few years ago, like I talked with Pride here, he says: I remember when we did 30,000 cans in a year. I said, I'm doing that in a month. So that's how much it's picked up from those first days back in the eighties and where the word has gotten out.

Michael: Even still, bear spray is no substitute for common sense. Being safe in bear country involves storing food properly, making noise on trail, hiking in groups, not just grabbing a can of bear spray and calling it a day.

Daniel: Yeah, I've actually heard some bear experts talk about the downside of bear spray is that people think they just strap it on their back and then they're safe, and that it actually discourages the kind of awareness and mindfulness of bear safety that you need to have in mind.

Michael: You don't want to get complacent.

Daniel: No, you can't just put it in the bottom of your backpack and think it's going to help with a bear attack. I mean, you can't put on your seatbelt and drive off a cliff.

Michael: Right. And it is also worth pointing out, like I've carried bear spray on all the hikes I've done here in the last ten years. I've never had to use it, have you?

Daniel: No. My whole life I've been in bear country, and I've never used bear spray.

Michael: Right? I mean, I've taken it out a few times.

Daniel: Uh-huh.

Michael: But I've never had to spray it. The only times I've actually been around it going off was when people set it off on accident.

Michael: The adoption of bear spray coincides with a shift in our relationship with bears: a shift from managing bears to managing people. That change, which we're all a part of, makes a huge difference for our wildlife. Compared to the 1960s, there are a lot more bears and humans in Glacier. Around 100 more grizzlies and literally millions more annual visitors. But that hasn't led to an equivalent rise in bear human conflicts or problem bears like Growly needing to be removed. Thanks to these tools that help us coexist, more bears get to live out their normal bear lives, even as more and more people like you and me come to visit.

Music: [dramatic drums playing]

Daniel: I think I just have one question left for you, Michael.

Michael: Yeah?

Daniel: Whatever happened to Growly?

Michael: Growly, you could say, was actually the first life that bear spray saved. Here's Janet Ellis again talking about the end of that first study in Churchill.

Janet: They were shutting down the bear lab after we left. And so we had two grizzly bears, the polar bears were released back into the wild, but the grizzly bears were going to be destroyed.

Music: [somber music playing]

Michael: It's not easy to release a food conditioned bear back into the wild. So it's standard practice in cases like this for the bear to be euthanized. But after taking care of Growly for months, Janet had taken a liking to him.

Janet: We could play tug of war with him, where his forearms were gigantic and so couldn't fit through the bars really very far. Just a little bit. But he put his hand out of the cage and you could grab his claws. He could give up, and he was going to win.

Michael: She fed growly, gave him water, got him exercise. Apparently he really liked playing with these giant tires they had lying around.

Janet: He'd just pounce on them, he could put them up in his mouth and shake them like a rag. I mean, he was so strong.

Michael: So when it seemed like Growly was going to be euthanized, she started writing letters to friends and family.

Janet: Well, I wrote various relatives to see if they had any ideas. And it was my dad, who was an attorney in Columbus, Ohio, that talked—there was a city councilman I think, who was in his law firm. And then he knew somebody else who was head of Parks and Recreation, and they knew Jack Hanna. You know, It was that sort of thing.

Michael: Through her dad's network, Janet reached Jack Hanna, the director of the Columbus Zoo—and coincidentally, the guy you heard Larry King interviewing earlier, because years later, he used bear spray on the Grinnell Glacier Trail. Anyway, they asked Jack, you know, if we can raise enough money to feed Growly for a year, would you take him? And he said yes.

Janet: So they raised, they raised enough money, I know, for him to be fed for a year and then also to pay for the transport down.

Michael: The only problem was, Janet had to take him there herself. He wouldn't fit on a plane and there wasn't even a road out of Churchill.

Janet: So you had to get on a train. We had a a big culvert trip. Have you seen? You know-

Michael: [on the phone] Yeah, the giant metal cylinders.

Janet: But this was for polar bears, so it was really big.

Michael: [on the phone] [laughs].

Janet: And then we rented a three-quarter-ton pickup and drove from there.

Michael: After a 30 hour train ride, Janet loaded Growly's culvert trap— this big metal cylinder—into the bed of a pickup truck, and drove another 25 hours to the Columbus Zoo. Apparently, Growly was pretty cooperative.

Janet: He was in a culvert trap with the, in the back. I could see him when I was driving and he was looking forward. And that's where the grate was so he could watch. And he hadn't been outside in two years at least. So he was really interested in what was going on. But he didn't really rock the truck.

Michael: Like anyone on a road trip. Greatly needed food and water along the way. Janet could slip him food through the grate, but she had to get help with water.

Janet: But when he stopped at a gas station, you did need to water him. We went. I had to water my bear in the pickup to explain why you needed the hose [laughs] at a gas station. That's the thing that's most entertaining.

Michael: Ultimately, Growly was a great road trip companion, and the drive went off without a hitch. So after a few days of travel, Growly was introduced to his new home at the zoo.

Janet: They had trees and boulders, and he wanted day bed, he just rearranged the whole thing, and they had to put wire around the trees so he wouldn't destroy them. Yeah. He had his own opinion on redecorating his new home.

Both: [laughing]

Michael: I grew up in Columbus, and spent a lot of time as a kid at the Columbus Zoo. So there's a real chance Growly was the first bear I ever met. And I might have run into Janet there, too.

Janet: My son, he's 28 now, but he remembers Growley, cause we would go to the, every time we went to Columbus, we would go to the Columbus Zoo.

Michael: Grizzly bears are formidable neighbors. Not to be taken lightly. And in the 20th century, their future was uncertain. Some Americans argued they should be destroyed entirely, that our two species could not coexist. But tools like bear spray have proven that wrong.

Music: [music begins to build under narration]

Michael: Today, we have access to an easy and effective tool to diffuse bear encounters that doesn't harm the bear. And while no deterrent is a guarantee, Growly showed us that bear spray works. Seeing him at the zoo, I didn't know about the cabins he vandalized or the summer he spent in Canada enduring boat horns, onion juice and pepper spray. I doubt anyone there other than Janet knew the whole story. But I did know that it was special to see a grizzly bear. And thanks in part to Growly, you don't have to go to a zoo to do that.

Music: [credits music continues to build, and plays under the credits]

Peri Sasnett: That's our show. Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park and is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. We could not make the show without them. You can learn more about what they do at Glacier.org. Headwaters is made possible with help from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, and so many people throughout the Glacier community— especially the natural and cultural resource teams. We're grateful for all of you. Our music this season is by the brilliant Frank Waln. The show's cover art is by our sweet friend Stella Nall. Check out Frank and Stella's work at the links in our show notes. Special thanks this episode to Randy Hunt and everyone at Counter Assault. Janet Ellis, Carrie Hunt, and Chuck Bartlebaugh for discussing this project with us, as well as Growly, Snarly, and all the other bears who contributed to the creation of Bear Spray. Besides sharing this episode with a friend who might appreciate it, you can help us out by leaving us a rating and review in your podcast app. Thanks for listening.

Bonus | Vehicle Reservations

13 juni 2023 | 17 min

As parks become more and more popular, what do we want the visitor experience to be like? In this bonus episode, learn how Glacier is trying to answer this question.

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[drumbeats]

Peri Sasnett: I’m Peri, and you’re listening to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else.

[drumbeats intensify and then fade]

Peri: So my first season working on the podcast was in 2021—for the whitebark pine story—but that wasn’t actually my first season in Glacier. I started here in 2017, which was a historic year: the first time we counted more than 3 million visits to the park in a single year. And in July 2017 alone, Glacier broke records for the most visits in a single month.

It was overwhelming as a brand-new employee, but it was also overwhelming for longtime rangers. Traffic often slowed to a halt, it was impossible to find parking in the middle of the day, and emergency calls felt nonstop. A lot of days, rangers would have to close this or that gate to the park because it was just too full. I would get alerts from dispatch all the time—West Entrance is closed, Bowman Lake access is closed, Many Glacier entrance is closed—because there were so many cars that emergency vehicles couldn’t get into these areas.

Summers like this got people thinking about the future: as parks become more and more popular, what do we want the visitor experience to be like? How will Glacier, and parks across the country, respond to this increasing visitation?

[beats with base begin to play]

In this bonus episode, we take a look at how Glacier is trying to answer these questions. The park’s vehicle reservation system has just begun for 2023, which means that visitors need reservations to enter popular areas of the park during peak hours. To learn more about how the system works—where to get a reservation and whether you’ll need one—visit our website. But to learn about why Glacier is trying this system in the first place, my cohost Daniel talked to Dr. Susie Sidder, who researches visitation at the park—studying why visitors come here, what they’re looking for, and what their experience is like.

[beats with base intensify then fade]

Daniel Lombardi: So, Susie, will you introduce yourself?

Susie Sidder: Yeah, happy to. My name is Susie Sidder, and I am the Visitor Use Management Program Manager here at Glacier National Park.

Daniel: The park gets a lot of visitors. We have millions of people visit here. And your job is to help figure out how to make that go smoothly.

Susie: Yeah, and we use lots of different techniques for that.

Daniel: Maybe let's, let's zoom out. Let's think about the big picture. Why does this exist?

Susie: At Glacier, we receive upwards of 3 million recreation visits annually, and that's a lot of different people that are trying to come into Glacier. We kind of reach a point where we have to start really understanding how can we help people come to the park while also still achieving that mission of protecting natural and cultural resources, not only for visitors to experience today, but also to ensuring that those resources are available for our future visitors. And so Glacier is not the only national park that has started to really invest quite a bit in trying to understand visitor use and to manage visitor use across the national park system, we are seeing many different types of parks start to engage in more systematic ways of managing visitation.

Daniel: So okay, Susie, it sounds like what you're describing is, is I guess I've heard it called a dual mandate: that the Park Service has to balance protecting and preserving the place while still allowing people to enjoy it today.

Susie: I definitely find myself in a balancing act. My background is focused on natural resources, specifically like thinking about things like wildlife and soil and plants. That was my undergraduate degree. But slowly through my education, I started realizing that there's also a very real human component to understanding how we can protect and preserve resources. Daniel: One of the ways that Glacier is kind of finding that balance between preserving and protecting this place, but also allowing for its future and current enjoyment is through managed access. Specifically, there's a program now we have called vehicle reservations. Right?

Susie: Right.

Daniel: So, well, let's start. What is managed access?

Susie: So managed access is when any type of protected area in this case, Glacier, decides that we need some sideboards, some boundaries, around how and when people can come.

Daniel: Like this is something that exists not just here at Glacier. Managed access is like a, a process or a system that national parks do all the time. Right?

Susie: Right.

Daniel: What are some examples? If you're going to tour a historic house or museum, you can't just go in, like you have to at least go up to the front desk and sign in because they don't let unlimited amount of people into the building at once. Is that managed access then?

Susie: Yes, that's definitely managed access. And it's a different type of managed access than we're using at Glacier, where our system is designed around vehicles. But it's exactly that. Managed access is when you have to select a scheduled tour time before you arrive at a national historic site. Managed access is when you have to get a permit to float a river. Managed access is when you need to purchase a ticket in order to ride a shuttle. So there are many different ways that parks can manage where and when people go.

Daniel: So there's all kinds of managed access systems that different national parks do all the time. Like this is a thing that has existed for a long time. I think a maybe one, one example that comes to my mind is Denali, Denali National Park in Alaska. Right? They have a managed access system. How does that one work?

Susie: I actually went to Denali as a visitor in 2018 and got to experience their managed access system and I just thought it was so cool. And so I rode on a shuttle all the way to the Eielson Visitor Center.

Daniel: So in Denali, there's like one main road, and it's this long dirt road. Most people, they hop on a shuttle bus to go down that road and see—that's the main way they see Denali.

Susie: Yeah, we saw all different kinds of wildlife, several different instances of brown bear crossing the road. There was a mother brown bear with her cubs.

Daniel: Oh, cool.

Susie: We saw moose. It was just a really unique experience, and I definitely attribute that to the success of the managed access system that they've designed.

Daniel: That's cool. And Denali didn't just like randomly make that up. A lot of social science, I'm sure, went into that. So let's talk about how is the science getting put into practice here in Glacier? Glacier has a system of managed access and it's called vehicle reservations.

Susie: So the vehicle reservation system is a system that's designed to allow predictable visitor access.

Daniel: Basically, tell me if this is right. A vehicle reservation is like a dinner reservation.

Susie: Yes, in a way, a vehicle reservation is like a dinner reservation. Before you arrive at Glacier, you've got to get a vehicle reservation in advance.

Daniel: Okay. So you want to go out to dinner somewhere that's popular, really popular. That's fine, you know you can't just show up. You're going to need a reservation. So you call ahead, you get a reservation, and that, that ensures you that you're going to have a table when you get there.

Susie: It's kind of like that. So our reservation system guarantees entry into the park and that allows visitors to drive on our park roads. So once you get in with your vehicle reservation, you can make whatever decisions you want in terms of where you drive or where you park. And sometimes parking isn't always available at those key destinations. But with the vehicle reservation, what you're guaranteed is entry into the park—that reliable access. If we're going back to the dinner example, we can think about when you might need a dinner reservation. So if I want to go to a popular restaurant at seven, I probably do need a dinner reservation. But maybe if I want to go to the restaurant at three thirty or four, right when it opens, I probably don't need a dinner reservation.

Daniel: Right.

Susie: Depending on how popular it is.

Daniel: And the same thing is true here at Glacier.

Susie: Exactly.

Daniel: You only need a reservation for your vehicle for the peak hours.

Susie: Yes.

Daniel: So in Glacier, what are the—what's our peak time? What's our dinner rush in Glacier National Park?

Susie: So in Glacier, that often falls right around the middle of the day. So you can think about, you know, visitors are in their hotel rooms, they’re waking up in the morning, they decide to drive to Glacier. And before we had the managed access system, many people were following kind of that same routine and arriving right around the same time.

[drumbeats marks a transition]

[Swainson’s thrush singing; Townsend’s warbler singing; footsteps]

Daniel: [in the field] I'm really curious to see how this whole thing is playing out on the ground. [birds singing] So I'm going to walk through the forest here to where the Rangers are greeting visitors and helping them navigate the new system. [footsteps] It's kind of one of those wet mornings where the clouds are stormy, but there's also sun beaming in, and that might be slowing down the busyness of the park a little bit.

Ranger: Yeah, we'd like for it to be a little bit busier, but it's busy enough to where we can get some good training in and stuff like that. So it's nice that we didn't get crushed on the first day. So it'll pick up later today for sure.

[car drives by]

Daniel: [in the field] The Rangers are — they seem to be having quite a bit of fun there. They have a good group here. The whole mission is to help people navigate the new system as they come into the park. And pretty much everyone's smiling this whole time. Ranger: Morning, welcome to Glacier! Do you have a vehicle reservation?

Visitor: Thank you, have a great day!

Ranger: You too.

Daniel: [as car drives by] And here comes in another car, so the Rangers are going to stop and give them some information about the vehicle reservation system. [ranger conversing with visitor in the background]

Ranger: Do you have a vehicle reservation for today? Awesome.

Daniel: [as car drives by] Okay. So this is cool, this this car definitely has their vehicle reservation ready to go. They're holding up their phone. They've got the, they've got the vehicle reservation right on hand. So that was pretty smooth. [car driving by] Looks like they're from Wisconsin. They're driving into the park now. I'm guessing that the mid-morning is probably the busiest time for these Rangers. Talking to everyone about vehicle reservations. The cars are starting to come in a little bit faster now.

Ranger: Ticketed entry starts today through the park between 6 a.m. to 3 p.m.. Yeah you need a reservation for your vehicle. I'm just gonna have you take a right at the stop sign, there's more people waiting around the corner to give you information. All right.

Daniel: [as car drives by] That car had a couple of really cute dogs and they didn't have their vehicle reservation. They didn't seem to know about the system. So the Rangers directed them to just pull into a spot where they can park and learn about how it all works.

[drumbeats mark a transition]

Daniel: [to Susie] When it all boils down like, what are we really doing with the vehicle reservation system? What are we trying to do?

Susie: Specifically, we want people to have a good time when they come and have an awesome visitor experience. And we also want to make sure that the number of people in the park is not an unsafe number.

Daniel: Yeah.

Susie: And so what happens when we get a lot of people that want to drive into Glacier all at the same time is that our parking lots and our roads physically reach a limit where no more vehicles can move.

Daniel: Bumper-to-bumper in a national park.

Susie: Exactly. Bumper-to-bumper in a national park. And if you're looking at wildlife and you're stopped still on the road, that's probably awesome.

Daniel: Yeah.

Susie: You can get that chance to get that photo or see that grizzly. But if you're having a medical emergency or if you just really need to use the bathroom and are looking to reach a visitor facility, or if you have a kid in the car that screaming, that can be a really stressful situation. And so when we get that bumper-to-bumper traffic, that also means that not only can visitors not move, but our law enforcement and our emergency response folks also can't move in that system. And so that was definitely happening in Glacier before managed access.

Daniel: It's really a balance of all these different concerns and values and things you're trying to achieve. But two things that resonate with me the most are just safety and emergency management, making sure that there's not too many people in case of an emergency, and then two, like just preserving the experience that people want to come to Glacier to have. And that's not bumper-to-bumper traffic.

[red-breasted nuthatch singing]

Daniel: [in the field] I wanted to get one more layer to the vehicle reservation system. So we actually came into the park and I'm in Apgar now, and everyone here, they somehow got in through the vehicle reservation system. So we're just going to chat with some people and see what they have to say. [Western tanager sings] It's really nice here this morning, just walking along the shore of Lake McDonald [Western tanager sings] and people are enjoying the park and it's kind of cloudy, but sunny and...

Visitor: Are you recording bird sounds?

Daniel: [in the field] We are recording for Glacier’s podcast. Um, so we're just talking to people about the vehicle reservation system and seeing what they think of it and stuff like that.

Visitor: I did it last year.

Daniel: [in the field] How did it go?

Visitor: Oh, we didn't get a Going-to-the-Sun pass the first try, but we got it for the next day. So.

Daniel: [in the field] So you found it to be okay?

Carrie: Well, I had to wake up and make sure that I was on the website first thing in the morning when it opened to get a pass. And I didn't get one, like I said, the first day, but the second day I was able to for Going-to-the-Sun. But for the first day we decided to go through the Polebridge side. So we had a good experience up there on the first day and then spent our second day on Going-to-the-Sun. But yeah, it was frustrating because people are trying to get those permits like first thing in the morning and they go really quickly. Yeah.

Daniel: [in the field] Are you from around here?

Carrie: Oregon.

Daniel: [in the field] Okay. So you knew you were coming out, though, and you planned ahead?

Carrie: Correct. Okay. Yeah. I knew about the system and planned ahead, and so that was helpful. I think a lot of people probably get frustrated if they don't know about it. But it was nice because there wasn't, there was a lot of traffic, but it wasn't like an overabundance. So it was a little easier to navigate through Going-to-the-Sun Road and find parking spots for pull offs and stuff like that.

Daniel: [in the field] Okay. So that visitor kind of expressed how a lot of people feel about the vehicle reservation system. I think anyway, like, no one's really excited about it, but they definitely see advantages and disadvantages. It's frustrating sometimes if you don't get a reservation, but on the other hand, you come into the park and when you have one it, your visit can be really smooth and pleasant because it's not nearly as crowded.

[drumbeats mark a transition]

Susie: [to Daniel] We want people to come to Glacier and remember the beautiful hiking, the wildlife, the really awesome interpretive ranger that taught them about the park's history.

Daniel: [to Susie] It's a balance between trying to protect wildlife and... but it's also so that you can come and enjoy the park the way that you know you're expecting to and not be in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Susie: Yes. And this is just one type of managed access system.

Daniel: I guess one of the main takeaways I'm having then is that it's not set in stone. It's not like this is how it's going to be like. It's a constant process of studying and figuring out what works best in any given park or any given region of a park.

Susie: And then if it's not, changing course.

Daniel: Trying something else

Susie: Trying something else.

Daniel: Cool. Well, thanks for coming and chatting with us, Susie.

Susie: Yeah, thanks so much for having me. And I'll see you out in the park this summer.

Daniel: Great.

[calm piano music plays under the credits] Peri: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This episode was made by Daniel Lombardi, Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist, and Gaby Eseverri. Frank Waln wrote and performed our music. Thank you to Dr. Susie Sidder and the whole vehicle reservation team. Check out our website at nps.gov/glac if you’re looking for detailed information about vehicle reservations. Thanks for listening.

Becoming | (Re)colonized

24 maj 2023 | 42 min

A young national park wages biological warfare and nature finds a way. This is a history of wolves in Glacier.

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Eric Carlson art: https://www.instagram.com/esccarlson/ Behind the scenes pictures: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmSxSe2J

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[car noise in the background]

Diane Boyd: With wolves, they're always they're always doing something you don't expect.

Gaby Eseverri: [in the field] That's a fun characteristic.

Diane: Yes.

Gaby: [in the field] Would you say you're like that at all?

Diane: Yes. [both laugh]

Gaby: This is Dr. Diane Boyd, a biologist who has spent her life studying wolves in northwest Montana.

Gaby: [in the field] Well, when you're younger, did you think you'd be you'd be here now?

Diane: No, I had no idea. You know, I came out here in 79 for a two year study, and here I am. But it stole my heart. The North Fork stole my heart, after being here and doing and living with... The wolf researchers in the grizzly bear researchers shared a cabin. And I mean, my first week out there, I was helping them trap radio collar grizzly bears! This girl from Minneapolis! My God. [laughs] I mean, how could you not fall in love with it?

Gaby: Riding in a truck up a dirt road, I'm thinking about all the people who have fallen under the spell of Glacier National Park, and I'm wondering if it'll capture me, too.

[pensive music begins]

Gaby: [in the field] So I've been here since January, and it was my first winter.

Diane: From Florida, and that's quite a change.

Gaby: [in the field] From Miami! [both laughing]

Diane: Oh, my god!

Gaby: [in the field] Palm trees and—

Diane: Good on you! Yeah.

Gaby: [in the field] My entire family was very nervous for me. They said, you're going to move to Montana. No one goes there right now.

Diane: Mind my asking how old you are?

Gaby: [in the field] I'm 24. I turn 24, I'm 23.

Diane: I came to the North Fork when I was 24.

Gaby: [in the field] I know, I know! Yeah when I was reading your story, I was so touched.

Diane: I had the same response. “Don't move there, there's nobody there. We're worried about you. You're going to die!” [both laughing]

Gaby: This landscape feels magical in the way that it pulls people in. But in Glacier's early years, rangers were intent on keeping some things out.

Diane: Things have changed a lot, but it's still the same ecosystem is still those all the same creatures, just more people.

[car noise fades out]

Daniel Lombardi Things have changed and not just in the North Fork. History is in some ways a method of keeping track as the world bends itself into new shapes. The arc of history is long. It stretches too far to see in one lifetime. But some say to have faith, to trust that this long arc bends toward justice, that each twist towards injustice is countered eventually by a turn back toward justice. [Headwaters season three begins; starting with flutes and a drumbeat] This episode is about two such bends in the arc of history. One more than a century passed and the other less than a lifetime ago.

[theme finishes playing]

Daniel: This is season three of Headwaters: Becoming. A collection of histories of how this place became what it is today. And this episode is all about wolves. And also about Gaby trying to see a wolf for herself.

Gaby: [laughing] It's about so much else, too.

Daniel: But you have been looking into the history and looking for wolves all year, right?

Gaby: There's just something about this story that grabbed my heart from the beginning.

Daniel: Yeah. So if you want to learn something new about Glacier, where's the best place to start?

Gaby: I think one of the best places to begin learning about this place is with the Glacier Institute.

Daniel: Ah. The Glacier Institute is Glacier National Park's official education partner. They have all kinds of classes that are open to the public. It's cool.

Gaby: Yeah, it is really cool. And I joined a wolf biology course taught by Dr. Diane Boyd.

[a springtime soundscape fades in—birds calling, Swainson’s thrushes singing]

Gaby: I'm awake before my alarm. It's 5 a.m.. The birds are singing. It's spring and Glacier. I grabbed my bear spray and binoculars and get ready for a day. I've been anticipating for a long time.

Diane: [teaching a course] Any questions before I begin? I just updated this last night, actually, so I got the most current information that I could find. Can everybody hear me? All right, we shall carry on. So I'm going to talk about 42 years of wolf recovery in Montana.

Gaby: And this is where I meet Diane, along with a dozen or so other people taking the class.

Diane: I'm Diane Boyd. A little background on me. I came from Minnesota. Yeah, you betcha. [she and the group laugh] If you can't hear it, I'm like Fargo alive here. I started working with wolves in 1977, and I came out here and did a Master's and a Ph.D. through the University of Montana. But I've kind of stayed through the thread of wolf recovery in all of these years.

Gaby: In the classroom, Diane gave us a wolf 101. My favorite thing that I learned is that wolves are highly social animals. They travel as a pack, they care for their young together, and they hunt together. But the part of the day I was looking forward to the most was the field trip.

Diane: We'll meet back here or the busses are, I guess in about 10 minutes. Please use the toilet. Gather your lunch.

Gaby: I ride with Diane, who has a big truck and a big dog named Benny, who hangs out in the back seat. We're headed to the North Fork, which is also where Diane lives in an off-grid cabin.

[car noise fades in]

Diane: [talking to Gaby] My favorite thing I'm doing this year, I have what I call the golden hour in about a half an hour before sunset, a half hour after I sit on my porch and I look to the west and I do nothing, I get a little bit melancholy of my friends who have died or moved on or whatever, but—of love lost, family or whatever. But it's all beautiful. And I feel so. Blessed privilege to be able to be there. I get grizzlies in my yard and wolf trucks on the road and go, wolf scat on my driveway and it just. I'm thankful. I'm pretty much at the end of everywhere, way beyond the Mecca of Polebridge.

Gaby: [to Diane] It's kind of going through some articles from the 1970s, 1980s, kind of a line that I remember was that you were going to the river and getting your own water and melting snow.

Diane: I still do. I don't have a well, I haven't been all in water today, actually, or tomorrow. Now from the river, there's artesian springs that come out about two miles from me. I figure it's my free gym membership. [both laugh] I don't know how many more years I can continue doing that. I'm almost 70, but I'm doing it!

Gaby: Diane's wearing a black baseball cap that says, follow your instincts on the back. It's a message for everyone that follows her. She doesn't need the reminder. She's been following her own instincts and wolves for a long time.

Diane: We just crossed over Coal Creek, and I remember how we used to go down to the river from your ski down to the river, put on our chest waders in the middle of winter, get out skis and then ski on the wolf tracks. And by the time we'd come back, the waders would be frozen solid, [Gaby gasps] you’d break the ice off of them. But that spot, it just triggered that memory. Now, I imagine that when I get old and get dementia, I can't remember peoples who I saw yesterday or what age. But I'm going to remember all these wolf adventures. [laughing] Don't you think?

Gaby: I do. And I don't doubt that she'll remember. I wonder if today will be one of those wolf adventures.

[birdsong; western tanager and varied thrushes singing]

Gaby: Since getting here in the winter, I've seen lots of deer and squirrels and a very elusive pine marten. But not any big animals yet.

[car door slams, people talk in the background]

Gaby: We huddle around the cars at the trailhead and Diane tells us it's pretty rare to see a wolf, especially with a group of this size. So I know it's not likely, but I can't help but hope for a bit of magic.

Diane: Gradual uphill, the last one quarter mile’s flat. Otherwise, it's a gradual uphill. And we’ll come into this beautiful old meadow and there's this massive, huge tree in the middle, I believe it's a Doug Fir—we’ll sit under it for lunch. And it's really wonderful. When we look out over there, there's a lake. We might see loons, we might see swans, we might see wolves. You never know, though.

Gaby: As we hike through the forest, she pokes her head into fallen trees and greets their inhabitants with a warm “hello!” And when you hike with any wildlife biologist, one thing they're always looking for is poop. But to be polite, they call it scat.

[footsteps walking, then pausing]

Diane: Okay, we got some scat. Scat. Yep. That one's different.

Gaby: So Glacier is home to over 70 species of mammals, ranging from the super tiny pygmy shrew to larger animals like coyotes, elk, bears and wolves.

Diane: So what we have here, I think, that's probably a coyote scat—it’s full of deer hair. You know, you're not supposed to handle scats because they contain echinococcus, as I was telling you. My tapeworm is my favorite friend. [chuckles] But it could be a small wolf, I suppose, but it's probably a coyote. So when you see a wolf scat, for sure you know.

Gaby: Wolves are larger than coyotes and so are their poops—ahem—so are there scats. While coyotes weigh about 35 pounds, wolves weigh about three times as much.

Gaby: [in the field] And so this is one of your favorite hikes.

Diane: I love this hike. It's short and sweet. And there's always rewards.

Gaby: [in the field] What do you mean by rewards?

Diane: Wildlife to be seen up at the top.

Gaby: [in the field] Is this one you used to do a lot, when you were starting out around here?

Diane: Yes. And I also used to hike into trap wolves here.

Gaby: Diane started trapping wolves in the late seventies in order to radio collar and track them. And she describes the process they used to set these big metal traps, which grabs the animal's leg without hurting them. It is elaborate, and the key is disguising any human smell.

Diane: When you boil them in alder bark, it smells like what's here. And then you always wear gloves. You kneel on a piece of cloth. The cloth sits in a box full of dirt. The traps are stored in a box full of dirt in the truck. There's all these precautions. They still know you're there. I mean.

Gaby: Despite taking so many precautions to disguise any human smell. Wolves are often too smart and sneaky to be caught in the traps.

Diane: I just feel the wolves are ultimately the smartest animal in the woods, and smarter than us sometimes. And I've had many a time where I've had a wolf trap perfectly disguised and been in the ground a while, and I'll come by and there will be a fresh wolves get like right here. It's like, “no!”

Gaby: And she points out the ground right in front of where the trap would have been. It was a chicken wolf outsmarting Diane's trap and adding a scat to insult.

Diane: So we're almost to the meadow now. “Yo bear! Okay.”

Gaby: The trail leaves the forest, and we arrive in a beautiful open meadow sloping down to a small lake. We find some ducks and a pair of loons. And we eat lunch under that massive tree. We get Diana, tell us more stories about chasing after wolves. But there's one thing missing.

Diane: So I just got to tell you, all this is, uh—so when the wolves used to breed about five miles south of here, we would see wolf scat on this trail all the time. And I haven't seen it this year, haven't seen it for a few years. But the wolves used this meadow a lot. Now, they aren't apparently here, but nobody knows because they're collared. I think they moved south.

Gaby: I knew the chances were slim, but I can't help feeling a bit let down. [wistful music begins to play] I would love to see a wolf myself. But because of their tense history with people, wolves are understandably secretive, so it isn't surprising that seeing one is so rare.

Daniel: So you didn't see a wolf with Diane?

Gaby: No. It's such a bummer, but I'm still sort of keeping my fingers crossed.

Daniel: I'll cross my mine for you, too.

Gaby: Thanks.

Daniel: I—I mean, they're special to see anywhere, I think. But they're. They're really hard to see in Glacier.

Gaby: Is it just because the landscape is so densely forested?

Daniel: I think that's a big part of it. But, you know, for decades it wasn't just like hard to see a wolf here. It was literally impossible because there were no wolves here at all.

Gaby: Because wolves were basically exterminated from the lower 48 in the 1900s.

Daniel: And I think it is generally underappreciated how wild it is that it was park rangers, it was the National Park Service that helped kill off wolves.

Gaby: It just blows my mind. It's the opposite of what I think of a national park doing today. I talked to an expert on the history of wolves to learn more about this.

Michael Wise: History—historians, or you know, just kind of everyday people thinking about the past, don't ordinarily include the nonhuman world as a historical agent, in the grand narratives, sweeping narratives that most people tell about the past.

Gaby: I called up Dr. Michael Wise, an environmental historian who studies the relationships between people and predators like wolves.

Gaby: [to Michael] So historically, where did wolves live and how many were there?

Michael: Well, historically, wolves lived all throughout North America and into South America, possibly, and all across Europe and Asia. I mean, even within the last thousand years, yeah, there were certainly wolves present in every single inch of the North American continent at one time or another.

Gaby: [to Michael] With wolf extermination, like when and where does this all start?

Michael: A lot of people often begin with is that there is this sort of timeless antagonism between wolves and men. So, wolf, eradication happens, you know, almost immediately with the arrival of the first English colonists to what's now the United States.

Gaby: The first recorded wolf bounty law in America was passed in Massachusetts in 1630, and other colonies followed suit. These early bounties were paid out in cash, tobacco, wine and corn. Basically, as soon as colonists arrived in North America, they were trying to exterminate wolves.

Michael: Yeah, I think that is a surprise to a lot of folks that one of the first, in a way, like cooperative, democratic kind of processes on the ground is like, “okay, we all have to work together to kill wolves.” And, you know, so I think that if there is an explanation, the simple explanation for this is that people started killing wolves when they started raising livestock.

Gaby: Montana established its first wolf bounty law in 1884, five years before it would become a state. By this time, cattle ranching was big business in Montana. As other usual food sources were killed off wolves turned to cows and other livestock. And not only did ranchers kill wolves threatening their herds, but the government backed a campaign to kill predators.

Gaby: [to Michael] How many wolves were killed in the 1800s and in the 1900s?

Michael: [sighs] Oh, boy. I mean, probably overall, millions over those two centuries. If we’re thinking about just Montana? Probably 50000 to 100000 in the 19th century. And maybe another 50,000 total in the early 20th century.

Gaby: It's easy to point to the livestock industry as being the beginning and end of wolf eradication. But the story isn't that simple.

Michael: But wolves don't kill as many livestock as livestock growers expect them to. And the cost of killing wolves greatly exceeds the amount of money that any livestock grower ever saved from losing stock to a wolf attacks. What I'm interested in then is why did there remains such a commitment to eradicating wolves?

Gaby: This went well beyond protecting livestock. Federal land managers killed wolves too, because they were invested in protecting prey animals like deer and elk—animals that people like to see and hunt.

Gaby: [to Michael] So economics is part of the story, you know, wolves killing livestock is part of the story. But it's really not the reason why people are doing this.

Michael: I think that ultimately there were remains today much more difficult to articulate and uneasy reasons why people want to kill wolves. And I think that is important to try to understand those reasons. Just for the same reason, I think it's really important to for us to articulate why we love wolves.

Gaby: Often, people killed wolves by lacing carcasses with a poison called strychnine. But many other animals, especially scavengers, came across the bait and died as well. [pensive music begins to play] Ultimately, though, killing wolves became a way to make a living. Professionals were called “wolfers.” While the bounties in the 1880s were only a couple of dollars, within a few decades, they were as high as $150. Adjusted for inflation, that's over $4,000 today. These bounties led to a lot of dead wolves, but they also backfired. Wolves became almost a kind of currency. People would try to trade in one wolf multiple times or in multiple states. There were cases of people raising wolves, farming them, basically only to kill them later for the bounties.

Michael: Wolfers did most of the killing, and then by the 1910s through the 1930s, the federal hunters killed the kind of holdouts, and because they were paid salaries, not really incentivized to cheat, they were a lot more effective at actually bringing wolf numbers, you know, throughout most of the country to zero. And, of course, you know that the National Park Service had its own predator control.

Daniel: The National Park Service was deadly serious about killing off wolves and other predators.

Gaby: Yeah, I found some letters about this in the archives written by the park superintendent in 1913. It all started when [chuckling] a nearby liquor store, for unknown reasons, had a coyote, and they start writing to the park superintendent asking if he wants it.

Daniel: These letters are amazing. So I think we should have Michael and Peri read a simplified version of them.

Gaby: Yeah. Here's the first one from Glacier superintendent asking for coyotes infected with mange.

[a drumbeat begins, setting off the letter readings]

Michael Faist (as park superintendent, reading letter): I am desirous of inoculating with mange some coyotes to turn loose here in the park with the idea that I may eventually kill off all the coyotes in the park in that manner. Will you advise me as to where I can get preparation of this disease?

[drumbeat ends]

Gaby: So they write back and say, Sure, we have mangy coyotes for you. No charge.

[drumbeat begins]

Peri Sasnett (reading letter): I got your letter and beg to advise you that there's a good supply of mangy coyotes. We will furnish you with the number of coyotes you desire free of charge.

[drumbeat ends]

Daniel: So mange, this is a parasitic skin disease and it's often lethal for wolves and coyotes. I think it's the same as scabies in people, but it is highly contagious, especially for social animals like wolves. And by all accounts, it seems like a really horrible way to die.

Gaby: Exactly. And the dark idea here, pushed by the park superintendent, was to intentionally spread this disease through the local populations.

Daniel: So it seems to me like his—his thinking was that shooting and trapping these predators, that's fine. But maybe there's a more effective way to wage war.

Gaby: Right. And at this point, already most of the wolves have been killed off. So now enemy number two becomes coyotes, and the park wants to get rid of them in the same way.

Daniel: Yeah. And there were all kinds of programs and laws laid out to specifically try out this kind of biological warfare against wolves. In 1905, Montana passed a law even, requiring the state vet to infect wolves with mange to try and increase its spread.

Gaby: Here's some more letters back and forth from the superintendent asking people to send him mangy coyotes.

[drumbeat begins again]

Michael (as park superintendent): I'd be glad to have you send me to mangy coyotes. I believe this will be enough, as I already have four which I can infect from the ones that you send.

Peri (reading letter): Am shipping to coyotes today. Please distribute as far as possible from habitation.

[drumbeat ends]

Gaby: And then the park superintendent starts hitting some red tape.

Daniel: The Department of Interior writes to the park superintendent and says, “stop doing this because there's not strong enough evidence as to whether or not it's effective.”

Gaby: There ends up being dozens of letters back and forth where the park superintendent is trying to get permission to spread mange through Glacier. In the end, it doesn't work out—not because of the cruelty of it, but just because his bosses aren't convinced it'll work.

Daniel: So now the superintendent is embarrassed that his plan has fallen apart and he has half a dozen coyotes in a cage, and he has to mail them back to where he got them.

[drumbeat begins again]

Michael (as park superintendent, reading letter): I assure you, I have no doubt in the efficacy and safety of your method for exterminating the coyote by the inoculation of wolf mange. But for now, I have to postpone my plan. I hope to take it up later, proceeding with the inoculation next spring. But I have decided to return the coyotes. I appreciate the interest and trouble you've taken. P.S. I'm sorry to inform you, one of the mangy coyotes died last night.

[drumbeat finishes]

Gaby: Then the superintendent shoots off one more letter.

[drumbeat begins again]

Michael (as park superintendent, reading letter): The department has refused to allow me to exterminate the coyotes by mange. Instead, I must resort to poison. Can you advise me where you get your strychnine and possibly send me a pound?

Narrator from an old timey film: [flutes and other instruments layer in over the beat] Even in Glacier National Park, Predator Control Rangers shot and trapped so-called “bad animals” like the wolf and grizzly bear because they posed a threat to visitors. Even in Glacier National Park, Predator Control Rangers shot and trapped so-called bad animals like the wolves and grizzly bear because they posed a threat to visitors.

[music finishes and fades out]

Daniel: So the National Park Service has a different approach to wolves now.

Gaby: And really, all apex predators. We understand them to be essential parts of the ecosystem.

Daniel: As early as the 1920s and the 1930s, park naturalists and scientists were questioning the idea that predator control was necessary at all.

Gaby: George Melendez Wright was one of the first to set up studies that systematically gathered data on wildlife in a lot of national parks.

Daniel: A few decades later, in 1963, the Leopold Report came out and that pushed everything even further.

Gaby: It found that in the absence of natural predators, populations of prey animals like deer and elk were getting out of hand in some parks.

Daniel: And instead of humans culling or hunting excess animals, the Leopold report advocated for natural predation as the best way to keep ecosystems in balance. For example, let the wolves hunt the deer or the elk and keep populations in check like that.

Gaby: It was a really big step at the time, but it's hard to imagine anything different now, some 60 years later.

[wistful music begins]

Gaby: Conservationist Aldo Leopold described the loss of wolves as the snuffing of a fierce green flame. Another writer, Barry Lopez, simply said that dead wolves were what Manifest Destiny cost.

Michael Wise: What wolf eradication really accomplished was that it was a way of laying title to the American West, as a way of laying—laying title to the Northern Rockies. So killing wolves, above all, is a ceremonial possession of taking over this space. It was, it was central to the colonial process, if one of these central American historical narratives is the winning of the West and the sort of conquest of man over nature. But the reality is nature never got conquered.

Gaby: A few decades into the 1900s, wolves have pretty much disappeared from the landscape, including Glacier National Park. The park was still a beautiful place, full of wildlife. But there were no wolves here anymore. Gone were the tracks in soft snow, the kills that provided food for scavengers…. the howls in the early morning light.

Michael: Yeah like everybody—everybody who says they love wolves, I love wolves but I don't really know why. [subtle drumbeat begins] I'm working to be a wolf lover is maybe a better and more honest description. And what I mean by that is that I don't just love the idea of wolves, you know, I want to be able to love wolves for who they are, even when they do stuff you don't like. Not just love wolves, because I think it's cool that they howl or, or because they make me feel like there's still wildness that's present. Ultimately, rather than vilifying wolves, that lets us off the hook too much. It’s probably just better for us to acknowledge our human footprints on the world, and acknowledge that in order to sustain ourselves, we have to incur a certain amount of violence and destruction upon the world that we inhabit. And it's not possible to live otherwise. But maybe, you know, by thinking of ourselves more like wolves and less like the things that are better than wolves, we can come up with a more honest accounting of our actual impacts.

[pensive music continues]

Diane: Wolves live in the old world, the new world. They live from the Arctic to the desert. They live in every biome. And I find it interesting that we as a species can't respect that. There's many parallels between wolves and humans in terms of a social structure. And sometimes I wonder if that if that bothers people. And that is part of the cultural misunderstanding, that we're too much alike.

Gaby: Diane gives me a tour of her cabin and pulls out photos of when she and her friends were building it.

Gaby: [to Diane] Is this you?

Diane: Yeah! [laughing] When I was… ahem… 40 years younger than I am now, though.

Gaby: [to Diane] Is that your little outhouse?

Diane: Yeah! That was my first thing I ever built in my life, was my outhouse. And I thought, “yeah, I built an outhouse. I can build a cabin!” [both laugh]

Gaby: In her small cabin, she has more art of wolves than I have seen in my life. Cast irons hanging from the ceiling, a bathtub is next to the front door, and there are three very conveniently placed dog beds for Benny. My favorite thing about her cabin, though, are the skeletons in her closet.

Diane: All of these shelves were full of skulls. Wolf skulls, bear skulls, lion skulls. And I put them away because I had to put my stuff somewhere. Me and my all my thirty dead friends. [both laughing]

Gaby: We sat down and talked about wolves all afternoon over several cups of tea.

Diane: My job, my role is to be in the middle and try and do what I can to promote the conservation through good science. That's how I feel. Sorry it's get me all choked up.

Gaby: [to Diane] You spend so much time with them, I mean.

Diane: Lot of years, and I'm not done yet either.

Gaby: But after studying them and talking to people about wolves and wolf policy for the last 40 years, Diane still wonders what exactly it is about wolves that brings this out in people. What made early park rangers want to wage biological warfare against them?

Diane: So it's not just it's kind of a pathological hatred. It goes way beyond way beyond any rational realm of dealing with a livestock depredation issue. They just killed every one. So I think there's just a cultural fear. Just get rid of the get rid of the wolves. Get rid of the buffalo. Get rid of the Indians. I just think “clean out the West, make it safe for us white folks to bring in our domestic livestock and our families.” It's a terrible paradigm. It's—it's a terrible thing we've done. It's a just a tragedy. But that's how it was.

Gaby: Those early rangers who shot and poisoned predators probably thought they were doing the right thing, trying to bend the arc of the universe in a better direction. But the universe had its own plans.

Diane: So I have gone from that culture where being when I was young, all the wolves would kill off. Then when I got here, there were so few of them.

Gaby: By the time Diane arrived in the late seventies, wolves had been gone for about 50 years. But something changed in 1979. A single secretive wolf arrived. [subtle music begins playing, adding a sense of wonder] This was not a reintroduction. This was a natural recolonization. This wolf became known as Kishinena.

Diane: When I came along in 79, we had one wolf that had made it down from Canada--

Gaby: [to Diane] Kishinena.

Diane: Yes, Kishenina. And we put a radio collar on her. Yeah. And that was kind of my beginnings. We caught her in April 4th, 1979, put a radio collar on her just north of Glacier Park. She had to walk quite a ways, and I'm betting the wolves were killed out of Banff, Waterton, all of that area. I'm betting she came from probably Jasper, which is quite a long hike down here by foot without having been killed enroute. She, she successfully traversed that gauntlet without being seen or eating poison. It was pretty amazing.

Gaby: [to Diane] She was amazing from the start. She beat all the odds.

Diane: I know.

Gaby: Despite a century of persecution, despite all the killing, one wolf was able to bend history.

Diane: But she was really a different wolf, than the other wolves, in terms of being afraid—and not afraid, but smart and cautious. Clever and cautious. And that's why she lived. So she kind of was the first. And then she eventually ended up tiptoeing down into the park a little bit. She eventually she found a mate, and Jerry DeSanto and Steve Frey of Glacier Park—historical rangers—found tracks in 1981 of a female wolf in heat, which I'm sure was Kishenina, you know, with a three toed male who is missing one toe. And actually, I have a plaster cast of his track upstairs. And that spring, a female wolf down right near where we had caught Kishenina. The male died right away in June. And so she had to raise these seven pups by herself. I didn't think she'd be able to do it. You know, if you've ever raised a puppy, they’re constant care! And thinking about having seven little fuzzy meatballs, running around in there, [laughing] they’re looking at all kinds of dangers every day, and you have to leave them! To go hunt. There's nobody to babysit them. They all survived. It was a miracle. It's just magical.

[a subtle beat plays]

Gaby: These eight wolves became Glacier's dream team, and soon enough, one of those pups became a star player, a breeding female named Phyllis.

Diane: So now we've got two breedings, and just in Canada. But these wolves came down into Kintla Lake in the northwest corner of the park quite a bit, and eventually they moved down into the park. In 86, Phyllis denned in the park—first time documented wolves breeding in the park in 50 years. That was 1986. We started calling them the Magic Park because it was magical that they had survived, its magic that they were there, it was kind of magic that they just showed up and claimed their territory and stayed.

Gaby: [to Diane] I love that they're called the Magic Pack. [both laugh] I think that is such a great name for, for what they represent. But what are they what do they mean to wolf recolonization in Montana and Glacier? I mean, they are this like hopeful story to me. What was that like?

Diane: It was amazing, especially when they moved south into the park. And that's where they started denning, they denned there that year and the next year and almost every year since. And out of that, from that pack butted many dispersers, and more wolves made that hike down from Canada. And suddenly we had packs all over, and they were the source. They were the beginning, the the springboard to that launched recovery. I mean, I never in my deepest dreams would have fathomed that it would be this successful. So that's amazing to me. Still is. And still it excites me just as much as seeing them out there.

Peri: [to Diane] Was there a moment when you, like, realized they were kind of here for good?

Diane: When we started going from one pack to four packs and then two more in Canada, and then pretty soon we're monitoring seven packs and it’s like, “Oh, this thing's catching on.” [laughing]

Gaby: [to Diane] This is a lot more than one wolf!

Diane: Yeah. And then they were kept going further and further, and then they'd find other wolves in these distant places. It's like, “Yeah, now we're here to stay.” Yeah.

Gaby: [to Diane] What do you see coming?

Diane: The future for wolves?

Gaby: [to Diane] Yeah.

Diane: If we will tolerate them, they will always be here. It's strictly about us. They live in Saudi Arabia. They live in the Canadian Arctic. Only thing that stops them is humans. It's just really simple.

Gaby: [to Diane] So do you think our relationship with wolves will change?

Diane: Hmm. I was kinda hoping it’d change in my lifetime, but it hasn't. So that's been really disappointing. That's the hardest thing. Yeah. Wolves are survivors. I don’t know about us.

[a pause, and a short, joyful snippet of music starts to play]

Gaby: And then, just as I'm about to ask Diane another question, her eyes go wide. Her mouth drops open and her arm shoots up, pointing out the window. I look down the driveway past the outhouse, and I see two eyes looking back.

Gaby: [to Diane] It was right there walking

Diane: There was a black wolf walking through my yard! I’m not kidding you. Let’s try not to scare it

[rustling of furniture moving]

Gaby: My heart is pounding.

Diane: [with a sense of wonder] Wow. Oh, my God. You guys are good charms.

Gaby: [slowly, emotionally] It's a magical moment. And for a few seconds, I'm under its spell. Our arcs bending together.

Peri: Is that the first wolf you've ever seen Gaby?

Gaby: [to Peri] Yeah.

Diane: Right at my house?! [laughing]

Gaby: [to Diane and Peri] Yeah. How special is that?

Diane: My heart is still pounding.

Gaby: [to Diane] Yeah, me too. I haven't totally processed that. [all laughing in disbelief] First time I see a wolf.

Diane: At Diane Boyd’s house!

Gaby: [to Diane] With Diane Boyd!

Peri: I know! [all laugh]

Diane: How fun is that? He was walking right down the driveway and then cut over. You saw—did you see him in the driveway?

Gaby: [to Diane] Mmhmm.

Diane: Yeah you got a good view of him then. I was just so shocked to see that.

Gaby: [to Diane] I love that we went on a wolf course with the Glacier Institute and hiked and looked and all that. And here we are, just in your house, just talking and—and we get a sighting.

Diane: It's amazing. It's just—that was one of the biggest joys of the year. Maybe the biggest joy in several years is to just see a wolf in the wild and just doing his thing, walking through the forest on my land. And anyway—oh, sorry. I'm just. I'm still high from seeing that wolf. Like, after all these years. Can you believe that?! My God. Wow. [all laughing]

Gaby: [to Diane] I love that. Every sighting is just as exciting as the first time.

[subtle, sparse music begins to play]

Gaby: It's tempting to credit fate for seeing it here, of all places, with Diane, of all people. But I suppose I'll never know what brought it here. What arc it's on that crossed with my own.

[wolves howl in the background]

Lora Funk (reading as Kishinena): Since ancient times, my kind has shared the northern world with humans—sometimes as friends, other times as rivals. Our relationship a long pendulum swinging in an arc from peace to war. I was born into a time of war. This is well known. But what force of gravity pulls the swing from one direction to the other? This is less known, but they say it can be sensed in the wind. [winter wind howling] I sniff the air. Under a winter moon, a new smell blows from the south. So I follow it. I was born in the time of war, but perhaps I can live to see a time of friendship. [more energetic electronic music begins to play] For nine days and nine nights I trot south alone, following my nose. It leads me to a land of icy mountains. At night I howl below glaciers and only my echo calls back. [a quiet howl] I'm alone here except for the humans. They follow my tracks and I follow theirs. We inspect each other from a distance in an uneasy peace. [a Wilson’s snipe winnowing] The night I'm captured, I realize the war is not over. Not at all. I expect they will kill me. Surviving an encounter with their kind is unknown. Instead, the humans are gentle. They fit me with a collar and let me go. Then one night, my howls are answered, and I'm no longer alone. Before long. I'm tending a den of pups, and then I'm really not alone. I teach my pups to be wary, to stay hidden, but also that they are born into an era of change. [music resumes] The war is not over and they are not our friends, yet. But the arc is bending once again. [wolves howl as the music fades out]

Daniel: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park, with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This season of Headwaters was made by me, Daniel Lombardi, along with Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist, and Gaby Eseverri. Frank Waln wrote and performed our music. Eric Carlson created this season's cover art. Special thanks this episode to Emma Hilliard and Eric Goodin, and of course Lora Funk. We couldn't have made this episode without Dr. Diane Boyd and Dr. Michael Wise. Thank you to all the wolves. And also a special shout out to the Glacier Institute, the park's official education partner. Check them out at GlacierInstitute.org. This season also depended on a lot of hard work from Darren Lewis and Lacy Kowalski. And we always depend on help and support from Melissa Sladek, Sierra Mandelko, Brent Rowley, and the whole team at the Glacier National Park Archives. I also want to shout out the Conservancy's Virtual Book Club. We got a lot of great ideas from them. Thanks for listening.

Peri: So Andrew, Headwaters couldn't happen without the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Hmm. But you guys also support so many other amazing projects in the park.

Andrew Smith: Yeah, one we're excited about that's coming up this summer is the nocturnal pollinator BioBlitz.

Peri: What's a nocturnal pollinator?

Andrew: A nocturnal pollinator is like a moth or something—an insect that pollinates plants at night. So we know how important pollinators are, and a lot of the concerns that scientists have about the loss of pollinators. But the nocturnal pollinators in Glacier are not super well understood. So next summer, there's going to be three nights where people will be out observing pollinators. And we're going to try to get as big a list as possible of all these pollinators so we can understand how they're affected by climate change and changes in the night sky and can help direct policy here in Glacier National Park.

Peri: Sounds like something worth staying up for.

Andrew: Absolutely.

Peri: And if people want to learn more?

Andrew: They can check out our website. It's really easy to remember, you just go to Glacier.org.

Peri: Thanks, Andrew.

Andrew: You're welcome.

Becoming | A Destination

17 maj 2023 | 37 min

This is the history of how a corporation marketed Glacier National Park into existence. We use art to study how the Blackfeet took control of their own histories.

See Winold Reiss’s Art: https://iacbmuseums-viewingroom.exhibit-e.art/viewing-room

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[a robin sings; footsteps]

Gaby Eseverri: [in the field] Can you grab my wallet too, just in case I need the ID?

Michael Faist: Same pocket?

Gaby: [in the field] Yeah

Michael: You will need the ID, Tom Hanks is going to greet us like, Polar Express style.

Gaby: [in the field, gasps dramatically] There it is Michael!

Michael: Oh my God it’s coming quickly.

[train sounds; bell clanging, train braking, hissing, and coming to a stop. Conductor calls out indecipherably]

Michael: [sounds of passengers wheeling luggage over the cement in the background] We are waiting to board the Amtrak that just pulled in, the Empire Builder, at Belton, in West Glacier.

Conductor: You guys are good to go.

Michael: Great!

Gaby: [in the field] Alrighty, thank you so much.

Conductor: You bet.

Gaby: It's a beautiful morning when Michael and I finally decide it's time to ride the train. Michael is more interested in the experience, but if I'm being honest, I'm here for the destination.

[over the train loudspeaker, cheerfully: “There is no saving seats. Please make room for everyone who’d like to get a seat in the lounge car. Everyone would like to see this beautiful view! With all the space. Thank you!”]

Michael: There’s one, but…

Gaby: [in the field] Let’s see…

[passenger in the background: “Mind if I sit…somewhere?]

Gaby: [in the field] Okay, we made it to the lounge car!

Michael: We did.

Gaby: [in the field] Yeah. This is cool, there’s more windows here…

Michael: Yeah it’s got skylights, wraparound windows.

Gaby: [in the field] Are we train people now?!

Michael: [laughing] I think I’m a train person now

Gaby: We're riding rails that were once run by the Great Northern Railway. But today we're on the Amtrak.

Gaby: [in the field] That was really quick!

Michael: Yeah, oh my gosh. I’m just picturing a plane where you’re sitting on the runway for 45 minutes.

Gaby: [in the field] Totally. But it was so smooth I didn’t actually feel it, I just saw the trees going by.

Michael: Yeah no, genuinely.

Gaby: [in the field] It is so beautiful. The nice thing about riding the train this early in the morning is that you have beautiful views with that morning light.

Michael: We are right along the river.

Gaby: [in the field] Yeah.

Gaby: JJ and Louis Hill are revered here—the father and son duo who made Glacier the destination we know today. But while JJ Hill cared about express shipping, Louis saw the potential of tourism.

Michael: For 40 years, this was the only way to get through this canyon, really. James J Hill rode on this line. Thousands of laborers toiled away to lay the tracks that paved th way for this. To be on it is kind of—powerful.

Gaby: [in the field] I can see how the train really opened up Glacier to the world.

Michael: Me too.

This train runs along the southern boundary of the park. These tracks have been here for well over a hundred years, and their placement set both freight and tourists in motion.

Gaby: [in the field] I feel like what we’re experiencing is not necessarily JJ Hill’s vision. So I think what we’re actually experiencing is a little more of Louis Hill’s vision, his son.

Michael: Mmhmm. JJ saw passenger travel as a waste of space; Louis saw an opportunity.

Gaby: We'll be disembarking at the Glacier Park Lodge. That is where this history starts.

Conductor: [over loudspeaker] We’ll be arriving at East Glacier in the next 20 minutes; if that is your final destination, this is a good time to return to your seats and collect your belongings.

Michael: Okay, we gotta say goodbye to the lounge car, go back to our seats.

Gaby: [in the field] Bye lounge car!

Michael: Bye!

Daniel Lombardi: In the decades just after the park was established, the train was the primary way to get here. When visitors disembarked at the Glacier Park Lodge, they were greeted by Blackfeet people in full regalia, paid by the railway to sing and dance, and to promote Glacier as a place to see the "vanishing Indians." This is season three of Headwaters and it's called Becoming. [Headwaters season 3 theme begins playing; starting with mandolin] It's a collection of histories about how Glacier National Park came into being.

[theme continues; a drumbeat, a flute line, and other instruments come in, before the music finishes]

Daniel: They say history repeats itself—the same old stories again and again. One of those stories is people doing just about anything for another ounce of power or wealth. But just when you think history is making another spin back around, you notice something different. That just because something started as a scheme to get rich doesn't mean it stayed that way. This is one of those stories. This episode is about the economic forces that pushed Glacier National Park into existence. But it is also about the people who got rolled up in that history and found a way to make it their own.

[sparse electronic music begins to play]

Gaby: [in the field] After walking this exhibit, what kind of moves through you? How do you feel?

Darnell Rides At The Door: A feeling of, I guess, some more pride, dignity. But the closeness that I felt, all those people that are gone. I start thinking of them, my grandmothers and my mother, and how that that whole era is—it is a piece of history now. And when I was younger, I always thought, you know, time was so, so forever. Now it's short.

Gaby: I'm touring the Museum of the Plains Indian with the curator Renee Bear Medicine.

Renee Bear Medicine: My name is Renee Bear Medicine. I am the current curator for the Museum of the Plains Indian. It's been an awesome experience. This was my first job out of high school, in 1990, so I think it was my calling.

Darnell: It's an honor to have one of our own be the curator. It's an honor for us to be able to write our own history and have our own stories told the way that that we know them.

Gaby: Darnell Rides At The Door is with us, too, telling me about her family's connection to this exhibit.

Darnell: Okii niistoo unnikkok niitookimmii, no'm"tootoo umsskaapiipiikuni. I am Darnell Rides At The Door, my native name or Indian name is Niitookimmii, which means Lone Camper, given to me by my great grandfather, John Eagle Calf Ground. He and my grandmother and my family have been closely associated with the—the series, the Winold Reiss series.

Gaby: In this episode, you'll hear people say both Winold Reiss [pronounced Veenold Rice] and Winold Reiss [pronounced Win-old Rees]. That's the same person.

Darnell: Some say, Winold Reiss [pronounced Win-old Rees], but the Indians just call him "Winol." There was no D on there, just Winol.

[Quiet electronic music begins again]

Gaby: Darnell takes out a small piece of paper. It's a copy of a painting of two young girls. She holds it in a way that feels like she's caressing it. Her eyes never leaving theirs.

Darnell: But that's them when they were painted by Winold Reiss, and they got six silver dollars for sitting there.

Gaby: [in the field] Wow.

Darnell: She told the story. My sister wrote it up. How old were they? Well, my mother was born in 35, and her sister was born in 34, so they must have been six and seven maybe?

Renee: That's your momma, you know?

Darnell: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. So those are the things that we hold dear. And I think that those connections is a great, great word.

Gaby: [in the field] Thank you both so much. Thank you. Bye bye.

Michael: Okay.

Gaby: [in the field] That was really special. I feel like they shared a lot with us.

[car doors slamming; car noise]

Michael: Do we want to pretend like we're arriving?

Gaby: Oh yeah, because someone forgot to hit record when we were on our way.

Gaby: [in the field] Oh, we're stuck in traffic because of construction on Highway 2. I think we're going to get to the museum soon. In fact, I see Browning coming into view.

Gaby: I'm holding a pamphlet that Renee gave me, and it describes the exhibit.

Gaby: [in the field] So this exhibit is called Connections: the Blackfeet and Winold Reiss. It's a series of portraits, and they were created for the Great Northern Railway.

Gaby: The exhibit includes both Reiss's pastel portraits and personal items that belonged to the people he portrayed. An intricately beaded purse sits next to the painting of the woman who made it. A police uniform hangs beside the person who wore it. The portraits themselves are incredible, but these objects add another dimension to these people.

Gaby: [in the field] I really like the sentence, "these portraits connect us with Blackfeet individuals who grappled with the imposition of the tourism industry." The imposition of the tourism industry. It's powerful.

Michael: Your last question too, got some of the best tape of the whole day. Like, “would you want to be—would you get your portrait done?”

Gaby: [in the field] Yeah.

Michael: Darnell had an amazing outfit on.

Gaby: [in the field] Yeah. Well, she looked like a straight up queen.

[drumbeat marks a transition]

Gaby: I'm interviewing Bill Schustrom, one of Glacier's longest-tenured rangers. I want to know how the Great Northern Railway helped push for the creation of Glacier National Park.

Bill Schustrom: I just love working with the people I work with. Michael came in there as a young kid

Gaby: [to Bill] Awww!

Bill: Yeah and I watched him grow up, and watched a few—watched a few romances come and go, and I had to do a lot—

Gaby: [to Bill] Do you ever, like, set people up?

Michael: Oh, my gosh. He's the he's the office matchmaker, Are you sparking with anybody?? Are you sparking with this one? [all laughing]

Bill: Yeah, that was a big deal. Yeah. Yeah, are you sparking yet?

Michael: All right, this isn't the point. [laughing]

Bill: I'm Ranger Bill, Ranger Bill Schustrom. Been around the park for many, many years. Very interested in the Going-to-the-Sun Road. And obviously the Great Northern Railway and its impact on Glacier National Park, especially during its early years.

Gaby: So Bill is the kind of park ranger that gives evening programs or afternoon walks—someone that's happy to answer any question. And he loves trains. So he's been talking about the Great Northern at Glacier for a long time.

Bill: Now, the big thing was that James J. Hill was interested in profit. He was really trying to promote bringing people out to homestead. And then along came Louis. But Louis Hill was the you know, he was a hard core businessman, but he was also a romantic.

Gaby: Louis was a bit of a dreamer. He wanted to live the Glacier lifestyle, that for him was riding horses and camping in cold temperatures and then jumping into lakes—nude. True story.

Gaby: [to Bill] How is he different from his dad?

Bill: Louis? He wasn't. He was the one that was closest to him. He paralleled his dad in their line of thinking and everything, except when it came to Glacier Park.

Gaby: [to Bill] So then Glacier was kind of this thing between them where they disagreed on their approach and how to, I suppose, make money here.

Bill: Well, James J wasn't interested, and he said, “why'd we put a lot of money into a bunch of mountains when we could be making money, bringing crops and things and cattle and stuff like that back east, which is going to give us a really great net profit of money.” He was in it for the money. He was a money man. Now, Louis was, too. He lobbied for this to become a national park. That was one of his goals.

Gaby: [to Bill] So Louis didn't really invent this idea of kind of profiting through national parks and railroads, because he kind of saw this happening in Yellowstone.

Bill: Louis immediately said a railroad goes right along the southern border of these incredible mountains. And so why can't we do that up here?

Gaby: Northern Pacific Railroad paid for a lot of Yellowstone's infrastructure to invite tourism. And Louis Hill wanted to do that here. So he started pushing for Glacier to become a national park.

Bill: Okay he didn't want to get in trouble with the federal government.

Gaby: [to Bill] Why?

Bill: Because he felt that they would say “all you want is to make money from the mountains.”

Gaby: [to Bill] Which is not wrong. [laughing]

Bill: So that's exactly—that's exactly right. So but the thing that he did do was encourage George Bird Grinnell to promote the area for a national park.

Gaby: George Bird Grinnell is seen as kind of the grandfather of Glacier, responsible for developing the public and political support for a park here.

Bill: So Louis just kind of came in on the tail end of it very much wanting it to happen, but didn't want to get his name out there with the idea that the feds would say, we're not going to do it because all you want of was the money.

[wistful music begins to play]

Gaby: [to Bill] He was so ready for it. Like you already had construction happening, the Belton Chalet. He already had these plans in motion.

Bill: Oh, yes. Louis Hill was a big backer.

Gaby: And then on May 11th, 1910, this place got a new name: [music ends] Glacier National Park. And soon after the hotels came, it was becoming a destination.

Bill: And right away, bingo. The Belton Chalet went in.

Gaby: In 1911, the park had a budget of $15,000, which even then was basically nothing. But the Great Northern Railway was ready to pick up the slack because they stood to make a profit. They spent over $90,000 in one year—six times the park's budget—and continued to outspend the park for the next decade.

Bill: He was looking ahead. He was a far, far reaching person. He had a vision. He followed every single thing of the construction from the beginning to the end. He was involved in that to make sure that it was what he wanted.

Gaby: It's impossible to know what Glacier National Park would have become without the influence of Great Northern. The railway put Glacier on the map, building hotels, spinning yarns, and creating a mythology to draw people here, whatever the cost.

[sparse music sets off a transition]

Gaby: [in the field] Do you think you would have sat down for a portrait?

Darnell: Um… I don't know. That's a good one. So I don't think I would have at the time. I would it—might have been if I was along with my mother or my grandmother and they happened to be there. Yeah. Maybe.

[sparse, emotional music begins]

Renee: You know believe it or not, I think our people are still in the era of... Not distrust, but being careful. And…mand we still have that guard up. And the question arises, what are we being used for? Yes, it's almost like we're props. Like a lot of people come in here, they take pictures or whatever, and then they make calendars and it go somewhere else, sell them. So it was a big thing. You know, they, they really utilized the Blackfeet Indian people to launch that tourism in Glacier National Park.

Gaby: The Blackfeet were used—I might even say exploited—to promote Glacier as a destination. The railway had their portraits painted, then use those portraits on posters, calendars, playing cards... So many of their promotional souvenirs.

Darnell: Right. And that's happened in our families. My daughter, when she was about four or five, we were camped over here at the campground. Her and my sister's daughter, they're close to the same age. Somebody peeped in our lodge and took a picture of them, and we had just dressed them to go to dance. And Smokey's aunt found it in Glacier Park on sale and bought it and said, this is my relatives. And so native people were, I guess, part of that history. So there's the good history, and there's the history that's the true history, and there's also the history that's from our perspective.

Gaby: [in the field] So this isn't—it sounds like this isn't the first time that you're seeing a lot of these pieces.

Darnell: Oh, no.

Gaby: [in the field] You've been seeing these since you were—

Darnell: Since I was a kid, you know, and that was a big subject who was painted by Winold Reiss. The last two living people were my mother and Floyd Middle Rider. And my mother passed in 2020. So she was the last one. My mother, a great historian, told us for years I was one of the ones painted by Winold Reiss. None of us believed her. "Oh, yeah, right." You know, and then it came, came to be when, I believe a book came out with Reiss's prints in there, and they were inside the book. Said, “okay, Mom, we believe you now.” She said, yeah. And then she told us a story about getting those six silver dollars. She said they didn't really mean a hill of beans. She had a way of talking, she had a language all her own.

Gaby: Reiss was known for paying his models generously, in this case, giving six silver dollars to two little girls.

Gaby: [in the field] Darnell, do you remember any more details of, of your mom and aunt being painted by him or other family members?

Darnell: Everything had to be perfect, Grandma said. We had a lot of preparation to do, she said. Then when we were called to go greet the tourists.

Gaby: [in the field] Getting off of the train.

Darnell: Getting off of the train, coming to East Glacier. Usually it was groups, but a lot of times it was special groups like dignitaries, presidents, people of prominent nature. There were people that came from all over the world would come to Glacier Park, and the ones that were the biggest advertisers were the Blackfeet people. My grandparents were part of that.

Gaby: It was Darnell's family who would greet visitors to the park when they got off the train. Her family was one of many who helped sell the romantic image of the park.

Darnell: They couldn't do a lot of the things that we can do freely now. It's a, it's a part of me that I've always had that I wasn't... Shouldn't be in there. Because I didn't feel like I was welcome. Now we go up and bless the big hotel. We go up and welcome the tourists. Not like my grandparents did, but almost on a similar basis. So the relationships have changed.

Gaby: A lot has changed. They say history repeats itself. But I've also heard something else—that it doesn't repeat itself, it rhymes. I like that better.

Gaby: [in the field] After walking this exhibit, like what kind of moves through you? How do you feel?

Darnell: It is a piece of history now. And when I was younger, I always thought, you know, time was so, so forever. Now it's short.

[subtle electronic music marks a transition]

Gaby: Darnell is flipping through a binder with small prints of painted portraits. Some are her family, and many are decades old, bright pastels of Blackfeet people, safely tucked into plastic sleeves. These portraits that I once saw as exploitative are something Darnell treasures.

Darnell: And this is my grandpa. That's Eagle Calf. This is one of the many portraits that, I think Eagle Calf had four or five. But he's on this calendar. He's—he's the one gave me my Indian name.

Gaby: [in the field] Thank you!

Darnell: Nice to meet you.

Daniel: Bye!

[music continues]

Gaby: Maybe history can't repeat itself because it isn't something that's over. Not a loop starting back again, but something still present and happening now.

Ray Djuff: A friend once described it as a medical affliction, and he said, "Once you're bitten by the Glacier bug, there is no cure." So I'm not looking for a cure. And I'm having a hell of a lot of fun being infected.

Gaby: That's Ray. And he might be one of Glacier and Waterton's biggest, and if I may, nerdiest fans.

Ray: I'm Ray Djuff. I'm a writer. My focus is on Waterton and Glacier International Peace Park and I'm from Calgary.

Gaby: [to Ray] Why do you study history?

Ray: I study history to know why. The questions have just kept coming. I learn a little bit and I want to know a little bit more.

Gaby: [to Ray] Yeah. I can certainly relate to that in pursuing this story.

Ray: There is a connection between the Blackfeet and what was called the Buffalo Nickel, a coin that came out in 1913, and the connection was created by the Great Northern Railway as part of a publicity effort to get people's attention and have them come to Glacier Park. So the head of the Great Northern Railway at the time was Louis Hill. Louis Hill had just returned from the bank and gotten some change. He looks at his change and sees this new nickel and recognizes the similarity between the Native American on the coin and Two Guns White Calf, a Blackfeet man whom he had just met. Louis Hill sees the coin, writes to his publicity guy Hoke Smith, and says, "Would you please issue a press release thanking the American government for putting White Calf on the buffalo nickel?" Every single citizen in the U.S. has a nickel in his purse or in his pocket. So the advertising is there. All you have to do is get somebody to reach in, pull that nickel out for some candies or bubble gum or something. And you're looking at a promotion. It's phenomenal. Well, all of that was malarkey. It was no truth to any of it. The artist himself said he had never met Two Guns when he designed the coin. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember all of the people who had been the inspiration for the design of that Native American.

Gaby: To the Great Northern, it didn't matter who was actually on the nickel. It connected Glacier National Park and the Blackfeet to millions of people across the U.S. And this was only one piece of their promotional machine. Louis Hill had all the killer instincts for successful advertising, but he also hired quite the creative ad man, named Hoke Smith.

Ray: A man who could create something out of nothing. If you go into the railway station at Whitefish, you will see mounted on a plaque, a trout that is covered in fur. He immediately thought of Iceberg Lake, and then he started to create a story.

Promotional Movie: [old timey music plays while a narrator speaks in a jaunty accent] From here, the hiker, to whom Glacier Park is practically a mecca, can follow the foot and horseback trails to such popular objectives as Iceberg Lake.

Ray: Iceberg Lake is so cold that the fish have to grow fur to keep warm.

Promotional Movie resumes: Usually frozen over solid into July, the lake actually is filled with miniature icebergs, and it is here that the legend of the fur bearing trout was born.

Ray: The myth of the fur bearing trout is something that's now seen, heard, read, and shown in pictures and stories across the Rockies. But Hoke originated it. Louis Hill sold the idea that you could come to Glacier, see the Blackfeet, and experience that Old West. Louis Hill wanted them to wear their traditional dress, to speak their language, to practice their culture, because all of that was important for drawing tourists to the park. In doing that, he was running counter to what the American government wanted.

Promotional Movie: [another clip with similar early 1900s music and narration style] There's an Indian encampment nearby. We're on the edge of the great Blackfeet Reservation, and it's like turning back the pages of history to watch them sing and dance.

Ray: Also, because you've got people like Louis Hill having authors write their stories, you've got artists being paid to paint their portraits, the record for the Blackfeet is very extensive compared to some tribes in North America, and it was all unknowing. They hadn't intended it necessarily. They weren't trying to counter the government. They were doing this for their own purposes. Louis Hill wanted to show that this was the place to come see Native Americans before they all disappeared. Did he believe they were going to disappear? I don't know.

Gaby: On my first pass through the story, I thought it was a history of exploitation, a giant corporation using people as props to make money. But now, after turning the story over a few times, I still see exploitation, but I see something else as well.

Ray: His efforts actually helped preserve Blackfeet culture. The Native American Speaks program in Glacier, I almost see as a continuation of something that the Great Northern was doing, but in a less colonial way. And you're getting a new way of looking at the history of this park rather than through Euro-American eyes. What Louis Hill started was a multi-pronged effort to promote Glacier Park, and authors and artists were another part of the Great Northern Railway campaign.

Gaby: One of those artists was Winold Reiss. He was a German-American artist who was captivated by stories of Native Americans.

Ray: He was definitely a part of the Great Northern's advertising campaign.

Gaby: Reiss was based in New York City and created famous portraits of important figures in the Harlem Renaissance. But he also spent a lot of time in the Blackfeet homelands on the eastern side of Glacier National Park. He first came to visit the Blackfeet Reservation in 1920, and he spent several months painting and building relationships with people he met.

Ray: Louis Hill hires him, this is about 1927, and it starts a whole new advertising campaign that nobody had quite anticipated, but became incredibly successful.

Gaby: His portraits that hang at the Museum of the Plains Indian were used everywhere. For several decades, the Blackfeet became the face of Great Northern and of Glacier because of Reiss's art.

Ray: What makes Winold Reiss's paintings really stand out is that they're colorful and they're detailed. Winold Reiss worked with pastels, and immediately you're going to get something that's denser and darker and can be brighter. Also Winold Reiss really focused on the details. The clothing looks realistic. The hands and the faces look realistic. They're also large panels. They weren't small. When you saw a Winold Reiss painting, you're drawn into it immediately. The person is—as if they're standing right or sitting right in front of you. These are posed, yes, but there's a humanity about them. He would talk to them during the sittings. Some of these people became his friends.

Gaby: [to Ray] And Louis Hill immediately was enamored with these paintings.

Ray: So much so that he bought everything Winold Reiss did that first year and would continue to buy most everything Winold Reiss produced over the next 20 years.

Gaby: In the end, Reiss ended up creating more than 250 works of Native Americans. And he was more than an artist—he was a teacher. Many summers in the 1930s, artists from Europe and across North America came to the shores of St Mary Lake to learn from him. Blackfeet artists trained alongside them, and they influenced Reiss in turn. The exhibit features several pieces from these artists, including Victor Pepion, who went on to inspire his great nephew, John Pepion. He is now a renowned pictographic artist and muralist whose work is also featured in the Museum of the Plains Indian.

[electronic beat sets off the transition]

[Beeping of a car]

Gaby: [in the field] Oh here’s Darnell. “In traffic construction,” says “it shouldn’t be long.” She put a bunch of exclamation points. [laughing] She put five excalamtion points!

[footsteps on wood decking]

Gaby: [in the field] We're going in through the back.

Renee: Hi.

Gaby: [in the field] Hello! Are you Renee?

Renee: Yes I’m Renee! [laughing]

Gaby: It's so great to meet you!

Renee: I know. It's like email email email. [all laughing] Yeah. Okay, well, we can start in here with the intro panel.

Gaby: We walk into the main gallery room, which has the intro panel and several of the portraits on display. They're big and colorful, and we all take a moment to admire them. So if you had to describe Winold's work in like a sentence, how would you do that?

Renee: He captured an awesome likeness.

Darnell: He captured the, the features of the person as well as their, I guess their... almost their thoughts.

Renee: You realize that these are our people.

Gaby: [in the field] While using very bright colors, and, I mean, these pieces are big.

Renee: There's no paint. There's no acrylics or oils. It's all pastel work. Almost see, the, the ridges on the crayon, or the ridges on the pencil? Yeah. Yeah. But his. His ability to capture a person's features is phenomenal. Winold's.

Gaby: [in the field] Darnell so you, you described feeling some heavy emotion. Was, was this another piece that brought you some of that?

Renee: Oh, yeah. White Calf is very prominent, a very most recognizable Blackfeet, because he's also the one on the Buffalo Nickel. But I remember him so distinctly. White Calf the old, old man was our neighbor. And he would come and he'd walk by us. And to see this original? It brought it brought me back tears to my eyes. So Two Guns is important. Very important to me.

Gaby: This portrait of Two Guns White Calf stands out to me. The colors aren't as bright, but his gaze is powerful. He isn't looking off to the side or down like most people are in the paintings. He looks directly at me.

Darnell: He's looking directly at us.

Gaby: [in the field] Directly at us.

Darnell: And it makes it more real. It makes it alive.

Gaby: [in the field] It feels really—it just feels more intimate.

Darnell: It does. You feel that connection through just a piece of art. So it is very powerful. Very, very powerful. White Calf will always be very special to me.

Gaby: As the museum curator, Renee helped name this exhibit Connections. It's all about the links between these portraits and the present day.

Renee: What do you want to connect? We're connecting the Great Northern Railway with Glacier National Park, Glacier National Park with Winold Reiss, Winold Reiss with the Blackfeet people, our Blackfeet people with their past. It's just a total connection.

Gaby: [in the field] Everything connects

Renee: Everything connects.

Darnell: It gives me the chills when Renee says "connections." That connection is strong. That connection is valuable.

Gaby: But when I ask her about the history of the portraits, she points out the relevance for future generations too.

Renee: So that's how we came up with that, the title connections. Our people are always looking towards future generations. What can we do to set things up for future generations of our people?

Darnell: One of the best things that could have ever happened is bringing Winold Reiss portraits here.

Gaby: [in the field] Home.

Darnell: Yeah, home. This is home. This is home.

Gaby: What I saw is a story looking backward, full of loops and repetitions and rhymes—they see as a connection to the future.

Darnell: If it wasn't for these portraits, we wouldn't be able to sit here and tell you stories about them. If they didn't happen.

Renee: Reiss, when he came here, he came here to do—he was hired to do portraits. But when he got here, he became so close to our people, he was accepted as just one of our own. Up the road is Red Blanket Hill, and Red Blanket Hill was always kind of a spiritual place for our people. So when Reiss passed away, he wanted to be cremated. My Grandpa—Great Grandpa George Bullchild took his ashes up to Red Blanket Hill and scattered them.

[sparse, pensive music begins to play]

Darnell: They gave him an Indian name. And his ashes are here to prove that—that he was part of this... this world, our world.

Gaby: It's tough to pinpoint what exactly changes when a place becomes a destination. Who brings a new narrative and who writes it down? Who profits and who gets remembered? A destination brings people and cultures together—publicists, painters and people trying to make a living. Some find power, some find meaning, and some leave a legacy.

Gaby: [in the field] After walking this exhibit like what kind of moves through you? How do you feel?

[music resumes, with an added beat layered over it]

Darnell: It is a piece of history now.

[sample from the old timey narration of the early 1900s promo video is layered over the music] Lyrics: And it’s like turning back the pages of history to watch them sing and dance. Sing and dance. Dance. Sing and dance. And it’s like turning back the pages of history to watch them sing and dance. Sing and dance. Dance. Sing and dance.

[haunting violin music plays softly under the credits]

Daniel: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This season of Headwaters was made by Daniel Lombardi, Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist, and Gaby Eseverri. Frank Waln wrote and performed our music, and Eric Carlson created this season's cover art. Special thanks this episode to Darnell Rides At The Door, Renee Bear Medicine, and the Museum of the Plains Indian. Ray Djuff, Scott Tanner, Cookie Zwang, and John Pepion and of course, Bill Schustrom and all his gossip. This season depended on a lot of hard work from Darren Lewis and Lacy Kowalski, and we always depend on help and support from Melissa Sladek, Sierra Mandelko, Brent Rowley, and the whole Glacier National Park archives team. And I also want to shout out the Conservancy's Virtual Book Club—we got a lot of great ideas from that. Thanks for listening.

Lacy: Next time on Headwaters.

Gaby: For nearly 50 years, there were no wolves in Glacier National Park… until one wolf bent the arc of history.

Michael Wise: One of the first, in a way, like cooperative, democratic kind of processes on the ground is like, okay, we all have to work together to kill wolves.

Diane Boyd: There's many parallels between wolves and humans in terms of a social structure. And sometimes I wonder if that if that bothers people.

Gaby: That's next time on Headwaters.

[music finishes]

Gaby: [to Andrew] Hey, Andrew.

Andrew Smith: Hey, Gaby.

Gaby: [to Andrew] So we are so lucky here that Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Andrew: Yeah.

Gaby: [to Andrew] But you guys do a lot of other work with the park too. What are some examples?

Andrew: Another project we're funding right now is protecting Glacier from emerging wildlife diseases.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Oh, cool. So that's work being done by park biologists that you're helping to fund. What diseases are we looking for?

Andrew: We're looking for a handful of diseases that have not yet been found in park wildlife, but we want to make sure we identify them right away if they do reach this area so we can take preventative measures.

Gaby: [to Andrew] So what kind of diseases are we talking about?

Andrew: So one is the rabbit hemorrhagic disease, which affects rabbits, but it also can affect pika [Gaby gasps] because they're lagamorphs, they're related to rabbits and hares.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Oh no!

Andrew: So whenever a dead rabbit is found in the park, it's tested for rabbit hemorrhagic disease, though it has not been detected yet in Glacier. They're also looking for avian influenza and chronic wasting disease, which affects ungulates, our deer and elk populations. And chronic wasting disease has been detected very close—within 20 miles of Glacier National Park. So now when we find dead deer, they actually will cut out the lymph nodes and send them to a lab to be tested, because that's the only way to determine if a deer has chronic wasting disease.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Wow. This sounds really important.

Andrew: Yeah, it's it's not the sexiest project, [both laugh] but it's so important for keeping our wildlife safe.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Absolutely. So if people want to learn more about this project or about the Glacier National Park Conservancy, where can they go?

Andrew: They can check out our website. Just type in glacier.org and you'll be there.

Bill: And then the chalets, you know, then he picked out eight sites in the park.

Gaby: [to Bill] Have you stayed at the chalets?

Bill: I did stay in the Prince of Wales, my wife and I stayed there one night.

Gaby: [to Bill] How was that?

Bill: Oh, it was elegant. It was all a bunch of high-rollers from Kalispell. So they said, “well, what all the poor people are doing today?” I looked at my wife and she looked at me, and we said, “here we are, baby!”

[everyone laughs]

Becoming | Landowners

10 maj 2023 | 53 min

The twin stories of homesteading and allotment explored through baking and quilting analogies. How Euro-Americans came to settle inside the Glacier National Park and inside the Flathead Reservation.

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[car noise]

Michael Faist: [talking to himself] Nachos, restaurant and bar, 500 feet. Home ranch bottoms.

Daniel Lombardi: This August, on a hot summer day, Michael and Peri went on a field trip.

Flannery Freund: Oh cool. Hey guys!

Michael: [to Flannery] Hello! We were able to borrow some of your time today…

Flannery: Yeah.

Daniel: They drove up to the North Fork to meet Flannery.

Flannery: My name is Flannery Freund, and I co-own the Home Ranch Bottoms, a bar and restaurant here in the North Fork.

Daniel: Flannery used to work as a ranger in Polebridge, Glacier's remote northwest entrance. But she's also part of the tight knit, off-grid community that lives just outside the park.

Michael: [to Flannery] What is the community like up here?

Flannery: It's small. It's the type of place where you there's different political persuasions, but you help each other change your tires. And you—we're all like surviving up here.

Michael: [to Flannery] So for somebody who's never been to the North Fork before, how would you describe it?

Flannery: You know, I feel like what's kind of cool as you journey up here that the essence of civilization just kind of trickles off of you. The pavement ends and then soon after, the cell phone service ends. I love witnessing people experiencing this place for the first time because it's totally awe-striking. That there's not that many places left without pavement, without cell phone service.

Michael: [to Flannery] When did you come to the North Fork?

Flannery: I arrived... Well, the first time I came here was October of 2008. I went camping up at Quartz Lake and it happened to be ten degrees that night. I definitely was intrigued. [both laugh] And then I moved here full time in May of 2009.

Michael: [to Flannery] All right. That next year.

Flannery: That next year. Yep. Knew nothing about the community. Knew nothing about how special and intact this place was. Except that you feel that innately, that's something else that, like, you know, this place is wild.

Daniel: As a resident and president of the North Fork Preservation Association, Flannery works to preserve this area's rugged history. And as a baker, she makes a mean huckleberry peach pie, sharing a slice of North Fork life with those who pass through.

Michael: [to Flannery] Pie is your jam here. Why pie?

Flannery: I have to bake. We're a bar with a baking problem. [both laugh] And pie is charming. Pie is Montana. Pie has homestead vibes. You know, that's... That's why pie.

[Headwaters season 3 theme begins playing; starting with mandolin, then a drumbeat, a flute line, and other instruments layer in before the music finishes]

Daniel: What is the magnetic force that pulls people through history? Is it the dream of power and profit? Or is history moved by other, more benevolent forces, like the basic human longing for community, or dreams of leaving behind a better world for future generations? Welcome to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. You're listening to Season Three. This episode is about the impact of homesteading on Northwest Montana, an era when incompatible dreams clashed like the opposing ends of a magnet. The promise of a new frontier and a promise left empty—a million acres set aside by the government only to be sold off to eager buyers.

Michael: We're setting out to understand homesteading as a policy, and more personally, as seen through the eyes of early Montanans. But let's start with the Homestead Act.

Jim Muhn: Everybody thinks it's so simple, but it gets so complicated.

Michael: This is Jim Muhn.

Jim: Former land law historian with the Bureau of Land Management.

Michael: Jim said homesteading starts with a concept called the public domain, which is basically a term for lands owned by the U.S. government.

Jim: National land to be disposed of in the national interest.

Michael: In the 1800s, the young United States was looking to expand, adding to the public domain through acquisitions like the Louisiana Purchase. Some would use the term Manifest Destiny to describe this era, arguing that the United States was divinely destined to expand. Others, even at the time, pushed back against that, labeling it as conquest. But the government's motives, at least initially, for these acquisitions, were practical.

Jim: Well, the national government understood that there was this pioneer spirit, that the country was always going to keep expanding. So they understood that. But their main concern when the public domain was first created was: they needed money.

Michael: France and Spain helped fund the Revolutionary War, and the U.S. government still needed to settle the debt.

Jim: They decided that the best thing to do would be to sell the public domain. And when they did that, they weren't really concerned about the average settler. They sold to land speculators or other moneyed interests. They sold large parcels of land.

Michael: [to Jim] Gotcha.

Jim: But this is like a big piggy bank that you can use to develop the country from there.

Michael: From there, for our story anyway, two things happened. The first was that people didn't care if land on the frontier was available for them to buy. They were settling on it anyway—squatting essentially—and not paying a dime. And the second was that for many politicians, their dream of a successful America was a country filled with small, privately owned farms.

Jim: I think the agrarian ideal for America can be traced back to people like Thomas Jefferson. They felt that the farmer was the average American.

Michael: Even the units that we use to measure land, like acres, are rooted in agriculture. Acres were invented in the Middle Ages to describe the area one farmer could plow in one day with a team of oxen.

Jim: I mean, you can only have so many shopkeepers. But you needed lots of farmers.

Michael: Finally, an idea was hatched that claimed to answer both of these things at once. If the government offered everyday people parcels of land for free (ish), they could fill the west with farms and curtail unlawful settlement. Two birds; one stone. But it wasn't without its opponents.

Jim: One of the underlying issues there is slavery. If you populate Kansas, Nebraska, the Dakotas with small farmers, the place for slave holdings is kind of disappearing.

Michael: The fact that small farms wouldn't require slaves meant that some saw homesteading as a way to keep slavery out of the frontier and expand the power of free states. Slaveholding senators opposed the idea as if it were an existential threat. But by the time the Civil War began, there were a lot of empty seats on Capitol Hill. And the Homestead Act was passed.

Jim: It was passed May 20th, 1862, signed into law by Abraham Lincoln.

Michael: All of a sudden, if you were an American head of household, you could get 160 acres of your own and a shot at a new life, all for the low price of a $10 filing fee and a whole lot of work.

Jim: Your intent is to make this parcel of land your home, to the exclusion of any other. Mm hmm. They asked you to be there for five years.

Michael: [to Jim] That’s a long time.

Jim: It is a fairly long time. But I think they were looking to see that people were committed. And they also required cultivation.

Michael: You had to improve the land as you lived there, which basically meant agriculture, growing crops, raising livestock. But if you did all that, the land is yours. If you didn't want to wait the whole five years, you could commute and pay Uncle Sam the minimum price per acre. But that's the bones of the system. And the system worked. The Homestead Act drew thousands of dreamers out West, thanks to the Great Northern Railway. Hopeful homesteaders could finally reach this corner of Montana in the 1890s. And that is the very zoomed-out policy perspective on how homesteading came to Montana. If you were baking a pie, like modern day homesteader Flannery, this would be the crust—the foundation for everything that came next.

[the hum of kitchen equipment fades in]

Peri Sasnett: [to Michael] Have you witnessed a pie being made?

Michael: [to Peri] Yes….

Michael: I actually had a chance to bake a pie with Flannery

Michael: [to Peri] …but I've witnessed a lot more pies getting eaten. That's usually where I'm involved in the process.

Michael: But while the crust is important, in my opinion, the most interesting part of the pie is what goes into that crust.

[sparse, upbeat electronic music begins]

Flannery: Let's get all of your ingredients. When you bake, it's called mise en place. Got to get everything in order.

Michael: The filling that gives it its flavor and character.

Flannery: So you got your lemon. How about your granulated sugar? Perfect. How about….

Michael: So what did homesteading look like through the eyes of someone who settled here?

[music finishes, marking a transition]

Michael: [to Lois] Never quite known how to refer to Polebridge “town”… you said “village” as well….

Lois Walker: Yeah. I don't think you can call it a town. I mean….

Michael: To answer that, I met with Lois Walker.

Lois: You can probably introduce me as the historian for the North Fork community or North Fork historian.

Michael: Lois understands the human side of the Homestead era in the North Fork as well, or better, than anyone.

Lois: I started by going back to the old newspapers. Any mention of the North Fork gets scanned and clipped. It's like working a gigantic jigsaw puzzle, and you just start putting all those pieces together and, you know, pretty soon you got a picture.

Michael: And I came to ask specifically about Bill Adair, one of the North Fork's most prominent homesteaders. Could you describe what he looked like?

Lois: Tall, thin, wiry. Often had a pipe in his mouth. [laughs] He was born in Missouri in 1866, but his family moved to Minneapolis when he was about 11. He had different jobs there, but he was just entranced by the trains. Trains were new, and the Great Northern was building the tracks across the northern tier. So he went to work for the railroad, and he worked his way up from being a coal boy to being an engineer.

Michael: Part of the job included a trip out West, delivering Kalispell's very first steam engine in 1892. And the trip must have left quite the impression because three years later he left his job, and he and his new wife, Jessie, moved all the way to Kalispell. He got a job at a mercantile store in Belton, the town that's now West Glacier, or the west entrance of the park, but he noticed what was going on in the North Fork.

Lois: I think he saw he saw what was happening. He saw the road punched through to the oil fields. He saw all the settlers starting to come. And he thought, hmm, all these people, they need equipment, they need supplies, they need food. And why should they have to come all the way to Belton? Hmm.

Michael: He jumped on this opportunity and decided to start a business in the North Fork.

Lois: So he leased some land—he didn't own it—he leased land at Sullivan Meadow and built a small store.

Michael: In 1904, Bill Adair opened his first store. And when you look through what he sold, you could learn a lot about what life was like for homesteaders at that time.

Lois: Here we have his ledger, his business ledger from 1904 to 1907. [sounds of papers crinkling and flipping] And it tells you who his customers were. He would have a page per customer and then all the things that they could acquire at his store in the park.

Michael: I mean, there's photos of this tiny log cabin store. And yet the amount of things he managed to fit in there and sell to folks is incredible.

Lois: In the back of this ledger is a list of things to buy. You know, “I've got to go to town. What's on my list?” I think this is about 1905. Coal oil, because everyone needed it for their lanterns, tea, bacon, maple syrup, cigars… [list of items fades and continues softly as Lois continues talking] I mean, he was providing services to the oil camps, to the Forest Service and the Rangers, to the road camps, to the fire camps, plus all of the homesteaders. Apricots—everyone loved dried apricots for some reason. Soap, a case of lunch beans, a grub hoe. He had to get all that stuff and get it to his store. Hanging lamps, matches. How did he get it the 22 miles up to Sullivan meadow? That all had to be done by wagon. He paid men to do freighting for him. A washing machine, spades and pitchforks, ammunition—he carried all the ammunition, fishing supplies. He's got you. Carnation canned milk was very popular. Garden seeds, writing tablets, laundry soap, anything that you needed, chances are he carried.

Michael: On top of that, he and his wife, Jessie, also managed to run essentially like a homestead hotel.

Lois: People would stop in. A bed for the night was $0.25. Meals were $0.35 or $0.50. Two meals and a bed was a dollar. A beer was $0.50, whiskey was $0.75 a pint. But he also sold it by the quart, the half gallon, and the gallon. You could easily run up a bill for $5 for, you know, bed and board and three beers and feed for your horse and—you name it, he sold it.

Michael: [to Lois] He was Costco, a hardware store, a hotel, a bar, a quarter horse…

Lois: He knew his onions. [chuckles]

Michael: [to Lois] The index you made at the beginning, this is a who's who, like every name I looked at was a name I recognized.

Lois: There's all the stuff that Ruder, now Jack Ruder—

Michael: [to Lois] Jack Ruder got a lotta beer. [both laugh loudly]

Lois: Yeah, that he did! Yeah so beer beer beer beer beer beer. Six plus one beer, five beers!

Michael: There's a mountain in the park named after Jack Ruder. So you could read in here receipts of what people bought. But these ledgers are also a record of the people that made up this small community.

Michael: [to Jim] What sort of people were taking the government up on this offer, and why?

Jim: So you have a lot of would-be farmers or farmers that are just looking for new opportunities. A lot of immigrants, you know, they're looking for a new start. Other people, they're looking for adventure… “oh, hey, this sounds like fun.”

Lois: You had to be strong to come up here. And people came from all over, some from the Midwest. You'll see people from Missouri, Nebraska, that area, and then from the northern tier, of course, from Minnesota and North Dakota, all different personalities.

Michael: These folks went all in on the North Fork—just as I accidentally poured all of our peach huckleberry filling into our pie crust.

[sounds of fruit plopping into a pie]

Flannery: What’s that?

Michael: [to Flannery] I maybe added all of it and shouldn't have.

Flannery: Uh oh

Michael: [to Flannery] I mean, I definitely added all of it. And shouldn't have.

[all laugh]

Flannery: You really committed fully.

Michael: [to Flannery] I heard add your filling, and I added it!

Michael: But I scooped up the excess, egg-washed the top crust, and slid it into the oven.

[sound of oven closing]

Flannery: That does it! You got it at 400 for the first, like 20 minutes. Beautiful.

Michael: So you have settlers coming here from all over, but the path for them to get to patent and actually earn their land was rarely easy.

Michael: [to Jim] What were common obstacles to actually getting to patent?

Jim: I think for a lot of people it was the money involved. You still had to buy food. You still had to buy things to put in your cabin to keep you warm in the winter. And you had to buy the materials to build the cabin. I think winters were hard on people.

Michael: Most people who visit see Glacier in the summer when it's nice and warm. But winters here are long, cold and snowy.

Lois: You were on your own in the winter. This is it. You're from—from the middle of October until April. You weren't going to town unless you snowshoed or, you know, the people weren't even taking horses and sleighs until a little bit later.

Michael: Even today, 100 years later, life in the North Fork is tough. I asked Flannery about this while our pie was in the oven.

Flannery: Just… everything is difficult. Your proximity to supplies, your proximity to services. You know, if something breaks, you can't just call the plumber. And so that can be mind boggling.

Lois: By October, they had to have laid in everything they were going to need for the winter barrels of flour and sugar and cornmeal, and everything you were going to need.

Michael: And Bill had to have the supplies not only for himself, but for everyone else as they stocked up.

Lois: How did he do that? How did he know to have the quantities? How did he get the stuff shipped to his store so that it was there so that people can buy it?

Michael: I asked Jim, who spent his career studying this history, if he would have considered homesteading himself.

Michael: [to Jim] Would you have been a homesteader?

Jim: [laughs] Probably not.

Michael: At its heart, it seems like homesteading takes a certain sort of person.

Flannery: Everything you do here is purposeful. Nothing is easy. And I like that. And I tried leaving here once, and I moved to Livingston for a few years, which I love so much. I missed the difficulty. You know, flipping on a light switch and flushing a toilet were way too easy, and it was got boring. for a while here we were taking showers outside with a five gallon bag hanging off of a tree in February.

Michael: [to Flannery] Oh, my gosh.

Flannery: [emphatically] And it was exhilarating!

Michael: Looking back at the past, it can seem like everything is the result of these sweeping governmental policies. But dreamers like Bill Adair and Flannery choosing a challenging way of life show that there are other forces at play.

Lois: There were strong personalities, there is no doubt about that. And they disagreed about a lot of stuff. But in the winter, you get along. Because today I pull you out of the ditch. Tomorrow you pull me out of the ditch. You know, you have to cooperate. You just have to whether you agree with them or not.

[pensive music begins to build]

Michael: Walking away from everything you knew to homestead in the North Fork required more than a business plan. It required a high tolerance for challenges, a community spirit, and a dream of something bigger than yourself. But in 1910, an entirely new obstacle appeared for these homesteaders—the creation of Glacier National Park. [music ends] A million acres that suddenly included homesteaders living on the east side of the river. For several years, the future of homesteading in the North Fork was uncertain—would the people already settled inside the park be allowed to stay, or would they have to move across the river outside of the park?

Lois: At the time the park became the park, there were, I think, 44 homesteads that had been filed on the east side of the river.

Michael: Ultimately, Glacier decided to allow the existing homesteads to remain, but they closed the door to newcomers and made life more difficult for those already here.

Lois: “What do you mean? We can't hunt? What do you mean, we can't trap? Why aren't you maintaining the road?” “No, it's not a county road. It's in the park.” And you see a lot of grousing among, you know, some of the early, early people.

[sparse, ambiguous music begins to play]

Michael: In 1912, all of the affected homesteaders signed a petition requesting that the North Fork valley be excluded from the park. It said, [slightly fuzzy] "we submit that it is more important to furnish homes to a land hungry people than to lock up the land as a rich man's playground." But the petition didn't work. The park's first superintendent, William Logan, shot back with this message.

Superintendent Logan (voice actor—gravelly, authoritative, antagonistic): Instead of giving up land there, I think we should take steps to obtain more. In fact, get rid of every settler on the North Fork in the Flathead River.

Michael: Logan's antagonism set the tone for how the park would approach landowners for years to come.

Lois: Some people had already left, but others, I think, saw the handwriting on the wall and said, let's go over to the to the west side.

Michael: Including Bill and Jesse Adair, who left the mercantile store they'd run for ten years and moved across the river outside of Glacier's boundary.

Lois: He was there from 1904 until 1914. But as we said, the park became the park in 1910. So in 1912, he filed on his own homestead on this side of the river. 160 acres, built himself a cabin.

Michael: And just like any other homesteader, he had to move there. He had to build things, grow crops, raise livestock. And he did. And he got his patent, five years later.

Lois: In 1917, he had 22 acres under cultivation. He was growing hay, potatoes, timothy...

Michael: [to Flannery] If he was just plopped down on the seat next to you, what would you want to ask Bill Adair?

Flannery: Ooooh! Well, A, the first thing I'd want to know is how he got those cabbages so big. He was famous for his cabbages! He grew—I mean, there's a picture at the Merc, him holding a cabbage the size of his torso. And he was a big guy!

Lois: ...a hundred chickens and one milk cow. When did he have time to do that?

Michael: And while he was at it, he built the most iconic building in the North Fork, the Polebridge Mercantile. Flannery actually used to own the mercantile and was repairing the second floor when she discovered that it was a kit home.

Flannery: They said that the mercantile was a kit, like from Sears, that Adair had ordered that came on the train to Belton.

Michael: The iconic false front building was shipped in pieces and assembled on site.

Flannery: And that's why mercantiles all kind of have a similar look throughout the West, you know.

Michael: Although when Bill ran it, it wasn't called the Polebridge Mercantile, because the town of Polebridge didn't exist. The bridge made out of poles hadn't been built yet.

Lois: Right, Polebridge didn't exist. So sometimes they would just call it Adair, the town of Adair. And then it was called the Polebridge Store. It wasn't until Karen Feather bought it in 1975, painted it red, started calling it the Polebridge Mercantile. They cut the lettering out, out of plywood, painted it white, put the lettering up there.

Michael: [to Lois] Bill was this kind of commercial hub. But I'm sure as a result of that, he was a community hub, too.

Lois: Oh, yeah. Dances. Dances. He started having dances when he was on the park side. And then when he opened up the store over here, there was a dance on the 4th of July. How sturdy must that store be to handle 150 people dancing? Upstairs?! [both laughing] I mean, I'm impressed. I know the store was used for elections. It was a polling place. He had, for a while he had the only radio in town, so people would gather at the Merc to listen to the radio. And when you own that store, the store may have open hours, but they're available 24 hours a day. If you needed help, you went to the store. He called the sheriff. He called the doctor. Whoever needed you know, they were, it—it was, it was a hub of the community.

Michael: The Homestead Act was a promise, 160 acres and a shot at a new life. And in in the North Fork, about two thirds of the people who filed on a homesteading claim got to patent and succeeded. And when you look at the people who succeeded, you start to get a picture of what it takes to be a homesteader.

Flannery: You guys might notice that the opportunity to make a living up here in the middle of nowhere, it… it's pretty sparse, right? Like, there's not that many—if you want to, if you're choosing to live here, you have to get creative.

Michael: [to Flannery] We're curious, like, do you see yourself as an entrepreneur or as a business owner as a homesteader?

Flannery: I hadn't ever really thought of myself as an entrepreneur. I've thought of myself as a risk taker and an adventure seeker. But I am an entrepreneur, actually. And so that's a new discovery to me.

Michael: Bill Adair and his wife Jessie brought their backgrounds and their talents and turned them into good lives.

Lois: He worked in the mercantile business in Belton for three years, and then he was ten years in the park, and he was almost 30 years over here. He was in the business for a long time. He knew it well. [music begins to play] He had to have had an amazing amount of patience, and a good sense of humor, and an ability to read character in people. He was an amazing fellow.

Michael: To me, it seems like this is the Homestead Act’s ideal outcome. They started a successful business, raised crops and animals, and held together a community. That's still alive today.

[music ends]

Flannery: And I smell it. It's really ready now.

[oven opens]

Michael: Gosh, look at it. It's so cute!

Flannery: It felt…questionable when we first saw it [both laughing] and now it looks really, really good.

Michael: [sound of slicing a pie] Took some of the crust down with it, but it's really good. [chews, laughs] It's not scalding my mouth. Mm hmm.

Flannery: You can rival any homesteader with this pie.

Michael: Making this pie with Flannery -- a dessert practically designed to be shared with others -- I can't help but feel like a little bit of Bill Adair lives on, too.

Michael: [to Flannery] Like you were saying, why pie? Like it's easy to sell whole or to share with other people. It feels like a little slice of community to, like, bake a pie that, you know you're never going to eat yourself. To share it with somebody else.

Flannery: Aww!

Peri: A slice of community! [laughs]

Michael: [to Flannery] So thank you, for the crust and all the assistance

Flannery: Yeah, you got it!

[short music interlude to mark a transition]

Michael: The Homestead era is full of resourceful people making the most of what they have. And as I looked through this time, I found something that embodies this attitude really well: quilts.

[sounds of cars]

Michael: [in the field] “If you're having a fabric emergency, please call. We'll do our best to assist you.”

[door opening, bells chiming]

Peri: I wonder what constitutes a fabric emergency.

Michael: Like the patchwork of ownership on a homesteading map. I'm seeing how beautiful it can be to stitch together such different pieces into a whole new thing.

Angela Johnson: And so my grandmother made quilts with flour sacks because they were, you know, reusing them.

Michael: And I also learned about Indigenous quilting.

Angela: I'm Angela Johnson, one of the owners of the Native Life Store in Browning, Montana.

Lisa Longtime Sleeping: I'm Lisa Longtime Sleeping, Angela's partner, and I run the daily managing of the store.

Michael: After visiting the North Fork, Peri and I drove east to the Blackfeet reservation. And while Native Life Store is kind of nondescript on the outside, the moment you walk in, you are greeted by every color of the rainbow and more.

Lisa: [laughing] And our tribe, we like bright colors. We kind of say we're like magpies, anything shiny. And so when you walk in, you see lots of bright colors and you see things that reflect who we are.

Michael: Bolts of fabric are neatly organized on shelves throughout the room. And then there's the quilts themselves. The one that caught my eye was still in progress, laid out on a massive long arm sewing machine that featured a variety of different prints.

Lisa: We wanted native prints. We wanted wildlife because we are right here next to Glacier National Park. And wildlife is such a big part of our culture and, and then Western because they kind of mix together.

Michael: For Lisa and Angela, the store was born out of a desire to meet the needs of their community.

Lisa: We always made dance outfits and our own clothes, and in making our kids’ dance outfits, we couldn't find what we needed.

Angela: We were traveling to Great Falls and Kalispell and—

Lisa: Yeah, and it just seemed crazy that it's such an important part of our culture as far as the dance regalia and everything, that we didn't have a place here in town.

Michael: Today, people come to the store not just for fabric emergencies, but to learn quilting from Lisa.

Lisa: Well, the first step is picking out your fabric, which can be the most stressful. [laughs]

Michael: Their most popular class is how to make star quilts—distinctly Indigenous quilts featuring a large eight-pointed star with colors and patterns radiating from the center.

Michael: [to Lisa and Angels] What made the star kind of so central to this quilting practice across different communities? Why star quilts?

Angela: Well, if you look at, well, Indigenous communities, star stories are very common among Indigenous cultures.

Lisa: It's a meaningful symbol.

Michael: This design is really striking. A seemingly simple shape made up of a dizzying number of different colors and fabrics. And they are as beautiful to behold as they are challenging to create.

Lisa: And the pattern is very—it's very difficult. I've had different people take my class saying “I have done the Lone Star pattern, and I was just terrible and it was so hard.” Then they have done my class and went, “I can't believe how easy that was, and how relaxing it was!”

Angela: Lisa is a very good teacher though. [both laugh]

Michael: And star quilts are more than just something to keep you warm. They have cultural meaning.

Lisa: It's an honor to receive one. You're being honored. Not just a nice gift or, you know, something to keep you warm. We give those away, too. But I mean, if it's—you're honoring someone's life.

Angela: Weddings, graduations and babies, it's my thing, because otherwise everybody wants you to make them a star quilt. And they're not easy.

Lisa: No, no. [both laugh]

Michael: It's one thing that Lisa reminds her students of, is that these quilts don't need to be perfect. They're not going to be flawless, but they're going to be yours.

Lisa: None of us are perfect. We all have imperfections. But when you look at the whole picture, all you see is beauty. And so when you see your whole quilt, all you're going to see is this beautiful quilt that you made, you know? So it reflects who we are as human beings, too. So it's okay to have those little flaws.

Michael: What I like about quilts is that they reflect not just the personality of the people making them, but the larger cultural forces that surround them, like the hardships that led quilters to use flour sacks. And when you look back at the Homestead era and Indigenous communities, like those on the Blackfeet and Flathead reservations, well, the heartwarming history of homesteading gets a lot more complicated.

Julie Cajune: I understood that the reservation was opened up to homesteading as a kid, you know, and as a young person. But I didn't know the political history.

Michael: I visited the Flathead reservation, an hour south of Glacier, on the other side of the park from the quilt store, to meet with Julie Cajune.

Julie: Julie Cajune, and I'm a citizen of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai tribes.

Michael: And Joe McDonald.

Joe McDonald: I'm Joe McDonald, born and raised here on the reservation. President Emeritus of Salish Kootenai College.

Michael: Julie showed me a map of the Flathead Reservation, and it's a mess of different colors. Purple, green, orange—honestly, looked a lot like a quilt. Those colors represent different statuses of land ownership: tribal, state and private.

Michael: [to Julie] What introduced you to the history of what we're going to talk about today? How did you come to understand that story?

Julie: Well, I understood it socially before I understood it politically. And so as a young person growing up, you knew that you lived around a lot of non-Indian people, even though this was a reservation, that was designated reserved homeland from our aboriginal homelands. That was to be a permanent tribal homeland for the exclusive use of said Indians. That's what the treaty says.

Michael: This part of the story begins in 1855, as the Kootenai, Salish, and Qlispé, or Pend d'Oreille people, met with representatives from the U.S. government. They were offered a treaty which said: if you give up 12 million acres of your traditional territory, we'll set aside 1.2 million acres for you to call home. With little choice, the tribes accepted the treaty and relocated to the Flathead Reservation.

Michael: [to Julie] It essentially outlines a suite of promises. One of them was the establishment, quote unquote, of a permanent tribal homeland.

Julie: For the exclusive use and benefit of said Indian tribes. And it goes on further to say, “no white men shall live there.”

Michael: [to Julie] That's in the treaty.

Julie: In the treaty, unless he is employed by the Indian agency.

Joe: Well, the treaty is very clear that, you know, they would survey the land, and the land that was set aside for the reservation would be theirs. Theirs forever as long as the water runs, the grass grows green, the sun shines—you know they give it all that nature assurances. So that's what they had, was going to be their land.

Michael: [to Julie] What happened next? Once you know, the Kootenai, Pend d'Oreille, Qlispé and, you know, Salish are all here.

Julie: So it was difficult, you know, because if you think of subsistence living, you know, you're, you're going where there's game.

Michael: Adjusting to life on the reservation was difficult, especially because the government intended to keep tribal members on reservation as much as possible.

Julie: And at one time, there was a pass system, where you had to get a pass to leave the reservation. But people were still wanting to hunt in usual and accustomed places. And the treaty guaranteed us that right.

Michael: Early Christian missionaries to the reservation, in an effort to stop wide-ranging buffalo hunts and other traditional practices, taught farming among other skills of domestic life.

Joe: The church taught them how to farm, and they taught them how to build houses, you know, the horse-drawn farm machinery, and raise cattle and that kind of stuff, because the Christians wanted them to stick around, they didn't want them to go off on his buffalo hunts. A buffalo hunt was a big deal. It was a summer vacation for kids and everybody. They would take the whole camp.

Michael: Despite treaty rights, which clearly state the right to hunt and gather off reservation, there was even a 1903 law that prohibited tribal members from leaving the reservation while armed.

Julie: People realized that they were going to have to adapt. And Native people have been very good at adapting. So people started engaging in agriculture, you know, by necessity.

Michael: But as all of this is happening, the number of homestead claims throughout the West has continued to climb, and many politicians and newspapers began to fear that available land in the West was disappearing.

Voice Actor: “The capacity of the western part of the United States to provide new homes for settlers is rapidly diminishing. In fact, in general terms, it can be said that there are no more chances for home seekers who do not possess capital.” The Missoulian 1901.

Michael: Which is when some politicians set their sights on reservation land. Here's Jim Muhn again.

Jim: It was bad news, and that's because people are saying, “Oh, all the good agricultural land is almost gone. They've got it. We want it. We'll take it.”

Michael: This idea that land was running out was gaining national momentum in the late 1800s, alongside another narrative: that if tribal nations wanted to succeed and assimilate into society, they too needed to become farmers. Both of these ideas echoed through the halls of Congress until they became a chorus.

Julie: Were people already eyeing our homeland? You know, I think people were already eyeing all of tribal homelands.

Michael: For the sake of our story, this momentum resulted in two bills, a nationwide law called the General Allotment Act, and more locally, one called the Flathead Allotment Act. And our local law began with a Montana congressman named Joe Dixon.

Joe: As far as the Indians are concerned, he's really a rascal. He got elected to Congress as a representative because he was going to open this reservation and the Crow Reservation to homesteading.

Julie: Senator Dixon was very instrumental in getting the Allotment Act passed, and he was working with business people, politicians, to get the Flathead Allotment Act passed.

Michael: Allotment as a policy was designed to take reservations, which had been held in common by members of a tribe, and divide them up into small, privately owned parcels called allotments. The supposed goal of this was to encourage Native families to take up agriculture. But as we've learned, they were already farming.

Joe: They had fences, and they had gardens, and they had cattle, and, and horses, and they were quite successful. And they wanted to stay there.

Julie: There were a lot of tribal members who were doing really well. And so the Flathead Allotment Act, which was passed in 1904—it wasn't, you know, the acculturation act of making us farmers and ranchers. It was really to get our land. And, you know, in the Flathead Allotment Act, it's not just allotting land to Indians. You have to read the whole thing. Then the land that's not allotted is surplus. And then that land is going to be surveyed and classified for homesteaders—against the vocal and written opposition of the tribe.

Michael: After the Flathead Allotment Act passed in 1904, the news spread among tribal members, and many felt betrayed. Some took action and turned to politics, including a Salish man named Sam Resurrection. Frustrated and confused by the ruling, he wrote letters to Washington, D.C. for years, seeking answers.

Sam Resurrection (read by Frank Waln): To Theodore Roosevelt, January 1908. [ominous electric guitar music beings to play] “I thought I would drop you a line and tell you what we all think about our reservation. He gave us this place to stop, and we all thought that this reservation belongs to us. Why is it that the whites want to take it away from us?”

Michael: And he did this through the help of a translator as he couldn't read or write in English.

Sam Resurrection (read by Frank Waln): To William Howard Taft, June 1910. “They told us we were to have our land til we all Indians die. There is 1,353 Flathead that don't want to be open.”

Joe: He was pretty effective, you know, voicing what people were thinking.

Michael: Chief Charlo, a famous chief of the Bitterroot Salish, went to Washington, D.C. in 1905 to protest the opening of the reservation, a trip that was covered by local newspapers.

Voice Actors: “He says he will not believe nor consent to it until he is told face to face by the president.” “The fact is Charlo does not want the reservation opened at all and will do all in his power to prevent its being opened.” The Missoulian 1905.

Julie: People were intellectually and politically engaged, and were negotiating political and cultural systems that were very much outside our experience.

Michael: [to Julie] And language.

Julie: And language. You know, the agency of our leaders and tribal members was pretty remarkable, you know, to protest what was happening, both in writing and by travel, but then to have your protests fall on deaf ears. And so it didn't matter.

Michael: And so in 1908, it began. [music ends] And it began with a census to identify tribal members living on the reservation before issuing each one an allotment.

Joe: “You get this section, you get that section,” and you're allotment—you might be on a real nice section. You might be next to a creek, might border a lake. You also might be out in a clay flat with no sign of anything around. [chuckles] So there's all this all these different allotments.

Michael: And after each tribal member got their standard issue 80 acre allotments, there was a lot of land left over.

Julie: If there's land left over, which of course, there was a lot of, and I think it was over 400,000 acres….

Michael: It was classified as surplus to be sold to homesteaders.

Julie: In just in the first public sale of land, and that was over 400,000 acres of reservation land that went into in, you know, non-Indian hands.

[music begins]

Michael: After the surveys, there was no delay in putting out the call to aspiring homesteaders.

Julie: All of the advertisements, you know, “Uncle Sam has a home for you. You know, a fortune on the Flathead Reservation awaits you.” You know.

Michael: From what I could find, one of the largest ad campaigns came from the Great Northern Railway. Here's a newspaper ad they ran.

Voice Actor: Indian land open for settlers under homestead laws. Flathead Reservation, Montana. Send for illustrated book, describing the country and giving details about when, where, and how to register. Enclose $0.04 for postage.

Julie: So all of these advertisements went out, you know, and you end up with this little mini-land rush of homesteaders here. Who were people who probably didn't have anything. Who were extremely poor. Did—did they know that they were depriving Indian people of land? How knowledgeable were they? How literate were they? Did they know? I don't know.

Michael: The Flathead Reservation was opened to homesteaders in April of 1910, a month before Glacier National Park was established. As homesteaders began to arrive, it became clear that the surveyors who drew these lines did so hastily and with little care for existing homes. Take, for example, the story of Chief Charlo. He opposed the opening of the reservation until he passed away in January of 1910, but his wife was still alive and living in their house.

Joe: His wife was there when they did the survey for the allotment. The line went right through her house. [chuckling] It was two allotments, but she didn't own the allotment that her house was on. A part of it was on another allotment. And so then the non-Indian that got the allotment, part of it was her house, and here's this 80 year old woman, [chuckling] gonna force her to move? I don't know what they did. They must have maybe stalled out and let her live there till she died.

Michael: And while many of these new homesteaders were eager to start their lives here, some saw an opportunity to exploit the system and take advantage of their Indigenous neighbors.

Julie: One of the things that happened here that we didn't mention were white men marrying Indian women for their allotments. And there used to be a saying here, “he married her for her 80. He married her for her 80 acres.”

Michael: Another tactic was something called forced allotment. The Allotment Act specified that tribally-owned land would transfer from trust status where it is tax free to fee status, where it would become both taxable and available for sale.

Joe: So after 25 years, you could sell your allotment. And so they got in what they called the forced allotment period when sales were forced on them.

Michael: Part of this was through taxes issued to people who couldn't afford them, and when you defaulted, they'd claim your land to settle the debt. But there was also Joe Dixon, the guy Joe McDonald called a rascal, who pushed through this Allotment Act in the first place. During this period, he helped establish mercantiles on the reservation, which sold expensive goods and services to tribal members.

Joe: And then let them run up their bills and then they would get after him for payment. They didn't have any money and they said, "Well, you have this allotment, you can sign your allotment over to me and clear up the bill." And so they did that. Also the mortician—I got records of where my granddad signed over some lots in St Ignatius to pay for his seven-year-old son's burial. So it was really a treacherous thing.

Michael: Allotment as a practice ended for good in 1934 with the Indian Reorganization Act. But by that time, the damage had been done.

Joe: Up to that point the land was the tribe's. And you used the whole land. You traveled, you camped wherever you wanted to. And then with allotment period came the you know, this is your little square. It really harmed social interaction with Indian people. And also the way they looked at things that—this is mine, instead of this is ours. It was 1.2 million acres counting all the mountains and foothills and all of that. And so by 1940, the tribe only owned 35% of the acreage. 65% was in other ownership.

Julie: So we are now—Indian people are the minority population on our own reservation.

Michael: And this didn't just happen on the Flathead Reservation. If you include every reservation in the country, the allotment era took more than 90 million acres out of tribal hands, an area roughly the size of the state of Montana. [music begins to play] Allotment policies were born from the ideology of the Homestead era: that land of your own was the key to a successful life. But something that was offered to homesteaders was forced on tribes. Allotment divided often community-run reservations into privately-owned parcels, where it was now subject to taxes, and surplus land went up for sale. The impacts of this are complex and far reaching, but if you cut to the heart of the hurt caused by these policies, it wasn't your new neighbors to blame. It was the new narrative about the value of land—and where, and who, you were supposed to be. A narrative sold to you in your own best interest, before your land was sold to somebody else. This era affected every tribe differently. Allotment didn't necessarily mean that your reservation would be opened to homesteaders. The Blackfeet reservation wasn't—yet the tribe still lost thousands of acres due to taxes they couldn't afford, [sad piano music begins to play] or to white store owners who, as one account described, accepted 250 acres in exchange for $30 worth of groceries. My visit to the Native Life Store in Browning, the quilting shop, helped show that allotment was just one of many ways that tribal nations were pressured to conform to white societal norms.

Michael: [to Angela and Lisa] Quilting in Indigenous communities—like how did that... What's the origins of quilting as a cultural tradition?

Angela: Well, I mean, mission schools and people bringing quilting to Indigenous people...

Michael: Farming wasn't the only practice pressed on to tribal members. Quilting as a domestic skill was taught in boarding schools to Indigenous girls around the country, often at the cost of their traditional arts.

Angela: With us, we made clothing and blankets out of buffalo hides. As, you know, the mission schools came in and we were placed on reservations and we lost our ability to hunt and gather and collect those hides… Out of necessity, because people didn't have access to hides anymore, they started quilting. And most quilting in the US and a lot of places was just like patchwork quilts and squares, real simple quilts.

Michael: But Lisa and Angela's star quilts today, they're anything but simple. Historically, many have dismissed quilting as a practical homemaking skill, but in their hands it is plain to see that it is an art.

Angela: And then it evolved. And then Natives sort of took to the star quilt because of their connection with star stories and the symbolic meaning of stars.

Lisa: Being taught in in boarding schools and whatnot, it was very practical. This is not a practical quilt. But yet we still, [both laughing] this is the one we still chose

Angela: This is the gold standard of quilts in Indian Country for sure.

Michael: You come across so many examples of tribal nations being forced to suppress their own identity, only to clearly, consistently, and often cleverly refuse.

Michael: [to Lisa and Angela] So I don't know, are quilts like a symbol of Indigenous resistance?

Lisa: I think the star quilt is for sure

Angela: I would say yes, because, you know, most native Indigenous cultures, they adapt things to their needs. That's kind of who we've always shown to be as a people. This is just one of the examples of it.

Michael: In the case of the Flathead Reservation, that adaptability has meant buying back reservation land, finding ways to confront and overcome the circumstances.

Julie: The tribe started buying land back immediately. I think the largest purchases were made, the most acreage purchased was in the 1950s. But of course, they're buying land back at the current price. The last I heard officially, it was, you know, we're over 60%. We were under 40. We have bought a lot of land back. But the tribes are buying it at a—at a pretty high price. [wistful violin music begins] You know, after all of these hundreds of years at efforts to assimilate us, I think that we still remain distinct and unique as Native people, even in modernity.

Michael: As a policy, the Homestead Act offered hope. And like a magnet, the promise of a better life to thousands of people out west. And allotment shows that some powerful and politically-minded people realized they could take that magnet and abuse it for their own self-interest. But at the personal level, the same traits that helped settlers succeed on homestead claims helped tribes survive the homestead era. Lives and communities built through determination, adaptability and kindness.

Angela: I don't own a quilt that I've made. I've gifted every single one of them. So we've really built a family with our customers.

Lisa: I am a firm believer that culture shouldn't have a price on it, so that only someone with money can afford to learn it and to have that.

Michael: [to Lisa and Angela] Holding together a lot more than just pieces of fabric here.

Lisa: Exactly. Exactly.

[music continues to build, then plays softly under the credits]

Daniel: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This season of Headwaters was made by me—Daniel Lombardi—Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist and Gaby Eseverri. We could not have made Season Three without Lacy Kowalski or Melissa Sladek and Sierra Mandelko, Brent Rowley, Darren Lewis, the Glacier National Park Archives, and the Montana Historical Society. Special thanks this episode to Flannery Freund for opening up her front (and oven) doors to us, Jim Muhn, Lois Walker, Angela Johnson and Lisa Longtime Sleeping for solving all our fabric emergencies, Julie Cajune, Joe McDonald, and the series of history books he helps edit, titled "Documents of Salish, Pend d'Oreille, and Kootenai Indian History." These books proved an invaluable resource in understanding this story. Thanks for listening.

[drumbeat begins]

Lacy: Next time on Headwaters.

Michael: The corporation that made Glacier National Park a destination. And the people who did the advertising.

Bill Schustrom: He didn’t want to get in trouble with the federal government.

Ray Djuff: Well all of that was malarkey. There was no truth to any of it.

Bill: All you want is to make money from the mountains.

Darnell Rides At The Door: His ability to capture a person’s features is phenomenal. And to see this original? It brought tears to my eyes.

Renee Bear Medicine: You realize that—these are our people.

Michael: That's next time on Headwaters.

[music ends]

Michael: [to Andrew] Headwaters is possible because of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Andrew Smith: That's right.

Michael: [to Andrew] But you also fund a lot of other projects. What are some examples?

Andrew: Yeah, the NPS Academy is a project we're really excited about right now. This is an internship opportunity that is available to people from lots of diverse backgrounds that are kind of underrepresented in the National Park Service. And it's a really special internship because in addition to the experience they get working here, they get seminars on how to build career skills, how to write their resume, all sorts of extra job training to set them up for success in the Park Service.

Michael: [to Andrew] That's awesome. What a life-changing opportunity.

Andrew: Yeah, and they get to work in a bunch of different divisions across Glacier. So there's, as you know, a lot of different jobs in a national park. [Michael laughs] So we're excited to bring some new perspectives into the Park Service.

Michael: [to Andrew] That's awesome. Well, if you want to learn about that project and the other ones that you work on, where can you go?

Andrew: Check out our website, it's at glacier.org

Michael: [to Andrew] Great. Well, thanks Andrew.

Andrew: Thanks Michael.

Becoming | Forgotten Soldiers

3 maj 2023 | 42 min

Why doesn’t anyone remember the first rangers? We trace a Buffalo Soldiers expedition across the park and ask how history becomes preserved.

Yosemite’s A Buffalo Soldier Speaks Podcast: https://www.nps.gov/yose/learn/historyculture/buffspodcast16-30.htm

Learn about African Americans in the National Park Service: https://www.nps.gov/subjects/africanamericanheritage/index.htm

See more show notes on our website: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/photosmultimedia/headwaters-podcast.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Shelton Johnson: [slowly, poetically, with a slight southern accent] My name is Elizy Bowman, Sergeant Troop K, Ninth Cavalry. Today, the sun come up and it come up strong, burning through the treetops, [wind whooshes in the background throughout] and it lit up the world around me. And I saw the trail ahead of me, and I'm riding like we always do. And there was just the wind. Just the sound of the wind in the sky, in the sound of my horse and me [horse hoofbeats on the ground] breathing as we moved along the trail. And I started thinking that this is what freedom must feel like. Never felt freedom when I was a sharecropper growing up in South Carolina. [birds singing] Never knew about freedom when my mother and my daddy had been enslaved. Freedom was this wind. Freedom was this rain. Freedom was being pushed up into the sky by these mountains beneath my feet and the rain coming down. That was freedom. I couldn't find it in South Carolina. I couldn't find it where I enlisted in Nebraska. But now I got it. And I don't know if I could ever let it go. How do you let go of freedom when you hold it for the first time?

[Headwaters season 3 theme begins playing; starting with mandolin]

Daniel Lombardi: Welcome to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else.

[theme continues; a drumbeat, a flute line, and other instruments come in, before the music finishes]

Daniel: We're calling this season "Becoming." It's not a complete history, but a series of stories about how Glacier National Park became what it is today. [slow drumbeat playing as Daniel speaks] Landscape and history are inseparable. No history can be understood apart from the place in which it happens. And like landscapes, histories can erode, stories can disintegrate or be buried under the sediment of those that follow. This episode is about a story that has been poorly preserved and deeply buried, why that happened and why it matters. It is the story of the first Black Park Rangers and how so much of their history has been overlaid by the grains of a thousand others.

[beat finishes]

Daniel: Peri. This episode is about the Buffalo Soldiers here in Glacier.

Peri Sasnett Yes.

Daniel: Get us started.

Peri: So when I think of the Buffalo Soldiers, I think of our park service uniforms. Mm. You guys all have one, right.

Daniel: In my closet.

Michael Faist Of course, it's pretty iconic—not very breathable, but, [Peri laughs] you know, the gray shirt, green pants and sweater, and then the big flat hat.

Peri: Well, did you know that those are based on the hats worn by the Buffalo Soldiers?

Daniel: No! And just to spell that out. Buffalo Soldiers were regiments of African-American soldiers in the Army.

Peri: Right. And they were essentially the first park rangers in the years before the Park Service was formed. And we still wear their hats.

Michael: Huh, I didn't know that.

Daniel: So give us the background. How did these black regiments of Army soldiers come about?

Peri: Well, basically, segregation. After the Civil War, the army created regiments for black soldiers to serve in, and they had to be separate from the ones that white soldiers served in.

Daniel: But still, I suppose they were led by white officers, right?

Peri: Yeah. Although there is a famous exception, Charles B Young. He was a West Point grad who was acting superintendent of Sequoia National Park in 1903. And he's the first black superintendent of a park.

Daniel: Hmm. So they're—they're soldiers in the army, but they're working in the national parks because the National Park Service, it doesn't exist yet.

Peri: Right. And so there are national parks, you know, Yellowstone, Sequoia, Yosemite,

All, together: Glacier.

Peri: But there are no park rangers yet. And that doesn't happen until 1916 when the NPS is formed.

Michael: So like, what were they doing in parks at the time?

Peri: Well, they were doing a lot of similar things to what park rangers do now. They built roads and trails. They did firefighting work. They kept out vandals and poachers, all that kind of stuff.

Daniel: But outside of those park ranger duties, I'm sure they had other missions, right?

Peri: Right. But back in those early days, this is post-Civil War. The racial climate back East isn't great. So for the most part, they were sent on assignments out west.

Michael: Okay. So the thought was like less people, less prejudice, I guess.

Peri: Right. Yeah, for the most part. But that doesn't mean it wasn't complicated. And so in addition to being proto-park rangers, a lot of their assignments were in the Indian Wars in the late 1800s. So they're fighting against indigenous people who are resisting being confined to reservations.

Michael: Hmm. So, I mean, there's just a lot more to this story than meets the eye.

Peri: Right. They also did peacetime and exploratory missions, too, including spending some time here in Glacier.

Michael: Really?

Peri: Yeah, they were here in 1910 fighting fires during the Big Burn. [drumbeat begins] And they were also part of a couple early expeditions before this was even a park, including the Ahern expedition.

[drumbeat ends]

Peri: One of the best surviving accounts of this expedition is from GE Culver, the geologists they brought along who starts his report by describing the group.

Culver Report: [a voice actor reads these excerpts in a formal, deep, gravelly voice] The party consisted of two mountaineers, two prospectors, two Indian guides, a squad of soldiers, black as Ebony and the writer. All were mounted and well-armed. 30 days rations were carried.

Daniel So, Culver. This guy is your—your main source for this story. He was the team's scientist, and he kept a record of the trip that you're looking at.

Peri: Yeah, he recorded kind of the broad strokes of the adventure, but it's like 2 pages of adventure and 15 pages of geology. But through his writing and his sketches of the mountains, you can start to reconstruct where they went and why. I had an actor read some excerpts from the report.

Culver Report: The object of the expedition was to find, if possible, a pass over the main range, farther north than any then known, to map the course of the streams and the principal Indian trails.

Peri: So roughly they went up the east side trying to find a past over the mountains. They tried Many Glacier with no luck, and then kept trying further north.

Daniel: I'm not surprised they had trouble finding a pass in the mountains here. They're glacially carved, they're famously steep.

Peri: Yeah. So this expedition of about 15 people travels several hundred miles across the park and in a big loop around northwest Montana over 57 days.

Daniel: Yeah, I don't think I've ever backpacked more than maybe a couple of nights at a time.

Peri: Yeah, me neither. So while it would have been quite an adventure to retrace their whole journey, I decided to just follow their footsteps where they crossed the continental divide—probably the most challenging day of their trip. And today it's called Ahern Pass.

[footsteps; yellow-rumped warblers and swainson’s thrushes singing]

Peri: [in the field, out of breath] It takes a solid day of hiking to get to Ahern pass, if not a couple days. And I'm heading out with Michael and Gaby to see it for myself. [birds continue to sing] If you want to figure out what you don't know, go hiking without any cell service. As soon as you can't look something up, you realize how little you understand. And as I hike, I'm realizing how little I know about the soldiers themselves. Why aren't there any firsthand accounts from them? What did they think of this place?

[bird sounds and footsteps fade out]

Shelton Johnson: My name is Shelton Johnson, and I currently work as the community engagement specialist for Yosemite National Park.

Peri: Shelton is one of the most renowned and respected rangers in the Park Service. He appeared in Ken Burns's National Parks documentary, and he's one of the foremost experts on this history. He's studied, portrayed and written about Buffalo Soldiers for decades, including the first person narrative that began this story, which was a clip from his podcast series, A Buffalo Soldier Speaks.

Peri: [to Shelton] And so based on your research, can you can you speculate like what their experience was like? Like, what did they think of the landscape? What did they—

Shelton: No I think that they felt what most people feel, it's a universal sentiment, if you will, to be impressed by a landscape that is literally overwhelming. That happened in Yosemite, it happened in Yellowstone, it certainly would have happened in Glacier National Park, because the landscape itself sparks that sense of wonder. And I think that's a human trait that is universal.

[wind whooshing]

Culver Report: The morning when we looked out of our tents, the fog was slowly drifting away and glimpses of the lofty peaks could be had through rifts in the fog. The effect was quite striking.

Peri: This was one of the earliest mapping expeditions of the region, long before the park existed. They climbed peaks, made camp and spent weeks in this rugged mountain ecosystem. It's the sort of trip that people take today to get away from it all, to escape everyday life.

Shelton: The difference would be that they lived and operated in a virulently racist time period. When you're part of an expedition, there's a certain level of interdependence and respect that has to be there in order for it to function properly, for—in order for everyone to benefit from that association.

Peri: If you've ever been camping or backpacking with a group, you can understand this sort of teamwork. [fire crackling in the background] You figure out who carries what, who sets up the tent, who cooks the food.

Culver Report: [fire crackling continues; sounds of fat sizzling in a pan] A few ducks, grouse and ptarmigan paid our cookhouse a visit, as did numerous fine trout of large game. We secured one big horn and six mountain goats. The young of the latter are very fine eating -- the old bucks taste of musk.

[subtle, pensive music begins to play]

Shelton: So and as you get to know people, you see beyond to a great degree, ethnicity, you see beyond gender. But be that as it may, they were still, quote unquote, colored soldiers of that time.

Peri: America's prejudices followed them everywhere, even into the wilderness.

Shelton: If you did something that was done very well, you did that in spite of your race. If you failed at a task, you failed at that task because of your race. But race was always part of that dynamic. You were viewed fully through the lens of race and through the lens of class. And there was no—really, there wasn't an escape from it. At any point.

Peri: At one point, the group reached a dead end, a high-walled mountain basin where they met a group of Stoney Indians, also called the Nakoda People. Ahern loaned their chief his rifle and the chief gave them directions. [music ends] And this wasn't the first time they'd encountered Indigenous people on the expedition. By one account they shared a third of their rations along the way with Blackfeet people. But elsewhere, regiments of Buffalo Soldiers had been fighting wars against tribal nations, most famously in the Southwest, fighting the Apache.

Peri: [to Shelton] I have often wondered what the Buffalo Soldiers thought of interacting with the Indigenous people. Would they have felt like a solidarity with another oppressed people?

[same spare, pensive music from before begins again]

Shelton: When you read a lot of the colored newspapers of that time period, there was certainly a sentiment that why should we aid and abet the theft of a land from another group of people who are not that dissimilar from ourselves? Dissimilar certainly in terms of culture, but in terms of the racial attitudes of the time, they were all cast into the same box. But at the same time, there were African-Americans who felt that by enlisting in the United States Army and potentially sacrificing their life, it was almost like we have done this for you, for this nation. And so it was an investment, an investment in the future by—by potentially sacrificing yourself for a nation that did not recognize the fullness of your humanity, perhaps the fullness of that humanity would be recognized for your children.

[music ends]

Peri: While this expedition was a peaceful one, it was still dangerous. Following the advice of the Stoney Indians, the party set out to climb the rocky mountain pass ahead of them: Ahern Pass. Here's Lieutenant Ahern's report from that day.

Ahern's Report: [out of breath, sounds weary; horse footsteps and the sounds of men talking in the background; wind whooshing] August 22nd. As I led the pack train out this morning, I felt extremely anxious, as there were several places on the trail where a misstep meant certain death. At one place, we climbed a narrow and very steep rock, 15 feet high, in which we had to cut steps. We led our most troublesome animals over this. My feelings were indescribable when I started up this rock, not knowing what the horse would do. The ledge was about 18 inches wide. On the lower side was a fall of 1900 feet.

Peri: I can only imagine riding a horse through this kind of terrain. But Shelton doesn't have to. He's done reenactments of Buffalo Soldier patrols in Yosemite, on horseback, in full uniform with saddles and gear of the period.

Peri: [to Shelton] Why did you choose to-- to wear the uniform, to ride on horseback? Why was that important to you? And what did you learn from it?

Shelton: I chose that pathway because I wanted to not just see the history from the outside looking in the way that you look through a window at a world that's that there's a partition between you and that world. I wanted to put myself into the history, and the best way to do that would be to do what they did, and to wear the uniform that they wore, to ride a saddle that they might have ridden. And when you're on a horse and you look straight down, all you see is the horse. The horse is blocking the view of the ground beneath your feet. And when you're 12 feet above the ground and you look over, you just see an abyss, if you're going on the trail along a canyon wall. You can talk about it, but it's better if you live it. And if you live it, then you really feel it. And if you feel it, then that's you. You've become the past that you're interpreting. And that's what I wanted. That's why I did that. And it did deepen my—my experience and deepened my perception of this entire history.

[music begins to play, starting with strings plucking]

Peri: To deepen my experience and perception of this history, I have to live it. I wanted to go to Ahern Pass.

[a drumbeat layers over it, then an excerpt from an old scratchy interview with the words “the Indians called us Buffalo boys.” Music ends]

[footsteps, white-crowned sparrow singing]

Peri: [in the field, out of breath] Hello.

Michael: Hi. Where are we?

Peri: [in the field, out of breath] We're almost at Ahern Pass. Very class. But not quite.

Michael: Well, how are you feeling right now?

Peri: [in the field, out of breath] Tired. Hot. Bit out of breath. [birds singing] Pretty excited about the view.

Peri: It's been a long hike, but since I'm being recorded, I'm trying to act like I'm not too out of breath.

Michael: Look around. What do you see?

[wind in the background]

Peri: [in the field] I see a snow field, this flat, grassy pass... [gasps] Sheep! [laughing] There's like, oh my God there's like a dozen of them! Are those little baby sheeps? [gasps] I love them.

Peri: We finally made it to Ahern Pass. The mountains on either side are towering and impenetrable, but the pass itself is a low point between them. A small meadow full of wildflowers and tiny trees with a view down to Helen Lake and the plains beyond. There's even a trail up here now on the west side, but that's not the side the Buffalo Soldiers came up.

Michael: How steep do you think it is down to Helen?

Peri: [in the field] I don't know. Let's take a peek over the edge if we can…not fall off of it.

[white-crowned sparrow sings; rocks start to clatter underfoot

Peri: Their route? Basically a cliff.

[rocks clattering; loud wind noise rumbles in the background]

Peri: [in the field] This is very steep. Aaaaah! Michael! Don't get so close to the edge.

Gaby Eseverri: Oh, my God. Oh!

Peri: I know!

Gaby: No way. [laughing]

[raven caws, wind continues blowing]

Peri: I— [laughing] I'm flabbergasted at trying to take up here. This is absurd.

Gaby: That's a lot steeper than I expected.

[swelling string music begins]

Peri: [in the field] Yes. I thought there would be these sort of grassy green slopes with beargrass, and that can be tough to traverse. And there was maybe one rock ledge that they had to climb over or something, and that's what they cut steps into. But this is just a vertical cliff.

[a beat layers into the music]

Michael: It's major bighorn habitat.

Peri: Glaciers carved this valley, leaving behind a steep rock wall below the pass. It's perfect for cliff dwelling bighorn sheep, but a terrifying place to take a horse. The slope rises sharply from the lake, turning into a network of ledges covered in crumbling rock that clatters loose at the slightest nudge. Ahern Glacier looms to the north, and the landscape feels alive—the geology and active force.

Peri: [in the field] We're looking down at Helen Lake, and I see Elizabeth Lake in the distance and—

Ahern's Report: Ahern Pass is 2000 feet above the lake at its foot and the summit wall on either side of the pass was estimated to be at least 1500 feet more. The entire force had worked two days in making a trail from the foot of the tall a slope to the summit of the pass. The ascent is very steep and was made with difficulty.

Peri: [in the field, with wind in the background] I did not imagine it would look like this.

[calmer, more pensive music begins to play]

Gaby: Well knowing that they had horses and stuff, I definitely imagined it to be a bit more gradual. Yeah.

Peri: [in the field] Like if I looked at this like could I get down this or up this, I'd be like, “um, I don't know if I really want to do that. I would definitely need a helmet.”

Gaby: I don't know that this is the most hopeful way to get across.

Peri: [in the field] No, I'd be like, maybe let's try Canada instead. [both laughing] How about Logan Pass? [more reflectively] It definitely gives me a newfound respect for what they were doing here and their skill to navigate a place like this.

[foosteps; white-crowned sparrows singing]

Peri: [in the field] Because they still had hundreds of miles of journeying left in this expedition. But I think this was probably the toughest point.

Gaby: It makes me feel like really reflective because this was... 1890? 1890.

[birds twittering]

Peri: [in the field] Yeah. 20 years before the park was even established. So in a way, their presence probably hastened or contributed to the eventual formation of the park. But yeah, it was 132 years ago. And so, I mean, it's pretty cool to know that they walked right through this spot.

[wind whooshing; raven caws]

Peri: Visiting Ahern Pass was the first time I felt close to this story that so far I've only read about. Retracing their steps feels like another way of reaching out, in the same way that Shelton has tried to understand the Buffalo Soldiers by writing and performing from their perspective.

[wind whooshing; pensive music begins to play]

Shelton: [reading as Elizy Bowman; his Buffalo Soldier character from the opening of the episode] But around here I noticed these rocks got a tendency to remember everything that's ever happened to them. This place got a tendency to remember everything that has ever happened to it... [music fades out]

Peri: [in the field] It's easy to think of the backcountry here as a place where, you know, you go to get away from people. But like—I don't know, it's been really cool to think about all the people that have been here before me and all the stories that this landscape contains.

Shelton: [reading as Elizy Bowman; music resumes and swells] And we call that an echo. We call that something over your shoulder that makes you pull back and look quick to see if you can catch it. But nothing that ever comes through this place is ever forgotten. And you ain't got to lie down in the bedroll for too many nights before you realize that it's all being remembered and it's all being held on.... [music ends]

Peri: In a way it feels... less lonely to be out here, when you think of all the other people who've—who've come here before me.

[wind whooshes; raven caws]

Shelton: [reading as Elizy Bowman; music resumes] So I'm wondering this. Will this place remember me? Will it remember my shadow cast on the earth? Will it remember the sound of my horse as it moved through that canyon? Will that be remembered?

[music ends as we hear the sounds of winds and ravens]

Peri: Every place has a history, and history has a place too. But most people have never been to Ahern Pass, and most people don't know this story. If history can be eroded, some rocks are harder than others, more resistant to wearing away. Some layers of history become bedrock—common knowledge that we all share. Or they crystallize into something easily found, like when a place is named for a person: like George Patrick Ahern, the expedition leader. A peak, a creek, a glacier and, of course, a pass are all named for him, the white leader of this diverse group that mapped this section of the park. His story might not be common knowledge, but his biography isn't hard to find either.

Peri: [to Shelton] Can you tell that story and talk about, you know, how you talked about expanding the frame?

Shelton: Yeah. And that's the photograph of—of Theodore Roosevelt next to John Muir in May of 1903 at Glacier Point. And then I discovered through my research that in 1903, Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks were protected by the Ninth Regiment of Cavalry, one of the Buffalo Soldier regiments. And so since the official escort for Theodore Roosevelt at that time for President Roosevelt were these African-American troops that belonged to the Ninth Cavalry—they're there! And yet there's no there's no photographic evidence of them being there. And so when I give my performance and I share that story, I talk about how a soldier might be standing there and being within 10 or 15 feet of the president. And they get kind of moved, "Oh no, no, could you guys move back. Could you move over there? You're in the picture." The picture is a focus on Theodore Roosevelt and John Muir. The picture is not supposed to capture the African-American soldiers who are there, who are actually protecting the park all summer long. And so the question then becomes, who also throughout history, who are the folks that have been pushed away to the boundaries, to the frontier of that light that tries to capture a moment in time? And frequently it's women. And frequently, it's people of color. And that's how history is lost.

Peri: [to Shelton] What I like about kind of how you tell the story is that you don't need to rewrite history. You're expanding the frame. You're expanding our understanding of what happened in these moments that we think we already know about.

Shelton: Yeah, that's what it really is. It's—if you look at it from the point of view of a tapestry, the threads, those colorful threads of ethnicity were always there. It's just that the perception that we have of that tapestry has literally been put into black and white, and the black part's not there, the red part's not there. The all these other colors that were always present weren't there. [music begins to play] And if that became an established the template for our perception of who was in the West at that time, then we we've been gifted with a distortion.

[repetition of the music and sample of “the Indians called us Buffalo boys” to mark transition]

Peri: I was also curious about some of the structural reasons that this kind of distortion might happen again and again. I reached out to Anthony Wood, a historian who has focused on Black history in Montana. I started by asking him why stories about people of color like the Buffalo Soldiers, and especially the ones on this expedition can be so hard to find in history.

Peri: [to Anthony] And because that's one of the things I've been wondering about with the Buffalo Soldiers is like, we don't really have many of those primary sources. So it’s like, what existed in the first place and what is preserved over time or not?

Anthony Wood: Mm hmm. So in this particular case, I'm fairly confident saying there is a high, high likelihood that everyone involved was probably literate. There are obviously a handful of black soldiers from these divisions that were very eloquent writers and really and more so excellent storytellers. But those are those are stories that certainly were existing. The primary sources, the letters of this is what we did today, even if they were short, certainly existed at one point, probably on a fairly large scale.

Peri: [to Anthony] So then what affects whether those are preserved over time or not? Like whether we have those today?

Anthony: Right well, there's—there's the very practical matter of whether or not families, a lot of working class, you know, people did not keep papers in the same way that wealthier upper class people did. But it's also probably something else. I think that by the time you get into the 20th century, the narratives, the stories that have been taken up and carried about what types of people went out and, you know, "conquered the untamable wilderness" and so on. And the, the role that soldiers often played in this is a very racialized one, and it's predominantly the figure of a white, hyper masculine, you know, man who's, who's going out and is—

Peri: [to Anthony] The mountain man

Anthony: The mountain man.

Peri: [to Anthony] And so you're kind of saying that, like, if people had these letters, maybe they were their parents or their grandparents from when they were in the Buffalo Soldiers out in the West. That wouldn't seem like it would fit into the narrative. It wouldn't seem like something important that maybe they should preserve that it wasn't part of that history.

Anthony: Right, yeah.

Peri: So one way that some histories erode away is when the keepers of those stories don't recognize their importance. Sometimes, because the stories don't fit into the dominant narrative. Anthony has studied the Black community of historic Helena, Montana. But since there are so few firsthand accounts from early Black Montanans, he's often looked to other sources, like Black-owned newspapers.

Anthony: In my case, I spent a lot of time working with and relying on the three Black newspapers in town, two of which were incredibly useful. But they also gave a window into a type of social history, the everyday lives, which I'm also really fascinated with, that just does not exist anywhere else outside of one person's perspective and, you know, maybe a journal or a diary. And that's these the sections of the paper that are like the community notes, or the they sometimes in Butte, the Butte newspaper, they call them the dope book, [Peri laughs] or they just do funny, sometimes serious, sometimes just newsy briefs. You know, this person when hiking today, you know, they caught this many fish or they, you know, this person went over and had, you know, lunch in Helena.

Peri: But these black newspapers were only in print for a limited amount of time.

Anthony: One year, you know, it’s eight months in 1894, one year in 1902, and then from 1906 to 1912.

Peri: [to Anthony] Wow, that's very limited.

Anthony: It narrows my scope to what I study, certainly.

Peri: So for all the rest of those years outside the handful that those black newspapers operated, often the sources you end up with are from white writers, white journalists—white expedition leaders.

Anthony: If you were to read them and try and reconstruct what life looks like for a daily Black Montanan, those sources just simply can't speak to it. The topography of, of the source world, it's not neutral. It's—it's has, you know, real and perceptible biases to it.

Peri: Anthony uses landscape as a way to explain these aspects of studying history, especially the ideas of sedimentation and erosion.

Anthony: Landscape is the dominant metaphor for the study of race in the United States. We think about, we say the racial landscape, and it's just an assumed metaphor.

Peri: [to Anthony] So how does that fit for you into the historical record? How do you apply those terms?

Anthony: So the way I apply the idea of erosion and sedimentation is to focus on the way that stories are told or not told. A story that is, you know, left aside and not told, we can think about it as being eroded. It sets us into certain ways of thinking about the past and about thinking about what really matters, you know, who really belongs, who's really at home in this place. Is this something that exists because it fits the pattern or fits the channel where the water is flowing most easily?

Peri: Every time we tell our national story, some things are being added, while others are being forgotten—covered over by other stories, fresher in our memories, ones we choose to tell instead.

Anthony: Erosion can take place in multiple speeds and durations. It can be fast and enormous, like a flood that just rips everything out and you get, you know, the scablands of Eastern Shore, Washington

Peri: [to Anthony] Like a building is demolished

Anthony: Or it can be slow and glacial. And it can just take a very long time and you can just an imperceptible change over such a long a generation or more.

Peri: [to Anthony] Like a story that's not told, that's not passed on and slowly forgotten.

Anthony: Yeah. And the way I'm experiencing this landscape right now is both as something that is in the past and changing in the present. And the way that is changing in the present is because of the past.

Peri: When I looked out from Ahern Pass, I saw U-shaped valleys carved by glaciers during the last ice age. But the glaciers followed those paths because rivers and streams already flowed there. Today the glaciers are gone, but Ahern Creek flows down the valley those glaciers left behind. Everything in geology, and I'd argue in history, is shaped by what came before.

Anthony: It's happening in the moment that you're studying it. It's happening, you know, in the 1890s. Then it happens again.

Peri: [to Anthony] It’s like the sands are always shifting. Yeah.

Anthony: So how do you study that?

Peri: [to Anthony] I'm a geologist, so I love it.

Anthony: I'm glad that. Yeah. I wonder if that was why...

Peri: [to Anthony] I love thinking about geology this way too. It's like people think about geology as something that happened in the past, but it's still happening all the time.

Anthony: Exactly.

[a drumbeat plays, marking a transition]

Peri: So many of these choices happened in the past -- what sources or places that people and institutions choose to preserve, which stories are told or not told. So what are the consequences of forgetting them?

Shelton: The past isn't dead. It isn't even past. That's the—that's the William Faulkner quote that I've often used, it lives on into the present. And that is one of the problems that we have today is that we do not fully see the challenges and the inequities that exist in the past, which is why so many people do not understand the anger that exists today that you see and hear in the newspapers among people of color, among African-Americans in particular, but also among Native Americans, is rooted in the inequities of the past. But the past isn't—it's still here. It's still happening today. Otherwise, there wouldn't be a modern day Black Lives Matter movement. It's rooted in the perception that what happened in the past is continuing into the present.

Peri: And these choices about how we represent history not only affect how we view the past and understand the present, but they're still being made every day.

Peri: [to Shelton] You've spent probably the better part of your career telling these stories, specifically the Buffalo Soldier story, these stories that we don't otherwise get to hear. Yes. Why is that? Why have you devoted your career to that?

Shelton: Well, because of the cultural perception that is literally held by African-Americans today. African-Americans in general feel that, “oh, national parks, that's not something that we do. That's something white folks do. We don't do that.” And they have that—they have that perception because of what we just talked about, because they've not read in a history book about the role of African-Americans in the trans-Mississippi West going all the way back to Lewis and Clark. I mean, that is that is our Odyssey. That's our Homer and that's our Virgil. It starts out with Lewis and Clark in 1803. The fact that there was a person of color that was part of that expedition, specifically an enslaved person, Clark's manservant, who became invaluable to the success of that expedition—that's something that should be shared at every classroom and every school in the United States, because then all children would grow up with this vision that is inclusive rather than a vision that is exclusive.

Carolyn Finney: It matters who tells the story. This is the question of representation, but it's also a question of history.

Peri: This is Dr. Carolyn Finney.

Carolyn: I call myself a storyteller, in part because I stand at the intersection of the arts, education, and lived experience to talk about issues of race, place, belonging, the environment, justice—all the good stuff and a few things that are hard.

Peri: I wanted to talk to one more person to bring this story into the present day. For eight years, Carolyn served on the National Park System Advisory Board, and she's the author of the book Black Faces White Spaces. There's a quote in her book that says, "the power of representation lies in its ability to shape today's reality through the reality of the past." Dr. Finney explained that if you exclude the histories of certain people from national parks, then you're less likely to see those people in national parks.

Carolyn: And so I can't talk about the past without talking about the present. There could be 100 reasons within, you know, for reasons why the Buffalo Soldier story took so long to come to light.

Peri: [to Carolyn] Yeah. Yeah.

Carolyn: Part of it is going to be Jim Crow. Part of it is going to be we're living in a country where and I'm only talking about Black folks here, that Black folks weren't seen as fully human, you know, until sometime in the last 50 years. You know, but not just Black people. All kinds of people from all walks of life have been challenged in terms of their skin color, their gender, you know, where they live, how much money they have in their pockets, their religious beliefs. I mean, we're still doing that today, and that's going to matter. So I—when I look at the history of Buffalo Soldiers or any group of people and wonder why it's taken this long for them to get there, I understand, you know, the first question I ask is, well, who was doing the telling? Mm hmm. Representation is important. If you leave a whole lot of stuff out, then I'm only getting part of the story. Mm hmm. And somewhere that means I am only partially who I can become.

Peri: [to Carolyn] What do you think the role of national parks and public lands is in interpreting history and in exploring this relationship of people to place and landscape and land and environment?

Carolyn: Well, you know, public lands? For whom? That's why I say, that's really, you know—and I always tell people, it's not like you crossed over into a public land and suddenly there was no racism.

Peri: [to Carolyn] Mm hmm.

Carolyn: And people carry those beliefs with them, whether they work in a park or are visiting a park or not, right? The public lands are for everyone is a really nice sentiment. [sighs, chuckles]

Peri: [to Carolyn] Yeah.

[haunting violin music begins to play]

Carolyn: Who—who are you talking about? You know, who's claiming that? Where is that? You know, I think I understand the common good, the idea of land being for the public, this is for all of us. And I think it sits on a complicated history of blood, you know, sweat and tears for real. You know, and I think the only way that public lands can really serve us all is that we engage that blood, sweat and tears as part of the story. This is where our redemption lies. For me, the beauty of public lands is that we can actually find redemption and who we've been and who we are right now. The public lands give us that opportunity.

Peri: To keep these histories from eroding, we need to do the work of preserving them.

Shelton: You know, I think when I look at the Buffalo Soldier story from the inside out, what becomes obvious to me, what becomes perceivable to me is that there are so many stories involving women, involving other people of color, other communities that are not told or not heeded. And those stories can have a profound impact on how we see ourselves and how we see our own country.

[music begins to play]

Peri: [to Carolyn] I think in parks like this, the history is often left out of the landscape. A big, beautiful park like glacier that people think of for the mountains and the rivers and the bears. All of those things are part of the story and so are people. And so are the history.

Carolyn: Yes. Yeah.

Shelton: Those all those stories need to be told because we are not the America we think we are. We're still on the road to becoming the nation that we think we already are. We're not there yet. And people who feel that we are there yet do not understand the fullness of our history.

Carolyn: That should actually that in and of itself should make us recognize and revere the idea of public lands so much more. Not avoid the telling of that history because it you know, it's not a pretty telling. That should make—it cost people something for us to be able to call a piece of land public. And we as a public have a responsibility and an accountability to that idea of public lands. That's the conversation I want to have around public lands.

[haunting violin music begins again]

Shelton: And that is what's powerful about telling these stories. It makes American history reveals American history to be much deeper than we give it credit for being. And the anything that results in a deepening of light, a deepening of sound, a deepening of color, which results in a clearer vision of who we are as human beings, who we are as Americans.

[music builds, then fades to play softly under the credits]

[drumbeat begins]

Lacy Next time on Headwaters:

Peri: The history of homesteading and allotment in northwest Montana.

Jim Muhn: Everybody thinks it’s so simple, but it gets so complicated.

Lois Walker: There were strong personalities, and they disagreed about a lot of stuff, but in the winter, you get along.

Sam Resurrection (read by Frank Waln): To William Howard Taft, June 1910. There is 1,353 Flathead that don’t want to be open.

Peri: That’s next time, on Headwaters.

[music ends]

Peri: So Andrew.

Andrew Smith: Yes.

Peri: Headwaters couldn't happen without the support of the Glacier Conservancy. But you guys also help with so many other projects in the park.

Andrew: Yeah. One I wanted to talk about today is the project to build an accessible trail around Swiftcurrent Lake. Swiftcurrent Lake is right in front of the Many Glacier Hotel—it's probably one of the most popular trails in the Many Glacier valley.

Peri: I've hiked it many times!

Andrew: Yeah it's really beautiful. And we're working on a long term partnership over the next few years with the MCC, the Montana Conservation Corps, to make a wheelchair accessible trail all the way around so that people with mobility impairments can enjoy that lake and that beautiful area just like the rest of us.

Peri: That sounds like a great project.

Andrew: Yeah, we think the national parks should be available to everyone, so we're really excited to make it happen.

Peri: And if people want to learn more, how can they do that?

Andrew: They should visit our website, and they can find us at glacier.org

Becoming | Empire Builders

26 april 2023 | 51 min

The Great Northern Railway changed Northwest Montana forever. Who else but Americans could have built it?

The Empire Builder Documentary: https://greatnorthernfilmworks.com/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

[bell clanging and train sound approaching]

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[train horn sounds]

Daniel Lombardi: Just about every day I hear the rumble of trains throughout West Glacier. Whether I'm inside or out, the sound of trains punctuate a lot of daily life in Glacier.

Michael Faist: And that line, running along the park's southern boundary, has been in service since the steam engine nearly 130 years ago. And anything with that long of a legacy leaves a mark. Tell me this, Daniel. What do you think the most common name for a business is around here?

Daniel: I feel like Glacier being in the name of a lot of things.

Michael: Yes. There's a lot of businesses named Glacier.

Daniel: Glacier cat groomers, Glacier golf, Glacier gas. There's a bunch.

Michael: So that shouldn't be surprising. But close behind are businesses named Great Northern. There's the Great Northern Veterinary Office, Great Northern Concrete, Great Northern Llama Ranch, close to 40 other businesses that share that name in Flathead County alone. So today our local railroad is serviced by Amtrak and BNSF, or Burlington Northern Santa Fe. But it was their predecessor, the Great Northern Railway, that started it all.

Old Film: [audio sounds crackly and tinny; the narrator’s accent is of the early 1900s] Great Northern skirts the southern boundary, of Glacier Park for 57 miles. [ambient music begins to play in the video] This is Great Northern. Not the railroad or the train, but this car and its contents. A rolling inventory of America's wealth.

[Headwaters season 3 theme begins playing; starting with mandolin]

Michael: My question: who built the Great Northern Railway?

[theme continues; a drumbeat, a flute line, and other instruments come in, before the music finishes]

Daniel: History is shaped by great men wielding absolute power, men with vast vaults of money and epic dreams. Executives. Kings. Presidents. Generals. It is these men who bend the world and shape history into new chapters. The rest of us are mere pawns. Or at least that's how one theory goes. [a subtle electronic beat begins] You're listening to Headwaters, a podcast about how Glacier National Park connects to everything else. This is Season Three: Becoming. It's about the people, the profit margins, and the promises that defined the West before a national park tried to do the same. This episode starts with one of history's great men, James J. Hill, the founder of the Great Northern Railway. He cut a literal line across the country through towns, tribes and the edge of what would become Glacier National Park.

Michael: And in the process became one of the most powerful businessmen of his time, even if it didn't start that way.

Daniel: And you've been looking into that history of the Great Northern, both from the bottom up and the top down.

Michael: Yeah, from a lot of different angles. Working here, you hear about Great Northern all the time. You get to hear a lot about all the things they would go on to do to shape the park. But what I've never understood is how did they get here in the first place? Like who built the Great Northern Railway? And how, after eight years of living here, have I never ridden the train?

Daniel: So where do we start?

Michael: We start at the beginning.

Michael: [to Stephen] Assuming I have never heard of him before, who is J.J. Hill? And why should I know his name?

Stephen Sadis: [on the phone] Who is James J. Hill?

[dramatic violin music begins]

Empire Builder Documentary: [movie narrator voice] He was known as the Empire Builder and the Devil's Curse. Streets, towns and counties were named in his honor, along with a persistent and invasive weed. He was mythologized in novels and was the subject of folk songs and union battle cries.

[music fades out]

Michael: I called Stephen Sadis, a producer and filmmaker who just finished a four-part docu-series called The Empire Builder: James J. Hill and the Great Northern Railway, which you'll be hearing clips of throughout. At just 17 years old, Hill moved from Ontario, where he was born, to Saint Paul, Minnesota. Within 15 years, he went from a job as an entry level bookkeeper to running a warehouse of his own and operating a steamship company. He had made a name for himself.

Empire Builder Documentary: [different narrators voice each quote, with fiddle music beneath] Local newspapers took note. "This remarkable young man has kept accurate statistics for many years of all the freight coming in." "J.J. Hill is prepared to give shippers the lowest rates ever quoted from here to Eastern Points." "He beats all his competitors and in return gets the bulk of the transportation business. When Mr. Hill starts to accomplish a thing, he does it complete."

Michael: If you needed to ship something or have something shipped to you, he could do it faster and cheaper than the other guy. He was like Amazon, if they used ox carts and steamboats.

Stephen: He had a good reputation. He said what he meant and did what he said and people trusted him.

Michael: [to Stephen] Why did he want—why did he get into the railroad business?

Stephen: You know, I think he had visions of a transportation empire. I mean, it's very clear in early Saint Paul history, when the town got its first locomotive, I mean, he was constantly saying to other people what he would do if he would run the line. I mean, it's to the point where people were like, “Yeah, yeah, Jim, we know you'd do a much better job.”

Michael: Hill had an incredible track record for a young entrepreneur. And yet, when he finally bought a small bankrupt railroad and announced his plans to build it all the way to the West, people called him an idiot.

Daniel: I need to know more. Why?

Michael: Well, there were a few reasons. First of all, honestly, he was late to the game. He wanted to build a transcontinental line through Montana and onto the coast. But that line already existed. The Northern Pacific ran through southern Montana, and the Canadian Pacific, just to the north, ran through Alberta.

Stephen: So it was a fourth transcontinental that would thread a line between these other two, and it was unnecessary. It was ridiculous.

Empire Builder Documentary: [narrator voice with violin music beneath] The New York Times stated that no sane man could think of paralleling these lines without inviting bankruptcy, and dubbed the notion "Hill's Folly."

Daniel: So it sounds like there just wasn't a need, basically. Right.

Michael: Like, the region already has two railroads. Why would it need a third?

Daniel: Yeah.

Michael: But the other reason people called this idea Hill's Folly was the money. Building 3000 miles of railroad isn't cheap, but for a while there, the U.S. government would pay you if you tried.

Empire Builder Documentary: [narrator voice with violin music beneath] Lincoln put his pen to the Pacific Railway Act, authorizing the government to offer loans and land grants to railroad owners for every mile of track laid from the Missouri River to the Pacific Ocean.

Michael: This policy worked. It jumpstarted railroad construction, but it also encouraged railroad companies to game the system, building curvy lines in order to gobble up as much land as possible.

Stephen: I mean, really, the real estate business began with the railroads. At one point, the railroads owned like 6% of all the land in the United States, which is, you know, mammoth.

Michael: By the time Hill was getting started, Congress had caught on. They stopped giving out land or loans to railroad companies. And without this assistance, Hill had to find private funding. He had to convince people that this line, which The New York Times was calling a bad idea, was a worthwhile investment.

Daniel: Okay. So what's different here is that all the other railroad companies, they were getting federal aid.

Michael: Right.

Daniel: But Hill, he had to pay his own way for the Great Northern.

Michael: Exactly. And letters from the Times suggest he found raising money to be the hardest part of the job. Networking, schmoozing, owing favors. But it paid off. He sold investors on the idea that his line could be built better and more efficiently than any other.

Stephen: His mantra was the lowest grade, least curvature, and shortest distance, and everything banked on that.

Michael: What was next was finding a route that would make that possible.

Stephen: As Hill's heading west, he's—he's chosen his route. And it happens that he needs to get through Indian territory.

Empire Builder Documentary: [narrator voice, with sad violin music beneath] Beginning in 1851, the Blackfeet, Gros Ventre, River Crow, and Assiniboine were restricted to reservation land that spread across much of Montana territory. But over the course of 30 years, the reservation had been reduced nine times by treaty and executive order.

Michael: But tribal land was still in Hill's way. He couldn't build through the Fort Berthold or Blackfeet reservations in present day North Dakota and Montana without a right of way. So in 1886, he started putting pressure on Congress and the president to open the land.

Stephen: Hill was working backchannels in order to get that approval to bring his lines through Indian territory.

Empire Builder Documentary: [narrator voice, with sparse guitars strumming beneath] Hill, for his part, was busy writing letters to congressmen. Mr. McGinnis is interested on behalf of his territory in a bill granting right of way to railroads in northern Montana. Any assistance you can render him will be a personal favor to me and to our friends, for which I will be glad at any time to reciprocate. Yours very truly, James J. Hill.

[pensive music begins to play]

Michael: Ultimately, it worked. They passed a bill that granted Hill a right of way, but it wasn't a permission slip through tribal lands. It required tribes already reeling from famine to give up a massive amount of reservation land, an area almost equivalent to the state of South Carolina. Here's Lea Whitford, a former Montana state senator and Blackfeet tribal member that Stephen interviewed to get the Blackfeet perspective on Hill blazing his railroad through Montana.

Lea Whitford: [speaking slowly, emotionally; flute music plays beneath] The 1888 agreement that came, well that was just right after the starvation winter. You have hundreds of people that are dying. You have leaders that have to make some real hard decisions. And what do we have of value? And so you have land. The Blackfeet are open to it because they have no choice.

Empire Builder Documentary: [dramatic narrator voice] The tribes living on the Blackfeet and Fort Berthold reservations accepted the terms drastically reducing their territory by 19.5 million acres.

Michael: While many are quick to celebrate Hill's efforts to privately finance the railroad, the highest price paid for his progress wasn't a financial one.

[pause]

Michael: In September of the next year, Hill would change the name of his business to the Great Northern Railway. That November, Montana became a state. And the month after that, surveyor John F Stevens, located Marias Pass, the lowest elevation crossing of the continental divide between Canada and New Mexico, and Hill's ticket to the Pacific Coast.

Stephen: That at least ensures Hill that he can get through the Rockies, not without enormous difficulty in construction, but there is a pass that is manageable in its elevation gain. And that sort of is the first piece in the puzzle.

Michael: The section of track that today borders the southern tip of Glacier was the proof Hill needed that his plan would work. By 1891, juggling an incredible amount of materials, manpower and unpredictable terrain, he laid rails over the Rockies, closing the distance on his transcontinental line.

Stephen: You know, you're talking about bringing thousands of railroad ties and tons of rails. It's like those cartoons where Daffy Duck is riding on the locomotive and he's laying down track in front of him. And it's not a whole lot different than that. [train on track noises begin and build] And so you have these 8000 men and 6000 animals, and you have to feed them, and you have to house them, and you have to take care of all sort of maladies that occur and injuries and whatnot. I mean, it's it's—it's like a mobile town that is building this line. It's an amazing achievement.

[train whistle sounds]

Empire Builder Documentary: [narrator voice, guitar music begins to play] On January 6th, 1893, just west of the town of Scenic Washington, the eastern and western sections of the Great Northern Railway were connected. As two superintendents took turns driving home the final spike, revolvers shot into the air [gunshots; cheering] amid the cheers of 200 rail workers. It was a moment that crystallized Hill's longtime dream of a transcontinental railway of his own.

Michael: It is hard to understand today how much Great Northern and railroads like it transformed the country. If you wanted to get from one side of the country to the other in 1800, it took maybe 4 to 6 months, either by arduous wagon trip or by sailing all the way around South America. In 1893, you can make the same trip by rail in less than a week. It's infiltrated our vocabulary in ways that I never really thought about, like "blowing off steam" might seem obvious, that's an expression from steam engines. But sidetracked, backtracked, even switchbacks, which I think of as being a trail thing, that's a train thing. And just the massive power that these lines had to dictate the future of a place. Like when Hill was building into the Flathead Valley, he had the choice to build south towards the first and largest town in the Flathead Valley, which was called Demersville. It had churches, banks, newspapers, over a thousand people. But Hill decided instead to found his own town just to the north, which he named Kalispell. Kalispell is the county seat today, and all that remains of Demersville is a cemetery. Great Northern transformed the landscape as it went and transformed Hill from the son of Irish farmers into one of the richest men alive, earning him the nickname the Empire Builder.

Stephen: You have this transformative technology that is making millionaires every week. I mean, it's not a whole lot different than when the internet emerged. He was enormously wealthy. He was at one time the third and another time the tenth wealthiest man in the country.

Michael: James J. Hill embodied what many people see as the American dream, the promise that you can achieve the impossible if you put in the work. And when we look back at this era of transcontinental railroads, it's often with pride, admiring everything our nation accomplished in spite of all the obstacles. [pensive electronic music begins] Take, for example, a speech in 1969. Secretary of Transportation John Volpe went to speak at a celebration -- the 100th anniversary of the very first transcontinental railroad. Here's what he said.

Voice Actor: [authoritatively, dramatically] Who else but Americans could drill ten tunnels in mountains three feet deep in snow? Who else but Americans could chisel through miles of solid granite? Who else but Americans could have laid ten miles of track in 12 hours?

Michael: He either didn't know or didn't share the answer to his own question.

[music ends, setting off the following line dramatically]

Voice Actor: [with echo beneath] Who else but Americans?

[street noise]

Michael: 30 minutes outside of Glacier sits the town of Whitefish, another town that Great Northern put on the map. And early on, it was home to a lot of great northern employees. I went to Whitefish this summer in search of a historic plaque.

Michael: [in the field; church bells clanging in the background] I think that’s it! Right on the corner.

Michael: Not long after the Great Northern Railway announced its plans for a division point in Whitefish. Whitefish had its first church. I don't know about you, but I love reading plaques like this. I've seen them all over the country—sometimes bronze, sometimes silver, always with some interesting context about the place I'm visiting. And yet I somehow didn't know that my own employer manages this program. A guy named Paul oversees the state of Montana.

Paul Lusignan: [on the phone] My name is Paul Lusignan. I'm a historian with the National Register of Historic Places Program within the National Park Service.

Michael: I could tell you that at the time of this recording, there are 63 different national parks. But I didn't know until this year that a small team of Park Service employees helps preserve over 90,000 small sites like this all over the country. What is the National Register program? If you had to describe it.

Paul: It is largely an honorary program, but it's a list of properties, cultural resources that are worthy of preservation.

Michael: Paul said "honorary" because listing something on the register doesn't freeze it in time. You can still make changes to a building, for example, but it helps ensure that federally funded projects minimize their impact on our shared history.

Paul: They have to review whether it will impact historic buildings or historic resources, the same way they have to take into account endangered species or water conservation.

Michael: The Register is a record of sites like this church that have historical significance and helps them share their story.

Michael: [in the field, reading the plaque; church bells clanging and street noise in the background] The committee chose a Romanesque revival style considered less ostentatious, masonry construction, heavily arched windows.

Michael: Nominations are collected by states and tribes who send them to Paul and his boss, who just might have the coolest sounding job title in the National Park Service: the Keeper of the National Register.

Paul: The Keeper has designated authority to me to list properties in the National Register. And this comes back to the good old days when the National Register was actually a book.

Michael: [laughing] A literal book!

Paul: It was a green book in which you opened the cover you wrote in the name of the property and the date of listing, and then you shut the book and it was listed in the National Register.

Michael: But the whole process begins at the ground level. Anyone can identify something of historical value in their community and nominate it for listing. You could if you wanted to. That's how this church in Whitefish wound up on the register. Congregation members led the charge, and that's how I learned about the railroad history preserved in their stained glass windows.

[greetings, church bells, street noise]

Paul Hayden: Good morning.

Michael: [in the field] Morning.

Paul: You coming in here?

Michael: [in the field] I am.

Michael: I was actually invited in for a visit and was greeted by interim pastor Paul Hayden.

Paul: Paul Hayden. Bob's right here.

Bob Paulus: Hello! You're Mike?

Michael: [in the field] Michael, yep.

Michael: And congregation members Bob Paulus and Jesse Fraser.

Michael: [in the field] Where are we right now?

Jessie Fraser: First Presbyterian Church of Whitefish, Whitefish Montana.

Michael: [in the field] Since this is all audio, would you mind describing the windows?

Bob: Describing ‘em?

Michael: [in the field] What do they look like? How tall are they?

Bob: Oh, I don't know the dimensions.

Michael: [in the field] Oh just eyeball it, doesn't need to be exact.

Bob: They're absolutely wonderful, beautiful… I don't know. [laughing]

Jessie: They're Tiffany style.

Bob: There you go.

Paul: 14 feet wide by six feet across.

Jessie: Oh, wow. I knew you came along for a reason. [everyone laughing]

Paul: From a minister’s standpoint, you'll notice that the pews are looking away from the windows, which I am very grateful for. [all laughing] Yeah you know, you're sitting there in church and being distracted—look, it's hard enough to keep people's attention as it is.

Michael: Each pair of windows was donated by local community members during the building's construction in 1921. And reading the dedications is a regular who's who of early Whitefish. There are prominent bankers and early loggers…

Jessie: They all put money in towards these windows. Special.

[pensive music begins to play]

Michael: But the pair of windows that brought me in read, "with gratitude from the Japanese."

Bob: And the Japanese said $705 for two windows.

Michael: More than $8500 today—a small fortune—donated by Japanese men who worked for Great Northern. Men James J. Hill hired to realize his dream. And men I'd never heard of before.

Voice Actor: [echoing] Who else but Americans.

[music ends]

Lucas Hugie: [on the phone] So they would hire whoever would be willing to work for the company, including Irish immigrants or recent immigrants.

Michael: To get some context, I turned to another national park site, Golden Spike National Historical Park.

Lucas: So we're located in Box Elder County in northern Utah, and it's where the first Transcontinental Railroad was completed on May 10th, 1869.

Michael: This is Lucas.

Lucas: Lucas Hugie. I'm the lead park ranger here at Golden Spike National Historical Park.

Michael: And I called him because the first Transcontinental Railroad, finished years before J.J. Hill joined the railroad business, set a precedent that everyone building out west would follow. They figured out who to hire.

Lucas: So you have people coming into the country, and they're not really anchored to any part of the country yet. And so when they find out that there's a chance to work on the railroad, make decent wages, they're willing to sign on for that.

Michael: Irish, German and Italian immigrants were laying the tracks westward from Iowa alongside Civil War veterans and recently emancipated Black Americans. But the Central Pacific, who was building east from Sacramento, they were having a hard time keeping anyone on the payroll.

Lucas: Every time that there was a gold strike somewhere, this workforce would disappear. These guys would, as soon as they got paid, walk off the job and go try their luck in the gold fields.

Michael: The promise of the gold rush drew thousands of people to California, including some of the first Chinese immigrants to the United States. Thousands of Chinese men emigrated to the U.S., but they weren't provided the same opportunity as other miners. Panic and prejudice among white Americans led to the passage of a foreign miners tax.

Lucas: And if you're a foreigner, specifically a foreigner from China, you actually could be taxed up to $20 a month to stake a gold mining claim.

Michael: Nearly $800 a month today. And so men who had crossed the Pacific in search of a better life instead found themselves stuck working someone else's claim for a fraction of the payout. Meanwhile, Central Pacific is desperate to end labor shortage and decide to hire 50 Chinese workers as a trial run.

Lucas: They ended up being fantastic workers because they didn't walk off the job at the end of the day when there was a gold mining strike.

Michael: Chinese men would soon make up most of the workforce on the Central Pacific, and as it turns out, the railroad also appreciated these workers because they could get away with paying them less.

Lucas: So you're looking at around $26 a month for, for these guys. The Union Pacific provided room and board for their workers. Whereas the Central Pacific, they just kind of let the Chinese fend for themselves. They had to pay for their own board or like wherever they're going to be sleeping. And they also had to pay for their own food.

Michael: As many as 20,000 Chinese laborers went on to help build the first transcontinental railroad. And this hiring practice became a template for other railroads building in the West.

Far East to Old West Documentary: [George Takei narrating; Chinese string instruments playing in the background] The railroads needed workers and the Chinese needed jobs.

Michael: That voice, who you might recognize as George Takei, is from a documentary called From the Far East to the Old West, produced by the University of Montana.

Far East to Old West Documentary: [George Takei narrating; Chinese string instruments playing in the background] Few people realize that Chinese labor made up most of the workforce on key sections of the Northern Pacific Railroad.

Michael: In the face of backbreaking labor and deadly work with explosives, Chinese immigrant laborers were reliable and most importantly, in the railroad’s eyes, they were cheap. Which brings us back to Great Northern. Hill had recruited a lot of Scandinavian and German immigrants to help build his main line. But after the initial phase of construction, those employees either began to quit or ask for more money. This is where the other Western railroads turned to Chinese labor. But by the time Hill arrived in the West, the practice of hiring cheap Chinese workers, often in the place of white laborers who demanded higher pay, had driven loud and public anti-Chinese racism.

Far East to Old West Documentary: [George Takei narrating, with other voices reading the quotes with crowd noise in the background; Chinese string instruments playing in the background] One especially lengthy and venomous commentary in the Missoula Gazette argued, "Our government erred in never allowing that race a foothold on our soil.” “They have, in Missoula as elsewhere, usurped places which could be filled by respectable men. And the time has come when measures should be taken to rid ourselves of this past, lest it destroy us. Resolved!"

Michael: This sentiment led to the passage of more anti-Chinese legislation and the first significant law restricting immigration to the United States.

Far East to Old West Documentary: [George Takei narrating; Chinese string instruments playing in the background] The most far reaching was the 1882 Exclusion Act, which prohibited immigration by Chinese laborers and their families.

Michael: Hill, arriving after the passage of the Exclusion Act, had to look elsewhere.

Far East to Old West Documentary: [George Takei narrating; string instruments plucking in the background] But those railroads still wanted cheap labor with their supply of Chinese laborers cut off. The railroad barons once again looked across the Pacific to fill their needs, this time to Japan.

Linda Tamura: [on the phone] And actually the Japanese government was encouraging young Japanese men to go overseas to gain jobs.

Michael: That voice is Linda Tamura.

Linda: I'm Linda Tamura. I'm a proud orchard kid from Hood River, Oregon. I'm also a former elementary teacher and professor emerita of education at Willamette University in Salem, Oregon.

Michael: Who I called to ask about Issei.

Michael: [to Linda] You know, for people who've never heard the term before. Could you describe what you say means?

Linda: Sure. They say we're the first generation of Japanese immigrants to the United States in Japanese. Ichi means one and sei means generation. So from ichi-sei we have Issei -- the first generation. My grandparents and their contemporaries.

Michael: [to Linda] How did you first learn about early Issei laborers in the U.S.?

Linda: I didn’t learn about Issei laborers from my grandparents or from other Japanese Americans, or even in high school or even college, because I learned about Western civilizations and Western immigrants. But in the early 1980s, my uncle suggested that I ask questions of my grandmother, Asio Nogi. She was in her eighties. Uncle Mam told me, "your grandma lived a really interesting life—came to the United States to marry your grandfather. She's still got a great memory, and she tells great stories. So why don't you talk to her?" Well, I did. My mom translated because Grandma spoke Japanese and I didn't. And Grandma began to tell me a little bit about her life, her immigration to the United States when she was 19 years old. I learned about Grandpa, their labor.

Michael: What began as a conversation with her grandmother turned into a project to document the experience of other Issei laborers—people at the bottom, not the top, of this railroad history.

Linda: My appetite was whetted, I wanted to learn more.

Michael: Linda described Japanese immigration to the U.S. as a push and a pull. And the pull came from U.S. companies like Great Northern—

Linda: And the push came from Japan.

Michael: You could find ads in Japanese newspapers titled How to Succeed in America.

Linda: They told us that Issei laborers could earn twice as much money in the United States as they might have in Japan. Some of the laborers who had gone to the United States came back and they were wearing suits and pretending that they were fairly wealthy. And even some of the young Issei whom I interviewed told me that that tantalized them.

Michael: Japan had maintained a policy of isolation for centuries, but in the 1880s, Japan's new government began allowing its citizens to seek jobs abroad.

Linda: The goal was that they would go to the United States. They would work for 3 to 5 years, earn enough money to come back and live comfortable lives in Japan. They became known as Birds of Passage. Those who are looking for ways to get rich quick.

Far East to Old West Documentary: [George Takei narrating; string instruments playing in the background] By 1910, tens of thousands of Japanese had left their homeland seeking opportunities in the United States.

Michael: Great Northern contracted with the Oriental Trading Company, a Japanese owned business based in Seattle, which organized Issei labor contracts and sent thousands of Issei to Montana.

Linda: My grandfather was one of those. When he was 16 years old, his uncle was working in the United States and called him over to join him. Grandpa came over and his first job was actually working on a railroad crew in Cut Bank, Montana in Glacier County.

Michael: Cut Bank is a small town, even today, on the east side of the Rockies, less than 50 miles from Glacier and more than 5000 from Japan.

Linda: He was a hard worker. Even as an elderly man, he was a hard worker. And my grandmother told me that Grandpa's supervisors on the railroad would reward him with overtime labor.

Michael: In 1901, a day's wage for Issei was $1.10, and a day's work could be 15 hours. Not to mention, their contractor, the Oriental Trading Company, would take a ten cent daily commission.

Linda: The work was difficult and the pay was low. But the reason they accepted that was because it turned out it was double what they might have earned in Japan.

Michael: [to Linda] So that wasn't false advertising on the newspaper's part. It was more than they would've made

Linda: It was, right.

Michael: But while the pay was better than what they might have received in Japan, conditions were still terrible.

Linda: One story that I heard over and over was how malnourished they were. They had to pay a stipend for the meals that they were served. And some of them, because they were trying to save money, really almost starved themselves to increase their savings. And the meals were really paltry. Two meals that I heard about a lot were soups. One was miso soup. And that's made from soybean paste. And another was dango jiru, which was dumpling soup.

Michael: I googled it for reference. One serving of miso soup has 40 calories. A banana has 105.

Linda: With all the hard labor working 10 to 15 hour days, they had very little protein. And so apparently when they were able to find a jackrabbit or a cow that had been killed by the train, that was a banquet.

Michael: [to Linda] Oh, my goodness, I bet.

Linda: And apparently sometimes the men were even known to have arranged for a cow to be present on the tracks when a railroad train went by.

Michael: Employees were required to dispose of any animals they came across that had been hit by the train.

Linda: And so the section hands obediently did so. And then at night they'd go back and they'd dig up the carcass and they'd cook it, and then they had a source of protein. But those were the lengths they took to try to nourish themselves, doing hard labor on the railroad front.

Michael: [to Linda] I can't imagine trying to do that on, you know, just soup -- like miso soup alone.

Linda: Right, yeah. What a life.

Michael: Many Issei who came to the US as Birds of Passage, hoping one day to return home started to realize that might never happen.

Linda: So after my grandfather had been here, I think he was 32. He, along with other Issei men, began to realize their dreams of returning to Japan and—and be wealthy men were not to be realized, and that they would end up working longer in the United States, and they might even become residents.

Michael: And so many Issei who had planned to work in the U.S. for 3 to 5 years started planning to spend a life here and wanted to find someone to share it with.

Linda: They often didn't have enough money to go back to Japan to find wives. And so they employed picture brides.

Linda: [excerpt from interview in documentary] The picture bride or shashin hanyome was the practice where a Japanese man in America exchanged photographs and letters with young women and their families in Japan. And through that exchange of letters and photographs and agreements by the families, they were formally married.

Linda: And my grandmother was a picture bride when she came to the United States in 1916, 16 years after my grandfather had arrived.

Michael: Not all Issei worked on railroads. Many worked on farms or in lumber mills. But no matter the job, they all faced the reality of life in a new place.

Linda: They were young. Often they found that they were living in secluded areas. There were a lot of people who lived nearby, and certainly not a lot who spoke their language. Life was disappointing for them, although they weren't always ready to admit that easily.

Far East to Old West Documentary: [George Takei narrating with string music in the background; an actor reads the quote] December 1905 Henry Katsuji Hasitani, who worked for the Northern Pacific near Missoula, wrote in his diary, "all I have done so far is to survive as nothing more than a humble worker, like pigs and cows. Is my youth being wasted? No. I have dreams. I have hopes. Life is nothing if you don't try to better yourself."

Linda: They had high dreams and high hopes, but often they were shattered.

Michael: On top of the hard work, low pay, and isolation, Issei began to face discrimination from white Americans. Just like the Chinese before them.

Linda: Apparently there were Issei who were working for the railroad, living in a house. There were six of them. [Ominous electric guitar music builds] And one night there were shots that rang through their windows and rioters stood outside for an hour and yelled and cursed at them. The Issei men piled up mattresses to try to protect themselves.

Michael: It was a scare tactic, a gunpowder threat to leave town.

[music ends]

Linda: The next day they left and that was the goal. Apparently the rioters were farmers who during their offseason were hired by the railroad as section hands and they were concerned that their livelihoods might be in danger. That was the kind of incident that occurred along the West Coast and very likely in Montana as well, that other workers were concerned about the competition from Issei, who were willing to work long hours, take on jobs that others might not have relished and were willing to work for less pay because they considered the pay adequate. But yes, discrimination was—was an issue for the Issei laborers.

Michael: An opinion piece in the Kalispell Bee, the newspaper in the early 1900s. Argued that these Japanese laborers weren't buying enough local goods, they were a drain on the local economy and used all sorts of racist terms along the way. And then, you know, the next week in the paper, the Oriental Trading Company would reply like, we buy everything locally except for miso soup, which isn't made here. And in looking through all these accounts, at no point did it seem like Great Northern ever stepped in and tried to advocate for its employees. Here's Stephen Sadis again.

Stephen: Yeah, I don't think there was any grander plan for Hill in how to, you know, keep the peace or acclimate an ethnic group into a community. I think he was looking at bottom lines and what's the—the most inexpensive way I can build my line.

Michael: This discrimination wasn't unique to Asian immigrants. Irish, Italian, Greek laborers, Slavic laborers, among others, were met with racial slurs, politically charged vitriol in communities and in local papers. This wasn't an outlier, but a clear and consistent pattern. But U.S. legislation uniquely targeted immigrants from Asian countries.

Linda: There was a concern about the yellow peril, that, Chinese at first, and then Japanese, would be threatening the white race.

Michael: Understanding what had happened with the Chinese Exclusion Act, the Japanese government, facing pressure from the United States, signed the Gentlemen's Agreement of 1907.

Linda: The Gentlemen's Agreement restricted Japanese immigration only to family members of those who were already in the United States.

Michael: No more Issei could immigrate to the U.S., and the ones who were already here continued to face prejudice.

Far East to Old West Documentary: [George Takei narrating with string music in the background] Asians still couldn't become citizens unless they were born here. And in 1923, anti-Japanese legislators passed a Montana law that said If you couldn't become a citizen, you couldn't own land.

Michael: But while policies and prejudice would continue to make life difficult for Issei, others embraced their Japanese neighbors.

Elizabeth Peck (voice actor): I'll tell you what I do with my time when I'm not cooking meals at 12:00 in the morning and washing socks.

Michael: This is a letter written by Elizabeth Peck, a Whitefish woman who in the 1920s was a member of the Presbyterian Church of Whitefish, and it's being read for us by a voice actor.

Elizabeth: I took, for my part of the work in the church, the Japanese. [soft string music plays in the background] We have 14 families and 50 single men. They work for the railroad, most of them. I teach them to talk English, read and write it. And if I do say it, I've accomplished it. I never hoped to do so well when I started.

Michael: Elizabeth wasn't a wealthy woman or a philanthropist. Here's Jessie Fraser, one of the congregation members who met me at the church.

Jessie: She was very poor. She had two boys. She—her husband died when the kids were very young. So she lived in a tar paper shack thing out someplace.

Elizabeth: I have three classes at the house and then I go twice a week to their homes. That is the ones that have children and can't come to me.

Jessie: And the Japanese would give her gifts to get her food. You know, gifts of food, chicken and eggs and things like that. Because she just—and thank you for doing what she was doing.

Elizabeth: One month I helped one man to buy a house, helped to bury one man that was drowned, and helped two babies into the world.

Michael: And even though these events took place over 100 years ago, this kindness is still visible.

Elizabeth: We built a new church this year, cost $40,000, and I asked for a donation of the Japanese men, said it would be nice if they could give a window. Well, they sent in a check for $705, bought two windows. And when the windows came, one of them said, for Mrs. Elizabeth D. Peck, from the Japanese. What an honor to live up to.

Michael: The Japanese families and men of Whitefish collected $705, over $8,000 today, and donated two pairs of windows to the church. One pair was dedicated to Elizabeth Peck and the other simply says, "with gratitude from the Japanese." Because of Great Northern, Whitefish was home to a thriving Japanese community—a community that included railroad laborers, but also the owners of a candy store, a successful laundromat, and what many accounts described as the best restaurant in town. A community that was asked to put on a firework display for the 4th of July 1909, which one newspaper called the finest pyrotechnic display the county had ever seen. A community that largely isn't here anymore. Those businesses have closed. Those Issei have passed away. And their children, for the most part, have moved on. This history isn't easy to find.

Linda: It's important for us to understand what they contributed, how they contributed, and the sacrifices that they made in order to help themselves. But even more so, to help our country. They were important contributors to the United States of America, even though they weren't treated fairly during their times.

Michael: When I asked Linda why it's so hard to track down these stories, she pointed me to her grandmother.

Linda: It came to me that Grandma didn't want to consider herself important enough to be interviewed by someone. She told me, "I'm just a poor old woman. I've not done anything significant in my life. Now, if you want to interview someone important, go talk to Eleanor Roosevelt. Now, there's a woman who should be interviewed." But she said “there's nothing that I've done in my life that's important. You shouldn't ask me questions.” That would signify what every Issei told me. They wanted to focus on the group. And I would think that might have a lot to do with why you're having difficulty with stories, too.

Michael: Mmhmm.

Linda: And I think there are other reasons, though. They spoke Japanese, they wrote in Japanese. Any documents I found, any photos with inscriptions needed to be translated by those who spoke old Japanese. And there aren't that many—that many anymore now. In many ways, I think they don't want to harbor on the difficulties of the past. Now that they were finally getting along with others, their neighbors, they didn't want to bring up difficulties. [pensive music begins to play] So they really chose not to speak about the past. They wanted to leave it there. They wanted to move on and focus on positive. Unfortunately, yeah, there's a lot that we've lost, but hopefully there will be photos and documents that will help us to uncover more of those stories.

[music ends]

Michael: Linda highlighting how much of this history we've lost—it made me grateful for the National Register of Historic Places, a tool that helps communities preserve and share the history they have left. I ran this by Paul Lusignan, the historian from the Register program.

Michael: [to Paul] and just thinking through this story, I learned about the history of these Japanese railroad laborers through the Register listing for this church in Whitefish. And it got me thinking that, you know, when I come to Glacier, a million acres, this grand place, you kind of implicitly expect to hear the stories of like grand people, too. And that the register seems to me like a way of preserving the stories that might not fit into that expectation to you. How does the Register complement the other parts of the National Park Service in pursuit of our mission?

Paul Lusignan: I think you hit the nail on the head. I mean, it allows for kind of different perspectives and looking at the full story. You know, there's only so many times you can mention that Theodore Roosevelt came out here and stayed for a while. It's like, okay, if the Park Service is supposed to be conveying a preservation and conservation ethic, well, what types of things are we conserving, protecting and recognizing? What was it like to be a worker there? Who did they displace when they developed the park? There's nothing wrong with the big ingrained resources. They're great and they deserve to be preserved, but they don't tell the full story. And that's where I think that the Register program helps augment that and can augment that. And that's again, it's not the only tool, but it is a good preservation tool.

Michael: One example is the First Presbyterian Church of Whitefish. As it approached 100 years old, the building was showing its age.

[wistful music begins to build]

Jessie: It literally was falling down. And you could see I mean, we’re outside—you look up there and you could literally see the bricks separating from the wall, you know, like it's going to come down.

Michael: One suggestion was to sell the valuable downtown real estate and move the congregation to a new and improved building. But they decided instead to repair—in large part because of the building's history. Little things that don't show up on your property value, but they do show up on your National Register listing.

Jessie: Because it's a historical church.

Michael: And so one of the few pieces left of this Montana Issei community is protected. Not only are the windows still there, but people like Jessie will welcome you in and share their story.

[music ends]

[an electronic beat begins, with an excerpt from the early 1900s promo video we heard at the beginning of the episode. The lyrics say "The railroad is many things. The Empire Builder."]

Michael: To end this story, I wanted to do something that I've never done before.

Gaby Eseverri: [in the field] Are you excited?

Michael: [in the field] I'm excited, I've never ridden the train before. Unless you count the one at my zoo growing up. But that was like a small fake train.

Michael: I was joined by Gaby.

Gaby: There it is!

[train whistle, and bell clanging as it arrives]

Michael: After spending the entire summer digging into the history of this railway, I thought it would be fitting to actually ride it.

Gaby: There aren’t too many people here.

Railroad worker: Last name guys?

Michael: Faist and Eseverri.

Railroad worker: I got you. You guys are good to go. Great.

Gaby: All righty. Thank you so much.

Railroad worker: You bet.

Michael: [in the field] I’m not the tallest person in the world, but I can stretch my legs out completely before it hits the other seat.

Gaby: Yeah. It’s comfortable.

Michael: In this episode, I set out to answer the question, who built the Great Northern Railway, and looked at the story from the top down and bottom up. If I'm being honest, you could probably guess which version of this you're likely to hear if you come to the park. James J. Hill is on the greatest hits of ranger-led program topics: a larger than life figure and a remarkable success story. I never knew about this other piece of this history.

[haunting violin music begins to play]

Michael: [in the field] Like 15% of the people I would say in this car are sleeping, which is why I’m talking quietly

Gaby: [both laughing] We’re trying not to be too annoying

Michael: The National Park Service is famous for big parks like Glacier—grand landscapes full of powerful people. But those parks are outnumbered by the over 90,000 sites that tell the rest of America's story. [an electronic beat joins the violin music] Places identified by a community, not by an act of Congress. Smaller stories that might not need a full staff of park rangers, but that are no less worthy of preserving. And that's comforting to me.

Gaby: Okay. We made it to the lounge car.

Michael: [in the field] We did.

Gaby: Yeah. This is cool, there’s more windows here.

Michael: [in the field] It's got skylights, wraparound windows. People are working on their laptops, reading books, eating a breakfast burger. I thought that was a bold choice. [both laugh]

Michael: In the end, I think it's taught me that however small I might feel in a place like this, however insignificant my life may seem when stacked against these great men of history, we all lead lives worthy of remembering.

Gaby: Are we train people now?

Michael: [in the field] I think I'm a train person now

Michael: The people who bend history to their will—and those of us along for the ride.

[music continues, then fades lower under the credits]

Daniel: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This season of headquarters was made by Daniel Lombardi, Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist and Gary Eseverri. Frank Waln wrote and performed our music, and Eric Carlson created this season's cover art. Season Three absolutely would not exist without Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Sierra Mandelko, Brent Rowley, Darren Lewis, and the whole team at the Park Archives. We relied on a lot of great resources from the Montana Historical Society too. Special thanks this episode to Steven Sadis, Lucas Hugie, Paul Lusignan and Linda Tamura, and thanks as well to everyone with the First Presbyterian Church of Whitefish, but especially Bob, Paul, and Jessie. Great Northern Filmworks for permission to share excerpts from their series Empire Builder: James J. Hill and the Great Northern Railway. Filmmaker Pat Murdo and the University of Montana's Mansfield Center for permission to share clips from their documentary, From the Far East to the Old West. And lastly, of course, thank you to everyone at Amtrak for helping Michael fulfill a years-long dream of getting to ride a train.

Lacy: Next time on Headwaters.

Michael: We follow in the footsteps of some of the first Black Americans in these mountains. To find out how they got here. And uncover what happened to their history.

Carolyn: It matters who tells the story. This is the question of representation but it’s also a question of history.

Ahern Report: There were several places on the trail where a misstep meant certain death.

Shelton: Will this place remember me, will it remember my shadow cast on the earth, will it remember the sound of my horse, will that be remembered?

Michael: That's next time on Headwaters.

[music ends]

Michael: So Headwaters is made possible by the Glacier Conservancy, right Andrew? But you also fund a lot of other projects going on in the park. Do you have any examples?

Andrew: Yeah, a really cool one is the Ranger led education programing that's going to be happening has been happening.

Michael: Yeah, well, I know what that is because I've worked in that position. What is what are the Ranger led activities?

Andrew: Yeah so students can come in, visit Glacier National Park and go on a field trip with a ranger, which is a really special experience for them. But we also are going to be offering classroom visits. So Rangers will come to local schools and teach them about the park, as well as expanding our distance learning. So students all around the country from every state can get to experience a little glimpse of Glacier National Park, which I think is pretty cool opportunity for them.

Michael: No, definitely. You get one day Rangers leading students up to Avalanche Lake. Later in the winter, you're giving snowshoe programs or you're talking to students in Puerto Rico with the green screen. It's you know, it's a really cool program. So if you want to learn more about that project and others that the Conservancy funds, where can they go to find that information?

Andrew: Check out our website. It's easy to remember: glacier.org

Becoming | A Market Place

19 april 2023 | 54 min

We biography Joe Kipp and join an archeological adventure in order to understand the fur trade. Then, music helps heal the traumatic legacy of history.

Jack Gladstone: https://www.jackgladstone.com/ Native America Speaks Program: https://www.nps.gov/glac/planyourvisit/nas.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Daniel Lombardi: This is a story about the fur trade, about the collision of cultures. An epic crash three hundred years in the making. A collision slow but substantial, with whiplash still cracking to life in the 21st century. It can be understood through the eyes of someone who lived it—someone like Joe Kipp. This is his story. But it's also about history and landscape and about how we judge the past. And it all starts with the search for a missing cabin.

Kyle Langley: So as an archeologist, we look at old maps a lot. They're useful tools. They're kind of snapshots in time. And your eyes are drawn to, to this cabin that's kind of in the middle of nowhere.

Daniel: Kyle Langley is an archeologist here in Glacier National Park. And right now he's getting Peri ready for an adventure.

Peri Sasnett: [to Kyle] Because there's not a lot on those maps. There's lots of mountains and lakes and stuff, but just mountains, lakes and Kipp's cabin.

Kyle: Exactly

Peri: [to Kyle] No other cabins.

Kyle: Exactly. And every time there's been a crew in that area, they've looked for it.

Peri: [to Kyle] And they never found it.

Kyle: They've never found it. I think archeologists, you know, you put an X on a map kind of like that, and I think it's kind of like a siren call for us. You know, we will waste a lot of time looking for these things. [both laugh] But if you're persistent, you know, sometimes it pays off.

Daniel: So they went back to look for the cabin—one more time.

Kyle: We'd budgeted ourselves like an hour, and I think we were already at like three and a half hours or something [Peri laughs] and we're like, you know, we've got to wrap this up, should we give up, just about at home and—

Peri: [to Kyle] It's probably the afternoon, you're supposed to hike all the way back—all the way out

Kyle: You know, at some point, if you don't leave, you're going to be hiking out in the dark, in grizzly country. [both laugh] So, but, just happened to take a peek in the right batch of trees and found the remnants of a forge, like a old portable forge. And that was pretty much we knew right then and there that was where Kipp's Cabin was.

Daniel: Peri and Kyle are united in their fascination with Joe Kipp, a complicated character that lived in Glacier in the late 1800s. And a bit of a trickster, perhaps. And Peri thinks understanding Joe Kipp could be the key to understanding Glacier during the fur trade era. And Kyle, for his part, he's obsessed enough that he named his dog Kipp.

Kyle: Being lovers of Glacier, just like everyone, we wanted to name our dog something to do with Glacier. But if you go to the dog park anywhere in the Flathead and you call for like a Bowman or a Kintla, you're going to get like six dogs. [both laughing] So we wanted something a little more unique.

Daniel: The archeologists now have the location of Kipp's cabin marked on a map, but they haven't surveyed the site. They know the facts of his life, but they don't really know who he was.

Kyle: It's tough because we can't ever know them directly. I mean, he did interact with an astonishing number of historical figures who did keep records, who all wrote about him. But what you lack is kind of a full understanding of who he was as a person. He's kind of—he kind of fits in that intersection of fact and myth. And at the end of the day, you know, 120 years later, we're left with a kind of a semi-unclear picture of what kind of a guy Joe Kipp was. It's part of the draw of archeology in general is the physical objects and the places are things that you can connect to, whereas stories always leave you wondering.

Daniel: Welcome to Headwaters, [Headwaters season 3 theme begins to play] a show about how this one place in the Rocky Mountains is connected everywhere else.

[Headwaters season 3 theme plays, with the strumming of a string instrument, a flute, and drumbeats, then finishes]

Daniel: This is Season Three: Becoming. It's a collection of stories of how the American West became what it is today. I'm Daniel.

Peri: And I'm Peri.

Daniel: All right, Peri. Today we're talking about the fur trade. Tell me what we need to know to get started.

Peri: Well, our main character here is Joe Kipp. He was born around 1850 and died in 1913. So his life spans this really dramatic time in the Rocky Mountains and in the fur trade. He is of mixed descent—he's half white and half Mandan—and he makes a living doing pretty much everything a person could at this time.

Daniel: And so, Peri, you would argue that he's still relevant today?

Peri: Yeah, for sure. Joe Kipp is one of the most important figures in Glacier's past, in my opinion, but one whose name you almost never hear.

Daniel: But he does come up, you know, in some, some dark moments of Montana's history as well. And I feel like his role, it's not always clear.

Peri: Definitely. One example is in the negotiations over the Ceded Strip, which was Blackfeet land and is now the east side of Glacier National Park. You can learn more about that in the Two Medicine episode from Season One.

Daniel: Yeah, and that's still a sensitive topic today. So tell me about Joe Kipp's involvement in these negotiations.

Peri: Well, on the one hand, he probably stood to profit if the land was sold to the government and opened up for mining and tourism. But on the other hand, he was married to a Blackfeet woman, and he lived most of his adult life on the Blackfeet reservation, and he was really involved in that community. So it's hard to say from here whose side he may have been on in those negotiations.

Peri: [narrating] Throughout this story, I've really kind of struggled with our ability to look back and make moral judgments about people from the past. My hope was that diving into this story and finding a tangible connection with Joe Kipp would help me sort through this. And it definitely ended up changing how I see this place.

Music: [clip of John Wayne speaking plays over a catchy beat] There's right and there's wrong. You’ve gotta do one or the other. You do the one and you're living; do the other, and you may be walking around, but you're dead as a beaver hat.

[sounds of footsteps]

Peri: It's a warm summer morning, and Michael, Gaby and I have joined Kyle and Brent, the archeologists, on a backpacking trip to finally survey Joe Kipp's cabin. You can tell these two spend too much time in the backcountry together eating dehydrated meals because they refer to normal food as rehydrated food.

[footsteps]

Peri: [in the field] What would you be most excited to find?

Kyle: You're looking for a skillet, right?

Peri: [in the field; laughing] I'd love one! I've been told I can't take one home, so.

Peri: I'm kind of obsessed with cast iron cookware. I don't know whether it's their history, their beauty, that they last forever, or that I just like to cook in them. But I adore old cast irons. And if I get to touch one artifact—one thing of Joe Kipp's—I hope it's a skillet. The archeologists are very fun, but they are also very fit. My strategy, whenever I need a break or a rehydrated snack, is to ask questions about Joe Kipp. Kyle and Brent get on a roll telling stories, and I get to catch my breath.

Brent Rowley: Yeah. I mean, Joe Kipp was one of the most influential people in the latter half of the 19th century in the Glacier National Park region. But he was kind of all over the place, and to actually tie one location to him is really important. I mean, he had an influence on so many locations, but to actually have sort of a place that defines him as a person.

Peri: [to Brent and Kyle] And so to you, why is he the most important person?

Brent: I mean, he was kind of involved in all the pivotal events that happened in this region, but in kind of his own way. He was involved in the bison trade, you know, he was running whiskey across the Canadian border and had influence on even the border getting established. He was the guide for so many people, and he guided Grinnell through the park. I mean, he was, you know, involved with all these people.

Kyle: I think when you compare him to other historical figures in the park's history, I mean, Glacier has a lot of big name folks. And I think what Joe Kipp's contribution was, is he's kind of exemplary of what it meant to just make a living and exist at that time. And in so doing, I think he kind of encapsulates what it what it meant to be, you know, someone in the 1800s just kind of making your making your way in the world.

Peri: [in the field] Yeah, it's kind of like, you know, seeing history through this one person's choices.

Kyle: Yeah. He's not exactly the common man by any means. He was definitely like, you know, out there trying to make a name for himself in his own way. But I think he's definitely way more of the like, a representative of the common man's experience. He just happened to have like eight common man's experiences, like, all in one lifetime. [all laugh]

Brent: Yeah, that's for sure.

[a beat plays, marking a transition]

Daniel: Hey Peri, I think we need to do a little Fur Trade 101 here.

Peri: [laughing] Okay.

Daniel: What are they actually trading furs, I guess, but what are they trading them for?

Peri: So what Europeans are training to get these furs are, for the most part, guns. High quality British rifles. At some points, alcohol is a big part of the trade, too, along with other manufactured goods and supplies, including cast iron cookware. Joe Kipp's father, James Kipp, is working in this trade in the early to mid 1800s, and he's focused on beaver furs, which are going to make hats.

Daniel: Hats... like Davy Crockett's?

Peri: [laughing] I think that's a raccoon? Picture men in the 1700s, 1800s in like black top hats, the men in Jane Austen movies, or on Bridgerton, or Napoleon's hat—all made of beaver fur.

Daniel: Gotcha. The raw material is beaver fur, but the end product looks basically like felt.

Peri: Yeah, they don't really resemble the original creature… but they're hugely popular and there's a big demand for those furs. But eventually, fashions change and railroads and steamships make it possible to transport much larger cargo, especially compared to a canoe. So bison hides, which are also called bison robes, become the more desirable product.

Daniel: Okay. So how does Joe Kipp fit into all of this?

Peri: Well, his father is working for the American Fur Company, a competitor to the Hudson's Bay Company that probably you've heard of. And he's living in villages with Mandan people for several years. And like a lot of white men in the fur trade, he marries an Indigenous woman. It's sort of a strategic alliance between the tribe and the traders. And so Joe, their son, is of mixed descent, which is sometimes called métis, and he grows up in this fur trade world.

Daniel: So then Joe Kipp grows up... Does he do the same thing as his father?

Peri: No, not really. He's more of a freelancer. He's kind of a middleman in the bison trade. He sets up these trading posts for a few years at a time near one native group or another, and they would bring in buffalo robes and other animal furs and exchange them for trade goods, supplies and alcohol. And he'd turn around and sell them to bigger companies. There's actually a Charlie Russell painting called Joe Kipp's Trading Post. You should look it up sometime.

Daniel: Mmm okay. So what do you think Kyle meant when he said that Joe Kipp had eight common man's experiences?

Peri: Well, he just did so many things. Our story here is about the fur trade, but things are changing so rapidly in the late 1800s. And Joe Kipp is involved in everything. After the end of the bison in the 1880s, he dabbles in prospecting, which is what his cabin is for, and he gets involved in guiding people around this area too, as tourism starts to grow. He hunted and trapped wolves; he was involved in politics on the reservation. Later in life, he owned a general store, a ranch and a stagecoach business.

Daniel: So he did everything.

Peri: Everything.

Daniel: And I think you told me that at one point he was scouting for the Army and involved in the Baker massacre, right?

Peri: Yeah. That's a whole other story, and a pretty terrible one. He said that he tried to prevent it, but there are some moments in his history that it's hard to know what to make of.

Daniel: Well, what do people say about Kipp? Like, what did they have to say about his character, who he was?

Peri: That's kind of hard to say, too. I mean, his obituary talks about his kindness and generosity to those in need, both white and native. It says, "though during his lifetime, he made great sums of money, the most of it went for charity, and he died by no means a rich man." And another account says his funeral was attended by "the largest crowd ever assembled on such an occasion on the reservation."

Daniel: Do you think everyone's obituary says something nice about them, though? [both laugh]

Peri: I mean, yes, probably. And the author, James Schultz, is known to tell a few tall tales. So in the end, there are a lot of stories out there about Joe Kipp, and it's hard to know where the truth really lies.

[beat plays, marking a transition]

Rosalyn LaPier: So my name is Rosalyn LaPier and I'm a member of the Blackfeet tribe, but I'm also Métis. My family has been in what is now Montana for many generations, including my Métis side as well. And I am a historian, an environmental historian.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] You know, as a kid, it's just—history is this set of facts and dates and you learn it. And the more that I've engaged with it, the more it's like, oh, this is like it's a practice. It's something that's constructed. It's something that's built and retold.

Rosalyn: The way historians think about history, history is interpretation, right? You know, there's four of us sitting in the room right now. Imagine that there is a car accident that happens in the middle. But because we're all sitting in a separate part of the room, what we actually see is going to be different. You know, one of us is going to say, "oh, it was this person's fault" and somebody else is going to say, "oh, no, wait, no, it was this other person's fault." I mean, that's what history is. Right?

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Right.

Rosalyn: And what historians try to do is we acknowledge that the accident happened. [laughing]

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Right.

Rosalyn: So that's the fact or the event or... but let's try and find all the different interpretations of about that particular fact, because it often happens that we only tell one side. We only tell one person's story.

Peri: The history of the fur trade has dark moments, moments that turn Rosalyn stern, but most of the time she's funny and lighthearted. Off mic, we bonded over playing the fiddle and our love of fun dog names.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] And do you want to introduce your dog as well?

Rosalyn: And I brought my dog with me today. This is Poka-immoyii-tapi, which means Child of Sasquatch. [Peri laughs] But we just call her Immoyii, which means furry.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Very fluffy. [both laugh] What…what does it mean to be Métis? Like capital-M Métis.

Rosalyn: So métis is a word that grew out of the fur trade that occurred in what is now Canada. So métis means, you know, mixed, and the Métis develop to have their own identity. They had their own language, their own religious practice, their own cultural practices, and so they became their own distinct ethnic group.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Yeah, because you could see it as, “oh, it's half French and half Indigenous,” but really it's become its own thing.

Rosalyn: Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I think it was half and half back in the 1600s. [both laughing] Maybe the early 1700s. But that was, you know, like 400 years ago. Yeah.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] How did Métis people interact with the fur trade?

Rosalyn: So either hunting, either processing, sometimes being the middlemen and connecting with trading companies. It is, you know, men, it's women, it's entire families that are working these different roles.

Peri: I can't really say whether Joe Kipp would have identified as Capital M, culturally Métis, but he certainly used every part of his upbringing and background to try and make a living. The fur trade ties through his father, his knowledge of Indigenous languages and cultures from his mother's side, and his ties to the Blackfeet community through his wife and children. In addition to wondering about métis people, I also wanted Roslyn to help walk me through the bigger picture of the fair trade and its context.

Rosalyn: So the difference between the fur trade and what had occurred previous to that is just the scale.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Okay.

Rosalyn: So the idea of hunting more or harvesting more so that you could take that extra surplus and then trade for somebody or barter with somebody. Buying and selling, not new at all. You could argue that trade networks could be very capitalistic. But what is different is it's not a corporation that is is buying what you're selling. So it wasn't until the fur trade that that level of globalism gets introduced to this area, they ultimately end up bartering for money. And having money is different than saying I will trade corn for wild rice.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] So that's a new introduction.

Rosalyn: That's a new introduction. Also, the concept of credit and debit is a new concept. So they're not trading one object for another object. And some people just didn't trade. That's kind of one of the kind of missing part of the story. Again, it wasn't like this... all of a sudden, people are like, “oh my god, I need, you know, a copper bowl!” [both laugh] You know? It just it was like this—people were just like, “yeah, I don't need that copper bowl.” So for the Blackfeet, one of the things that we know about Blackfeet society historically is that women owned everything. That changed over time when the Americans introduced the concept of men owning everything.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Here's the patriarchy. You're welcome. [both laughing]

Rosalyn: Exactly. It was... It was a cultural value, I guess, that men not own anything. That it would impact their freedom or slow them down.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Mmmm right.

Rosalyn: Whereas women own everything, the whole household. Remember, women were already—there was already hunting, they're already processing the hides. They owned all of that. So one of the things that kind of gets introduced also as part of this process of colonialism and capitalism is the idea that men, quote, unquote, own what they hunt. Hmm. And that—that changed really slowly over time. It didn't happen overnight. It was a real, real slow kind of cultural change.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Early on, this is a colonial enterprise, but it doesn't seem like settler colonialism? Like they're like we want these furs, but like we don't want the land.

Rosalyn: Yes, so no that's a good interpretation of what happened. No, I think that in the beginning, people are just interested in resource extraction. People are not interested in living here. That changes over time. And you got to remember, over generations, right? So like what Grandpa would have done versus what Mom, you know, down to the kid. By the time the kid is doing it, it's a different economic system. It's not an overnight thing that happens where capitalism gets introduced and boom. There it is.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] It arrives, it's here.

Rosalyn: Yeah, but it's something that evolves over time. Because one of the things we know from the historic record is that when fur traders first come here, they had to adapt to the system that existed here, right.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Cause they were coming into these Indigenous places and Indigenous systems of everything.

Rosalyn: Yes.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Life, etiquette...

Rosalyn: Yes. We often think of contact, right, cultural contact as like something that happens like a car wreck—immediate and a big bang and, and like things change after that contact. We don't often think of contact between, you know, the Americans and Indigenous groups, or Europeans and Indigenous groups, as like this slow, like process, that happens over decades and generations. [pensive music begins to play] And we see the end result, which looks like a car wreck, but we don't see the beginning, which is not that at all. Right. It's something very different.

[music builds]

Rosalyn: So one of the things that is really different with the way that the Americans and the U.S. government dealt with Indigenous people was that they did not see anything wrong with coming and outright stealing Indigenous land, outright stealing resources and not thinking of it as somebody else's resources or somebody else's place. So when we talk about colonialism or we talk about capitalism, that system is based on a system of thievery. Even at that time, they know they're stealing from Indigenous people. We think of capitalism as benign, right? We think of it just as an economic process.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] Right. The free market. It's this like non-active entity.

Rosalyn: Yes.

Peri: [to Rosalyn] I think we're not—as a culture, we're not very good students of history. History isn't the past. Not only are we making history every day, but also we are living with the repercussions of history from hundreds and thousands of years ago. Every day.

Rosalyn: Yeah. And I think that—I mean, this is one of those things that, you know, will America ever come to terms with this? We will see.

[music ends]

[western tanager begins to sing]

Peri: It's first thing in the morning at our campsite. Everyone is trying to eat their rehydrated, dehydrated breakfast, and I'm pestering Kyle about what we might find at the cabin site today.

Kyle: One thing that'd be really cool to find would be like I was saying, something diagnostic, which is just like something that you can use to, like a time and a place.

Peri: [in the field] Like to firmly say this is older than this or younger than this?

Kyle: Yeah. And one really great thing for that is complete bottle bases. Tin cans and things like that can also sometimes help.

Peri: [in the field] Because we don't know where the actual cabin was.

Brent: Oh yeah, we do.

Peri: [in the field] Or we do, did you find like the footprint?

Brent: We found not the actual footprint, but we found a forge. We have a really good idea of where it was.

Peri: [in the field] Because things like a big forge or a skillet would not have moved over time, whereas rifle casings could be all over.

Brent: Yeah.

Peri: I know we won't find the cabin itself, because it was burned down by Joe Cosley, another glacier trickster—allegedly. So if I want to understand Joe Kipp, it'll have to be by what's left behind. I wonder what things of mine would survive a fire and a century in the woods. My cast irons would…definitely not my fiddle though. It would be an incomplete picture, but it'd be a glimpse of what was important to me.

[a beat plays briefly, marking a transition]

Daniel: So we're talking about the fur trade today, right?

Peri: Yes.

Daniel: But we're talking about it through one person.

Peri: Yeah. Through Joe Kipp's story.

Daniel: Yeah, at least it's tempting for me, is like, okay, I'm trying to understand this piece of history. I'm trying to understand this one person, and I want to understand them through the ethics and the morals of today.

Peri: Yeah I mean, any main character in a story, you're trying to decide how you feel about them.

Daniel: Like is this person, the hero or the anti-hero?

Peri: Right, fit them into an archetype. Like, am I rooting for them? Am I not? How do I feel about this person?

Michael Faist: You do that to humanize history and you put yourself in people's shoes like, “would I do that? How would I feel if I did that?”

Daniel: Sure. Well, tell us about Joe Kipp, Peri.

Peri: So his family is very distinguished on both sides. He comes from a very prominent New York family. And the Kip's Bay neighborhood in Manhattan is named for his family.

Daniel: Wow, okay.

Gaby Eseverri: I have family there.

Peri: What?!

Gaby: Yeah! [both laughing]

Peri: Gaby, the Joe Kipp connections are everywhere! And his mother is the daughter of a Mandan chief named Four Bears, who's also quite a character. I definitely recommend googling him.

Daniel: He's connected to everything with, like, these wild stories every time.

Peri: Every time.

Gaby: Yeah. Did you guys know that he and George Bird Grinnell were good friends?

Daniel: Okay. So, Grinnell… Grinnell helped establish Glacier National Park.

Gaby: Yeah. So after one of his trips, Grinnell goes back home, back to New York City, and one day gets a package. So he goes downstairs, and in the middle of the street are two grizzly bear cubs.

Peri: Loose?!

Daniel: In New York?

Gaby: [laughing] Yeah, that's the package. And he didn't even need to see a note—

Peri: "Delivery for you!"

Gaby: —or any information, he knew. He just knew it was from Joe Kipp.

Peri: "Which one of my friends would mail me bear cubs?"

Michael: Why? Why did he send him bear cubs?

Gaby: That's a great question, Michael. A question we all kind of still have. It's not totally clear, but Joe Kipp had a trading post, and behind one of his trading posts, he had two pet grizzly bear cubs.

Peri: So George Grinnell was like, I’d love some bear cubs.

Daniel: He must have said something. And so then Joe Kipp just mails them to New York.

Gaby: But they were safe. They made it safe, and they ended up at the Central Park Zoo.

Daniel: Okay.

Peri: Maybe Joe Kipp just thought better of having two adult grizzly bears out back of his store.

Gaby: I think maybe he saw that they were growing and growing fast. [laughing]

Daniel: Okay. So he's a kooky character, he's—but he's just involved in everything. He's doing business and he knows the area really well. He can be a cultural bridge with a foot in a bunch of different worlds at once.

Michael: Yeah. So he was not by any means the first person to have good working knowledge of how to navigate this landscape that would eventually become Glacier, but he was one of the first people that started to market it. In this 1896 map of the place that would later become the park—it's beautiful, hand-drawn, and it has Joe Kipp's name in the bottom right as a copyright.

Gaby: Wow.

Peri: And this is one of the first maps of this area, at least that was widely distributed, right? Yeah.

Michael: Certainly one of the first detailed maps of this place. He didn't draw the map himself. It was drawn by somebody else, but it was based on his descriptions of the landscape.

Daniel: Not only is he involved in everything, but he's literally putting Glacier on the map. Yeah.

Peri: Yeah. Another Joe Kipp story, and I think this one's important, is about him smuggling alcohol across the Canadian border because the U.S. is cracking down on alcohol sales to tribes.

Gaby: Hmm.

Peri: So he's trying to get these wagon loads of whiskey across the border, and the U.S. Marshal is chasing him down a hundred miles—hundreds of miles across the plains. And finally, the Marshal catches him and is like, "all right, I got you. Give it up." But Joe Kipp is like, "you know what? It's kind of unclear where the border is. Looks to me like we're in Canada."

Gaby: Oh my God.

Peri: And the Marshal's like, "no, we absolutely are not. We are a few hundred yards shy of the border." And Joe Kipp's like, "well, there's five of us and one of you, we're in Canada." [all laugh] Essentially the Marshal was like, "all right, fair play" and rides off. And when they eventually surveyed the border in that area, they were, in fact, a couple of hundred yards on the U.S. side.

Daniel: Oh of course.

Gaby: Wow.

Michael: It's like a classic Hollywood Western, like standoff.

Peri: Well, so apparently, one of Joe Kipp's lines was, "I stand you off!" And then once they got across the border, he named his trading post Fort Standoff!

Michael: Wow.

Peri: It's a whole thing.

Daniel: Very Hollywood,.

Peri: Very.

Daniel: Hero or anti-hero? I don't know.

Peri: I know. I don't—I don't really know what box to put him in. In a way that makes him a great character because he is pretty ambiguous.

Daniel: He's complicated.

Peri: Definitely.

Peri: Joe Kipp is doing quite the balancing act in this era of rapid change changing cultures, ecology, infrastructure, ways of life. Most of the time, it's impossible to know how he felt about this. But his obituary, written by James Schultz, has a rare quote. After the last bison were killed, Kipp apparently said, "I was born in the bison trade, I expected to die in the bison trade. The bison are gone and I don't know what to do." This cabin is basically his plan B—or one of them anyway. Trying to get by after the end of this system he'd made a life in.

[birds singing]

Michael: Describe where we are.

Peri: [in the field, over the sound of footsteps] In a beautiful subalpine meadow surrounded by subalpine fir and spruce. The morning light's coming up over the ridge. The ground is dewy. My toes are getting wet.

[white crowned sparrow sings]

Peri: I follow Kyle and Brent through patchy meadows and forest up toward the cabin site and we all set our packs down. They get out their trowels, flags to mark artifacts, GPS unit, and other tools of their trade. As we walk into a little clearing in the trees, the first thing we find is...

Kyle: That’s a doorknob. I don't think we recorded that the first time.

Brent: No, we didn't see that last time.

Kyle: So that's kind of cool because that means there's a door somewhere.

Brent: Yep. [both laugh]

Kyle: But so anyway, if you guys start peeking around in the woods, you start seeing all sorts of stuff, I think—

Peri: [in the field] We get to be archeologists for the day?!

Kyle: Yeah. [Peri laughs]

Peri: Turns out I'm not a great archeologist, but luckily I have professionals with me. Historic artifacts are protected though, so even with the pros, everything is left where we found it. Including, of all things, a coffee grinder.

Brent: Whoaaa!

Kyle: A coffee grinder, huh?

Sarah: Maybe.

Peri: [in the field] Oh, yeah. That's totally a burr grinder. Like it looks like a burr grinder.

Brent: Oh a burr—okay. Yeah yeah, I see what you're saying. I thought you said a bird grinder. [everyone laughs loudly] And I was picturing Joe Kipp stuffing like a ptarmigan in there. [laughing]

Peri: And then my personal highlight….

Brent: We found your artifact.

Peri: [in the field] You did? [gasps] A skillet!

Brent: Yeah.

Peri: [in the field] I love it! It's got a heat ring, it's got a gate mark, just like mine. This is why I love cast iron skillets. Because they're just like—I mean, mine hasn't been, like, sitting in the ground for 100 years, but it's like, looks a lot like this.

Brent: Yeah. I mean, maybe a few decades ago, it has still been usable.

Peri: [in the field] I know, mine doesn't have any holes in the bottom, but…

Brent: Yeah.

Kyle: You could become a specialist in cast iron archeology.

Brent: Yeah.

Kyle: I could see an entire master's thesis on it.

Peri: [in the field] I would love that. [both laughing]

Brent: I always think finding stuff like this is cool because, like, it's kind of a really personal connection to someone. Like, he was probably, like, frying up his meat in that, you know, item.

Peri: Later, we'd all spread out around the site, chatting, snacking, and Kyle came and got me.

Kyle: So this is kind of still a guess phase, [raven calling] but there's a line from here out to here. And if you trowel underneath like here, you just find tons of wood, and a lot of the wood's burned. And then I did the same thing over here, and I didn't find that wood or the charcoal. And so there's a possibility this is…

Brent: A cabin.

Kyle: An old cabin wall. [ringing of a trowel scraping on the ground] So if that story of the cabin burning is true, there could be some remnant of an actual like floor.

[pensive music begins to play]

Peri: As Kyle scraped his trowel along the floor I was standing on, and pointed out what looked like one wall of the cabin, I felt surprisingly emotional. I don't know whether to describe it as a thrill or a shiver, but it felt a little bit like time traveling.

Kyle: So then you can kind of say stove here, forge there... You start kind of getting a spatial—

Peri: [in the field] So we're like in the cabin?

Brent: Possibly.

Peri: [in the field] Maybe.

Kyle: So this is… like where I'm standing right now, I mean, very well could have been like an entryway.

Peri: [in the field] You're standing on the doorstep.

Kyle: Standing on the doorstep, yeah.

Peri: It was surreal to be there, standing on the doorstep of Joe Kipp's cabin, after reading and wondering about him for so long. And coming to the cabin did answer some of my questions. Turns out he was a bit of a coffee snob, and we have the same taste in cast iron skillets. It felt like I could reach across that gap in time just a little bit. But there's so much more that I just can't know from this distance. What were his motivations? His hopes, his fears? Was he a good person? And does that even matter?

[music finishes playing; a new more upbeat piece of music plays briefly]

Daniel: On a day that Peri was doing another interview, Gaby and I drove over Going-to-the-Sun Road to talk with Jack Gladstone.

Gaby: [in the field] We recording?

Daniel: [in the field] Yeah.

Jack Gladstone: Hey.

Daniel: [in the field]Hey, Jack.

Gaby: [in the field]Hey, Jack.

Daniel: Jack is a locally famous musician who fuzes history into his songs and I think into everything else in his life, too.

Jack: Coffee. Really good. Coffee. That is fresh in the thermos.

Daniel: He's a big guy, and it's not hard to believe that he won a Rose Bowl playing football for the University of Washington.

Jack: Okay, cups for you.

Daniel: He calls his house the Buffalo Chalet, and he built it himself. Of course.

Gaby: [in the field] It's a Charlie Russell mug. So we're sitting on Jack's porch. Jack just walked out with his guitar.

Jack: Yeah, we're on the porch overlooking Lower Saint Mary's Lake, and we're—we're drinking a blend of deep, dark roast. [Gaby laughing]

Daniel: [in the field] That's good.

Jack: We are blends.

Gaby: [in the field] Yeah.

Jack: I am Jack Gladstone. A cross-blood, Blackfeet Indian, German-American singer-songwriter, cultural interpreter, co-founder of Native American Speaks.

Daniel: We talked to Jack for hours. Sometimes I would ask him about his personal life and he would answer with an obscure piece of history. Then other times I would ask him about history, and he'd answer with an intimate story from his childhood. Mostly we talked about his music, and two songs in particular that illustrate this era of the fur trade with extremely catchy lyrics. We started with his song, Hudson Bay Blues, which is all about the Hudson Bay trading company and the culture of shopping that it introduced to this region.

Gaby: [in the field] So in like two sentences. What is the song about to you?

Jack: The introduction and the intrusion and the full manifest intoxication of the market or commercialism.

Gaby: [in the field] Can you play a little bit of that?

Jack: Oh, sure.

Daniel: [in the field] You notice Gaby knows all that, all your lyrics. [Gaby laughing]

Jack: Oh, I appreciate that.

Music: [Jack playing "Hudson Bay Blues" while playing his guitary] I was riding on my pony hunting bison on the plains when the moccasin telegraph reported something strange, someone built lodges made with stone and logs, they had bushes on their faces and funky looking dogs.

Jack: Pretty much in a hunting gathering society, most everything that you utilize is taken from a relatively local chain.

Music: ["Hudson Bay Blues" continues] When the smoke was over, they said, we've got a gift for you that'll fill your head with the visions make you strong and happy too. Didn't quite know what to think before we drank that rum, firewater...

Jack: When the first white men were perceived by our people, we noticed they had incredible powers. Napi is the trickster. Náápiikoan would translate to trickster men, and the napi-aohkíí is the alcohol. And would convert a person into this trickster man that seemed to be a little bit more full of the seven deadly sins.

Music: ["Hudson Bay Blues" continues] Silver bells, tallow candles, sugar, flour, dark molasses, colored beads, looking glasses, pale ale, gin and brandy, fine wine and hard rock candy. Ride-through service was awful handy! Though. We couldn't stop shopping....

Jack: But I don't take a value judgment. I do recognize the pernicious nature, the potential pernicious nature of the capitalist system, unfettered, unregulated, without a conscience. Don't talk about your freedom if your freedom is collapsing the life support system.

Music: ["Hudson Bay Blues" continues] Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Cowboys and Indians! In the 21st century, K-Mart, Walmart, Target, Shopko, Sam's Club, yes even Costco.com are nothing more than fur trading posts on steroids! Now we get spandex goretex...

Jack: I think the big question is not whether the shopping culture and the fur trade and everything that it brought was positive or negative. The big question is what we do to bring pleasure and economic gain? Is that a sustainable activity?

Music: ["Hudson Bay Blues" continues] We can't stop shopping at the Hudson's Bay Company

Jack: When I introduced Napi, Old Man Napi, he was our Blackfeet inflection of the trickster. The thing about the trickster and the hero is both archetypes are woven into—are baked into the cake. And which one do we become? Well, I think it's both.

Daniel: [in the field] You try not to put too much a value judgment or good or bad on forces of history. In this case, it seems like you've seen the bad brought by Hudson Bay introducing alcohol.

Jack: Geez. You know, I—that was my first, first traumatic experiences in my life was the confusion when my dad came home with the uncles and his buddies and they were drinking or drinking around, and there were, you know, fights and stuff in the middle of the night. You know, and then, you know, what do you do when you're a kid? But that's napi-aohkíí. That's Napi's water.

Daniel: The other song we talked about is called Whoop Up Trail. If Hudson Bay Blues was all about the arrival of commercialism, then Whoop Up Trail is about the aftermath. Joe Kipp, he's not mentioned anywhere in the song, but the bison robe trade, running whiskey up to Canada, literally along the Whoop Up Trail... There are some loud echoes.

Daniel: [in the field] Just for someone who hasn't heard of it, what's the very short, just... what literally was the Whoop Up Trail?

Jack: The Whoop Up Trail was actually 1869, started going big time to 1874. The Whoop Up Trail was an illegally constructed whiskey running trail from Fort Benton, Montana, ultimately to Fort Whoop Up, not far from Lethbridge. They rebuilt exact replica the same way my great-great-grandfather, the Hudson's Bay Company man, built it. And it was unregulated, unconscientious tidal wave of opportunity to drink and to trade off what was of most value, which was the bison as a single resource.

Gaby: [in the field] Hudson Bay Blues is kind of like the causes and introduction of this lifestyle. Whoop trail, it's almost like the effects and the consequences of, of all of this.

Jack: There was a value structure that was based on the market and the United States was growing and there was no limits on... hope. Although one—one people's hope is kind of another, another culture's doom. [starts playing the first chords of “Whoop Up Trail”] I am a child of the Whoop Up Trail. You might be, too.

Music: [Jack plays "Whoop Up Trail"] After the Civil War bloodbath was over, anxious eyes were focused on the West. Gold fields were calling...

Jack: Alcohol not only would get you a good return, but it would reduce your customers' power of reasoning and power of fairness. A buffalo robe that was not tanned or not processed was not value. I guess it would took around a month of tanning that hide in order for it to be valuable. That could be gone with—with another couple of drinks. Everything was melting down.

Music: ["Whoop Up Trail" continues] Looking for the Whoop Up Trail. Went bounding down the Whoop Up Trail. Steamboats switched cargo...

Jack: When I was a little kid, the Whoop Up Trail was still happening, when the party started and wouldn't end. And there was a point, though, when there was violence and somebody was getting hit and somebody was bleeding, and that was the Whoop Up Trail. But not the historical Whoop Up Trail.

Music: ["Whoop Up Trail" continues] U.S. authorities made law for the red man, the whiskey trading scabs were told to move on, to the no law and order land, north of the line, they went...

Jack: No law and order up north of the border, that was the status of the situation. And a stupendously spectacular profit margin. Understanding that essentially if the Indians—if Blackfoot Confederacy extinguishes themself, it's much cheaper.

Music: ["Whoop Up Trail" continues] No law and order up north of the line. We'll sell anything to any man, gold is in the vault. What happens when the sun goes down? Hell it's not our fault. Show me the money. Build me a robe mine...

Jack: Gold is in the vault. What happens when the sun goes down? Hell, it's not our fault. Hell is not our fault. In other words, disclaiming any responsibility. They're the ones that are taking the drink. We didn't make them drink.

Music: ["Whoop Up Trail" continues] The trickster stumbles off in drunken stupor. Lost is the freedom of ten thousand years. A sober reflection in history's glass. Looking down the Whoop Up Trail, we bounded down the Whoop Up, Children of the Whoop Up Trail.

[final chords of Whoop Up Trail ring quietly]

Jack: Good, bad and the ugly there… Morality, whether something is right or wrong gets clouded, maybe for our survival, justifiably so. If your family is hungry, and you're looking for the best deal you can make at that particular time to make sure they get fed.

Daniel: [in the field] Why do you focus on the positive parts?

Jack: This political figure here or that general back there in history? They were human. Of course. I don't demonize them anymore. That's something I could very easily do. You know, it's not a binary anymore. It's a spectrum.

Daniel: [in the field] You're telling a history of this area. You're telling a Blackfeet history, you're telling your family's history, and you're telling your personal history. Like, it seems like they're all kind of the same story.

Jack: That water from the well is what I sip. There's a history behind, behind everything. And that's some of the that's some of the painful, painful parts of doing the work that I do.

Peri: At the end of our field day at Joe Kipp's cabin, we climbed up to a high point to take in the view. We could see the whole valley below us, streams and pools glinting in the evening light. [haunting violin music begins to play] In the other direction, dark smoke was blooming from a wildfire. We sat and talked about history and landscape and what it means to really get to know a place, absorbing both the easy beauty and the difficult shadows of this place.

Brent: I like to call it a fourth dimensional view of the landscape because, you know, with the fourth dimension being time. And so my travel through Glacier is definitely very fourth dimensional where I see, you know, all the, the, the patterning of all these places and how they—how people, you know, deposited leftover materials that represent their cultures and the various time periods they lived in.

Kyle: You know, one thing about Joe Kipp's cabin too, you know, it doesn't stand out on the landscape or anything. So if you were to just look at that area from a distance, you wouldn't notice it. But you can add in this history component, that totally has revolutionized my love of the place beyond just how pretty something is. I just think of how many times we've been in, like, some beautiful place, and we’re both just like staring at the ground. [all laughing]

Brent: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I, like, sometimes forget to look up at the mountains. [laughing]

Peri: [in the field] An occupational hazard.

Brent: Yeah. The archeological sites in general, just.... They tell the story of human history in this place that people think of as only a natural place. But it's actually a place that's been lived in for, you know, well over 10,000 years, a place where families were raised, a place where people hunted for their food, a place where people did religious practices and—all fitting within like, this beautiful natural landscape. But so much of that human history is left out of the story that we tell here.

Peri: I looked out at the same view I had seen before, and this time I thought about all the people who'd come and gone from these valleys, picked berries, made camp here, built a cabin, tried to make a living to feed their families. Instead of seeing this as somewhere remote, somewhere to get away from people, to feel solitude and isolation, I started to see it as a place with layers of human history and culture. Maybe it's not possible to really know Joe Kipp, to understand him as a person or to judge him from this far away. But learning his story and seeing how this history is intertwined with this place—the good, the bad and the ugly—has shown me a new dimension to this landscape.

Kyle: [in studio] Frank Linderman was asking Joe Kipp if he if he could write his story. And I believe Joe Kipp said something to the effect of "No, Frank, if I told you the truth, they'd hang me yet."

Peri: [both laughing] That's a good one!

Kyle: So I think—I think even Kipp admits at that at that moment that his life sort of flits between, you know, ethical and moral and right and wrong. And we like to, in the modern era, [Whoop Up Trail begins to play softly] sort of characterize people as being one thing. And I think Joe Kipp was probably a lot of things.

Music: [studio version of Whoop Up Trail plays] No law and order up north of the line. Show me the money. Build me a robe mine. No law and order, up north of the border, no law and order go north of the line.

Daniel: A quick reminder. We looked at a lot of historic artifacts this episode, and we left them all where we found them. They're protected by law. So if you find any, please do the same.

Gaby: Thanks for the coffee Jack!

Daniel: Rosalyn LaPier…

Gaby: And her furry dog.

Daniel: Of course Anne Hyde, and all the producers of those dehydrated backpacking meals. We could not have made Season Three without Lacy Kowalski or Melissa Sladek and Sierra Mandelko, Brent Rowley, Darren Lewis, the Glacier National Park Archives and the Montana Historical Society. Thanks for listening.

Lacy: Next time on Headwaters.

Peri: We ask, who built the Great Northern Railway?

Stephen Sadis: It was a fourth transcontinental… it was unnecessary. It was ridiculous

Linda Tamura: My grandfather was one of those. His first job was actually working on a railroad crew in Cut Bank Montana, in Glacier County

Voice actor: Who else but Americans could have laid twelve miles of track in ten hours?

Peri: That’s next time, on Headwaters.

[music finishes playing]

Peri: [to Andrew] Hey, Andrew.

Andrew Smith: Hey, Peri.

Peri: [to Andrew] Welcome back to the studio.

Andrew: Thanks. Nice to be here.

Peri: [to Andrew] So the Conservancy supports Headwaters, but you guys also support a ton of other projects in the park.

Andrew: Yeah. One I'd like to talk to you about today is the Piikuni Lands Service Corps, which is a project where youth from the Blackfeet Reservation and young adults, they get to build some really great job skills in conservation by working on projects in Glacier, in the national forest, a lot of different lands around-- it's a big partnership between a lot of organizations, and I think it's it's really special because we get some great conservation work done. But it also leads to careers in conservation for a lot of these students and young adults. And so it's it's great to see them finding their passion out there.

Peri: [to Andrew] That sounds like a really cool opportunity.

Andrew: Yeah, we're really excited to be part of it.

Peri: [to Andrew] And if people want to learn more, where can they do that?

Andrew: They should check out our website. It's Glacier.org

Becoming | Portraits of the West

12 april 2023 | 33 min

Lewis and Clark are celebrated yet controversial. If you know what to look for, their names still echo through the park today. We examine their legacy from a variety of perspectives.

Edgar Paxson painting: https://mhsmuseum.pastperfectonline.com/webobject/1885CEC9-39C3-4B45-889D-242479808699 Charlie Russell’s painting: https://mhs.mt.gov/education/Capitol/Capitol-Art/House-of-Representatives

See more show notes on our website: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/photosmultimedia/headwaters-podcast.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Daniel Lombardi: This summer, Gaby went to Helena, Montana's State Capital. She went to look at a painting, but she was also trying to get some perspective. To see one historic moment from another point of view.

[door slams, voices echoing]

Jennifer Bottomly O’Looney: Later, we can go to see the rotunda.

Gaby Eseverri: [in the field] The ro-tun-da. Cool.

Daniel: An expert from the Montana Historical Society, Jennifer Bottomly O'Looney, took Gaby around the Capitol building.

Gaby: [in the field, to Jennifer] Okay, so once we walk out, it'll connect us to the House of Representatives chamber?

Daniel: Hanging on the walls are two very different pieces of art that depict one particular chapter in Montana's story: the Lewis and Clark Expedition.

Jennifer: Entering the anteroom, and here are the murals by Edgar S Paxson. Probably the best known is this painting, Lewis and Clark at Three Forks.

Gaby: [in the field] This painting, it depicts them kind of in the center of the image. They're kind of standing up straight, holding their guns, looking off to the distance. They all kind of look like action figures a little bit. The way that they're standing and looking off to the side. It feels—

Jennifer: Very formal. Yeah, very formal type.

Gaby: [in the field] It puts them at the center of the story. Yeah. And it feels a bit stereotypical to what we know of Lewis and Clark or kind of what's depicted in in history books, at least when I was growing up. It reminds me of what I learned in high school.

Jennifer: And this image is used in a lot of history books. It's been requested over and over from us to provide an image for this. So you probably have seen this exact image in your history books.

Gaby: [in the field] That is good to know. [both laughing] And not surprising at all.

[pensive music begins to play]

Daniel: This is not the painting that Gaby went to Helena to see. This is the painting that everyone expects. Lewis and Clark, as painted by Edgar Paxon, wearing fur hats and fringed buckskin jackets, with their guide Sacagawea pointing at the horizon. Edgar Paxson didn't break the mold here. This is how Lewis and Clark are usually depicted, and it's probably the image you have in your head right now. But Gaby was touring the Capitol building to see something different, a much larger mural by the artist Charlie Russell, that depicts Lewis and Clark as they're meeting the Salish or Flathead people.

Gaby: [in the field] And then through here is the, the Charlie Rose mural. Okay. Okay. So we are—Jennifer is opening the doors, unlocking them, [keys jingling] and we are about to enter the chamber.

Gaby: This version is a totally different point of view. It's not what I was expecting, and it's definitely not the history book painting I felt like I'd seen before. [music building, drumbeat gaining momentum] It's a single freeze frame of a pivotal moment, and it turns my whole understanding of the expedition on his head.

[door opening]

Gaby: [in the field] Wow. Wow.

[Headwaters season 3 theme begins to play, with the strumming of a string instrument, a flute, and drumbeats]

Daniel: Welcome to Headwaters, a podcast about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else.

[theme plays and finishes]

Daniel: We are calling this season Becoming. It is by no means a complete history, but rather a collection of stories exploring how this place became what it is. This episode is about understanding history by finding different perspectives. Specifically, it's about one of the single most important moments in American history: the Lewis and Clark Expedition. These were the first representatives of the new American government to set eyes on what is now Glacier National Park. Lewis and Clark are celebrated yet controversial, memorable and misremembered. Either way, their names still echo through the park today. The main mountain range through the park, that's called the Lewis Range. Montana's State Flower, the bitterroot, it has the Latin name Lewisia. So does Montana's State Fish, the cutthroat trout. And of course, you can't forget the Clark's nutcrackers. [laughing] And we can blame Lewis for confusingly naming one of Glacier's most iconic flowers, beargrass, which is neither a grass nor eaten by bears.

Gaby: [laughing, to Daniel] This will all be very helpful for my Lewis and Clark Junior Ranger book.

Daniel: Well, personally, I think there's no better way to get an introduction to a park site than a Junior Ranger book.

Gaby: Our story starts and ends at the Montana State Capitol. But I made three different stops on my journey there. Three different attempts to understand this expedition and this history. And my first stop was becoming a Junior Ranger.

Junior Ranger Audio Description: Junior Ranger Activity Journal. Two explorers look into the distance.

Gaby: These are clips from videos that describe the booklet and make it accessible. It covers the basics, like how far the expedition went…

Junior Ranger Audio Description: 4900 miles.

Gaby: How long it took…

Junior Ranger Audio Description: Three years between 1803 and 1806.

Gaby: And whose homelands they crossed.

Junior Ranger Audio Description: Territories of 65 plus tribes.

Daniel: The Lewis and Clark Expedition, which is also called the Corps of Discovery, was a special military unit of the American Army. It was created by Thomas Jefferson to explore the brand new Louisiana Purchase. But he also wanted to see how the country could make money out in the American West.

Gaby: The booklet uses hand-drawn maps to remind me of the route they took.

Junior Ranger Audio Description: The route winds along the Ohio River, southwest from Pittsburgh to Saint Louis.

Gaby: A long and winding path to the West Coast.

Junior Ranger Audio Description: The route continues west along the Columbia River to Astoria and the ocean.

Daniel: On both the way out to the Pacific and on the way back, the Corps of Discovery traveled extensively through Montana. On their journey back, part of the Corps took a detour up the Marias River to just outside what is now Glacier National Park.

[pensive, sparse music plays softly]

Gaby: That ends up being one of the most fateful moments on the expedition. They have a violent encounter with a group of young Blackfeet men that results in two of the native boys being killed.

Daniel: That was in the summer of 1806, and it was the first military conflict between the U.S. and a Plains Indian tribe.

Gaby: The Junior Ranger book does a good job getting you to think about these kinds of encounters and their interactions with native groups more broadly. On one page, it asks the reader to think about the Lewis and Clark expedition like a stranger barging into someone else's house.

Junior Ranger Audio Description: How do you show respect when visiting someone's home?

Gaby: And while we're just sharing the audio descriptions, the Junior Ranger book has full color illustrations that help bring it to life. It was a much more diverse expedition than I'd remembered. There was Pierre Cruzatte, a one-eyed, fiddle-playing, French and Omaha guide. And then there was a man named York.

Junior Ranger Audio Description: Credited as the first African-American to cross the continent, tribes sometimes cooperated with the expedition just so they could meet him, though he was enslaved, the body servant to William Clark.

Gaby: Another way these stories are brought to life is through living history. Hasan Davis, a performer who contributed to the jury in your book, gives programs, as you mark.

Hasan Davis: My presentation of York brings audiences into the triumph and the tragedy, the pride and the pain of being a part of, but separate from, what some would argue was the greatest American expedition ever mounted.

Gaby: This booklet does a remarkable job presenting different sides of a story I'd only really heard from one point of view. Such a good job, in fact, that the woman behind it won, the Freeman Tilden award, one of the highest honors the National Park Service gives out.

Caiti Campbell: [on the phone] How do you do justice to this very complicated story that is rooted in colonialism, exploitation, slavery, destruction? Those things are part of this story.

Gaby: This is Caiti.

Caiti: Well hi, I'm Caiti, Caiti Campbell, and I am an interpretive specialist for the Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail.

Gaby: [to Caiti] So what does the Corps of Discovery mean to American history and and why, why do you think it matters?

Caiti: Yeah, it's it's absolutely pivotal. It's almost hard to think of a more pivotal moment. And it's one that's interestingly kind of misremembered. So most people think of the expedition as Lewis Clark, as, you know, Sacajawea or Sacagawea in a canoe exploring unknown wilderness. But there was already a huge network of trade and complex politics already in place among the tribes of the West, among each other, and also with French traders and British traders. And additionally, at this watershed moment in history, you've got this moment in time where you have the young United States, you know, coming up with and starting its diplomacy with all of these tribes of the West.

[thoughtful music plays softly]

Gaby: [to Caiti] Were they on a diplomatic mission, do you think?

Caiti: I mean, this question is at the heart of the whole legacy of this expedition. Right. There are so many different perspectives on this. And the, the expedition's legacy is remembered so differently, and especially if you're from a tribe. So in a way, I think they thought that they were doing diplomacy, and yet they would use words from Thomas Jefferson that said that “we are your new white father.” That is how Thomas Jefferson, you know, wanted it to go out to tribes.

Gaby: With so many points of view on the same story. It makes me wonder, how does the National Park Service and those of us who work for and visit park sites, how do we fit into this?

Gaby: [to Caiti] What role do you think the National Park Service plays in interpreting history?

Caiti: I love the idea that when you come to the actual place and when you stand in that place, that learning about history, culture, nature just becomes so much more profoundly meaningful when you are doing it with your two feet on the ground in that place. I just think that that's kind of the point of the National Park Service—by saving that place for us to come to really think about what is so important. Think about some of these big themes of our history.

Gaby: [to Caiti] It feels like almost everyone has a different perspective and a different way that they approach studying this history. How and why do you think perspective is important with unpacking this history?

Caiti: Yeah. Yeah. The way I the way I think about it is the more angles you examine, the more perspectives you hear, the closer you get to the truth. And at times, we won't ever get a crystal clear picture of an event of something that may have happened. But any time that we can include additional perspectives, it's, it's like a puzzle. And it, it…it just completes the picture. And I believe that's true even when the perspectives or especially when the perspectives are opposing. Mm hmm. And that's a really long answer to your question. But that question, like I said, is the heart, you know, is at the heart of what this Lewis and Clark Expeditions legacy means. It's complicated.

[drumbeat plays, marking a transition]

Gaby: It's no surprise that an expedition that traveled over 4000 miles crossed paths with so many different people and points of view. But as I've researched the Corps of Discovery, those paths kept converging on one name: Charlie Russell, the painter behind the giant mural at the Capitol.

Daniel: Today, Russell is considered one of the most famous Western artists that has ever lived, and he painted mainly romantic scenes of the Old West.

Gaby: I hadn't heard of him really until I moved here. But when his name kept popping up in my research, I was excited to see it show up on the schedule for campground talks here in the park.

Mary Jane Bradbury: When he was a 16 year old boy in 1880, and he wanted to come west, he wanted to see the West that was passing. Because in 1880 it was. The buffalo herds were almost gone. The railroads, the development, the mining, everything was changing. So he got here just in time to see the last little bit of what he grew up listening to stories about and what he'd read. And of course, he read the Lewis and Clark journals until they were in tatters because he just loved that that era of the mountain men.

Gaby: That's Mary Jane.

Mary Jane: My name is Mary Jane Bradbury, and I am a storyteller.

Gaby: She gives a program on the life and legacy of Charlie Russell, but she does it through the eyes of his wife, Nancy.

Mary Jane: And I like to tell it from her perspective. But in order for me to do that, we all have to use our imaginations. You use your imagination, and we'll both just pretend Nancy's going to walk out of the forest and step right up here and tell us her story.

Daniel: Living history is the art of portraying historical figures by dressing in their clothes, talking the way they might have talked, and giving a performance in character.

Gaby: To be honest, I wasn't that familiar with living history, and at first glance I thought it sounded a little corny. But then I met Mary Jane.

Mary Jane: When I put the clothes on, I get the strut going. I get the, you know, voice going… [in a southern accent] I mean you don't get my way now because I'm Nancy Russell and you will pay for this painting because this is what it's worth and there will be no more Charlie Russell art, so you want it, you pay for it!

Gaby: [laughing, to Mary Jane] I love that!

Daniel: Okay, Mary Jane Bradbury. She's kind of a character herself. I think I usually associate living history with more Revolutionary War, Civil War reenactments. The Park Service does a lot of those.

Gaby: But Mary Jane uses her outfit, her accent, and her strength to tell a more personal story.

Mary Jane: I asked Charlie one time if he ever thought he'd run out of ideas for paintings, and he said a man couldn't live enough lifetimes to run out of all the ideas that he had for stories in his art. And if he ever lost the use of his hands, he'd learn to paint with his toes, because he had to paint not only what was in his mind, but what was in his heart.

Gaby: And Mary Jane shared that while Charlie was a talented artist, he wasn't much of a businessman.

Mary Jane: Charlie was blessed with a great amount of talent, but not a lot of ambition. So lucky for Charlie, at a very critical moment in his life, he met Nancy Cooper, who became his wife. Together, they could create the legacy of art and stories that we have now that is a remarkable chronicle of the West.

Gaby: Charlie would make paintings, and Nancy, his fiery, no nonsense wife, would get people to buy them. She'd travel all over the country to sell his art New York, Los Angeles…

Daniel: And here in Glacier too. Charlie and Nancy started coming here before Glacier was even a park, and they loved it so much they ended up building a cabin on Lake McDonald. They named it the Bullhead Lodge, and it was a really big part of their lives.

Gaby: Glacier was a special place for them.

Daniel: After the park was established, Lake McDonald Lodge was eager to capitalize on having the Russells as neighbors. So they set up a special gallery where Nancy could wheel and deal and sell Charlie's art to wealthy tourists. The two of them were amazing storytellers and would give captivating, impromptu performances to tourists in the lobby. Charlie would even join in on visitor pack trips as the official storyteller.

Gaby: It sounds like they really loved this place. And people here really love them back. Mary Jane always pulls a huge audience to this talk.

Mary Jane: I love telling the stories from the first person perspective, the historic portrayal. That brings alive the history that we've been through and gives us a little bit of an insight as to where we are now and hopefully where we're going next.

Gaby: What I love about this approach is that you get to see the people behind the paintings—the man with a vision, the woman with a plan, and the couple that spent summers in Glacier for decades. And it's easy to imagine why the people building the Montana state capitol hired Russell to paint its largest mural.

Mary Jane: When the Capitol was built, they wanted a mural. They had asked a number of Montana artists to contribute. Of course Eastern artists were all the rage in those days. You know, if you really wanted something of high notoriety, you would hire a big Eastern artist. And Charlie said, "Fine, if you want angels and cherubs flitting through the skies, go ahead and hire an Eastern artist. But if you want history, hire me." And so they did.

[drumbeat plays, marking a transition]

Daniel: Hey Gaby, uh, tell us about living history and meeting Mary Jane Bradbury. Like, what did you like about it?

Gaby: It was really cool. I thought the way Mary Jane Bradbury captured Nancy Russell and shared her experience with us was amazing. I'm somehow relating to this person hundreds of years ago.

Daniel: I think it's neat that you're learning about one person, Charlie Russell, but you're doing it through someone else who knew him. And their—from their point of view, like Nancy, his wife.

Gaby: Exactly.

Peri Sasnett: Often history is kind of presented as just one thing, a set of facts in a textbook, but… I think that's a good reminder that you can learn a lot from different people's interpretations. All history is someone's interpretation.

Daniel: Yeah.

Gaby: Peri, and the way you're describing this, I'm imagining my family and I looking at a piece of art, and we are all looking at the same thing. But somehow we are taking away different meanings, different interpretations.

Peri: And so often we study history through art. You know, my high school history textbook was full of old paintings.

Daniel: What I'm hearing you to say is that there's a lot of power in understanding the past through not just different perspectives, but using art, whether it's a painting or a living history performance that an actor's doing, there's a lot of value in understanding history through that art because it forces you to see something from one perspective or one point of view.

Peri: Right. I think we're really comfortable with the idea that art can have a lot of different interpretations, but we don't often think of history that way.

[drumbeat plays, marking a transition]

Gaby: I'm finding that history gets a lot more complicated when you start considering multiple perspectives. I just wanted another take on Lewis and Clark, but that led me into a history of Turley Russell, and then that led me to seeing things from his wife, Nancy's point of view. And I'm not done yet.

[warbling vireo sings; a knock on a door; the door opens]

Gaby: [in the field] Hello!

Daniel: [in the field] Hey!

Gaby: Before I see Charlie Russell's painting in the Helena Capitol building, I wanted to get one more person's thoughts. So we stopped at Germaine White's beautiful home on the Flathead Reservation.

Germaine White: Do you guys want a drink of water. Anything? I have both Lacroix and Waterloo.

Gaby: [to Germaine] So I wanted to talk to you a little bit about the Charlie Russell painting, because we're going to go see it tomorrow.

Germaine: [emphatically] I love it!

Gaby: [smiling, to Germaine] Why? How so?

Germaine: I think that when you look at it, what you'll see is Salish people. They're on horses. They're dressed in their finery. Front and center. That's like, hero of the story. You know, that central perspective of a painting. And, and then on the side is this little straggler group of folks that kind of look like they're lost. You know, it's it's a direct collision of cultures that is about to occur. And it's really, it's really quite powerful. When Daniel called and I thought, “oh, my gosh, really? I don't know if you want a tribal voice talking about Lewis and Clark,” who I sometimes irreverently call Clueless and Lark. They're revered by so many, and there really has not been until recently, I believe, Indigenous people included in history. Indigenous people are eloquent, but dead. Or dead. Did I mention... Did I mention that.

Gaby: Germaine is now retired, but she started the Cultural Resource Protection Program on the Flathead Reservation and is currently serving as a board member for the Glacier National Park Conservancy, the organization that funds the show. But I'm talking to her because she helped create a book telling the Lewis and Clark story from the Salish perspective.

Gaby: [to Germaine] So I'm curious, like, how did you get involved? Where you kind of contributed slash wrote this book.

Germaine: We wanted to tell a story that that was really framed by, by the voices of our elders. The title of the story is not Lewis and Clark and the Salish People—it's the Salish people and the Lewis and Clark Expedition. They entered a homeland that was known and loved and that was fully occupied. As the people watched Lewis and Clark, it appeared that they were aimlessly moving across the landscape, that they really had no sense of the world they were moving through. And for us, our lives in so many ways are deeply connected to the natural world. It appeared that these people were kind of bumbling across the landscape, and those that observed them thought they might be ill. They looked unhealthy. They didn't appear to be moving with purpose and clear direction. You know, they're upside down face people. They have hair on the bottom of their their face, no hair on the top of their face. And who are these strange, unhealthy looking people? And as the people observed them, there was great discussion among the leaders and the people in in the camp. And there were those among the tribe that said we should eliminate them. You know, we were a large population. We were strong and healthy. And they were not. [pensive music plays softly] And there were also those among us that said we need to visit upon them traditional norms of hospitality. That's who we are. The more pitiful they are, the more in need they are. So we need to help them. Those that had said we should help them prevail. So we met them and, you know, we gave them buffalo robes to be warm. We gave them food stores because they had very little we gave them vast stores of goods that we had gathered to make our winter successful. And that really is profoundly important because we came with kindness and generosity and hospitality. It didn't appear that they did. It appeared that they were coming to catalog and inventory resources for appropriation. And I think that really set the template for a lot which was to follow.

Gaby: [to Germaine] Do you think their mission was exploratory and diplomatic or colonial and capitalistic?

Germaine: Can it be one disguised as the other? So, for example, we could have this nice introduction. I could welcome you here. We could, you know, I could offer you a beverage, you know, “La Croix?” [laughing] “Would you like a little sparkling water?” And also, “look at that really nice recorder you have here” and think about how I could have a hostile takeover and acquire that before you leave, regardless of your intent of leaving with it. So Lewis and Clark inventoried, cataloged, moved through, went back, reported to the government.

Gaby: [to Germaine] It's funny that you say that they were like coming in just like taking stock, because I kind of just like imagine them being like, “oh, okay, like there's this, cool, I'm taking notes” and like…

Germaine: Of course they had, you know, the journals were basically an inventory. That's what Jefferson sent them out to do. Their mission was clear. Hmm.

Gaby: [to Germaine] So what do you think, then, that history has gotten, like, incorrect about this feeding.

Germaine: The whole story that this land was known and loved and occupied. Our elders knew the place, not just encyclopedic, but they knew it intimately. Our elders knew the curves of the hills and the lines of the trails as intimately as they knew the lines and curves of their mother's faces. That story has really not been told.

[music builds and finishes]

Gaby: The Corps of Discovery met dozens of tribes on their years-long journey, not just the Salish. And versions of this encounter happened over and over again. And in every case, there's one story we can read in the Lewis and Clark Journals. But there are many others, too—even if they're less well known. Carrying what I've learned from Caiti, Mary Jane, and Germaine, I finally feel ready to see the painting at the Capitol.

Gaby: [in the field] Okay. So we are. Jennifer's opening the doors and unlocking them, [keys jingling] and we are about to enter the chamber. Wow. Wow. Oh, my God. It's huge.

Gaby: This is, no joke, the biggest painting I've ever seen. It's the entire wall of the chamber above where the Speaker of the House sits up on a platform. I'm surrounded by legislative desks, all of which face the painting. I walk up the center aisle and I kind of feel like I'm walking up to an altar.

Gaby: [in the field, laughing] I think I'm overwhelmed.

Gaby: The painting shows a broad Montana valley, and I'm imagining the sun just under the horizon. It's kind of just turning the clouds pink. The center is dominated by Salish people on horseback, their camp of teepee lodges behind them.

Gaby: [in the field] It's hard not to be overwhelmed just staring at this. I can't look away. [laughing]

Jennifer: Yeah and it is in itself just an amazing painting. The way the center of your vision is right here in the front where you see the Salish Indians swirling.

Gaby: [in the field] Kind of feels like there's a frenzy in camp. There's an energy.

Jennifer: There is an energy. Yes. Yeah.

[thoughtful music begins to play, with a dramatic drumbeat echoing the horses’ hooves]

Gaby: Russell's painting is loud and dynamic. I feel like I can almost hear the thunder of horses running through it. It is the exact opposite of the first Lewis and Clark painting I saw here in the Capitol, for one. No one is pointing at the horizon. But more surprising, Lewis and Clark themselves are barely in it. The Salish on horseback are charging toward and past the viewer, but the Corps of Discovery are tiny, off to one side.

Gaby: [in the field] Somehow the emotional and intense energy does not reach them. [laughing]

Jennifer: No. It doesn't.

Gaby: [in the field] They're kind of just standing there and there's not much emotion on that side.

Jennifer: And you can see, you know, the focus in Paxson's painting, of course, is is Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery. And here the focus are the Salish Indians.

Gaby: Near the bottom of the frame. There's a dog that I assume belongs to the Salish. And from my perspective, it looks like it's stalking… [haunting violin music begins to play] directly behind the Speaker of the House, watching the politicians of Montana. Without saying a word, the painting comments on the sweep of history about to unfold.

Jennifer: Charlie never talked about it. Hmm. There's no recorded documentation of—that I know of, of what he thought about this painting. So what happens next? That's up to the viewer to decide.

[music continues to play under the credits]

Daniel: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Season Three of Headwaters, Becoming, was made by me, Daniel Lombardi, along with Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist, and Gaby Eseverri. Frank Waln wrote and performed our music. Eric Carlson created this season's cover art. Special thanks this episode to Germaine White, Caiti Campbell…

Gaby: Thanks for signing my Junior Ranger book!

Daniel: Jennifer Bottomley O'Looney, and Mary Jane Bradbury.

Gaby: Or should we say Nancy Russell?

Daniel: Making this season is a huge team effort, and we couldn't have done it without Lacy Kowalski. Melissa Sladek, Sierra Mandelko, Brent Rowley, Darren Lewis, the whole team at the archives, and the Montana Historical Society. Thanks for listening.

[music finishes; a drumbeat begins]

Lacy: Next time, on Headwaters.

Gaby: We visit the 100-year-old cabin of a complicated character to untangle the fur trade in Northern Montana and what it left behind.

Kyle Langley: And at the end of the day, you know, we’re left with kind of a semi-unclear picture of what kind of a guy Joe Kipp was.

Jack Gladstone: What happens when the sun goes down, hell is not our fault, they’re the ones taking the drink, we didn’t make them drink…

[drumbeat finishes]

Gaby: That’s next time on Headwaters.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Hey, Andrew.

Andrew Smith: Hi, Gaby.

Gaby: [to Andrew] So Headwaters is made possible by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Andrew: That's right.

Gaby: [to Andrew] What else are you guys supporting?

Andrew: Another project we're supporting is to add Indigenous languages to interpretive signage in the park. This project's really cool because it's a big collaboration. It's going to involve Glacier National Park, the Department of the Interior, as well as the Blackfeet and the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes. And the goal is really to add that authentic language back on to a lot of the signage in Glacier.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Yeah, that's really cool. When I spoke to Germaine this summer, she talked about how important place names are.

Andrew: Yeah. and she's a really big part of this project. She believes and we believe that when this language is included, it recognizes the connection these places have to so many Indigenous people. But it also enriches the experience of the person reading it and learning about that connection and just deepens their knowledge of the park.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Yeah, absolutely. I love that. So if people want to learn more about this project, where can they go?

Andrew: They should check out our website, Glacier.org

Becoming | Unfrozen

5 april 2023 | 56 min

Tracking down 600 generations of history. We venture out to the edge of the Ice Age to see how people lived and loved when this place was buried in glaciers.

People Before the Park: https://shop.glacier.org/people-before-the-park/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

[low rumble begins]

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Boat Captain: [over a loudspeaker] All right. My special for your time. We're going to get boarding here very shortly.

Peri Sasnett: Glacier National Park as we know it wouldn't exist if it weren't for Ice Age glaciers.

Boat Captain: Well, please no bear spray, too. We do not want to have a spicy tour...

Peri: As a geologist whose mom is in town, I want to show off what the Ice Age left behind. And one of the best views of that happens to be from the middle of Lake McDonald.

Roz Gerstein: It looks like a flat bottomed boat, doesn't it?

Peri: [in the field] I'm not a nautical expert. Just guessing...

Roz: But -- we can ask our boat guide.

Peri: So we're going on a boat tour

[bell ringing]

Peri: I was excited to tell my mom all about the geology.

Peri: [in the field] This valley is carved out by glaciers. You'll see from the middle of the lake there's a big U-shape, which is how you know it was carved by a glacier.

Peri: But as an artist, she was a bit more focused on the scenic qualities.

Roz: Very sensual.

Peri: [in the field] Sure. That's how the artist sees it.

Peri: The boat we're on is called the DeSmet, and it's one of six historic boats that offer tours throughout the park.

Boat Captain: It was built in the year 1930, and it was built specifically for boat tours on Lake McDonald.

Peri: It may be an old boat, but it moves pretty quick.

Peri: [in the field] Do you get seasick?

Roz: I'm surprised actually, that I'm not seasick.

Peri: [in the field I was going to say, I remember one incident when you took me whale watching me as a child. [both laughing]

Roz: Yeah I didn't enjoy that ride too much

Peri: Within about 30 minutes, we reached the middle of the lake and the captain slowly turned the boat around to face mountains I've seen a lot, but never from this perspective.

Peri: [in the field] So you look behind you. What can you see?

Roz: That is spectacular. The change of the colors as it goes back from gray to deep blue to light blue to green is just wonderful.

[a slow hip hop beat with ambient music begins to play]

Peri: Over a thousand feet of ice once filled this valley. And while that ice is long gone, we have it to thank for this landscape that we all know and love. Ice Age glaciers carved our postcard worthy-scenery, and our roads and trails follow the paths they cleared. But while I spend a lot of time thinking about how this landscape came to be, I'd never really imagined what it would have been like to be here while this was happening. [music ends]For thousands of years, there wouldn't have been much land to walk on. Everything was covered in glaciers, but there was a world at the edge of that ice. [pensive music begins to play] Animals and people who lived just beyond. [Headwaters season 3 theme begins to play] What was this place like during the last Ice Age?

[Headwaters season 3 theme plays, with the strumming of a string instrument, a flute, and drumbeats]

Daniel Lombardi: There are no photographs of most people who have ever lived. So many people from history are invisible today. Like a melted glacier or a footprint in the mud. Some stories can only be inferred from the impressions they leave behind. Welcome to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. I'm Daniel, and this is Season Three. It's about how this place became what it is today. Not a comprehensive history, but a collection of stories from the park's past. This episode is about the Ice Age, a time when this place was filled with thousands of feet of ice. It was a consequential time in the park's geologic history. But this episode is also about the search for life and understanding in a world we'll never see. And because the park was so covered in glaciers, we walked this story out to the edge of the ice and tracked down the history beyond the borders of the park. [hip hop beat plays briefly]

Daniel: [to Michael and Peri] So for starters, Michael, Peri-- help me out here. Can you describe what an ice age actually is?

Michael Faist: That is it a great question

Peri: Yeah so an ice age is just a particularly cold period in earth history. The most recent one was basically caused by wobbles in the Earth's orbit and in the Earth's axis that changed the angle of how the sun is hitting the planet.

Michael: Basically, we get less solar radiation. The result is that global average temperatures during the last ice age were around ten degrees Fahrenheit, colder than they are today, which doesn't sound like a ton. But this allowed glaciers and ice sheets to cover nearly all of Canada and a third of Montana, including the park.

Daniel: [to Michael and Peri] Okay, so when when was this? How long ago did this happen?

Peri: So there have been several ice ages, but the Pleistocene, which is the most recent, goes from about two and a half million years ago to about 12,000 years ago.

Daniel: [to Michael and Peri] Okay. So the Earth wasn't just a solid ball of ice for 2 million years. The ice is advancing and retreating.

Peri: Right. There's these glacial periods and then these warmer interglacial periods.

Michael: Yeah. So as we set out to try to understand what Glacier, what this place might have looked like during the Ice Age, we had to pick a specific point in time. So we zoomed in on one that Peri suggested called the Last Glacial Maximum.

Peri: Yeah. So that's basically the most recent point in time where those big ice sheets stopped growing and started shrinking. It's about 20,000 years ago, at least in this location. And at that point, there was so much water frozen on land that sea level was about 400 feet lower than it is today.

Michael: But to understand what happened next, let's zip on over to a tiny state park in Oregon.

Daniel: Oregon? Really?

Michael: Peri, if I had to ask you what the most abundant type of rock found in Glacier is, what would you say?

Peri: Hmm? Argillite, I think. Yes. Yeah. It's found throughout the park. There are bright red and green colors that are pretty distinctive. And around here, it's in a rock formation called the Belt Supergroup.

Michael: Yeah. The Belt Supergroup is found all over the Northern Rockies, but it's not found in Oregon. And yet, perched on a hill above the Willamette Valley of Northwest Oregon is a boulder made of Belt Supergroup Argillite.

Daniel: So how did it get there?

Michael: Well, it weighs 90 tons and probably used to weigh about twice that or almost as much as a Boeing 747 before people chipped away pieces to take home with them. But the story of how it got there is the story of one of the greatest natural disasters to have ever occurred in North America. The story of Glacial Lake Missoula.

Justin Radford: [over the phone] Yeah, I think the Missoula floods are something that are nearly incomprehensible in today's society.

Michael: This is Justin Radford

Justin: I'm the program manager for Ice Age Floods National Geologic Trail.

Michael: Justin is the first and only full time employee of the first and only National Geologic Trail in the Park Service.

Justin: The trail covers about 3400 road miles. It's a massive area, and there are people and educators and partners all along this route.

Michael: So those massive sheets of ice that Peri mentioned, which covered most of Canada and the northern part of the U.S.—well, the ice age is ending. Those are melting, which produces a lot of water. All that water needed to go somewhere. And if we use the ice here as an example, water melting from the Ice Age glacier in what's now Lake McDonald would have been headed for the Pacific, flowing through the Flathead Valley, then west through Idaho, Washington and Oregon before making it to the ocean.

Peri: But at the end of the ice age, water couldn't make it to the coast. It couldn't even get past Idaho, and was instead stopped near modern day Lake Pend Oreille.

Michael: Lake Pend Oreille is an amazing visitor experience, a great place to go and hang out. But if you picture it with 2000 feet of ice on top of it, well, it created a huge blockage there.

Peri: An arm of the continental ice sheet had created a dam blocking the only way out for water in northwest Montana, essentially plugging the bathtub drain that was the Clark Fork River.

Justin: And all the water backing up down behind them was just massive in scale. We're talking about something in the neighborhood of 600 cubic miles of water.

Michael: This ice dam was holding back the volume of Lake Erie and Lake Ontario combined, creating what was called Glacial Lake Missoula. Water backed up throughout northwest Montana and extended nearly 200 miles to the east. And it wasn't the only lake of its kind.

Peri: There were at least six others like it in Montana. But Glacial Lake Missoula was the largest one in the West, and you can still see signs of its presence across the state today, including its old shorelines.

Justin: And it just so happens that this lake was gigantic and goes all the way up the sides of the mountains there. And so you can see these big ridge line bumps.

Michael: [to Justin] Essentially like that was at one point was the lake shore.

Justin: Yes, exactly.

Peri: You can drive to these old lake shores, called strandlines, at the Bison Range on the Flathead Reservation and see them like bathtub rings on mountains around the city of Missoula.

Michael: These clues help us measure the depth of the lake. Just south of us, on the Flathead Reservation, it was over a thousand feet deep—you could've submerged the Eiffel Tower. The ice dam was even taller and it extended for at least ten miles. [dramatic, sparse electric guitar begins to play] But as more and more meltwater entered the lake, well....

Justin: At some point the water wins, and the ice just can't hold it back anymore.

[loud rumbling]

Michael: We're not totally sure how it happened. Might have been like trying to hold your hand over a fire hose, but the dam failed and this kicked off the ice age floods.

Justin: Over a period of maybe as quick as two days, all of this water has left this area and started moving its way into Washington.

Peri: Water began charging westward at a flow rate ten times that of all the world's rivers combined. The scale is almost incomprehensible.

Justin: And a wall of water traveling at 55, 65 miles an hour, at restrictions, a thousand feet high, scouring the landscape.

[electric guitar resumes playing]

Peri: And this violent, earth-shaping flood happened multiple times.

Justin: It didn't just do it once—it formed this lake maybe as many as 100 times, geologists think over a period of about 2500 years, maybe 3000 years.

Peri: After one flood forced its way through, the ice that formed the dam would reform, repeatedly plugging that drain, essentially, and starting the process all over again.

Michael: This landscape is now called the Channeled Scablands. Floodwaters taller than the Golden Gate Bridge, traveling at 50 miles an hour. Like a massive, violent bulldozer, the floods scoured away everything in their path, scraping away 50 cubic miles of earth, which is enough dirt that if you spread it out, it could cover the entire state of Texas in nearly a foot of dirt.

Peri: And not all of that material made it to the ocean. At some points, like in Oregon's Willamette Valley, the water slowed down and debris would settle out.

Justin: Well, that's what people say. Oh, well, that's why you have great wine, great vegetables and great growing that comes from the Willamette Valley because it's got all the deposits from the floods.

Michael: [to Justin] That's so funny. People complained about Montana wine not being great because of the weather conditions, but it's parts of Montana in the Willamette Valley that make it good.

Justin: Oh, definitely. Yeah.

Michael: Which brings us back to our boulder in Oregon, which was carried there in the floods, probably encased in glacial ice. Roughly two weeks after the floods began, all of the water would have made it to the ocean near present day Astoria, leaving behind a changed landscape.

Peri: Ultimately, though, the Ice Age was ending. And the dam that created Glacial Lake Missoula disappeared, ending the era of catastrophic floods.

Michael: These floods represent just how dramatically the world was changing. The world was warming up, and landscapes like Glacier were revealed as this icy blanket receded. But the story of these floods is not one we've understood for very long.

Peri: Fast forward to just 100 years ago, and these same floods would become the subject of one of the greatest geologic controversies of its day, in part because the dominant theory of geology at the time was gradualism, that landscapes formed incredibly slowly over millions of years.

Justin: So many geologists believe that things happened gradually over time. There are some national parks out there that are great examples of this. And, you know, like at the Grand Canyon in that over millions of years story about it carving its way down and you have this sort of gradual recession through the layers.

Michael: But that didn't explain the landscape of eastern Washington.

Justin: These canyon walls were all vertical, and the streams and rivers that were running through them were teeny—small. Really no logical way that that river could have formed that kind of canyon.

Michael: What could explain it, thought a young geologist named J Harlen Bretz, was a massive flood.

Michael: [to Justin] And that wasn't the accepted explanation for why Eastern Washington looked the way it did. Like how...

Justin: No, no.

Michael: [to Justin] How was that hypothesis received?

Justin: Well, by the geologic community, not so well.

Michael: A lot of geology involves essentially resurrecting the past based on what's left behind, or in many cases, based on what's missing. And we knew at the time that this park was home to Ice Age glaciers because of our U-shaped valleys. But for geologists at the time, Bretz's flood hypothesis was a bridge too far. When Bretz first published his idea in 1923, he was widely ridiculed by his peers. One of his most vocal critics was William C. Alden, a guy I've actually heard of before, because he took some of the earliest photos of alpine glaciers here in the park. Alden was the chief of Pleistocene geology for the U.S. Geological Survey at the time, and he, like many others, couldn't imagine conditions that would send this much water across the Northwest. He declared the floods impossible, even though he himself had never been to the Scablands. But Bretz was right. In time, and with more evidence, the scientific community accepted the theory.

Peri: It only took several decades.

Michael: [laughing] Yeah, this wasn't until, you know, the 70s that we'd worked out that Glacial Lake Missoula was the source of more than one flood, and Bretz was awarded the Penrose medal, kind of geology's highest honor. But they never convinced everyone. Alden, Bretz's vocal opponent, denied the floods until his dying day.

[pensive music plays briefly]

Michael: [to Justin] We've kind of been looking to this story as a case study of how we interpret the unknown. I'm wondering, you know, what do you. Is there a lesson we can learn from the story of Ice Age floods, about trying to understand Earth history or human history where we don't quite have all the pieces?

Justin: Well, I, I think that, you know, when we bump into these kinds of moments where we're trying to understand the world, and we don't have good answers, we tend to fall back on what we know and we're hesitant to be willing to hear from others about what they might see out there.

[spare, thoughtful electronic music plays]

Peri: To me, Justin is describing a failure of imagination and of creativity, a struggle to picture a world that looks different than our own. We can see the empty space left behind. We know something was there, but it's hard to imagine what filled it.

[music ends]

Michael: The floods help us to understand the geologic history of the Ice Age, the physical world of ice and water, whose presence carved clues you can easily see today. What is much harder to find, though, is evidence of the living world from that time. Some of the best clues are found along the St Mary River, but not where it begins on the east side of our national park. We'll need to follow it as it flows north into Canada. The rest of the team was busy the day that I went, so I had to call in some backup.

Michael: [to Andrew] It's nice to have you back in the studio.

Andrew Smith: Thanks. Nice to be here.

Michael: I called Andrew, co-host of the first two seasons of Headwaters, who has a new job.

Andrew: I'm the new communications lead for the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael: We hopped in the car and followed the river, driving north to Alberta and the present day Saint Mary Reservoir.

Andrew: [in the field] Now we're standing out on this sandy beach—it's not something you would really expect in southern Alberta. Yeah, it feels like we're in Hawaii or something.

Andrew: [in studio] The reservoir was huge. It kind of reminded me of standing on the shores of one of the Great Lakes. It went out to the horizon. It was definitely bigger than I was expecting.

Andrew: [in the field] Stretches out as far as you can see, basically, with the Rocky Mountains behind it.

Michael: We stopped at a place called Wally's Beach to meet with Shayne Tolman.

Shayne Tolman: I'm Shayne Tolman. I'm a local...

Michael: A now-retired schoolteacher who warned us it was going to be windy.

Andrew: [in the field] It was a lot windier over the other side of the dunes

Shayne: Yeah, kind of what I was thinking when I...

Andrew: [in the field] Could maybe move back

Michael: We walked away from the lake shore to try to hide from the wind. But we wanted to meet with Shayne to talk about something that he found in the reservoir when it wasn't full of water.

Shayne: Sometimes there's a big drawdown, so a lot of lake bed gets exposed.

Michael: But before we could really hear what he was saying, we were buzzed by a crop dusting plane.

Shayne: [loud buzzing overhead] Airplane flying over. Oh, my gosh he's spraying that field right there. Oh, that could be annoying. Can you block that kind of noise?

Michael: No, uh, we couldn't. And so we had to go hide in a picnic shelter. But anyways, the reason we wanted to talk to Shane was that back in 1994, he and his family visited when the water in the reservoir had been drawn down.

Andrew: And when they walked out into the wet mud and windblown sand, a landscape that's normally underwater, they found themselves walking backwards in time.

[electronic music begins to play, underscoring a sense of wonder]

Shayne: We had been out the previous day, that has blown a lot overnight and we came back the next day and right where we walked is this humongous skull. But it's an extinct bison skull.

Andrew: Bison antiquus, the extinct ancestors of modern bison, who just so happened to be one and a half times bigger than the bison you see in Yellowstone.

Shayne: And the horns on are incredible. Just like that.

Michael: Shayne showed us a side by side comparison, and Bison antiquus's horns are absolutely enormous. Looks more like a Texas Longhorns.

Shayne: It does, doesn't it? Yeah. They're really impressive animals.

Michael: And for Shayne, this discovery touched on a lifelong fascination.

Shayne: My dad was a science teacher, so he actually had fossils in the lab. And they were just so captivating to me, to see that their little eyes are fossilized. And here they are staring back at you. It's kind of this—time gets erased as you encounter these things, and that's always stayed with me.

Michael: Shortly after Shayne stumbled into this bison skull and quite a few other things that we will get to in a moment, he started getting phone calls from the University of Calgary. They had heard about his discoveries and sent Dr. Len Hills down to meet with him.

Shayne: First thing I said to him was, “I would like to study this stuff, how can I be involved?” And he says, “well, you could enroll as a student at the University of Calgary and I'll be your supervisor.” Great, let's do it. I enrolled in the Master's program and became one of four principal investigators of the Wally's Beach site

Andrew: As Shane and his colleagues started to study Wally's Beach, they began to reconstruct what it would have looked like.

Shayne: It was not the river that we see that's cut down to where it is now in these river valleys. It was a slow, meandering river.

Michael: In the banks of this ancient winding river, they found pollen and roots which can help us understand the Ice Age ecosystem.

Shayne: We had spruce tree groves growing out here all over the prairies, as well as aspen groves. Then you had sedges and grasses that were growing in between. There was abundant plant life.

Michael: And of course they found more evidence of animals that lived alongside bison antiquus.

Shayne: We get out there, here's this skull and there's some actually some vertebrae laying there as well. And Len picks this skull up and he's turning it over. He says, “this is musk oxen.” And I'm just like, "musk oxen??" and I didn't even know they were part of this extinct suite of animals that died off at the end of the Ice Age, he says yes, it's musk oxen.

Andrew: They found a ton of extinct species, an ancestor of modern caribou, North American horses, even camels.

Michael: The camel discovery in particular, blew my mind. We think of camels as being these desert loving animals today, but the family of Camelids and the family of horses both evolved in the Americas around 50 million years ago before migrating to Eurasia. The camels that lived here were called camelops.

Andrew: And Shayne found a tooth about as long as my index finger and that tooth was serrated.

Shayne: Well, there are no animals alive today that have serrated teeth. And so I knew immediately we had a saber-toothed cat. In fact, that's not just a saber-toothed cat, it's called a scimitar cat.

Michael: So already you're getting a picture of the wildlife who were living at the edge of the Rockies, at the edge of Glacier National Park during the Ice Age.

Andrew: And it's a much different cast of characters than the grizzly bears, mountain goats and deer that we all know and love today.

Michael: But for Shayne, it wasn't bones that helped to bring Wally's Beach to life.

Shayne: And I can't even describe what I saw. It's just it's almost emotional because here's this big imprint, little smaller than garbage can...

Michael: He found footprints, left by woolly mammoths.

[sparse music begins to play softly]

Shayne: And there's another one and there's another one. Here's all of these cracks that went out from the in this spider web, out from the tracks. You could see how it stepped in the mud and it oozed up around its toes. And it's just like, okay, here's the best set of mammoth tracks on the planet. Bar none. I mean, there's only, like, four sets anyway. So it really hit us just how incredible this was.

Michael: Unlike fossils, which capture animals after they die, these footprints are a snapshot of their lives.

Shayne: Living, breathing, mammoth. Not the bones. The dead part. You're looking at living behavior. And that's so cool.

Michael: With each stride, they traveled on average eight and a half feet, and the weight of each step can reveal if it was left by a male or a female, a child or adult. And the way these six ton mammals walked can even reveal if they were injured.

Shayne: Take the cross section and you get to see the weight distribution from this angle. This animal on its I think it was just left hind foot was limping. You can see that the deformation on this side of track is less than on the other side of track. So it means that there was some injury or something.

Michael: [to Shayne] And how old is that track?

Shayne: That track would be about 13,000 years old.

Michael: And it's not just mammoth tracks, either.

Shayne: Here's the mammoth tracks. But not just Mammoth. Here's a camel trackway going through the middle of these crossing over. And here's some more horse tracks over here. And what we're looking at probably looking very much like the Serengeti, because you had all those animals intermingling and here they are moving in these vast herds and individuals that we have tens of thousands of tracks that we have observed at Wally's Beach.

Michael: It is rare for ancient footprints like these to survive. You not only need wet mud for the footprints to form, but then a strong wind to blow sand and sediment on top, filling them in and sealing them away for thousands of years.

Andrew: But today, the same winds that once preserved these footprints are now destroying them. The same wind that pushed us into a picnic shelter has blown tracks away overnight. Carried away grain by grain—a memory lost forever.

Michael: And because of where they sit in the reservoir, there's nothing you can really do to save them at this point. If they're not claimed by the wind, once they're exposed, they'll be destroyed by water when the reservoir is filled back in. All that's left is to try to document them. And efforts have ranged from photographs and measurements to teams of local students and a thousand pounds of plaster casts. [pensive music begins to play] But however fleeting they may be, this glimpse of these animals alive, living alongside one another, not in the halls of a natural history museum, but drinking from the river that I see now in the distance—you can't help but picture it. And for Shayne, imagine yourself there, following in their footsteps.

Shayne: I hope this doesn't sound too corny, but here's how I kind of pictured it. [music builds slowly] I stared at the footprints disappearing into the swirling sand to the east, and time blew away with the wind. I had a vision. It didn't take much to imagine the giant lumbering away through the mud, disappearing into the sand cloud from what was likely a watering hole. [rumbling sound, evoking a woolly mammoth] And close, so close I could hear the swooshing suck of mammoth foot in paleo-mud; see his breath dissipate against the cold ashen sky of early winter. Taste this pungent odor in the roof of my mouth. [drumbeat builds in speed] Rising above the din of the crushing palms of his feet is the sound of choke-cherry-stained tusks, battered and broken, clanking against the low growth brush as it swings its massive woolly head side to side. Its tangled auburn fur, blowing eastward. The trudging mountain knows I'm there. But what am I to he? Nothing.

[drumbeat ends; music continues to play softly]

Michael: Not long after a mammoth left these footprints in the mud, their species went extinct in North America. So did Camelops, the North American horse, and helmeted musk oxen. And while these footprints paint a vivid portrait of these animals in life, they also reveal a species in decline.

Shayne: Very clearly, something's missing. And its infants, the newborn, the young. Why aren't we seeing their tracks? You know? Well, maybe they're light, but we're seeing lighter animals also. We're seeing their tracks, the horses and stuff like that.

Michael: The Saint Mary's mammoth herd had far fewer juveniles than you'd expect in a healthy population. And one possible explanation was the warming climate. The Missoula floods were only one symptom of the dramatic changes occurring at the end of the Pleistocene. As temperatures warmed, ice sheets shifted north and the environment shifted too. New plants moved into the grasslands that these grazing animals had relied upon.

Andrew: But the last discovery we'll share from Wally's Beach hints at another factor—a discovery made by one of Shayne's students, a fourth grader named Travis.

Shayne: Picked up a piece that they thought might be an artifact. And then the next day, Travis brought it to me. Well I about fell out of my chair. It's a Clovis point.

Michael: Clovis points are sharp stones used for hunting by ancient human cultures. And these Clovis points held a clue which revealed exactly what they were used for.

Shayne: Horse protein residue. Those horses had been butchered, and that was a North American first.

Michael: Wally’s preserves a record of ice age animals and humans and produced the first archeological evidence of these humans hunting horses, later finds revealed they also hunted camels. When I first started working as a ranger at Glacier, the story of Wally's Beach grabbed me. I put Ice Age horses and mammoths in a campground talk that I've given for the last six years. And in my program, this has always been where the story ends. Camels were here. People were too. But actually visiting Wally's Beach, hearing from Shane about the work he and his colleagues and his students have put into understanding and preserving this history—it made me wonder. What was life like for the people that once stood here? What was it like to be human? 13,000 years ago.

[drumbeat plays briefly to mark a transition]

Daniel: All right, let me recap. Right in our backyard, well, Glacier's backyard, Wally's Beach has a record of Ice Age wildlife.

Michael: Yeah, a pretty extensive one at that.

Daniel: These are animals that they're really different than what we have here today.

Michael: Mm hmm.

Daniel: But they also have discovered evidence of ice age humans.

Michael: Yeah. And a lot of this evidence at Wally's Beach is in the form of something called lithics.

Daniel: Lithics.

Michael: You've probably heard of that before.

Daniel: Yeah. Lithics are stone tools that are, like, made by people.

Michael: Exactly. That includes the projectile points that were used to hunt horses at Wally's Beach, but they've also found thousands of different points and other tools.

Daniel: Shayne used the term “Clovis point,” which, if I remember right, that's one of the very oldest kinds of lithics in North America.

Michael: Yeah. So the term Clovis comes from projectile points found outside of Clovis, New Mexico. They're a distinct type of lithic that have been identified all over North America and date back well beyond 10,000 years ago. So they are artifacts from one of the oldest and most widespread cultures that we know about in North America.

Daniel: So beyond their tools, beyond these lithics, do we know much about Clovis people, what their lives were like?

Michael: I mean, the short answer is no, we don't know much.

[electronic beat plays briefly]

Shane Doyle: The topic of Pleistocene era people is always going to be a mystery for the foreseeable future. We have to assume that life was pretty challenging because of the geographic, ecological aspects of that era.

Michael: This is Shane Doyle.

Shane: Yes, my name is Dr. Shane Doyle. I'm a member of the Apsáalooke Nation. I'm a educational and cultural consultant. I live in Bozeman, Montana, and I hail from Crow Agency.

Daniel: Another Shane—two Shanes in one episode.

Michael: [laughing] Yes, but I called Shane Doyle because he has studied and worked to understand these Ice Age cultures.

Shane: Lithics, the points that they used, are really the best evidence that we have. We don't have a lot of human materials to understand that time period outside of the hunting and other tools that these folks made.

Michael: Some of the only materials durable enough to survive these last 10,000 years or more are stones and bones. So even as scientists develop new and better technologies, like ground penetrating radar and aerial imagery, we're still limited by what little is left.

Shane: I don't think we have a lot of data that we can really turn to that will really provide us with a more comprehensive picture of what life was like for Pleistocene era native people. So I think we kind of have to use our imagination.

Michael: This is where we get back to the conundrum we found with the Missoula floods, the limitations of imagination. I talked with retired Forest Service archeologist Carl Davis, and he pointed out that the presence of stone tools and absence of anything else has affected our understanding of these cultures by focusing on the masculine aspects of ancient life.

Carl Davis: And archeologists, who were primarily male for many, many years, you know, that's what they really got into. And women and children kind of got left in the dust. Because the evidence of women's activities, this wonderful perishable industry of all kinds of things, there's no evidence. We certainly can assume they're wearing, you know, carefully crafted, tightly sewn clothes and stuff. But we don't have any evidence whatsoever. So we don't really know what they look like, what they ate, what language they spoke.

Michael: And our understanding of these communities has been shaped by more than just projectile points.

Carl: You know, I think in North American archeology, there has been some bias about sort of giving legitimacy to the capability of these first people, these Indigenous peoples. It may be colonialism, it may be imperialism, it might be a little bit of racism. But I think we have a hard time maybe giving credit where credit is due.

Shane: That's where anthropology begins to fall short when we go all the way back to those ancient times. It's reflected in artwork that we often see represented from people of that day and age. The clothing that they wear is shaggy and their hair is unkempt and they're kind of usually slouched or like hunched over. They resonate with this very uncouth—something that modern man would look upon as undeveloped. And I reject that. I don't think that's, you know, a very good indication of who these people were. I don't think that they didn't comb their hair. I don't think that they didn't care about the kind of clothes that they wore. You know, I think that they always cared about that. Of course they did. Why wouldn't they? I mean, even Sigmund Freud would agree with that. I just think that it's a shame that we portray them as being, you know, dirty…savages, honestly. People in the modern era tend to think of ourselves as being so special. You have all this information that cavemen or ancient people didn't have. And, you know, [laughs] well, I think on a daily basis reflect on those ancient people and how they must have felt the same way about their lives as we do about ours. You know, obviously, they didn't have nearly the kind of technology that we do. But think about how they must have been comparing their lives to other species—animals that didn't have the ability to talk or sing or dance or laugh or cry out of inspiration or joy. I mean, the emotional realm and spiritual, ceremonial aspects of ancient life must have made those people feel like they were on the edge of tomorrow.

Michael: And as we talk about these cultures, wonder about their daily lives, try to imagine how they treated one another, what they valued, and who they loved, Shane emphasized that there is a lot more to these people than we will ever find buried in the ground.

Shane: And I think that that's another thing that anthropologists often forget about, is that the trade culture was more than just material trade. You know, these, these people wanted to learn about one another. They want to hear their stories. They want to know about their ceremonies. They want to know about their knowledge. That was the real trade culture. The material came along with it.

[pensive music begins to play softly]

Michael: In the end, it might just be the social world that we thought had disappeared that can help us better understand this time, after all.

Shane: I developed a course on Montana Plains Indians. During the process of creating that course, I looked at the different star stories of the tribes here in Montana, and it was clear to me that they shared common stories, and stories were very, very important. But when you consider that, you know, we have at least half a dozen language families represented here in Montana, completely different languages. And so we're talking about languages where they don't even share a common sound. So how could it be, then, that these different speaking people would have the exact same star stories down to the minutiae, just the smallest details of people's names, and the things that they did, and how those things are reflected in the sky and on the ground and the same stars and the same geographic features. I mean, all those things, to me, show that these folks must have been in communication and deep communication with one another.

Michael: Different cultures with different languages, living in different places, who still found a way to communicate. And it wasn't just star stories that they were sharing. It was technology—where and how to harvest teepee poles, how to stitch hides together and harvest wild plants.

Shane: They were so determined to share with each other their knowledge and the best of their communities that they created a language independently of themselves that, you know, Plains Sign Language exists really in and unto itself.

Michael: Plains Sign Language was the original American Sign Language, born out of trade between communities across the Great Plains.

Shane: You know, the Plains Sign Language, I don't think probably dates all the way back to the Pleistocene era. But I do believe that the passage of the Clovis technology, from community to community across the continent, all those communications in all of those different trade networks, that that's where the seed of that was planted.

Michael: These insights from oral traditions can help us to imagine the cultures of these ancient communities—curious, kind and cooperative pioneers living here despite its hostile and icy climate. And as Peri found, oral history can also preserve a record of specific moments in time.

[music finishes playing]

Peri: I wanted to talk to Sally Thompson, an anthropologist whose work with tribes throughout the Northwest found that Indigenous communities have preserved memories of the Ice Age.

Sally Thompson: One of the task force members was telling me a story once of his clan's migration, and I said, "you know, wow, really, it sounds like you're taking me back to the late Pleistocene." And he said, "Well, I think I am." So he, he thought for a while, and then he said, "we sing it. It's a chant. We repeat it the same way, the same time of year in a ceremonial way. It's like your Silent Night. You wouldn't change the words." He said "Some of those words are so old, we don't understand them anymore."

Peri: [to Sally] Wow.

Sally: So that really was life changing for me. And I started paying attention in a very different way.

Peri: I know Sally from her book People Before the Park, which she wrote with the Blackfeet and Kootenai tribes, sharing their traditional culture and lifeways here in northwest Montana.

Sally: Well, my name's Sally Thompson. And really what we're talking about today, I'd like to say I'm a student, not an expert.

Peri: [to Sally] I love that.

Sally: I'm a student of what, what native people have to teach us.

Peri: One thing she's learned is that oral traditions hold records of Ice Age floods. The phenomena that geologists squabbled about for decades? Some cultures have remembered them for thousands of years.

Sally: Imagine the time when immense sheets of ice are extending down from Canada all across northern North America. You know, to imagine it's not just filling the valleys. It's filling—it's overlapping all but the very tallest peaks. Mm hmm. Yeah. So picture you're standing on top of one of those peaks. And, you know, all you can see to the north and the east is ice.

Peri: When I hear this, I picture Glacier and the Flathead Valley full of ice and water from Glacial Lake Missoula. But this describes the ice margin all along the northern edge of the US. Sally interviewed people from tribes all up and down the Columbia River, whose drainage system covers most of Washington, Idaho and northwest Montana. One of these tribes is the Kootenai.

Sally: The Kootenai people are unique. They're not related to anyone, anywhere. It may be because of where they were in these cataclysmic times, that they were the only ones who survived.

Peri: [to Sally] Mm hmm.

Sally: So most people have relatives, but the Kootenais are considered by anthropologists or linguists to be an isolate. Isolated people. The only ones. And this is their story. [low rumble] Was it like before tsunami where sensitive people think something's changing or you hear this incredible sound and somehow, you know, to run up. Perhaps you've experienced, you know, some flooding before you, you know, you need to go up and you just keep running. And somehow some people manage to survive that. Then you see people have run to the top of Rattlesnake Mountain on the Columbia and and try and picture what happened. [music begins to play] I interviewed a Coeur d'Alene elder one time, Felix Arripa, told me. After he thought it through in his own language, that the way his grandparents had told him the story, then he explained to me that the words they used were something like, "everything changed, even the landscape."

Peri: This is a record of a human experience with these floods. Someone witnessed them, walked through the world they left behind and shared that story with their community. Yet, despite knowing that, it's still difficult to place yourself in their shoes—to see their point of view rather than our own.

Michael: Even with everything we've learned, it is really hard to place yourself in a world that you'll never see. All of these stories have helped me to picture it. Herds of camels and mammoths sharing Montana with people who, in the face of a dramatically changing world, are learning from one another and passing on memories that will connect them to today. But I find myself imagining it almost like a painting. Something that I can see but that I can't touch. What would it take to bring this history to life? To be able to imagine myself there, like Shayne Tolman did with the mammoth tracks. When I posed this question to Shane Doyle, he turned my attention to May of 1968 in rural Montana, when two construction workers began digging rocks out of a hillside.

Shane: And so they were digging into a cliff side to get some like flat sandstone rocks out of the cliff. And when they dug into the cliff, it was covered with this red dust that we call red ochre. Red ochre is a really sacred material.

Michael: Past the red ochre, they found lithics. And beyond that, human remains. [low, eerie beat plays] They were digging in a grave. Found on the property of Helen and Dr. Mel Anzick. These human remains turned out to belong to a child between one and three years old. And while the haphazard digging at the site made it difficult to completely reconstruct the burial, it was determined that the child had been buried nearly 13,000 years ago.

Shane: And he was probably no more than three years old when he died, was buried with a treasure trove of antiquities. Over 118 priceless Clovis artifacts. Pretty much every tool that has ever been identified in any other Clovis site was found at that burial. These were valuable, treasured items that were rare and that were hard to produce. And they buried them with the child. This child had no social standing that we could measure or compare in any other culture at any other point in history. You know, even today, children are the most vulnerable people in society. You know, they receive the least honor. They receive the least attention. They receive the least amount of resources devoted to them. If you look at what that burial spoke to, it spoke to what that community valued. You know, why would they put all of those items in there for a child who had never hunted? He was not a priest. He was not a ceremonial leader. He was not a warrior. He never produced any economic value. He was—he was really, just as children are today, but they present a resource that you have to provide for. Part of your family that you have to attend to constantly.

Michael: The U.S. has a law that establishes the legal rights for tribes to repatriate or reclaim human remains uncovered in cases like this. But it wasn't passed until 1990.

Shane: This is before NAGPRA, Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act. So all the materials that—since they were found on private land, they were just taken by Mel and the two construction workers. The human remains, Mel gave those to his daughter. But at the time, they were taken by a scientist, an archeologist, who took them down to his lab in Arizona.

Michael: The remains stay in Arizona for about 30 years until eventually they returned to Sarah Anzick, the granddaughter of Mel and Helen.

Shane: Once Sarah got them, turns out she was a molecular biologist. She had an interest in studying the remains to see if she could find out who this person was, who this child was. And, you know, she said before that she just knew that this child had a story to tell, and that it was an important story and that she wanted to help the child tell that story.

Michael: So she reached out to a lab in Denmark and they set out to sequence the child's genome in an effort to understand its DNA and uncover who the child is related to.

Shane: The head guy over there, the scientist of the lab, his name is Eske Willerslev. And he and his team took on the study, and it took them three years to complete the genomic sequencing of this ancient remains. But when they did finally get the complete genome, they were able to compare it to other populations around the world. And it's pretty clear that that he was one of the very first Native Americans on the continent.

Michael: At the same time this discovery was starting to ripple out into the scientific community, the Anzick child was also at the center of an effort to repatriate the remains, to place them back where they were buried 13,000 years ago, which is how Shane got involved.

Michael: [to Shane] I don't expect there's really like a roadmap for how to conduct a repatriation. Maybe there is, I don't know. So how did you decide how to actually perform the reburial, and what did it look like on the day?

[emotional music begins to play]

Shane: There yeah, no, there is no roadmap for repatriation. There are procedures that have been developed over years in certain circumstances that fit the bill. But this one was kind of different because it was so old. And we have to assume the child was—he was related to all of modern people today. That's a lot of people to try and bring into the process. I kind of took that task on to reach out to native communities, let them know what we were doing and ask them if they wanted to participate. You know, it took a long time. We had to have a lot of meetings. There were a lot of different folks involved, not just the tribal communities here in Montana, but also the Montana burial board; Sarah Anzick, you know, she still maintained possession of the bones right up until the moment they were placed in the ground; scientists, they still had materials from the Anzick child in their lab. The reburial was supposed to be comprehensive, and so they had to agree to put all of what they had of the boy in the lab into the ground. You know, there were disagreements over where to rebury the boy, over how to rebury him. Some people believed we should just rebury him with like a rawhide pouch, you know, put him in the ground so he could go back to Mother Earth. There were also suggestions to bury him at the Montana Historical Society out on the public lawn so that people would be dissuaded from trying to dig him up and steal him. I mean, you name it, there was a whole gamut of suggestions and ideas about how to rebury him and where to rebury him. And finally, at the end, we just decided to put him back as close to where he was as possible and put him in a nice small little casket. And, you know, it was just a beautiful day. It was a beautiful ceremony. [wistful, emotional music begins to play softly] And like I said, we all felt good about it. Here's the thing that I thought about a lot. We were there that day, not just to show respect to that boy, but we were there to show respect to ourselves. When we respect others, we respect ourselves. And when we do that in a community, in a gesture where we all come together in a ceremonial way, that's a very powerful healing experience.

Michael: [to Shane] Do you think that the Anzick site, Pleistocene people, and you know, this deep time can teach us about ourselves or even the future?

Shane: Well, I think we can learn a lot from those ancient people about strength, about resilience, about love, about what really matters in this life. I guess one theme that we see today in Hollywood is the post-apocalyptic world. We think when all the chips are down that we'll turn on each other. When I think of those ancient people, I'm inspired. I just think, you know, they loved each other. And from everything that we can tell, they respected each other. I'm sure there were instances where that wasn't always true. But the Anzick grave and the show of love that was displayed for that child makes me believe that that wasn't just an isolated case. That this was part of their worldview. You know, they believed in treasuring their relationships. And in a way, that's what it was when we buried him that day.

Michael: To me, this story pulls your focus away from everything that separates us from Ice Age people—the ice sheets, scimitar cats, and more than 10,000 years—and shows instead our shared humanity. And to Shane, it illustrates what's possible when scientists and native communities work together.

Shane: I think we'll be able to tell the stories that right now we still can't really wrap our heads around because we'll be able to wrap our hearts around what it means to be a human, and we'll be able to take that understanding and place it into these ancient time periods. And that will be able to inform and provide us with a better picture of why these people laughed, what they laughed about, you know, what they cried about, who they loved. [haunting violin music begins to play] It's pretty hard to not understand what the ancient burial represents. If you're a parent and your greatest fear is to lose a child, then you understand that this is what these people did. That message is pretty clear. 12,600 years later, you can still relate to the—to the anguish that they must have felt. How unfair, how cruel, how impossibly difficult the loss that they suffered was. And the only way to heal from that is to just give the last full measure. That's a message that is crystal clear to me. There's, there's nothing about that that I don't understand.

Michael: It's true that sites like Anzick are extraordinarily rare. But the kindness that we can see there must have been common. In every laugh shared around the campfire, which echoed across newly ice free valleys, and in a piece of hard won camel, shared as a meal with a loved one. Or in the simple joy of standing by a river and squishing the mud between your toes, right beside a set of fresh mammoth tracks.

[music continues to play under the credits]

Daniel: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park. With support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This season of Headwaters was made by me, Daniel Lombardi, Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist and Gaby Eseverri. We could not have made Season Three without Lacy Kowalski or Melissa Sladek and Sierra Mandelko, Brent Rowley, Darren Lewis, the Glacier National Park Archives, and the Montana Historical Society. Special thanks this episode to Shayne Tolman for driving to meet us—

Michael: And sharing your bug spray!

Daniel: Shane Doyle, Carl Davis, Roz Gerstein…

Peri: Thanks, Mom!

Daniel: Sally Thompson, Justin Radford, Andrew Smith, Vic Baker, and Ethan, our captain from the Glacier Park Boat Company. Thanks for listening.

[music finishes, and a drumbeat begins]

Lacy: Next time on Headwaters.

Michael: We use art to find new perspectives on one of American history's most momentous yet misremembered events.

Caiti Campbell: You know, Lewis and Clark was just a story that I did not remember from school.

Germaine White: When Daniel called and I thought, “Oh, my gosh, really? I don't know if you want a tribal voice talking about Lewis and Clark.” You know, I just thought, they're revered by so many.

Michael: That's next time on Headwaters.

[music finishes playing]

Michael: [to Andrew] So Headwaters was made possible through the Conservancy. Right? Yes. But you also fund a lot of other projects. What are some examples of that?

Andrew: Yeah. One I wanted to tell you about today is our wilderness condition monitoring work. We have this really cool project happening right now to outfit a lot of the park's Wilderness Rangers with tablets so that they can make live reports on the condition of the wilderness while they're out and about.

Michael: [to Andrew] They used to be on paper reports that got lost and never found their way to the same place.

Andrew: They would show up wet and crumpled [both laughing] and all sorts of different things would be written on them. So now everybody's got the same form. It comes all into one database and we can learn about threats to wilderness so fast and respond to them so that nothing happens to our, our beautiful wilderness here.

Michael: [to Andrew] Well, that's awesome. Well, I guess if you want to learn about that project and more that the Conservancy funds, check out their website, and thanks.

Andrew: Yeah. Visit us at Glacier.org

Becoming | Stained by History

4 april 2023 | 33 min

Glacier has a history of oil extraction. We travel to Many Glacier to see the consequences, and the causes of climate change. Along the way we talk to young people about how it feels to live with the weight of history.

Rising Voices Poetry Podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[wolves howling]

Narrator: It’s the winter of 1902, and I’m cold and content. Each night seems to grow longer, and each storm brings more snow—a welcome break after a hot and sweaty summer. I usually have this place all to myself... [sparse and eerie music begins, with strings plucking] But not tonight. A flash of orange erupts from the valley below, a ball of fire and billowing black smoke—leaping flames joined by a chorus of shouting, desperate men. It all started a few years ago with the sound of footsteps in the valley below. Men sharing around a campfire the story of what brought them here: [crackling of a campfire] rumors of bears covered in petroleum. “If we can find where the bears wallowed,” they said, “we’ll be rich.” I’d never seen men like this before, and I’m not sure if they saw me. But they did find what they were looking for: black puddles seeping out from the rocks along the lake... Oil. [sounds of water lapping at a lakeshore]

Not long after came hooves: twenty horses loaded with clanking metal, and twenty men clamoring with excitement.

[men’s voices in the background] From my perch on the mountainside, I watched trees crash to the ground. I heard the thumps and scrapes of hammers and saws that built cabins, boats, and a small sawmill. The sizzling of a cookstove; grumbling about canned food. Noise was constant. [squeaking of a drill; men’s voices quietly in the background]

But the most frequent sounds were the hopeful conversations of men as they stood around a massive drill. Through the wind and snow, they looked to the ground—some dreaming of a better life, others of power and riches. [wind howls] Eventually, their drill reached a bubble of flammable gas that inflated their hope to new heights. Profitable oil cannot be much deeper, they thought.

[men’s voices; the roar and crackle of a fire] Tonight, in a flash of fire, the promising gas is accidentally ignited, and all their work burns. Their cabins, their tools, their dreams, glow red as they die.

[a driving drumbeat begins, adding to the music already playing[ I am Kintla Glacier, and I have watched over this valley for thousands of years. I grew to my largest in the 1800s, in an era of rainy summers and blizzard-rich winters. Those times are gone, but I am finding a new equilibrium at the dawn of the 20th century. I’m smaller, but stable. I could survive for centuries more… Unless something changes...

[drumbeat finishes suddenly; crackling of a fire slowly fades under Headwaters Season Three theme: Wild West, by Frank Waln, which begins with a haunting flute line]

Daniel Lombardi: [a drumbeat begins, and strings layer in with other instruments] Welcome to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. I'm Daniel. This is season three, and it's all about how this place became what it is today.

[theme song continues to play, then finishes]

Daniel: There's a thing that people say: “Oh, that's ancient history.” Meaning that because it's history, it can't be relevant anymore—that something buried in the past doesn't have the power to impact the present, let alone the future. But I don't buy that. History is the study of what happened in the past. But it's also a study of the present and how we got here. This episode is about the search for oil here around 1900. Before this place was known as Glacier. But this story is also about how the past in the future can get tangled up. The climate crisis has a history here. It goes back more than a century. The very first oil well in Montana was drilled in what is now the park.

Gaby Eseverri: It's a surprising story about the way history is always closer than we think. This season, we're looking at history from different angles. And before we turn back the clock, I want to start with the world today.

Daniel: This is Gaby. Gaby, you've been talking and interviewing young people all summer long.

Gaby: Yeah. To talk about climate change and to learn how they cope with it. And it varies. Some use poetry, some use humor. [footsteps walking on concrete] And a good place to start is a trip I took to Browning High School right outside of the park. I'm walking up to Browning High, and I'm wearing my favorite sweater vest, because I'm hoping it'll make the high schoolers that I'm about to talk to think I'm cool. It's this blue vest, and it's covered in geese, strutting and honking all over the place. [sound of a doorbell] I like to think that some of them are mid honk.

Employee, through an intercom: Pull on the door.

Gaby: [in the field] Thank you.

Student: Oh, my God. I love your sweater.

Gaby: [in the field] Thank you.

Gaby: My goose gamble paid off. I'm here to meet with the Rising Voices Poetry Club. I'm introduced by their librarian and advisor, Amy.

Amy Andreas: Guys, this is Gaby.

Gaby: And they introduce themselves to me.

[sparse music in the background, playing just a few haunting notes]

Amy: I'll just have you start and you guys go around and introduce yourselves.

Sovereign Smith: My name's Sovereign Smith.

Trysten Hannon: Trysten Hannon.

Emily Williams: Emily Williams.

Rebecca Edwards: Rebecca Edwards.

Emaeyah Bird: Emaeyah Bird.

Kiera Big Horn: Kiera Big Horn.

Lily Crawford: Lily Crawford.

Amy: My name is Amy Andreas, and I’ve graduated. [all laugh]

Gaby: We gather in this cozy little space called the coffee shop, which is the usual meeting place for the club.

Student: This room is the coffee shop.

Gaby: [in the field] Because there's coffee?

Student: Because there's coffee--

Student: We usually run a coffeeshop

Student: --sometimes, sometimes we sell. [all laughing]

Gaby: [in the field] Wait, wait. Can someone please read that?

Amy: Well, she wrote it. So I made her write it up there this morning cause I was like, I love this.

Rebecca: I had to write a small poem about a very minor incident that I still remember, for my English class.

Gaby: [in the field] What was the incident?

Rebecca: It-- [laughs] It's, it's called "Milk." I don't trust it. It's weird how it curdles How it's fine one day and spoiled the next The horrendous aroma emanating off the milk Burned my nostrils.

[the group chuckles]

[sparse music from before plays briefly]

Gaby: At the beginning of the episode, we imagined the past, our history of oil exploration, but these students are trying to imagine what that history means for their futures.

Student: I don't really like thinking about climate change too much. I start getting scared and then angry. And so I usually just like push it aside and I feel like, it's really unfair because we're so young.

Student: It's—it's just it's a lot of pressure for young people to take on.

[sparse music plays briefly]

Gaby: I reached out to Amy a few weeks ago to ask if any student would be interested in writing and sharing a poem with me. And I'm glad they agreed. Articulating our feelings about climate change is hard.

Student: It took me until, until I had, like, five days left to actually sit down and write it because I wasn't in the headspace until that day. Our society like, their past mistakes and just—”you're our future generation. You got to fix this when you're older,” like—[distressed noise]

[sparse music plays again]

Gaby: Surveys show that Glacier County, where these students live, ranks the highest in the state for concern about climate change. And you can hear that in their poems.

Lily: "Terminus" by Lily Crawford. Her air whispers of decay Melting the Arctic's frozen waters, breathing fumes Through branches traveling with every howling wind Increasing slowly Soon becoming Over time like dominoes slightly too far apart Just close enough to gently knock over the next Every crash gets closer and closer Then all at once Noticeable within one's own lifetime Things begin to shift

Gaby: [in the field] Lily, so what was that about?

Lily: The world is kind of dying, a little bit, and that makes me sad.

Daniel: Okay. Gaby.

Gaby: Daniel.

Daniel: We looked forward—you talked to young people about their futures. But now let's look backwards. How did we get here?

Gaby: Of course, the climate has changed naturally in the past, but today the biggest cause by far is burning fossil fuels like oil.

Daniel: Yeah, this is a good place to start. I think of Earth's atmosphere, it's like a blanket surrounding the planet. And when we burn fossil fuels, like oil, that releases greenhouse gases into the air, gases like carbon dioxide.

Gaby: And those gases trap heat.

Daniel: That's, I guess, why they call them greenhouse gases. They get added to the atmosphere and they make that blanket thicker and thicker, trapping more heat.

Gaby: And what's wild is that those gases stay in the atmosphere for a long time.

Daniel: Yeah, at least hundreds of years, sometimes as long as a thousand years. Anyway, the point being, history does not stay in the past. Digging up and burning fossil fuels here in Glacier, even way back in 1901, that has consequences today.

Gaby: And because greenhouse gases are still accumulating, there is even greater impact on young people and future generations. [swainson’s thrush calls] Let's see what more of this history we can find if we head into the park.

[swainson’s thrush singing repeatedly]

Daniel: [in the field] So this is my kind of list of things I want to talk to everyone about today, introduce myself, and then talk about the consequences and causes of climate change.

Gaby: We're here to meet students visiting through the University of Montana. They bring a group to visit Glacier every summer to learn about climate change.

[more birds singing]

Gaby: [in the field] Why that order?

Daniel: [in the field] I think I just want to get out of the way—the consequences, which are the things that I think everyone expects to talk about here, which is like melting glaciers and more wildfires.

Gaby: [in the field] Right. More fire, less ice.

Daniel: [in the field] Exactly. So we'll talk about that a little, but then I think the more interesting, bigger focus of today will be the causes of climate change.

Gaby: Usually these students would come here to see shrinking glaciers, a consequence. Which makes sense. Over the past 50 years or so, every glacier in the park has gotten smaller. But we have something different in store for them today.

[western tanager singing]

Instructor: Good morning. Welcome to day two of our trip to Glacier. And they are—Daniel's going to be taking a group around to look at some scenes and talk about an oil seep, and the connection between the petroleum industry and the park that's a little surprising.

Gaby: But before that, we're going to try to see one of the most famous glaciers in the park, Grinnell.

[bird songs fade out]

[sparse electronic music from earlier plays briefly]

Gaby: [in the field] To start off, can you tell me your name, age and what you're studying?

[outdoor sounds in the background; birds singing: yellow-rumped warbler singing, robin tutting]

Claire Ferguson: So my name's Claire Ferguson. I'm 20 and I'm studying history and then also environmental studies. You know, I've gotten to sit on rocks and look at the stars for hours, and, like, the only sound around me was wildlife. It was nature. And I feel guilty, you know, being able to have those experiences and appreciate nature. I feel guilty not doing enough. I feel guilty by not trying my hardest to save it.

Gaby: [in the field] So all that being said, how do you or do you think you contribute to climate change?

Claire: Honestly, I think it's almost impossible to not contribute to climate change in our society.

Gaby: [in the field] So do you feel like you're part of the solution?

Claire: I want to be able to say that I helped and that's why, like, like we have a future on this earth.

[yellow warbler singing; footsteps crunching on a trail]

Gaby: So we're hiking along the shore of Grinnell Lake, and I'm getting distracted trying to spot a yellow warbler that I can hear but can't see. [yellow warbler continues singing] But the students are looking for a very specific spot.

[bird songs and footsteps continue]

Student: One of these photos was taken in 1888. The other was taken in 1914. And they're both looking at Grinnell Glacier from this bend in the stream. And we're trying to repeat those photos.

Gaby: [in the field] But it's kind of hard to find.

Student: It is kind of hard to find. And that's what we're trying to do right now. And we're going to do some bushwhacking down the stream and hopefully get to the spot where those photos were taken. But a lot of the vegetation is different, so we're having a hard time finding it.

Gaby: [in the field] Yeah.

Gaby: We love repeat photos here. Basically they're before and after pictures of glaciers. The older historic photo shows what the glacier looked like back in the day, and then we take a new picture, perfectly lined up to match the old one. As a kid, I was obsessed with playing those “spot the difference” games in magazines at the doctor's office. This is kind of like that. Except I'm not left feeling the same pride for my attention to detail, because spotting the difference today is really easy.

[fox sparrow singing]

Student: Looking at Grinnell.

Daniel: Jack just--

Student: yeeted himself

Daniel: --yeeted himself into the willows.

Student: Yell every once in a while so we know you're alive.

[plants crunching and swishing past the microphone; birds continue to sing]

Gaby: [in the field] Because Jack just started walking into all these plants. Now we're kind of following him and we're bushwhacking a little bit. But there are like plants and shrubs as tall as me. I'm five four. Oop!

[splashing, birds singing]

Gaby: [in the field] Cool, we made it to a little clearing now.

Student: What do you see?

Gaby: [in the field] Oh, there it is.

Daniel: [in the field] A yellow warbler. You wanna look through the binos?

Student: Oh, sure. It's yellow?

Daniel: [in the field] Yes, right.

Student: Oh, geez! There it goes. Now he's in the back one.

Daniel: [in the field] This is, that's what-- That's it. Singing right there. They say it's “sweet, sweet, sweet. I'm so sweet.”

Gaby: Someone needs to cross the stream to get the exact right spot for the photo and Jack, the cool guy of the group, is quick to volunteer.

[sounds of running watter]

Daniel: [in the field] Jack is taking off his clothes, this is getting serious. He popped his shirt, I think somewhat unnecessarily.

Gaby: [in the field] He's perfectly dry.

Daniel: [in the field] The water is up to his knees.

[all laughing]

Gaby: Most people take off their shoes and socks to get into a stream. Jack also took off his shirt for good measure. So he has a camera in one hand and a laminated copy of an old photo in the other. He closes one eye and holds up the photo, trying to line it up just right. He has that look on his face of, yeah, I'm making this look easy, but it's harder than it seems. To his credit, it's harder than it seems because what's in frame today is so different. It takes him a while, but he does it and eventually wades back to shore to show us what he got.

[birds continue to sing]

Gaby: [in the field] Okay, Jack's coming back.

Daniel: [in the field] Okay, let's debrief. Jack, show us the photo. And what do you think? How'd it go?

Jack: It went well. It was pretty hard because, like, the flow of the river has definitely changed. Looks like it's widened a little bit. More trees, there's taller trees that were kind of blocking the view, so it was hard to get the exact angle, but...

Daniel: [in the field] Yeah, commitment. Like, we wouldn't have got even anything, and you got wet, got in the water.

Student: MVP for the day!

Jack: Definitely worth it.

Daniel: [in the field] It kind of got lost in, like, looking for the photo and everything. But like, the huge thing is that you used to be able to see a massive glacier right above those waterfalls.

Gaby: That massive glacier you could see in the old photo was Grinnell Glacier. And today...

Daniel: [in the field] Now you can't see the glacier at all. It's back tucked under the mountain, and away out of our view. You can see the glacier was massive. It went up hundreds of feet. [pensive, wistful music begins to play] And now that's just bare rock. And so then this is we call this now the Salamander or Salamander Glacier.

Gaby: You can still see some ice, but Grinnell Glacier itself is completely out of frame. Headlines are one thing, but moments like this make them feel real.

Sylvia Blodorn: Yes. My name's Sylvia Blodorn. I'm 18. It's a sad thing to look at because the thing with the receding glaciers is that, like, I'm not going to be able to see what people saw 100 years ago, and my kids aren't going to be able to see what I'm seeing and like, you know, on and on. So we're kind of watching the destruction happen in a way, and it's hard, but it's also necessary.

Gaby: The story of melting glaciers is a pretty common one, but we're really here for another reason. To look for a cause of climate change. Oil.

[music fades out]

Daniel: [in the field] You know, bears have very powerful noses. They're very good at smelling things. They love smelly stuff. There are early stories from before Glacier was established of bears sniffing out muck and rolling in it and the people following these stinky, messy, dirty bears and realizing that they were covered in oil. These traders, they're trading furs and pelts and animal skins, and they're coming across these bear pelts—they smell like gas or kerosene or oil. So early people looking to make it rich start following these bears and the bears end up leading them to oil seeps inside what is now Glacier National Park.

Gaby: I picture the scene in my head, and I imagine little cartoon men in old timey clothes running around looking for oil. And as soon as they smell the bear pelts, their eyes change to big green dollar signs. [cha-ching sound] And when the bear leads them to the oil seep, the dollar signs in their eyes are replaced by even bigger ones.

[bigger, louder cha-ching sound]

Daniel: [in the field] The very first oil well in Montana was drilled in the north fork of the park at the head of Kinta Lake, right below Kintla Glacier, by a company called the Butte Oil Company.

[birds singing]

Gaby: The Butte Oil Company began drilling at Kintla in 1901. The company's six employees put up an 80-foot derrick at the head of the lake. Their expenses were high and production was slow and money was running out.

Daniel: Ultimately, oil extraction was never profitable in Glacier, and the Kintla effort went up in smoke after just a few years. But despite the dangerous nature of this product, the world was going crazy for this new goo. There were even pop songs about it, like the "Oil Fever Gallop."

[hip hop beat begins]

Gaby: It's not really the kind of business a family might start to serve a small town—not then and not now. It required a lot of capital to get started. Before failing, the oil well at Kintla Lake sucked up $40,000, about 1.4 million today, adjusted for inflation.

Daniel: Instead, oil had the appeal of a slot machine. It was the kind of thing that can make anyone filthy rich overnight. It just required enough cash to drop into the slot, enough work to pull the lever, and enough luck to hit the jackpot.

[beat finishes playing]

Gaby: The first gusher that inspired the country's oil fever was tapped in 1861 in Pennsylvania. That well gushed 3000 barrels per day.

Daniel: And like the one at Kintla Lake decades later, when the oil from that well shot into the air, something ignited the escaping gases, setting off an explosion that killed 19 people and blazed on for three days.

Gaby: And just as the oil fever broke at Kintla Lake, it spread to Many Glacier. Then on to Waterton Lakes National Park. [footsteps begin] Now we're following Daniel around Many Glacier because he thinks he can lead us to a place where oil is seeping out of the ground.

[song sparrow singing]

Daniel: [in the field] Um, so I have a cool photo, but... You can see Grinnell Glacier right there in the background with the Salamander Glacier above it. That's an oil well right in the center of the photo. And then you have—s So you have the causes of climate change, and then what would become the consequences in the background, the... Grinnell Glacier.

[yellow warblers and other birds singing; running water in the background]

Gaby: But what isn't pictured is the carbon dioxide that was being released and building up in the atmosphere.

Daniel: [in the field] Yeah, I didn't. I don't know. I wanted to like I want to build the excitement about an oil seep, but I also don't know if I'll be able to see anything.

Student: You're going to disappoint us. [everyone laughing]

Student: So do you have coordinates for it? Do you have, like, a general idea of where it is?

Gaby:I have three things on my to-do list for the day. Find a melting glacier, check. Find a yellow warbler, check. Find oil, working on it.

Daniel: [in the field, with footsteps in the background] Someone sent me a picture of a map, but it's also not like, like a spring of oil, like spouting out of the rocks. It's more like a general area where oil kind of oozes up through the gravel.

[running water]

Student: Yeah.

Daniel: [in the field] So the oil seep is like along the creek, kind of on the bank.

Gaby: So we aren't lost, but we don't know exactly where we're going. Not lost. Just wandering. I've seen that on a T-shirt. The plan is to show the students a raw source material for climate change: oil. But it's proving to be a bit more of a challenge than we thought for two reasons.: it's hard to look for something you haven't seen before, and even more so when that thing is underground.

Daniel: [in the field] I don't think this is the trail I've been on. [group laughing] Oh, there it is. Yeah.

[bushwacking sounds and rustling]

Daniel: [in the field] You think it's right here?

Gaby: [in the field] Well, I see just a little. A little path.

Daniel: [in the field] Yeah.

Gaby: [in the field] Okay. It looks like it could be here.

Gaby: It took us kind of a while to find the right spot.

Daniel: [in the field] Unless there's another spot like this, like, right up there, then I think we've got to it. Okay, everyone. Time to dig for oil.

Gaby: [in the field] We have no shovels. So.

[sound of a boot kicking at pebbles and sand]

Gaby: [in the field] What about like a little higher up here?

Daniel: [in the field] Well, Gaby, that's easy for you to say because you're not the one digging.

Gaby: [in the field] Someone has to record!

Gaby: They start to get hopeful, but strike water again and again. My job, though, is to fill in the holes, to leave no trace. A job I'm good at because my big boots keep doing it on accident.

Daniel: [in the field] It was like... Gaby! You just filled in our hole!

Gaby: But the students stay motivated to uncover what could be.

[more sounds of digging]

Daniel: [in the field] You should have been an oil tycoon, Hallie.

Daniel: [in the field] Still digging.

Gaby: [in the field] Still digging.

Student: She's just money hungry.

Student: I'm gonna strike it rich.

Daniel: [in the field] Yeah, waiting for the oil to like spurt up. [everyone laughing]

Student: That's the goal. If it doesn't, I'm going to leave here disappointed.

Gaby: I am just about ready to give up when it finally happens. Hallie's eyes turn into huge green dollar signs.

[cha-ching sound]

Gaby: [in the field] Oh, wait. Keep going.

[sounds of digging; water and pebbles]

Daniel: [in the field] Oh, look at that. Now let's look at this rock. I mean, it looks like it's covered in black oil, but. Oh, my God. Look.

Student: Oh, interesting.

Daniel: [in the field] On my finger you can tell it's oil. Wow. Oh, when it's on your hands, that's when you can really tell. It looks like motor oil. Yeah. Oh my gosh. Look at it on your finger. I feel like I gotta taste it.

Student: That's a good idea.

Daniel: [in the field] It doesn't really taste like anything, it just tastes like a rock.

Student: It's like kind of the sliminess you would expect from touching algae slightly. But it's not algae. It's just like, yeah, you can see the sheen on the surface of the water now. I'm just gonna try and grab a few more rocks.

Gaby: [in the field] You want to touch that?

Student: [in the field] Oh, my God.

[outdoor sounds fade out; pensive notes that we’ve heard before play briefly]

Koby Ben-Ezra: My name is Koby Ben-Ezra. My age is 21. I'm studying philosophy and environmental studies at UW Madison.

Gaby: [in the field] You think you contribute to climate change?

Koby: Yes, I do.

Gaby: [in the field] How does that feel?

Koby: It kind of feels, um. It kind of feels annoying, I think, because personally, I know that I care about the environment. I know that I try as much as I can to help rejuvenate the environment. And I know I have that, like, ethical feeling towards the environment, but but yet I can't really shift myself in a lot of ways. So I kind of would describe the relationship as annoying, kind of frustrating.

[same pensive notes play, marking the transition back to the field]

Student: Oh, my God. That is really gross. [aughing] You're right. It doesn't feel like algae. And then, like, when you spread it, it just turns your fingers bright orange.

Gaby: [in the field] Yeah, look at that. So what were you all picturing when we said oil seep?

Student: Yeah. I feel like it's easy to take for granted with how many oil sites around the world we've already figured out are easy to extract, like, oh, there's just some places that have oil. But it does make you think like how much work goes into looking for places and how much work is like goes into seeing if things are even profitable. And that there's a lot of things in between, like no oil and profitable oil. Sometimes it's just like slimy water in the ground.

Daniel: [in the field] Yeah, that's a good point.

Student: I don't think—I can't say I've ever felt oil before so.

Student: Well now you have.

Student: Now I have.

Daniel: [in the field] And this make sense, right? Like this is why it was never profitable. Just because there's not, like, oil gushing out of the earth here. It's it's very low concentrations.

[haunting violin music begins to play briefly]

Gaby: The oil may be diluted and buried under the earth, but this history and its consequences are concentrated and on the surface. The stains left on fingers will wash away. But the stains of this history won't.

Daniel: [in the field] So the park has a real history with fossil fuel and extractive industry, also logging and mining and of course fur trapping. [birds singing] People have been trying to extract wealth out of this place for a long time. And most of it didn't work. There wasn't really good enough oil or gas to make profit. In the end, the thing that turned out to be most profitable was tourism and the Great Northern Railway really saw that and was able to capture that.

Student: Well, yeah, it makes you think like what this place might look like if they were able to extract money from oil here. Especially I'm from Bakersfield, where there's a huge, huge oil industry and the entire city is just covered in oil rigs. And it's one of our most beautiful hikes, and if you search up hikes in Bakersfield is Panorama Park, and it's an overlook of an oil field. And it's, it's pretty—it's pretty gross looking, and we have a lot of problems there with air pollution and water pollution, so it makes it hard to live there. So I'm glad that this place got that we weren't able to make money from oil here.

[violin music picks up again, with additional instruments slowly layering in]

Gaby: Daniel and I say bye to the students and the one oil tycoon and start heading home. As we drive out of Many Glacier. I look in the side view mirror to see this valley fade into the distance, and something catches my eye. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. I've seen this helpful reminder a thousand times, but today it takes on a deeper meaning. All of us depend on fossil fuels in so many ways, and yet this is a crisis set in motion over 150 years ago. Sometimes history and historical moments can feel so distant, but this doesn't feel so far away. These choices made 150 years ago—they are closer than they appear.

Emily Williams: “An Age” by Emily Williams From Ice Age to Stone Age to industrial to digital to none A change of times Chemicals Atmospheres Fumes Seeming to carry a whittler’s tune Wood Water Oil Coal Stone Clock Stop Stop for a minute and look A whittler can't replace what has been took But they don't seem to write that in your book All that's left is discarded pieces

But unlike the whittler’s disarray Similar to the potter's clay Of pieces new we form Something of a new time A society on the brink of change Generations willing to right ways To handle and shape this lump of clay To mold an idea of endurance and change With gentle hands adapt we must As we lay here on this cusp To try once more In this new age

[many fingers snap]

[music continues to play under the credits]

Daniel: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park, with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This season of Headwaters was made by me Daniel Lombardi, Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist, and Gaby Eseverri. Frank Waln wrote and performed our music and Eric Carlson created this season's cover art. Special thanks this episode to the instructors and all their students. Jim Elser with the Flathead Biological Station. Dalton, Sylvia, Jack, Hallie. Megan, you're awesome. Mark Hansen with the Wild Rockies Field Institute and all your students. You really got me thinking. Koby. Kaylie. Claire. Margaret. Julia. Delaney. Catalina. Katherine. Serendipity. Lily. Also awesome. And of course, big thank you to Amy Andreas with the Rising Voices Poetry Club at Browning High, Kiera, Emaeyah, Lily, Vita, Rebecca, Trysten Sovereign, Emily.

Gaby: Thanks for sharing your coffee shop and good vibes.

Daniel: Thanks for listening.

[a hip hop beat plays]

Lacy: Next time on Headwaters.

Gaby: We travel back in time, over 12,000 years to discover a frozen world full of surprises.

Justin Radford: I think the Missoula floods are nearly incomprehensible in today's society.

Shayne Tolman: A living, breathing mammoth, not the bones, the dead part. You're looking at your living behavior.

Shane Doyle: Think about how they must have been comparing their lives to other species. Must have made those people feel like they were on the edge of tomorrow.

Gaby: That's next time on Headwaters.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Hey, Andrew.

Andrew Smith: Hey Gaby.

Gaby: [to Andrew] So Headwaters is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Yes. What else do you guys support?

Andrew: Another project that we support in the park is HawkWatch. And I heard that you got to be involved with HawkWatch this year. What was that like?

Gaby: [to Andrew] It was amazing. It was amazing. We saw so many golden eagles. I was up there for two days, and it was a really beautiful experience.

Andrew: Yeah so HawkWatch is a raptor monitoring program where park biologists and volunteers, they go out and they count how many birds and what species are migrating through the park. And they're collecting some really amazing data that's helping us understand what's happening with birds in this region.

Gaby: [to Andrew] Absolutely. It's so important.

Andrew: Yeah. So thank you for being involved and we're excited to keep HawkWatch going.

Gaby: [to Andrew] So if people want to learn more about Hawk Watch and other projects at the Glacier National Park Conservancy supports, where can they go?

Andrew: Yeah, they should check out our website, visit Glacier.org

Becoming | Prologue

3 april 2023 | 40 min

Consider this an extended warm up for season three of Headwaters. This episode includes two interviews about time, landscape, and history, that set the stage for the next nine to come.

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy Kowalski: Headquarters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Daniel Lombardi: You're listening to Headwaters. [a drumbeat plays briefly in the background] My name is Daniel, and we're about to release our third season. We're calling it Becoming. You're going to hear important, unknown and often misunderstood stories from Glacier's past. This is not a complete history, but a look at how the park became what it is today. These episodes will take you into the field and weave together conversations with dozens and dozens of experts. Each episode is framed by the theme music and the show's cover art, which is a beautiful mosaic of all of the stories we set out to share.

[drumbeat plays again]

Daniel: This is episode zero. I'm thinking of it as a bonus episode that sets up the rest of the show. Or you know what? If you want, you could skip this episode for now and come back to it at the end. I think it works either way. But this episode is two interviews that illustrate the philosophy and the approach we took to making this season of the show. The first interview is with the native hip hop artist Frank Waln, and the second interview is with the illustrator and archeologist Eric Carlson. Frank and Eric helped us set the tone for season three, so I sat down with them to talk about some of the themes and philosophies, the deeper ideas that went into making the show. Season three is all about history and looking at our past from different viewpoints. Talking with Frank, he encouraged us to think about history with a less rigid understanding of time. [flute music begins to play] All of the music you'll hear in Season three of Headwaters was made by Frank Waln. But personally, I think I'm probably most excited about the theme song.

[Headwaters season three theme continues to play—drums, mandolin, and other instruments layer in]

Daniel: So hey, Frank, will you introduce yourself?

Frank Waln: I'll introduce myself in my language first. [Speaking in Lakota] Hello, relatives. I just introduced myself in my language, Lakota. I said my Lakota name is [Lakota Name], which translates to Walks with the Young Nation, or Walks with the New Nation. And I said that I welcome you all with an open heart and an open handshake. I'm also—I also go by Frank Waln, I'm a Lakota music artist, music producer, audio engineer, curator from the Rosebud Reservation in South Central South Dakota.

Daniel: Tell me about where you grew up. The Rosebud Reservation.

Frank: Actually grew up on a ranch ran by Lakota women. So I had a very close connection with not only the land but animals. And so the landscape on the reservation I come from, it's out on the Great Plains. So it's it's—if you stand almost anywhere on a reservation and look out, your eyes will see as far as the horizon goes, like it's not flat in a lot of places. You know, the skies are big, the sunsets are great. The sunrises will bring a tear to your eye. And it's very rural, too. It's very rural. And then, you know, outside of the land, sure, the reservation deals with a lot of issues like poverty and just a lot of the aftermath of colonialism, having, you know, our homelands colonized.

Daniel: Yeah like how do you—because I think we're going to come back to this as a concept, so just how do you define colonialism?

Frank: Well, I think as an indigenous person, I define colonialism from the lens of the experience my people had with colonialism. So it is the displacement of an indigenous population in order to colonize or resettle the land for various reasons. But, you know, it could even happen with animals and plants. So it's not just a human thing. It also happens in nature in many ways.

Daniel: Yeah. So it's like a violent displacement of people, as well as plants and animals from home.

[flute music from the theme song plays briefly, marking a transition]

Daniel: A complete shift: so did you like growing up on a ranch? I didn't really like it as a kid, but I really appreciate it now.

Frank: You know, I kind of feel the same way because I think, you know, I wanted to do something different. I wanted to do music and be a creative person. And a lot of my family, all my family still ranches or rodeos. But I think I still also didn't completely despise it because I love being outside. With me and my mom it was always a struggle because I wanted to be inside, like playing an instrument, writing a song, and she'd be like, “No, we need to go—we need to go work cause we need to go do ranch stuff right now.” So it was always a back and forth between me and my mom.

Daniel: You're living this, uh, rural ranch life, and you, you somehow stumbled upon playing the piano. Is that right?

Frank: I found the piano when I was in elementary school. My mom was a teacher, and so she had to be at a high school super early. So the elementary school I went to, she would drop me off and I was always one of the first kids at my school. And there was an old piano in our classroom, out of tune, everything. And I ended up just messing around and I loved it. I love the way just pressing, pressing a button and hearing, you know, hearing some music made me feel. And I just started teaching myself to play piano and haven't stopped since. Now I play, you know, a handful of instruments and produce and, and I've actually written music that has been performed by an entire orchestra. I still can't read written music entirely. I got my own way of reading and writing and figuring out music.

[sparse, but joyful music begins to play]

Daniel: Wow. And so you you'd go into the classroom and there was a piano there. And you just taught yourself.

Frank: Yes. Yes. I learned by ear and by sight. And I remember I was really stubborn and I wanted to learn something very difficult first. So I one of the first, like four pieces I learned was Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. And I remember I, like, found my own way of transcribing it. I don't even remember how I did. It was it was probably all over the place and wild. But I wrote out the whole song so I could read it and I memorized it and I can still play it now. But yeah, I learned by, by sight and sound.

Daniel: Mmm yeah, that's cool. But then, so tell me, how did you go from that to rapping?

Frank: [laughing] Yes, actually, you know, it was for me anyway, at the time, it felt like a very natural progression because, you know, when I started to get into to middle school, I was actually interested in like getting my own CDs and stuff, my reservation is so rural that we had to drive at least 2 hours to, you know, find a—to get to a CD store to even buy music. And so a lot of the music that I consumed was from my family. A lot of my cousins, my older cousins who I looked up to, a lot of them were listening to hip hop. And so I was exposed to a lot of different hip hop, and I just resonated with the music. And so a lot of what hip hop was in the beginning and the source of it, to me, has a lot of Indigeneity. And I'll give you some examples. An element of hip hop is called the cipher. It's like where everyone circles up and it's really dope, if you're a dancer, you're beatboxer, you have an instrument, everyone kind of starts vibing and someone lays down a beat, and then you go around the circle, and whether you sing a rap or even dance or play an instrument, everyone takes turns and kind of does a little performance over the music everyone's creating together, and that is Native. [a beat begins, with flutes and other instruments layering in] Whether it would make you look at power or you look at our ceremonies, that's what we do. We circle up and through song and dance, we share our energy together. [music continues to play] At the time, I was I was struggling a lot with a lot of mental health issues. A lot of people in my family and people where I’m from struggle with a lot of things like addiction and mental health issues and just a lot of violence and stuff like that. So music was my escape too. So it was like a, it was a way for me to get away from all of that and kind of be in my own bubble.

[Frank rapping in a song] Let me try to paint a scene of chasing lonely rez kid dreams, with nights banging out beats on that laptop screen. With nothing but your heart telling you you’re right, I spent years in the dark just to find my light. Shout out my mother and my aunties cuz they raised us all in a setter colonial state that called them s*****. I'm from the Rez. That means I've bled to shed all the things I saw. So I ain't one to judge when loved ones doing time and everyone on drugs. We used to run around the rez now we pray and smudge. Now I understand why ancestors prayed for us. In the beginning the reservation...

[music fades out]

Daniel: You were seeing people struggle in your community, and I read then that that kind of made you want to go into medicine. Is that right?

Frank: Yes. Yeah. So I actually thought I wanted to be a doctor for a couple of years, starting when I was 18. So I didn't even tell anyone about my music. I actually kept it a secret from for most of my teen years, it was just something that I did because it made me feel good and helped me cope. And, you know, I never thought, ever, ever I would be able to make a career out of it or, you know, be able to do anything substantial with it. And so I thought the only way I could help the world and help people heal and help my home community and the people I loved heal was being a doctor.

Daniel: I'm curious how that might influence your music even now or if it if you think it does.

Frank: Yeah, definitely. I didn't realize that, you know, healing can, can mean more than just Western medicine at the time. When I started going into music, I had a conversation with an elder back home that I never forget. And I was, I was in a gas station on my reservation. I was, I was gassing up and getting some things and this, this elder I know, he was behind me in line and he started talking to me. And so he always would ask me when he'd see me, “What are you up to now? You know, you're going off to college?” And so I told him that I wasn't going to do medicine anymore. I didn't want to be a doctor. I really want to pursue music. And when I told him that, he kind of he stopped and he shook his head. And, you know, I didn't really expect too much. But then he said something really, really profound to me. He said, “you know, sometimes music is the best medicine.” And I think it kind of set something off in my brain and just kind of widened my perspective of what medicine can be. You know, it can also be creative, it can be spiritual, it can be emotional medicine. And I think that's what music is for me. I did it to help myself heal. So very naturally, you know, using my music to help myself heal, I would write songs about things that I needed to heal from. And once I started putting my music on the internet and putting myself out there as an artist, I realized a lot of other people, especially Native people, felt the same way and, you know, started resonating with my music and sharing it and listening to it. Creating music that helped me heal, helped me set the foundation for my career. And it even led to doing things like I did a residency for seven months at a children's hospital in Delaware, a place called Nemours Children's Hospital. I did music therapy there for seven months and I helped patients create a song from the ground up. And so, you know, just doing things like that, I know I wouldn't even be in a position or in a mindstate to use music in that way if I wasn't coming from that background of studying pre-med.

Daniel: Music is, it has been healing for me and it sounds like it was getting into hip-hop was itself a healing experience for you. And like, what wounds do you think you're trying to heal with your music?

Frank: Whenever I present and perform, I talk a lot about healing, and I talk about healing as multi-generational and also timeless because I don't think time exists linearly, at least Native People, Lakota People don't look at time in a linear fashion. We look at time right now, we carry the past, the present and the future with us at all times. Our ancestors are always with us. And so the wounds that I'm healing are the wounds of colonialism. And so I'm healing the wounds of genocide. And I 100% believe, and I tell this to Native communities when I present, perform for them, that whenever we heal ourselves, we also heal our ancestors because we are connected to that history. And when you heal yourselves, you also heal future generations.

Daniel: Wow, Frank, that's really powerful. You have a lot of themes of history, and so now that kind of makes sense to me why you're like approaching music from outside the traditional Western understanding of time.

Frank: Yes. Exactly. You nailed that right on the head. And that's another way that I also create music and do what I do from an Indigenous perspective, because, you know, some of my songs are rooted in and some of our oldest stories, you know. So just carrying that history in our art is a very Native thing as well.

Daniel: Okay, so then let's dig into some of the music for our podcast, for Headwaters. This year we're working with you to use a track you wrote called Wild West as our theme song. Do you remember writing that, because you didn't originally write it for us? It was something that you wrote for you, right?

Frank: Yes, for sure. So the theme song for this season actually started out as a song idea that I had called Wild West. I created the beat using a lot of different flute samples that I created. I laid down the drums. It's a really powerful track. And at the time I was really—I think this was around like 2016, 2017. I was really struggling with the pain, the anger, and the frustration I was feeling as I was learning about the specific details of the atrocities, the horrible things and the genocide that happened to my ancestors and also to me. You know, like one of the things that was just weighing heavy on me when I wrote this song was, I was reading this book about different policies, IHS (Indian Health Services), which is the branch of the US government that gives Native communities health care. And one of the chapters, they talked about how the US government tested vaccines on babies without the mothers’ knowledge at the IHS on my reservation the exact two years when I was first born and going in to get my vaccines as a baby. You know, so realizing that the government tested vaccines on me without my mom's consent or knowledge, and then learning that when you're in your twenties, just, you know, just like what that does to you as a human. And so I was I was feeling a lot of heaviness, and I ended up putting it in those lyrics, Wild West. And the concept was like, you know, kind of flipping that old Wild West concept on its head that cowboys and Indians and just being like, this is what the contemporary Wild West is.

Daniel: That's a powerful story. The name of the track, Wild West, it's a big concept. It's a big idea. You and I both grew up in the American West, and it's interesting to think about what that term is supposed to evoke and what it does evoke. The idea, I think in the, the Hollywood Western is the place where a rugged individual can do whatever they want.

[flute music from the Headwaters theme plays briefly, marking a transition]

Frank: One of the things I like to do with my music is taking these concepts that are like kind of the colonial lens of looking at Native People or where we come from and then flipping it on its head to show that to show my perspective or the Native perspective on all of that.

Daniel: It opens with this really cool flute. You play the flute, you have at least one whole album of flute songs. Then there's also a stringed instrument in there, right?

Frank: Yeah. So that one is another instrument. So I play a native flute. Another instrument, which is one of my favorites, is actually the acoustic bass guitar. And I kind of play bass differently, especially the acoustic. I've had a lot—I've actually had more than one guitarist tell me I play bass like it's a guitar.

Daniel: Oh, that's yeah, that's interesting. Then what about the, the drums? I know in a lot of your music, you use traditional Native drums.

Frank: Yeah. Yeah. It's layered in there. Almost every track I do. Another reason, you know, one of the reasons I do that, like I said, hip hop, you know, it's built around the drums. A lot of native music is built around the drums, especially for Lakota people. You know, we were actually famous, like people said they would hear our—if they went to war with us, they would hear our drums before they seen us because our drums were that loud and that powerful, our songs were that powerful. And so the drums in that song are just multiple layers of samples sampled, kick and clap, and also natural. My mom got me a Buffalo hide big like Lakota style drum when I was in fifth grade. And so I use that same drum and some other drums, even like a gourd rattle I got from the Southwest. So just a lot of different instruments I've been given as gifts, Native instruments, Native percussive instruments always get layered into almost every song I do.

Daniel: Oh, yeah, that's cool. So for people listening to season three of Headwaters, that intro theme song they hear is called Wild West.

Frank: And I'm glad, I'm glad we found a home for it.

Daniel: Frank, thank you so much for taking the time and for making music for us. It's been wonderful.

Frank: Yes. Thank you, Daniel. Thank you for, you know, collaborating with me and asking me to collaborate. And we had some some really great and meaningful discussions.

[Frank rapping] These are dark times, hard times, [rapping in Lakota] if you gotta know, I got a heavy heart, every part and valve weighed down with a heavy scar. And I got them in the place I'm from. Some call it reservation, some call it concentration. Concentrating the trauma of genocide up in a nation. This system murders us, call it premeditation. Tragic death becomes a circumstance. They outlawed our songs and wouldn't let us dance and now it gives me the blues. They say we're red, to them we're dead. My People set up to lose.

[music starts to fade out as Daniel speaks]

Daniel: That was my conversation with Frank Waln. Next, you will hear an interview with the artist, Eric Carlson.

[final lyrics of Frank’s song, then the music fades out] The fire's in our youth, ancestors return soon.

Daniel: Eric does a few different kinds of art, but my favorite is his Unstuck in Time series. In this series, he makes these detailed, complex, beautiful scenes of familiar places, but with all of their history and characters unfolding and living at once. The cover art that Eric made for this season, which you can see in its full size, if you click on the link in the episode description, it reminds me of kind of a Where's Waldo painting. Each character that we talk about in the show is stuck frozen together in the ice of a glacier, challenging the viewer to expand their view of time in history.

Eric Carlson: Thanks, Daniel. Thanks for having me here. It's nice to be back up in the park. My name's Eric Carlson. I'm a archeological illustrator and archeologist.

Daniel: What came first? Art or archeology? Or have they always kind of been together?

Eric: Yeah, they they kind of co-occur. Art is a, it's a big part of, of archeology in a lot of the ways that that we document the past. Often depicting things visually works better than than writing things down.

Daniel: I hadn't thought of that. Art or illustration—this isn't just your approach. Like that has always been part of archeology.

Eric: It's always been a huge part. Yeah. Oh, yeah.

Daniel: That's cool.

Eric: Yeah. You look through any archeological textbook, everything is heavily illustrated.

Daniel: What about for you personally, though? How did it come about? Was it were you always growing up, drawing or were you always, like digging in the dirt or both?

Eric: No, it was I guess it was art first.

Daniel: Okay.

Eric: For sure, as a child. And I studied art in college a little bit. And it wasn't until the last year of college that I got into anthropology and have been working as a archeologist ever since, over 30 years.

Daniel: Wow. Can you list off some places and cool projects you've got to be a part of then?

Eric: Yeah. I mean, I've worked a lot of time in Oregon, probably eight years I spent working as an archeologist and, and then also in the Four Corners, I probably spent seven or eight years working.

Daniel: Wow.

Eric: Through illustrating, I've been able to, to, to do archeology overseas quite a bit as well. So I've worked in really early Neolithic sites in southern Jordan on the Dead Sea Plain, worked on sites that had basically some of the first farming villages on Earth, you know, in addition to do in the archeology out there with the crew, I was the onsite illustrator. None of the artifacts from those excavations could leave the country of Jordan. So everything had to be documented at the end of the day after it was excavated. So I spent long nights illustrating, I don't know, arrow points.

Daniel: And so it's all day digging, and uncovering things, and then all night illustrating them.

Eric: That's right.

Daniel: Wow.

Eric: Yeah.

Daniel: And of course, you worked, uh, as an archeologist here in Glacier, too.

Eric: And not too long ago, it was, I guess, 2018 and 2019.

Daniel: How do you how do you think of the relationship between archeology and history? Are they kind of just branches of the same tree or…

Eric: Archeology is basically establishing a history of, of deep time, of, you know, time before written documentation. But it's a lot more than that too. Archeology is a really good tool in being able to give voices to people that are often left out of history, out of written history. History is often written by those in power. There's a lot of biases and prejudices and stuff that get written into those histories that remain there.

Daniel: This is a really interesting point that you're making. Like in some ways, archeology is, is a kind of history, But what's different is it's not so dependent on the written texts or traditional historical sources that we use in history. It also allows you to look at—tell the history and tell the story of people who had less power.

Eric: Yeah, and you look at the history books here in Montana and often, you know, they talk about the Copper Kings and, you know, some of these people that ended up becoming very powerful. And in archeology, often the sites that we uncover, the things we find in the ground are the—are what families leave. So we're studying just everyday, a family group that was passing through West Glacier, for example, on their way up and over the mountains to, to the east side for a hunt bison or something. But it's so important—is more important than, you know, studying a king or queen. It's like how everyday people lived and experienced and related to this landscape and related to the world around them.

Daniel: Archeology is a, a tool or a process that allows us to tell the stories or tell the histories of people who didn't have their lives immediately biographied or their portraits painted, they were everyday people.

Eric: Yeah.

Daniel: That's really cool.

Eric: Yeah.

Daniel: Okay, Eric, before we go deeper into kind of anything else, let's talk about your art. I think at one point we were talking in the past few months and you were telling me you were looking at a lot of like animal muscular anatomy and skeletal diagrams and stuff because you had to illustrate the way a culture was butchering and processing animals.

Eric: Yeah, I think that was for the uh, I did some illustrations of Viking era sites for University of Oslo. And they, they wanted a illustration of a, of a boat burial, the burial of a chieftain within a boat that was being buried. Anyway, they had a room designated inside of this boat with a bunch of grave goods and animal sacrifices, including dogs and horses and chickens and things like that. So. Yeah. So I had to research.

Daniel: You gotta make sure that animals look right. [both chuckling]

Eric: The anatomy of a horse like crammed—of a dead horse, crammed into a tiny little compartment in a Viking boat.

Daniel: Tell me about the Unstuck in Time series and that theme of art that you have. Where does that where does that fall?

Eric: Yeah. You asked about where that originated, and I think—and I was thinking about that, and I think it was back in Juneau, back where I grew up. Juneau is an old gold mining town. There's a, basically the ruins of two giant huge gold mines that encircle the, the city of Juneau. Now, they're—the mines have been abandoned for about a hundred years and basically been reclaimed by the rainforest. And as kids, we would go especially into this one mine called the Treadwell Mine and explore those old buildings and the, the buildings as they decay and collapse. You know, they, they get grown over by moss and other vegetation of the forest there extremely quickly.

Daniel: And so then you start illustrating it. Yeah.

Eric: So that's why I've taken that idea with me now. Everywhere I live, everywhere I go, I'm always imagining what a place will look like in the future if humans just walk away from it.

Daniel: But you Unstuck in Time series, I think it has a whole—there's a whole other layer beyond that. And that is this layer of it's almost like the, the spirit and the, the people and the characters and the animals from this place, from whatever place it is, whether it's Juneau or Missoula or Glacier, it's you, you bring to life all these elements from this places past and put them all in one scene.

Eric: I think it has to do with, with engagement, with being there and learning and living in those places intimately, meeting people, knowing people, learning the history and the pre-history of these places.

Daniel: You couldn't show up somewhere and paint one of these unstuck in time pieces the first week.

Eric: Yeah, not at all.

Daniel: No. It's about—you have to know that place.

Eric: Yeah. In fact, it's almost like a way—those nstuck in time drawings are almost a way of honoring a place, giving back to that place.

Daniel: This unstuck in time work that you do has been so inspiring for me and it is a big part of what inspired the way we're approaching season three of Headwaters this year.

Eric: Okay.

Daniel: Yeah, it's been really cool.

Eric: Well, how has it inspired you?

Daniel: I think you are looking at the land, looking at Glacier, this park, in a way I hadn't looked at it before. And I think you're looking at time in a way that I hadn't thought about it before. And so your art has definitely got me to reflect at least, or question maybe, the way I see landscape and time. Yeah. And so I think that probably comes from your training as an archeologist that when you look out at a landscape that you're working in, you don't just see the landscape as it is today. Right. You see other stuff?

Eric: Yeah. Yeah, you're right. And it's about this concept of time. Yeah. The worst enemy out there right now are cameras, because they condition us to see snapshots and to see just a stuck scene, a stuck moment in time. And, I mean, we're inundated with these images all around us, and we, we learn to live our lives like that, like we're just in the present where things are static. But if you throw those cameras away, and you start seeing time in a broader way, yeah, as a duration instead of a moment, you're able to see these—these dynamic processes of change. Animals, birds, living and dying, multiple generations of of creatures and humans and stuff that have occupied the land under our feet and have become the soil. They've become the trees. Like everything gets regenerated and gets, again interwoven into everything else out here.

Daniel: And into us, if you live here long enough.

Eric: Exactly right. Yeah.

Daniel: One of the best ways I can think of to describe your work in your approach to time, you know, I think you said it pretty well that it's, it's not about a snapshot. It's not like the photograph. One of our episodes this season is going to be, it's going to talk about Charlie Russell, you know, and whatever you think of his art, he really painted in snapshots. I think he was finding like a really fun or wild or dramatic scene and then he's painting one instant in that.

Eric: Right.

Daniel: But that's not what you do, at all.

Eric: [laughs] No. No. And that's, I think one of the most important parts of of illustrating is this idea that it's not a snapshot at all. It's kind of an anti-snapshot. You're looking at things, you're drawing things from multiple perspective points. And all of those perspective points get compressed into a single image. Like with artifact illustration, you're looking at an object from at least six or seven different locations, or you're moving it in your hands, you’re rotating it and looking at it from almost an infinite amount of perspective points. And they all, all of those perspective points you're drawing from, and you're combining them into a single image that—an image that you can't ever find or take a snapshot of.

Daniel: That's really interesting that you say that it you know, I've been thinking a lot as we work on this season three, we kind of want there to be like one perspective that's true or Right. [pensive piano music begins to play]

Eric: Right. Yeah.

Daniel: But your work is like deconstructing that, and historians tell us this too, that the study of history you know, it's about being okay with a lot of different perspectives.

[music finishes]

Daniel: I showed someone a draft of the art you're doing for for Headwaters. And they were like, “there's a lot going on here, and it looks a little bit like a disaster happened.” And I was wondering, I was like, well, I mean, this is a culmination of real events and real things that have happened here. And disaster's kind of a loaded term, but it's—a lot has happened here. And your art captures that.

Eric: Yeah.

Daniel: Represents that.

Eric: Yeah. I don't know what to say to that. [both laugh] It's yeah, it's been a chaotic last 200 years or so on this landscape. Yeah. But, but yeah, prior to that too, I mean, there was constant change. Glaciers come and gone. Pleistocene creatures have come and gone.

Daniel: Whether or not you see it as a disaster kind of depends on your perspective, your–

Eric: Your point of view.

Daniel: It kind of depends on your point of view. Yeah. I love the idea that this year's podcast, you know, Headwaters, is kind of represented by that style of art of yours. This, this scene of the park, but unbounded by time, kind of breaking free of its traditional—it's not a snapshot of the park. It is, it is something different. Like it's a—the background is all, it's the Many Glacier valley. You'll recognize it. But it's full of ice.

Eric: Yeah. With a glacier that it's probably a mile thick, which is what the glaciers were, about that thick about, you know, in the middle Pleistocene. And I think there's a, you can just see the peak of Grinnell Peak there sticking up over the the bit of glacier, that's about all you can see.

Daniel: And so anyone listening can can just probably pull up, look at their phone and look at this art. But the glacier, this massive glacier, is kind of receding and melting a little bit. And there's all of these characters and elements of the park's history spilling out of it. I love the, as the as the ice retreats, you can see the stromatolites making up the ground beneath.

Eric: Oh, yeah. Those stromatolites are really important to all my art. Yeah, there's I guess, a Siyeh Pass and Logan Pass, you can see stromatolites which are fossilized algae, basically, that's like 1.5 billion years old that lived in the shores of these ancient seas.

Daniel: I can see why you would love this. It's basically geologic reality, doing what you try and do in your art. It is these ancient, ancient fossils, [Eric chuckles] and they are literally uplifting and jumbling up the park's geologic history.

Eric: We want everything to be linear. We want everything to be a timeline. Mm hmm. But it's not. [laughing] And everything's mixed up all the time and the past is re-occurring in the present, all around us all the time. You just have to be aware of it. You have to see it.

Daniel: Coming out of this glacier, you illustrated… you know, we have the Great Northern Railway. We have lots of stories this season about that. So it's, I love that it's like crashing through the ice. Then you've got, you have the stromatolites beneath and then wolves kind of hunting and running around the whole scene. I love wolves. That's really cool.

Eric: Yeah, they're important part of this park for sure. Yeah. The wolves have always kind of symbolized basic freedom and life.

Daniel: And then all the other pieces you included in there are things that, that we're going to talk about in the season. You know, you have an oil well crashing down, you have a homesteading, you know, Euro-Americans homesteading and creating a mercantile store out in the forest. You have Buffalo Soldiers. So many cool pieces of the park's history colliding. Everything unstuck from its time.

Eric: Unstuck in time. Yeah. [both chuckling] But over the top of all that, you have the Native American presence. Yeah. That dominates the entire.

Daniel: The whole scene.

Eric: Yeah. And that's the history of the park. Mmhmm. You know, over 10,000 years here in the park. And then you've got all that jumbled chaos, you know, kind of coming unfrozen, basically in the bottom of that glacier. Yeah. Just in the, in the very, very, very recent past.

Daniel: But yeah, all of the, you know, the historic characters and elements from the past 200 years take up a good chunk of of the art piece but only a slice, just a sliver of the actual history.

Eric: Exactly right. Yeah.

Daniel: When we're talking about your Unstuck in Time series, the word, the word “becoming” rises in my mind.

Eric: Yeah.

Daniel: What does that mean for you? I mean, is that I think that's kind of a lot of what your your art is depicting is depicting a state of becoming. Do you think that's right?

Eric: Yeah. Yeah. Things are… yeah, in a constant state of change, of transformation, I guess. And you don't see that, when you're looking at moments in time. That becomes evident when you are looking at longer durations, when you're seeing things again over hundreds of years, thousands of years.

Daniel: When I go walk down to the lake, I'll admit most of the time I don't, I don't know that I am thinking about myself or the place becoming something. But of course it is. We are, we are—and the world around us is—in a state of becoming.

Eric: And you know that by expanding time out a little bit, thinking about it at it at a different time scale.

[Frank’s music begins to play again—hip hop music with chanting layered over the beat and other instruments]

Daniel: Eric, thanks for talking today. It's been really, really fascinating.

Eric: Sure. Thanks, Daniel.

Daniel: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park. With support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This season of Headwaters was made by me, Daniel Lombardi, Peri Sasnett, Michael Faist and Gaby Eseverri. We could not have made Season three without Lacy Kowalski or Melissa Sladek and Sierra Mandelko, Brent Rowley, Darren Lewis, the Glacier National Park Archives, and the Montana Historical Society. Thanks for listening.

Lacy: Next time on Headwaters:

Gaby Eseverri: We imagine the past; our history of oil exploration.

[drumbeat begins]

Daniel: [in the field] The park has a real history with fossil fuel and extractive industry.

Student: So we’re kind of watching the destruction happen, in a way.

Daniel: [in the field] This is getting serious. [group laughing] Hopefully, I don’t know, I want to like build the excitement about an oil seep, but I don’t’ know if we’ll be able to see anything.

Student: That is really gross. [laughing]

[sound of wet pebbles and mud plopping onto the ground]

Student: Oooh!

Daniel: [in the field] Oh, look at that!

[music finishes]

Gaby: That’s next time, on Headwaters.

Whitebark Pine | Chapter Five

13 februari 2022 | 35 min

Trees, fish, and ferrets—what is our relationship with nature?

The Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/ Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation: https://whitebarkfound.org/ Revive and Restore: https://reviverestore.org/ Pictures of whitebark pine: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmWJ2S4F Ben Cosgrove Music: https://www.bencosgrove.com/

See more show notes on our website: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/photosmultimedia/headwaters-podcast.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[upbeat music begins]

Peri: This season, I set out to learn about a tree, I started by meeting Illawye, the Great Great Grandparent Tree. And I learned how ShiNaasha Pete, a CSKT Tribal Forester, views that tree as an ancestor, with knowledge and power to share. I followed Clark's nutcrackers, red squirrels and grizzly bears and saw how everything in this place is tied to everything else. I cored a tree with Professor Diana Six, and she showed me what we have to lose, and how close we are to losing it. And I followed a whitebark pine seed on its journey through the park's restoration program. Witnessing the passion and dedication of the people trying to save this tree.

[Headwaters season two theme begins, somber piano music]

Peri: Now I want to explore how our relationship with nature has changed over time. To understand how we got here and how I might build a deeper relationship with the world around me. [theme plays, and ends]

Peri: Welcome to Headwaters, a podcast made in Glacier National Park, which is the traditional lands of many Native American tribes.

Andrew: That's our host, Peri, and I'm Andrew. This is Chapter Five, the last in the season.

Michael This season is called Whitebark Pine, a whole series about a special tree, but it's also the story of Glacier National Park and how we relate to this landscape, how we protect it and how we fit into the world around us.

Peri: I've grown up with this idea that people are bad for nature, that we are the scissors snipping apart the strands of the ecosystems around us. And then we have to keep people out of nature to protect it. [jaunty music begins] But where does that idea come from?

Michael We have spent all season with whitebark pine on top of mountains. But this story, Peri, takes us to the lowest elevations in the park—to the lakes, rivers, creeks and streams that fill our valley floors, and that make up much of the park's boundary. [music ends]

Michael: So I want to start off asking, are you much of an angler, are you good at fishing?

Peri: The last time I went fishing, I was five with my granddad and an alligator ate my bobber. [Michael laughing] I have not fished since.

Michael: Ok so, so no. And to be honest, me neither. I'm not very good at it, but I think the story of fish and fish management here in Glacier is interesting because it shows how we're always re-examining how much to intervene in natural processes. The park's mission has always been to preserve and protect this place. But how do you actually do that? What is our role here? [water rushing] Let’s start in the very first years of the park over 100 years ago, a scientist named Morton J. Elrod—who would later become a naturalist for the park—started the first aquatic research project here. And as he studied our lakes and streams, he saw a problem: not enough fish.

Peri: Not enough fish?

Michael: Not enough. So he took depth measurements, and samples of possible fish foods, to determine which lakes people could add fish to.

Peri: What?

Michael: Introduce them, to take them from somewhere else and stock them in lakes where they weren't previously found, or to add to an existing population. All with the goal of enhancing recreational or sport fishing opportunities.

Peri: Gotcha.

Michael: When Glacier was founded in 1910, virtually anyone could apply for a fish stocking permit with the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries. If they approved your application, the bureau would provide you with fish and the necessary permission to place them throughout the park.

Peri: So correct me if I'm wrong. But this wasn't unusual at the time, was it?

Michael: No, not at all. Fish stocking, with the intent of improving sport fishing, was extremely common in mountain lakes across the West. Stocked by state and local governments, individuals, even environmental groups like the Sierra Club. And Glacier, too, was fully on board with the practice. The park cooperatively managed the Glacier National Park Fish Hatchery with the Fish and Wildlife Service, which raised in captivity all the native and non-native species that would be introduced to park waters.

Peri: But doesn't this clash a bit with the whole preserve our national parks unimpaired idea?

Michael: Well, they didn't think so. [pensive piano music begins] Our mission, the NPS mission, is to preserve and protect these places for future generations to enjoy. So the park wanted to make sure that if you came here hoping to catch a fish, you would! The thought was the more fish you and your kids hook while you're here, the more you'll enjoy and appreciate the park. And it's worth noting that this is the same time that the park was poisoning coyotes to ensure that the wildlife people like to see, like deer, would survive. So we were protecting the things about this place that people liked and that they could easily see on their visit.

Peri: Ok, I guess I see the logic in that. But couldn't I use that same logic to build a roller coaster at Logan past?

Michael: Hmm.

Peri: How does this all tie back to Whitebark Pine? Are you saying that planting nursery raised whitebark seedlings is the same as stocking hatchery raised fish?

Michael: Well, no. For one thing, whitebark pine is a native species that we're careful to only plant in areas that we know they used to grow, using seeds that come from this ecosystem. There was nothing at all careful about our fish stocking program. [Peri laughs] Native species, non-native species. It didn't matter. They put them all over the place, often into places that never had any trout at all. So by 1945, nearly 50 million fish had been introduced here, averaging more than a million fish a year every year since the park was founded. [music ends]

Peri: Wow.

Michael: This was massive in both scale and ambition, attempting to bend our fisheries to our will.

Peri: Well, we don't do that anymore. So what changed people's minds?

Michael: Well, the first reason people began to question this practice, was that from a sport fishery perspective, it wasn't really working.

Peri: Which was the whole reason they were doing it in the first place, right?

Michael: Yeah. Despite introducing millions of fish here, they had not created the recreational fishing utopia that they'd long dreamt of. But on top of that, there was a growing understanding that stocking was a harmful practice to native species, and that losing native fish could have negative consequences that extend far beyond our waterways. [water rushing] Glacier has 21 native fish species, and few are better known than the bull trout. Bull trout are listed under the Endangered Species Act as threatened—one step below endangered—because they've declined so dramatically over the past 100 years. In Glacier, the practice of stocking non-native fish is one of their biggest threats. Lake trout were stocked outside Glacier in Flathead Lake, and despite never being introduced directly into the park, they migrated here and have become bull trout’s enemy number one. They are bigger, the largest member of the salmonid family, and reliably out-compete bull trout for food and for space.

Peri: That kind of sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Michael: Yeah. And in the 1970s, the park began to realize that an iconic Montana fish, and an important link in our ecosystem, could disappear. So it prompted a bit of an identity crisis.

Peri: It sounds like we had to decide exactly what we're protecting here, native species or just things people enjoy.

Michael: Exactly. And the park decided that our sport fisheries, while important, couldn't take priority over our native biodiversity, let alone harm it. And in 1972, Glacier ended its fish stocking program, adopting a do no harm approach to our fisheries.

Peri: But they were stocking fish in the park for, what 60 years? Wasn't the damage kind of already done?

Michael: Yeah.

Peri: Cat out of the bag, the fish out of the net?

Michael: [laughing] Oh gosh. [somber piano music begins]

Michael: Well, biologists recognized at the time that these impacts from fish stocking would be hard to undo, and things continued to get worse for bull trout. By the 21st century, lake trout had found their way into well over half of the lakes were bull trout are found, which in the park, is only 17 to begin with. Nearly 40 years after ending the fish stocking program, it became clear that do no harm wasn't going to cut it if we wanted to preserve bull trout. So in yet another reexamination of our mission, the park decided that preserving this place required undoing the harm of our predecessors.

Peri: How do we go about doing that?

Michael: Well, just like whitebark pine, the effort to restore native fisheries goes way beyond Glacier's boundaries. Down in Yellowstone, in Flathead Lake, lots of other places, biologists are undertaking a years-long project to physically remove lake trout from waters where they threaten native species. Around here, Quartz Lake is kind of the prime example. Every year, with funding from the Glacier National Park Conservancy, the fisheries crew heads up to Quartz Lake in the North Fork, hops on a boat and lowers gill nets into the lake. If they catch a bull trout, they let it go. But if they catch a lake trout, they kill it.

Peri: And it seems like it's working.

Michael: It has been. While in Quartz lake they haven't removed Lake Trout entirely, they have successfully suppressed their numbers, which has allowed bull trout populations to stay steady, where before they started this, they were collapsing. But to me, perhaps the most interesting technique to restore bull trout is taking fish from one place and adding them to places where they weren't found before.

Peri: We're fish stocking again?

Michael: Well, almost? Glacier and the USGS have worked together to conduct what's called conservation introductions, so kind of stocking by another name. Conservation introductions take the same premise, moving fish to a new place, but instead of enhancing a sport fishery, the goal is to create a safe haven for a threatened native species.

[uplifting music begins]

Michael: The NPS even made a video about these efforts this year, following a crew monitoring one of these introductions.

NPS Video: [birds chirping] We are headed up to Grace Lake, which is upstream of logging lake, protected by a barrier falls to sample some bull trout that were introduced in 2014 as part of a conservation introduction.

Michael: There's a natural barrier, a waterfall between Grace and Logging lakes, so they know the bull trout they introduced there won't have to compete with lake trout.

NPS Video: [music continues] We’ve seen nothing but benefits from this project. To see big fish that we're seeing in different age classes that we're seeing, that we know we put here and that are doing really well. And it feels good knowing that we're doing good.

Michael: And this is important because like whitebark pine, bull trout are threatened by more than just invasive species. They are also faced with climate change.

Peri: Of course.

Michael: Bull trout require cold water, but climate change is altering our watersheds, and our lakes and streams are slowly warming up. This isn't great for bull trout, and we know that if they have any chance of adapting to these changes, it's in a place where they're not also fighting with lake trout to survive. Because I get so excited about this stuff, I was invited even to be a part of this NPS video.

Michael, on the NPS Video: The goal of this is to provide a refugia. Knowing the threats that these species face: warming waters, decreasing runoff or changes to our peak runoff times. The lakes that were selected to place these fish, they were deliberately chosen, carefully chosen for where they sit, what influences them and the risks posed by non-native species.

Peri: Look at you, your film debut.

Michael: Yeah, I mean, I wish I'd trimmed my beard a little bit, but—I think the big takeaway for me from the story of bull trout and what connects this to the rest of our series is that it is a story of us deciding what the National Park Service is really here to do. We have always had the mission of preserving and protecting this place for future generations, but how we interpret it has changed over time. That used to mean introducing millions of fish so that anglers who visit Glacier would leave happy, and it meant focusing on recreation. But today that means saving a native species like bull trout, even whitebark pine, and undoing the harm we have done in the past. Fighting to save entire ecosystems at risk.

Peri: So the park isn't working from a list of rules set in stone. It's actively deciding what it means to protect these million acres.

Michael: Exactly.

[pensive music begins]

Peri: I guess in one way, this story seems like a lesson about how messy it can get when we meddle in the ecosystems around us and how much work it takes to undo that. So it's easy to see where I got this idea that people are bad for nature. When we started interfering with the fisheries here and introducing new kinds of fish, things went totally awry. This story about fish looks at the past and how we got to where we are today, but what's next? Where might the future lead?

[music ends]

Andrew: There are about half a dozen species native to Glacier National Park, including bull trout, that are currently listed under the Endangered Species Act or ESA. Lynx, grizzly bears and meltwater stoneflies are other examples,

Peri: And whitebark could possibly join that list.

Andrew: Now, every species listed under the ESA gets a recovery plan, and the goal of every recovery plan is the same: save the species from extinction. But how you actually go about doing that can vary wildly depending on the species. By looking to other restoration efforts, I hoped I could better understand what the future has in store for whitebark pine, and for conservation more broadly.

Ben: My name is Ben Novak.

Andrew: Ben is the lead scientist for a conservation nonprofit called Revive and Restore, and I called to ask him about ferrets.

[somber music begins]

Ben: She was 21 days old. She only even opened up her eyes. Yeah, that's really the only time where you can hold them without them tearing your flesh off. Because they're small, but they're ferocious little predators,

Andrew: Not just any ferrets. Black-footed ferrets.

[black-footed ferret chattering]

Andrew: Up to two feet long with black feet and a cream-colored body, they look somewhat similar to domestic ferrets that people might have as pets. But the Black-footed Ferret is the only one actually native to North America.

Ben: Which lived on the Great Plains from North Dakota, Kansas and those areas out west to the foothills of the Rockies, including the Blackfeet Nation, right next door in Glacier National Park.

Andrew: And they're specialized predators of prairie dogs, who make up 90 percent of their diet.

Ben: They preyed on prairie dogs, they were ubiquitous across the Great Plains.

Andrew: But in the middle of the century, things started to change for the black-footed ferret.

Ben: By the 1950s, due to agricultural land conversion, predator control and a government campaign to eradicate prairie dogs, had dwindled to virtually nothing, and it was thought they were extinct.

Andrew: In 1964, there was a small glimmer of hope when a population was discovered in South Dakota, and they even made the first endangered species list in 1967. But none of these individuals that were discovered ultimately survived.

Peri: Why not?

Andrew: Well, just like with whitebark pine, Black-footed ferrets are faced with a non-native disease called sylvatic plague, on top of all this external pressure like habitat loss. Scientists even tried to take a few into captivity and raise them there, but it just didn't work.

Ben: And so the world thought again, that was it. No more black footed ferrets.

Andrew: But in 1981, a Wyoming game and fish biologist got a call that a ranch dog named Shep had found one.

Ben: And fish and game biologist got out to the area near Meeteetse, Wyoming. And over the course of several months found about 100 Black-footed ferrets, 100 of an animal that was supposedly extinct. And that really was the final stand for black footed ferrets, that was the last population in the world.

Peri: All thanks to Shep.

Andrew: This time, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service was ready. They founded the National Black-footed Ferret Conservation Center, and started a captive breeding program in 1987 that has been wildly successful.

Ben: They have bred, since '87, over ten thousand, five hundred Black-footed ferrets, over the course of thirty generations. And they have reintroduced nearly 5000 into the wild.

Andrew: Today, if you visit Badlands or Wind Cave National Parks in South Dakota—and if you happen to be nocturnal while you're there—you can see these ferrets for yourself. These reintroductions have established new black-footed ferret colonies across the Great Plains, in the U.S., Canada, Mexico and across many tribal nations as well. The captive breeding program got its start with just 18 ferrets, of which only 16 successfully reproduced. And when you trace back the heritage of those 16 ferrets, looking at their family trees, they're all descendants of just seven individuals.

Peri: Wait, wait. But Ben said that today in total, they've bred over ten thousand Black-footed ferrets, and they all traced back to just those seven ancestors?

Andrew: Just seven. Which means that even if the species can overcome the threats of the sylvatic plague and habitat loss, they've got a very limited gene pool.

Ben: If we can overcome plague, this species has absolutely every reason to recover in the wild. But it has that tiny gene pool and that could become something very difficult long term as this species starts adapting to changes in its environment.

[somber music begins]

Andrew: Normally, this is where you bring in members of an outside population to try to introduce new genetic diversity. But these ferrets are the last of their kind anywhere on the planet, which is where Ben and his colleagues at Revive and Restore came in.

Ben: Well with Black-footed ferrets, they're all descended from just seven individuals, there's no other naturally occurring population, there's nowhere to go but back to the past to try and get some, some new blood into this population.

Andrew: The answer to increasing genetic diversity wasn't to introduce a new ferret. It was to reintroduce an old one. In the 1980s when they found the world's last ferrets in Wyoming, they did everything they could think of to protect and preserve the species. That meant starting the captive breeding program to keep the species alive. But it also meant taking tissue samples, just some skin cells, and sending them off to a lab, as a sort of genetic record of the time. One of those tissue samples came from a ferret named Willa. Willa died over 30 years ago. She has no living descendants today, and is 20 generations removed from our modern ferrets. So think about if you went back and met your 20th great-grandparent, which for humans means going back about 500 years. You probably wouldn't have that much in common with that person. And genetically, the two of you would share less than one percent of your DNA, which means that Willa's genes could introduce new and valuable diversity into the existing population, making the entire species more resilient in the face of disease and climate change.

Peri: OK, but how? She's been dead for 30 years.

Andrew: In the form of a ferret named Elizabeth Ann.

[serious music begins]

Ben: Elizabeth Ann has 10 times as many unique, diverse alleles as any other living Black-footed Ferret. So she is, she's incredibly valuable.

Andrew: Using DNA from her now 30 year old skin cell sample, Ben and other scientists working with Fish and Wildlife, created a clone of Willa—born to a surrogate mother—who they named Elizabeth Ann. And Ben even got to hold her.

Ben: You know, as a scientist, it's just a geek out moment to think this is a living, breathing animal that was not created by sperm and egg cells. She was created by, from SKIN! From 33 years ago. Like, I was a year old when Willa's cells were frozen at the frozen zoo. And now I'm holding this baby made from them.

Andrew: Elizabeth Ann is the first ever clone of a United States endangered mammal.

Peri: Wow. I guess I had never even thought that was a possibility.

Andrew: Yeah, it's a new frontier in the field of conservation genetics, and Elizabeth Ann is a breakthrough. But she's also an animal. She's an adorable, ferocious little scientific achievement. The agency tasked with upholding the Endangered Species Act is the Fish and Wildlife Service, and Elizabeth Ann was their idea. They reached out to Ben and his team at Revive and Restore, along with other partner organizations, and started a process that ultimately took seven years. They went through all the steps required for any environmental project—getting a permit, going through a public review period—and ultimately it worked.

Ben: And the Black-footed Ferret was the first real click where people were like: Oh. This isn't just cloning to clone and see if it can, you can do it. [pensive music begins] You know, this animal was cloned for a very specific purpose, and it's going to help this species. And it was it just really connected dots for people and people.

Andrew: And Ben believes that this breakthrough, this use of biotechnology, could help not only the conservation of endangered species, but maybe even the revival of extinct ones. Which raises the question Where does our duty as conservationists end? What tools can, or should we use to help preserve threatened species?

Peri: The ferret story illustrates what makes this whitebark problem so difficult. Twenty generations of black footed ferrets is thirty years. Twenty generations for humans is five hundred. And twenty generations of whitebark pine is 1200 years. We're trying to save a species that operates on an entirely different timescale than us.

Andrew: Right, this is still a very new field. We talked in the last episode about how a simple genetic test might help us identify blister rust resistant trees.

Peri: Right? And that seems straightforward enough.

Andrew: But conservation genetics is a fast growing field, and the possibilities are both promising and provocative. Biotechnology could revolutionize our efforts to restore whitebark pine, or it could create new problems.

Peri: Well, so what do we do? [pensive music begins] How do we proceed given all this uncertainty?

Andrew: Experts say we should proceed cautiously.

Peri: Yeah, I mean, we still don't know everything, and it will take generations to understand our impacts.

Andrew: We wouldn't have to save bull trout, black-footed ferrets or even whitebark pine if our interference hadn't put them in jeopardy in the first place.

Peri: So when we choose to intervene, that means balancing these uncertainties, knowing we can't completely understand how far reaching our actions might be, but also recognizing that if we don't do anything, these species will probably disappear. As an indecisive person to begin with. These choices can feel paralyzing. Either path seems fraught, and it's easy to default to what seems like the safest option. Just letting nature take its course.

[music ends]

Rosalyn: So as a young child, we would have to climb down a cliff to, like, look for a particular plant. The adults would be like, just go down there and get that, you know, [laughing] we would be expected to like, Oh, OK.

Peri: People have been here for thousands of years, before this was a national park, which is why I called Roslyn. [upbeat music begins]

Rosalyn: My name is Rosalyn Lapier, and I'm an associate professor at the University of Montana in environmental studies. I'm also a traditionally trained ethnobotanist. I'm Blackfeet on my mother's side and metis on my father's side.

Peri: Talking with her offered a glimpse of what it would be like to have a connection with a place that stretches back for a thousand generations.

Rosalyn: When we think about traditional ecological knowledge, this is women's knowledge.

Peri: Like Rosalyn is today. Her grandmother was also a teacher, and a keeper of ethnobotanical knowledge.

Rosalyn: My grandmother's name is Annie Mad Plume. Because she was raised by these two other grandmothers, she was very knowledgeable about plants and the traditional ecological knowledge of the Blackfeet.

Peri: Rosalyn was taught practical and cultural uses of native plants.

Rosalyn: So one particular plant, sometimes called saskatoon berries, sometimes called june berries, sometimes called serviceberry. That particular plant has lots of uses. It is used as a tool. Historically, people used it for making bows and arrows out of, making different types of household products, you can use the bark as medicine, you can use, um the berries for food, and it's used in religion and religious practice.

Peri: But on top of learning ways to use these plants, she also learned how to use this ecological knowledge to shape the world around her.

Rosalyn: The Blackfeet didn't rely on it just in the natural world. So one of the things they did do with this particular plant is they cultivated it, right? They moved it. They would transplant it, [chuckles] if they knew that they were traveling to a certain place every single year, they would either cultivate the area so that it grew in abundance or they would transplant it, move it there.

[upbeat music begins]

Peri: The idea that indigenous people lived in harmony with nature, just foraging as they went, treading lightly, changing nothing, is a persistent myth.

Rosalyn: You know, the Blackfeet didn't think they needed to “adapt to the world". They changed the world, all the time. They changed nature.

Peri: So you could say the field of study that we know today as conservation actually began millennia ago with the traditional ecological knowledge of indigenous communities like the Blackfeet.

Rosalyn: So the common definition of traditional ecological knowledge is that it includes three things: knowledge, practice, and belief. So knowledge is just understanding, you know, the natural world. And that knowledge usually comes from observation. Practice, then, is how you use that knowledge. Right? How you hunt in a certain way. But then also, practice includes things like cultivation, right? And management, land management. And then the third part of traditional ecological knowledge is belief. Is the cosmology of that particular indigenous group, and how they understand the natural world is connected to the supernatural realm. [swelling music begins] Scholars are increasingly beginning to understand that there's not really any place within historic Blackfeet territory that was not utilized somehow, that was not managed and or that was not cultivated. And so when Americans use the word Wilderness, to describe certain areas as, you know, kind of untrammeled by man, is definitely not true. It's a cultivated space, and it's been cultivated for thousands of years.

Peri: People have been managing this land for millennia, having an impact and shaping the world around them. So just leaving things alone isn't necessarily a more natural course of action. You might even call it a major departure. We've always had a relationship with the natural world, and we always will. So the question is what kind of relationship will that be? [music ends]

Melissa: [ski lift humming] We are at whitefish mountain resort, going up the gondola.

Peri: I started this journey outside the park, visiting Illawye the Great Great Grandparent Tree, and I'm ending it outside the park too. [uplifting music begins] Trees don't really recognize park borders, and this restoration effort is a hugely collaborative project.

Melissa: [lift humming continues] Going up to 6800 feet. Whitebark pine in this area typically starts around...

Peri: And I'm joined by Melissa Jenkins.

Melissa: My name is Melissa Jenkins

Peri: Who's a bit of a legend in the world of Whitebark Pine. Some even call her the Lorax of Whitebark. Melissa supposedly retired from the Forest Service last year, but apparently she's finding it tough to leave whitebark behind.

Peri: [in the field] And what are you doing now?

Melissa: Working too much. [Peri and Melissa laugh]

All: [laughs].

Peri: We're at the resort today for a very fitting capstone to our season. A collaborative, interagency restoration project. The Forest Service is planting trees here in partnership with the resort, which put in years of work to be certified as the first whitebark pine friendly ski area in the country.

Karl: In the truck, we're going to be showing all that to the top over here. That little knob over there where the towers are at, when we get to the site, that's what you'll need your hard hats and such.

Peri: It didn't fit on the gondola, but they're bringing a grill up to the top to make food for everyone, and it feels like a celebration. And Melissa is the perfect person to be here with, since she knows everyone and seems to know everything. She's leading the effort to put together our local piece of the whitebark pine restoration plan, and her enthusiasm is contagious.

Melissa: There are so many amazing, amazing whitebark [upbeat music begins] that are huge, and you can tell, you know, they're like stalwart soldiers standing against the elements. And and they're big and they're gnarly, and those are really big old trees are my favorite. But then the young trees are hope for the future too, so.

Peri: It took people like Melissa to convince me that whitebark pine could be a hopeful story, and I asked her if she'd always felt this way.

Melissa: [wind blowing] There was a point where I would have said there's a good possibility that whitebark won't be able to survive far into the future.

[music ends]

Peri: But she said that started to change when the trees and their nursery successfully produced baby pine cones.

Melissa: That was almost a 20-year process, just to get to that point. And that little conelet, to me, represented all that work that had come before, and all of the people and the dedication and the effort that they had put in to getting to that point. And I cried a little.

Peri: The plan for today is to plant 400 little seedlings, which have come from the nursery in Idaho. Everyone grabs a couple dozen seedlings and a tool and spreads out to get to work.

Melissa: [scraping in the dirt] I’m thinking we'll go ahead and try and plant it here.

Peri: And after watching Melissa plant a few trees, Michael and Andrew announced that I was going to plant the next one.

Andrew: So Peri, what do you what do you see about this site? Why are you picking it?

[upbeat music playing]

Peri: [in the field] So there's plenty of sun here.

Peri: The first step is to scrape the vegetation clear from a small site.

Peri: [in the field] I've never done this before. [scraping sound continues] This is not as easy as Melissa made it look. Any suggestions on my technique?

Melissa: [chuckling] You could swing a little a little more aggressively. Looking, looking good.

Peri: [in the field] Good. Not great.

Melissa: It's it's looking fantastic.

Peri: [in the field] It's very generous of you.

Melissa: OK, now I'm going to step to one side.

Peri: Now that I had my site prepared, I was ready to plant my seedling.

Melissa: You want to plant it right back up to the same level of the soil on the plug.

Peri: [in the field] So what do we think?

Melissa: I think it's beautiful. I think you did a great job.

Peri: [in the field] Thank you. My very first whitebark seedling. Can you take a picture me of me with it?

Peri: Being involved with a project like this that's generations long, it definitely makes me think on a bigger time scale. Several hundred years from now, when everything I know is long gone, that tree that I planted could still be here, with nutcrackers cawing in its branches. Aldo Leopold, the famous conservationist, once wrote "Acts of creation are ordinarily reserved for gods and poets, but humbler folk may circumvent this restriction if they know how. To plant a pine, for example, one need be neither God nor poet. One need only own a shovel."

Michael: Does it feel like you're leaving this behind? It doesn't really seem like you have actually retired yet, but retiring from being one of like, the leading people in the field?

Melissa: [birds chirping] Well, that's part of the reason that I'm leading this effort to do the restoration plan for the crown of the continent ecosystem, because it's going to set up the people that are coming in after me for success. And I can feel confident that when I leave, they have a clear path forward with what needs to be done to restore the species, and they won't need me. [pensive music begins] That’s the best thing you can give to the people who come after you in your work is the fact that they don't need you anymore.

Melissa: [birds continue chirping] There’s a, Nelson Henderson has a, I have a quote from him on my desk that says “the true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not plan to sit.

Peri: [in the field] This kind of this whole project of like, we won't really see this. Like, how does that feel to know that? None. I mean, none of us will see the fruits of these labors, really.

Melissa: I can picture it, though. I can picture what they're going to look like. [birds continue chirping]

Peri: If Melissa says she can picture it. So can I.

Melissa: Yeah. These trees are these trees are going to be just fine. We hope so. Yeah.

[music ends]

Peri: [upbeat music begins] Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Glacier is the traditional lands of several Native American tribes, including the Aamsskáápipikani, Kootenai, Séliš, and Ql̓ispé people. Headwaters was created by Daniel Lombardi. Andrew Smith, Peri Sasnett and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music, and Claire Emery let us use her woodcut piece titled Wind Poem for this season's cover art. Special thanks this episode to Bill Hayden, Rosalyn Lapier, Ben Novak, Melissa Jenkins, Karl Anderson, Dawn LaFleur, everyone with Glacier's native plant program, the Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation, and so many others. If you enjoyed the show, share it with the person you'd most like to bring with you on your visit to Glacier.

Lacy: This is like for the end?

Daniel: This is in it, yeah. You saying that, that's going to be in it.

Michael: [laughs]

Lacy: The Glacier Conservancy is the official fundraising partner of Glacier National Park. To learn more, visit glacier.org.

Peri: I think that's the best one you've done yet.

Lacy: OK. Do I need to get one more time?

Michael: I think we're good.

Peri: Yeah, I think that's good.

Whitebark Pine | Chapter Four

6 februari 2022 | 39 min

Collecting pinecones, planting seeds, and other acts of hope.

The Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/ Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation: https://whitebarkfound.org/ Pictures of whitebark pine: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmWJ2S4F Ben Cosgrove Music: https://www.bencosgrove.com/

See more show notes on our website: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/photosmultimedia/headwaters-podcast.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[pensive guitar music begins playing]

Doug: You get a really unique perspective being in the top of them, looking at these like big, beautiful cones. Nothing like a whitebark pine cone.

Peri: Back in July, I found myself high on a ridge on the east side of the park, overlooking the Blackfeet Reservation, listening to climbing gear jingle like wind chimes. [climbing gear clacking together]

Annie: Doug has nice long arms to reach out on those branches.

Doug: You think I have nice arms Annie?

Annie: You have nice arms, Doug. [everyone laughs]

Peri: Doug Tyte is a member of Glacier's revegetation crew. Every summer, the park sends Doug, with his long arms, and the rest of the reveg crew to find and then climb healthy whitebark pine trees that have lots of cones. And because whitebark pine cones grow way at the end of the top of their branches, Doug had to climb way up and reach way out to get them. Dangling from Doug's harness were homemade wire mesh cages, the size and shape of a gallon Ziploc bag that he slid over the ends of cone laden branches, crimping down the edges and locking the cones off from the world.

Doug: Three!

Reveg Crew: Three. Three!

Peri: Each time he put on a new cage, Doug would shout down to everyone below the number of cones in it.

Doug: Five!

Reveg Crew: Five! Five.

Peri: But that was back in July. It's a few months later now in September, and I'm revisiting the tree with Doug, only to find that not all of the cages did their job.

Peri: [in the field] Yeah, you can see the claw marks all the way up the trunk.

Peri: The fresh claw marks showed that a bear had taken interest in this tree and its cones.

Levi: See how deep the nails went in.

Peri: [in the field] Yeah, wow.

Levi: Dang.

Doug: It's pretty cool.

Peri: [in the field] It is impressive.

Doug: You can see there's tons of old claw marks too on this thing.

Levi: Yeah, this one has claw marks every year, it seems like.

Peri: After confirming that all bears had vacated the tree, we got set up to climb the tree again.

[guitar music plays softly]

Doug: [climbing gear jingling and clacking] Alright. Lanyards,.

Carleton: Four inch, you good?

Doug: Got my four inch.

Carleton: Some webbing?

Doug: I got webbing. New fancy one.

Peri: [in the field] So how long have you been climbing trees

Doug: Since I could walk. [laughs] But for the government for two years.

Peri: [in the field] So Doug's climbing up the tree, he's making it look pretty easy, actually. How many cones do you think are on this tree?

Doug: Total? I think we got an estimate when we climbed it.

Carleton: 215. He caged 107.

Peri: [in the field] Wow.

Carleton: Using twenty two cages.

Peri: [in the field] How does that compare to other trees? It's just like...

Carleton: It's pretty—it's a high number. I think our highest number of this season was 200...

Peri: The trees they climb are special. Most whitebarks I see around the park do not have hundreds of cones. It's pretty rare for these trees to start producing cones before they're at least 50 years old. And even then, the younger ones usually only manage to grow a handful.

Doug: I mean, this tree isn't that large.

Peri: [in the field] No.

Doug: But it's like a good cone producer.

Peri: After all we've learned about how many species rely on whitebark pine seeds, it seems a little strange that we're actively preventing animals from accessing them. But even on these trees, only about half the cones are caged.

Peri: [in the field] Doug actually told me a story on the way up that once he was caging cones on a tree that had sort of two main trunks coming up, and this nutcracker landed in the one next to him and was just kind of harassing him: “caw, caw, caw”—like, "what are you doing? Those are supposed to be my cones!"

Peri: Perched in the top of the tree, Doug pulls off the cages with the cones inside, then carefully tosses them down to the crew waiting below. Kind of like a bride tossing her bouquet to the waiting bridesmaids.

Doug: Okay, this is gonna be a tricky throw.

Levi: Yup.

Doug: Ready?

Levi: Yup. [catching sound]

[Headwaters season two theme starts playing: somber piano music]

Peri: So everyone is kind of packing up all their gear, and someone hands me this big burlap sack with all of the cones in it from this tree. And it's pretty light, but it kind of makes me think that there's a lot in this bag. The seeds in these cones are our answer to blister rust—they're the hope for our future forests, and they have a long journey ahead of them.

[Theme music ends]

Peri: Hi, I'm Peri.

Andrew: I'm Andrew.

Michael: And I'm Michael. This is Season Two of Headwaters, a podcast from Glacier National Park.

Andrew: This is Chapter Four of a five-episode season, which is all about whitebark pine. In the past three episodes, we've learned about why this tree is important to people and our cultures, how so many pieces of our ecosystem are connected to it, and why it's at risk.

Peri: Now we're going to meet the people trying to save it.

[short segment of guitar music plays to mark a transition]

Peri: The world of whitebark pine is full of giants. Everywhere I turn, I encounter another brilliant ecologist who's been studying these trees for longer than I've been alive. Luckily for me, a group called the Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation has gathered all of these giants together. In 2021, the High Five conference, as in five-needle pines, was hosted virtually, and with help from the Glacier Conservancy, I registered to attend.

Rob: We have a terrific conference planned for you...

Peri: The conference is a three-day event with over 100 different talks, all in service of saving a tree. Sitting in to listen, I got to hear about all the work still being done to shape the future of whitebark pine restoration.

Diana T: [fading in under Peri’s narration, then back out] I look forward to seeing you all at the question and answer panel discussion, after...

Peri: And who better to talk with about the history of whitebark pine restoration than two leaders in the field?

Diana T: [voice over the phone] I'm Diana Tomback…

Peri: Diana is a professor in Integrative Biology, and one of the foremost names in whitebark pine.

Diana T: [laughs] pulling it off my shelf

Peri: Reaching up to grab it early in her video call, Diana literally wrote the book on whitebark restoration. But when she started her career in the 70s doing research on whitebark pine and Clark's nutcrackers…

Diana T: There was nothing on my radar screen, nothing on the horizon to indicate that this species would be in the trouble that it is today. We have to thank Steve Arno and Jim Brown for the foresight back in the 1980s to realize that the Northern Rockies was losing its whitebark pine.

Peri: I also connected with Bob Keane, a now-retired Forest Service scientist that has worked on whitebark for decades.

Bob: [voice over the phone] I was working with Steve Arno and his research that he was doing in the high elevations, and well, what I saw was the fact that there were many whitebark pines that were dead. And I just thought it was, this is what happens up high when plants grow, they often die because it's so cold and icy and snowy up here. But Arno said, no, no, these plants can easily handle the ice and cold. These trees are dying because of an exotic blister rust.

[slightly ominous banjo music begins playing]

Peri: There was no single turning point that woke everyone up to the decline of whitebark pine. Instead, it was this slow accumulation of new science and growing concern. That said, one moment did stand out. In 1998, Bob, Diana, and other leaders in the field gathered for a conference and presented data that showed just how rapidly whitebark was declining. But it was what happened after the conference, after the talks ended, and the posters were packed up, that Diana said was pivotal.

Diana T: And that conference, Restoring Whitebark Pine Ecosystems, is the one that really made a bunch of us think, “Where do we go from here?” So I recall when the conference was over, it was that afternoon, and everyone had picked up and gone home except us. [laughing] We were sitting around with a can of beer or something asking each other, “Where do we go next?” And a suggestion was made by Dana Perkins, who's with the BLM, that perhaps we should consider forming a nonprofit.

Peri: That casual brainstorming turned into the Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation, which has been a key advocate for whitebark pine science and restoration for the last 20 years. They're the central guiding organization for whitebark pine restoration, and the group hosting this conference.

Diana T: A number of us who came out of that era came to realize that the ecosystems that we were studying, they were deteriorating from various anthropogenic problems.

Peri: [to Diana] So once you recognized that blister rust was kind of the key problem and you knew you needed to take action, how did you know what to do? Did you have to start from scratch?

Diana T: Well, the tools were there already.

Peri: A stroke of luck, if you want to call it that, is that blister rust affects most five-needle pines, not just whitebark, including some important timber species like sugar pine and white pine. So people had already been thinking about how to fix this problem as early as the 1950s. So there was a bit of a road map for how to address this problem. What Diana and Bob had to do was adjust it to work for whitebark.

Diana T: Bob Keane was lead author, I was second author, on what became the restoration manual for whitebark pine.

Peri: The key was that some whitebark pine showed natural resistance to blister rust, just as scientists had observed with other five-needle pines back in the 50s. So the plan was to identify those resistant trees, grow their seedlings, and plant them back on the land, increasing the overall amount of resistance in the population. Bringing in all these different agencies and different disciplines is key to get the restoration plan right, especially considering that whitebark pine could soon be listed under the Endangered Species Act. As of fall 2021, it's already listed as endangered in Canada and is proposed for listing in the U.S.

Diana T: Well, my attitude is this is important work. It's probably a capstone piece of work for all the work that I've done on Whitebark Pine. But it's not over until the nutcracker caws or whatever, cracks. [both laugh] [sweet, hopeful piano music plays] You can't assume that things are going to tick along just fine. You have to keep putting that energy and that push there. So it's these kinds of things that have galvanized a number of us to actually act to do something.

Bob: I think it would be sad that for a person who's worked in that ecosystem for so long, if we didn't do anything, I would feel unbelievably guilty that I spent my career studying an ecosystem that was doomed to be absent from the landscape in the future. And I think we have a responsibility to actually restore this because we—humans—were the reason that the rust is actually here.

Peri: I also asked Bob what other conservation efforts could learn from whitebark pine.

Bob: It takes the zeal of others in order to get things done. And of course, I worked for the Forest Service all my career, I've seen this big agency and saw how things get done, and it's glacial. And if I look at all the great things that the Forest Service has done, it is all because of some dedicated zealous individual that went out despite everybody else, and on top of their regular job, went out and did something good for the land.

[piano music resolves and ends, marking a transition]

Peri: But having a plan is just the start. For every Diana Tomback and Bob Keane, who are figuring out how these trees work and creating a plan to restore them, you also need people like Doug Tyte, with his long arms, to climb the trees and harvest the cones, and Rebecca Lawrence, to shepherd the seeds on their journey and get them planted back on the landscape.

Peri: [in the field] This is a bag of cones that we collected the other day.

Rebecca: Yes.

Peri: [in the field] Cool.

Rebecca: Yes, it is.

Peri: [in the field] These are very sappy.

Rebecca: They are starting to dry out a little bit.

Peri: [in the field] Oh yeah, you can see some of the—

Rebecca: So you can you can peel off the scales and then you see the seeds sitting right in there.

Peri: [in the field] Oh, cool.

Peri: That's Rebecca, who's been coordinating Glacier's native plant restoration program for years. I met with her at Glacier's native plant nursery, this remarkable garden-like compound and greenhouse where they grow thousands of native plants. Rebecca and her team raise dozens of different species, which allows the park to restore plants after disturbances like construction projects. And like so many things at Glacier, the native plant program benefits from the support of the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Harvesting the cones is just the start of these seeds' journey, and Rebecca helped take us through the process. We send most of our whitebark cones, like the ones we collected at the start of the episode, to a Forest Service nursery in Coeur d'Alene Idaho, which is about four hours west of here. That nursery has special expertise in growing whitebark pine seedlings, and they can grow 300,000 of them a year, from all across the Rocky Mountains. After the cones arrive, Rebecca explained that the first step is also the messiest: opening the tough, sappy cone to get the seeds out.

Peri: [in the field] What's that like to open up a whitebark pine cone and get the seeds out? [laughs]

Rebecca: I really wish I had a beak [both laughing] to do the same thing that the Clarks Nutcrackers do very effortlessly, so it's definitely... [Rebecca’s audio fades out as Peri starts narrating]

Peri: Without beaks to rely on, nursery workers have another solution: heat. They store the cones at 105 degrees Fahrenheit, which causes them to dry and helps the scales open up a little bit, so the seeds can be shaken out. [shaking sound] The most challenging part is simulating the combination of environmental factors you need to get the seeds to actually germinate.

Rebecca: They're trying to mimic what it would go through in nature. They found that if they put the seeds in a warm stratification and then a cold stratification... [Rebecca’s audio fades out as Peri starts narrating]

Peri: Figuring all this out wasn't easy. It was kind of like having all the ingredients to bake a cake, but not knowing what temperature to bake it at or for how long. After 30 days in the warmth and 90 days in a walk-in cooler, seeds are ready to be planted in a little carrot-shaped pot.

Rebecca: They will plant that into the cone. Usually, they put one to two seeds per cone.

Peri: [in the field] And so when you say cone, you're not talking about pinecones, you're talking about the little—

Rebecca: Right. Sorry, that's confusing, isn't it? Yes, it's the cone-tainer [Peri laughs] is what it often gets called.

Peri: The seeds stay in their cone-tainers in the nursery for two years while they develop a root system strong enough to survive in the wild.

Rebecca: At one year, they don't have enough roots, they're not strong enough really to go out and be planted.

Peri: [in the field] Oh, okay.

Peri: Finally, Rebecca and her team pick up the two-year-old seedlings from the nursery and bring them back to the park to plant. All told, the process from caging to planting takes almost two and a half years, and the seeds will travel at least 500 miles.

[pensive piano music plays briefly, marking a transition]

Peri: So, Andrew. If we're following Diana and Bob's plan to restore whitebark pine, then we're maybe like halfway through?

Andrew: Yeah, it's a pretty long and complicated process. So far, we've identified the problem; we've collected the cones; and then we've sent them off to the nursery in Idaho. There, the seeds were extracted from the cones and planted in growing pots.

Peri: So on a really basic level, the plan is to restore whitebark by planting more of them in areas where they've died out, which seems simple enough. Want more whitebark in the park? Plant more whitebark. But we learned last episode that these trees are threatened by blister rust, which is an invasive fungus, and by pine beetles, which are native, but climate change is making them more deadly. How do we know that those won't just kill these new seedlings when we plant them back out in the park?

Andrew: Right. If the little seedlings we plant can't survive, then this whole effort doesn't get us anywhere. The whole restoration project centers on the fact that some trees are more resistant to these threats, and those trees are called plus trees. Simply put, plus trees are those selected for breeding because of their exceptional genes. The term can be used to denote trees that are special for a variety of reasons, like ones that produce a lot of fruit in an orchard. But for us, a plus tree would be one with genetic resistance to white pine blister rust.

Peri: So like an A-plus tree?

Andrew: Right.

Peri: So they only harvest cones and plant seedlings from trees that have demonstrated that they can survive. But walk me through this—what does genetic resistance mean?

Andrew: A tree is going to have all sorts of different characteristics. It might be tall or short, could be wide or narrow, fast growing, slow growing, it will have a color and a scent to it. Some of these traits are going to be determined by the tree's environment: how much rain and sun it gets, how cold or windy the location is. But trees also inherit some characteristics from their parents.

Peri: Trees have parents?

Andrew: Yeah.

Peri: I guess I never thought about it that way.

Andrew: [laughing] Yeah, a whitebark is going to have a mom and a dad, although not quite in the same way a human might. Whitebark pines are monoecious, which means that male and female cones grow on the same tree, so there's not separate male and female trees. Pollen from a male cone is blown by the wind onto a female cone on another tree, which fertilizes it and creates a seed. So if you picture a pine cone in your head, what you're probably imagining is one of the female cones. The characteristics that a tree inherits from its parents are called its genetic traits, and they're stored in the tree's DNA and can be passed on from generation to generation.

Peri: Okay, I'm remembering this from high school biology.

[pensive guitar music begins to play]

Andrew: Yeah, so some of the tree's characteristics might make it less susceptible to certain threats. For example, a tree might generate a lot of resin and be able to drown beetles that invade it. And if this resin-producing trait is genetic, then all the seeds that this tree produces could also have that trait. But if there's another tree that's also unaffected by beetles, but it's unaffected because it lives in such a cold environment that the beetles can't live there, that's not genetic. If its seed is planted in a warmer location, or if that location starts to warm up due to climate change, the beetle can still kill that tree—that protection doesn't last from generation to generation. So finding trees with inheritable resistance is really important. And luckily, there are some whitebark that are naturally resistant to blister rust. Here's Professor Diana Six, who we cored a tree with in the last episode. She's an expert in whitebark pine genetics.

Diana S: Why genetics are so important is that information is what can be passed on to offspring. Because if it can't be passed on to offspring, it's not going to help future populations or future generations. And so we get super excited if we can say it's genetic, because it means that it influences the future. And that information, that resistance can be passed on.

Andrew: People have been breeding plants and animals for desirable traits as long as agriculture has existed. That's the reason that things like corn or domestic dogs exist. So this concept is not new, but the application to conservation and specifically for whitebark pine restoration is a more recent technique.

Peri: Okay, so plus trees are important for their ability to create offspring that have resistance to rust or beetles. But how does genetic resistance work? Is there just a gene that kind of turns the resistance on or off, like a light switch?

Andrew: Well, first of all, it can be really difficult to locate specific whitebark pine genes because their genome, which is the sum total of all their DNA, is so huge. It's almost nine times larger than the human genome.

Peri: Wow.

Andrew: And to make it even more complicated, each pine might have quite different genes than its neighbors.

Diana S: The amount of genetic diversity in conifers is some of the highest in the world. And so when you look at these trees around here, they all look the same. They're all really different. They're more different than if we looked across a crowd of people at a concert—way more different.

Andrew: So if blister rust resistance came from a single gene, that would make things a little simpler…

Diana S: That makes it simple, or it makes it sound simple if there's one gene. But it's also dangerous because that means that the fungus or the beetle can evolve to overcome that. Most resistance involves a whole bunch of genes, a whole lot of mechanisms. And so it means that you're having to deal with a real mix, and that makes it more complicated to be able to select trees, maybe if you want to do replantings or things like that.

Andrew: Blister rust resistance appears to be one of those more complicated things, it's influenced by a handful of genes.

Diana S: Blister rust, there's been so much work on it, they're really beginning to narrow down five or six different aspects that produce resistance.

Peri: And so what about for beetles?

Andrew: Not as much is known about the genetic beetle resistance. Diana's research has found that beetles prefer to attack fast-growing trees, although it's not really clear how they would know if a tree is fast- or slow-growing.

Diana S: You know they're not out taking a core and going, “okay, this one,” you know? [laughs] So that's our question right now, and we're looking at things like non-structural carbons and sugars. But it is surprising that we know so little about the resistance. We know it's out there, but we don't know what's driving it quite yet.

Peri: Okay, that's getting pretty complicated. What are non-structural carbons?

Andrew: Yeah, I thought you might ask. It got a little bit confusing there. So trees, as I'm sure you know, are mostly made of carbon, and most of that carbon is in their wood. But wood is really tough. It's not very good to eat, even for a beetle, and the carbon that makes up the wood is called structural carbon.

Diana S: But then the carbon that's not structural is like sugars, carbohydrates, and these are things that fungi or insects going into a tree can use as food. And so we're looking to see if that isn't something that drives beetle choices of trees, and that somehow they use that to distinguish between these fast- and slow-growing trees.

Peri: Okay, so this is pretty cool. So the beetles can essentially taste how fast growing the tree is.

Andrew: That's right, a slow growth habit might confer resistance to beetles, and the beetles might be able to sense that through taste. But let's not get too far afield here. For our purposes, plus trees are those that are selected for breeding because they are, or at least likely to be, resistant to blister rust. And in turn, their offsprings are likely to be resistant to the rust as well. These plus trees make up the backbone of the whitebark pine restoration program in Glacier National Park.

Peri: So by picking which trees we collect cones from and then replant, we're kind of shepherding the genetic future of this tree.

Andrew: Yeah. Conservation genetics is really a big part of our strategy with whitebark pine restoration. We can shape the gene pool to include more rust resistant trees by being selective about the seeds that we use.

Peri: And so if we're trying to shape the genes of this species, is new technology like gene editing being used?

Andrew: Technology can definitely help us, but gene editing is not one of the tools currently being considered. Whitebark pine has so much genetic diversity on the landscape—diversity that might increase its resilience to climate change and beetles. So using the seeds of wild trees is still preferred, but technology could have an impact on this strategy. A scientist named David Neal is working on creating a “23 and Me” type test for whitebark pines.

Peri: One of those at home genetics tests to learn about your ancestry?

Andrew: Exactly. But this test could help biologists quickly and cheaply identify the trees that have those rust resistant genes. And then we can focus our limited resources on planting the seeds from trees that we already know for sure are rust resistant.

[acoustic guitar music plays briefly to mark a transition]

Peri: So we harvested cones from trees that show resistance to blister rust. And now we have seedlings that have grown from those seeds. But where do we plant them? It turns out that recently-burned areas are the perfect place, which is why I talked with the park's fire ecologist, Summer.

Summer: I'm Summer Kemp-Jennings.

Peri: Pretty much anywhere you get up high in Glacier, there are incredible sweeping views of the park, and you can almost always see evidence of past fires on the land around you.

Summer: I love it when you get up to a point like this in the park [sweet, hopeful banjo melody plays] and you can really see the effect of fire on a big landscape, and it just really is a mosaic across this entire landscape. In the Northern Rockies, fire is the primary disturbance agent, and as long as there has been vegetation in Glacier National Park, there has been fire in Glacier National Park. Because we have this ignition source called lightning. So fire is a part of this ecosystem.

Peri: But while whitebark seedlings grow well in burned areas, fire is a bit of a double edged sword for these trees.

Summer: Whitebark pine don't have as thick of bark as larch.

Peri: Which is a famously fire resistant tree here in Glacier.

Summer: Their survivability of fire is a lot lower. However post fire, the whitebark pine seeds do well in bare mineral soil and a high light environment, especially compared to, you know, other subalpine tree species.

Peri: [in the field] So it seems like, on the one hand, whitebark pine need fire because that's one of the primary places where they regenerate. But on the other hand, it seems like the mature trees are pretty easily killed by fire.

Summer: Yeah, that's definitely true. So it's kind of almost a little bit of a clash, right?

Peri: We kept hiking along this high ridge, which had just burned in the Sprague Fire four years earlier. And we kept an eye out for little whitebark seedlings, less than a foot tall.

Peri: [in the field, with footsteps in the background] There's some before the lookout and some after the lookout.

Summer: Well we could -- [gasps] -- there's one! [whispering]

Peri: [in the field] Oh, it's so cute.

Michael: I like how you whispered, like being loud would scare it away. [everyone laughs]

Summer: [jokingly whispering] Shhh! We have to approach it quietly. Oh yeah.

Peri: [in the field] So how do you think this one's doing?

Summer: It looks great to me. There's no yellowing. It looks vigorous.

[footsteps continue]

Peri: [in the field] Yeah, this one—that other one was just a single stem, with a big poof. And this one has a bunch of different stems coming up.

Summer: Yeah, that one's got some personality, for sure. Yeah.

Michael: A little tree coming up through literal pieces of charcoal.

Summer: Yes. Yeah. I mean, it's a tough life up here. You got to have some serious stamina. It's almost like this juxtaposition of death and new life. Kind of old forest and hopefully new forest. I like whitebark pine. [laughing]

Peri: [in the field] We do too!

Peri: With this bird's eye view from high up on these slopes, I could see in one glance these vulnerable little seedlings, alongside the still-standing burning trees from the fire four years ago, and the footprints from at least half a dozen past fires on the land around us.

Summer: You know, we're coming around to the idea that there's going to be more fire. So more fire means more whitebark pine are going to burn. You know, we can use Waterton as an example of that.

Peri: Our sister park in Canada, Waterton Lakes National Park, saw this firsthand. More than a third of Waterton burned in the 2017 Kenow Fire.

Peri: [in the field] So I talked to Rob and Genoa, who work on whitebark up there, and they said it burned—they said it basically took out a good portion of the work they've done for last 10 or 15 years. That's about half the whitebark pine seedlings, all the limber, and about half their plus trees. In one fire.

Summer: Yeah, it's devastating.

Peri: [in the field] Yeah.

Peri: Waterton has had their own whitebark and limber pine restoration program for decades, in close partnership with Glacier. And to me, the losses in the Kenow Fire kind of symbolize what whitebark is up against, and how climate change can so easily overpower the work that we're doing to combat pine beetles and blister rust. But Summer had a more encouraging perspective.

Summer: You know, it's really just a numbers game. And yes, some of them unfortunately might get burned. Or maybe it'll be a really bad winter, et cetera. But some of them will survive, and then you extend that through time, too, and it kind of becomes like a self-perpetuating legacy.

Peri: [in the field] For future generations.

Summer: Yeah.

Peri: [in the field] Yeah, because we won't see it, but it's a nice legacy to leave behind.

Summer: Yeah, and it'd be great to come up here, you know, when we're retired from the Park Service and, you know, see some of the whitebark pine that were planted still surviving.

Peri: [in the field] Because if we came back in 50 years, I'll be in my eighties.

Michael: Freshly retired.

Peri: [in the field] I'd like to think I could still hike this trail...

Summer: I'd like to think I'd be retired before then, but...

Peri: [in the field] For the best shot of seeing cones.

Summer: Yeah, totally.

Peri: [in the field] Those seedlings that we looked at would be taller than us. Maybe a few cones, little young for cone bearing, 50 years, but plausible.

Summer: Yeah, it'd be great.

Peri: [in the field] We can't save everything, but I hope that we can save whitebark pine. I think we've got a good shot.

Summer: Yeah, me too.

[wistful, hopeful music plays briefly to mark a transition]

Peri: Whitebark restoration faces a lot of barriers, but that doesn't deter our reveg crew, who are hiking nearly a vertical mile up Mount Brown to plant more seedlings this fall. I was not as excited to follow them up there. But it was a crisp, clear fall day and as I gained elevation, I got more and more expansive views. Across Lake McDonald to the North Fork, south toward the Great Bear wilderness and north toward the Highline. It was fall raptor migration too, so golden eagles kept soaring past just 50 or 100 feet overhead. [footsteps crunching on snow] Fresh snow had fallen the day before, coating the mountaintops, and as I reached the crew, it crunched beneath my feet. I felt grateful to be there, and grateful to this crew who were digging in the wet, snowy ground with cold, wet hands and cold, wet feet to get these seedlings in the ground. And they do hikes like this every week to reach whitebark sites, year after year.

Peri: [in the field] That looks like pretty physical work after a gigantic hike up here.

Rebecca: Yeah, it's—this site's not—other than the hike up here, it's fairly accessible. Some that we've done… are crazy.

Peri: At the time of this recording, the park has planted nearly 25,000 whitebark pine seedlings.

Peri: [in the field] So like ballpark, would ten percent of these surviving be good or bad? Would eighty percent be... Is that too much to hope for?

[hopeful music begins playing]

Rebecca: So one of our best plantings, we read the 10 year survival last year and it is still doing really, really well with 89 percent survival.

Peri: [in the field] Wow.

Rebecca: So I think that's—that's above what we normally expect. When you average everything out, we have 48 percent survival for whitebark, so that's pretty good.

Peri: [in the field] 50-50. That's probably better than most tree seeds out in the world.

Rebecca: Yeah.

Peri: [in the field] Oh, another eagle! Wow.

Rebecca: Oh two!

Peri: [in the field] Right overhead! So we're really just doing our best to be human Clark's nutcrackers.

Rebecca: Exactly. [both laughing]

[music ends]

Peri: With all the work that we've learned about that goes into getting these seedlings to this spot, I wanted to know how many hands have touched these little trees, from cone to nursery to planting.

Rebecca: We usually have at least four people, and if it's a tree with a lot of cones, we'll usually ask for some help from some of the other park crews to help us carry out the cones as well. Coeur d'Alene has five permanent staff, at least one packer, to bring them up

Peri: [in the field] Shoutout to the mules, too. [both laugh]

Rebecca: Yeah, exactly. There's a two person monitoring crew

Peri: [in the field] That's pretty cool, so it's like twenty five people, 30 people, at least... Five mules.

Rebecca: Yeah. These are expensive little seedings

Peri: [in the field] A lot goes into those.

Rebecca: Yes. Yeah, they do.

Peri: [in the field] Wow. It's cool to think about.

Rebecca: Yeah, definitely.

Peri: [in the field] Yeah. Feels very hopeful to be planting these up here. Yeah.

Rebecca: I mean, just planting in general is very meditative and I think rejuvenates your soul.

Peri: [in the field] Yeah. Kind of an act of faith.

Rebecca: Yeah, I think it is. Especially when I'm watering them, I'll, you know, wish them well and hope that they survive.

Peri: [in the field] Yeah, maybe a few of these will become big, healthy, happy whitebarks that help reseed the landscape.

Rebecca: Yep.

[slight pause as music continues to play]

Peri: [in the field] It's pretty cool to see this little seedling kind of coming full circle from, you know, where it was harvested from the cones from one of the plus trees, goes to Coeur d'Alene, coming back to the park now. So in a way, it kind of feels like the end of the road for the seedling, at least while it's kind of in our care. But it's also just the beginning. It's, you know, hopefully will grow up to be a big cone-bearing whitebark pine that'll help regenerate the species here.

[music finishes]

Peri: [in the field] Caging the cones, harvesting the cones, germinating the seedlings, planting them back on the landscape, doing all the monitoring work and—this is so much work, and it's pretty amazing that… I guess aside from whether we can save whitebark as a species, [pensive piano music begins to play] it makes me hopeful just… for people? [tearful] It makes me feel really proud to be like, a tiny part of. There's so much destruction that people have wrought, and it's pretty cool to feel like we're doing a little bit to fix it. I don't know, I think it speaks well of all these people as humans that this is what they spend their time doing. I'm really glad we're trying.

[music finishes]

Andrew: Next week on Headwaters, we get our hands dirty.

[digging sounds]

Peri: [in the field] Any suggestions on my technique?

Melissa: You could swing a little a little more aggressively.

Peri: [in the field] Oh, there we go.

Andrew: As we uncover the past, present and future of conservation. That's next time on Headwaters.

[guitar music plays softly under the credits]

Peri: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Glacier is the traditional lands of several Native American tribes, including the Aamsskààpipikani, Kootenai, Séliš, and Qìispé People. Headwaters was created by Daniel Lombardi. Andrew Smith, Peri Sasnett, and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music, and Claire Emery let us use her woodcut piece titled Wind Poem for this season's cover art.

Peri: Special thanks this episode to Bill Hayden, Doug Tyte, Diana Tomback, Bob Keane, Rebecca Lawrence, Summer Kemp-Jennings, Cara Nelson, Rob Sissons, Genoa Alger, Carleton Gritts, Levi Besaw, everyone with Glacier's native plant program, the Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation, and so many others. If you liked this episode, send it to that friend you have who just loves trees.

[music finishes]

Lacy: This is like for the end?

Daniel: This is it. Yeah. You saying that? That's going to be in it.

[Michael laughs]

Lacy: The Glacier Conservancy is the official fundraising partner of Glacier National Park. To learn more, visit glacier.org

Peri: I think that's the best time you've done yet.

Lacy: Okay, do I need to get one more time?

Michael: I think we're good.

Peri: Yeah, I think this is good.

Whitebark Pine | Chapter Three

30 januari 2022 | 48 min

Mountain pine beetles, an invasive fungus, and climate change—is whitebark pine doomed?

The Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/ Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation: https://whitebarkfound.org/ American Chestnut book: https://www.ucpress.edu/book/9780520259942/american-chestnut Documentary about Ranger Doug: https://www.instagram.com/rangerdougfilm/ Pictures of whitebark pine: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmWJ2S4F Ben Cosgrove Music: https://www.bencosgrove.com/

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[pensive guitar music playing]

Emma: They kind of look a little bit like nicotine patches for trees [giggling]. Like sugar packets, I guess might be a nicer thing to say.

Peri: [amused] Wait, what is going on here?

Michael: Well, recently, Andrew and I tagged along on a hike to Scenic Point with the veg crew, the park's plant people. And shortly after reaching the top, I was handed a Bosstitch heavy duty stapler and a small white packet.

Peri: The nicotine patch, a.k.a. sugar packet.

Michael: Yes, which, turns out, it's actually a packet of a synthetic pheromone called verbenone, which is a defense against one of the west's most infamous forest pests: mountain pine beetles.

Peri: Ohhhh.

Michael: We don't want them killing our whitebark pine trees, so we were sent out there to staple verbenone packets, these synthetic pheromones right onto the trees themselves. Here's re-veg crewmember Annie Gustavson walking me through it.

[quiet, joyful music begins]

Annie: OK, you're going to take the packet of verbenone and you're just going to put two staples up top and then one down below.

Michael: OK. How hard do you have to swing this thing to get it to.

Annie: Five miles an hour.

Andrew: [Laughs]

Michael: [laughing] That's impossible to judge, by hand? Oh, it even says "staple here.".

Andrew: Here we go.

Michael: Don't hype it up. [Staple sound]

Andrew: Nice. [Staple]

Andrew: [deadpan] Ok, now here's the tough one, bottom staple. [Staple]

Michael: Is that good enough?

Annie: Yeah

Andrew: So what grade would you give him? [everyone laughing]

Annie: You got a B-plus.

Michael: Easier said than done. [Stapling sounds].

Andrew: Oh no!

Michael: That was a misfire, [everyone laughing] there was no staple!

Annie: That one was a D.

Peri: So how do these packets keep the beetles away?

Michael: Well, I'll let Rebecca Lawrence explain. She runs the re-veg program around here and is an excellent verbenone stapler, I might add.

Rebecca: Well, it tells the beetles that other beetles have occupied that tree—no, no vacancies—so that they'll go somewhere else to another tree.

Peri: Very clever. So they're using the beetles' own language against them.

Michael: Exactly. And the goal is to place these no vacancy signs at the outer edges of important high-elevation forests, a sort of “great wall of sugar packets” that keeps the beetles out.

Peri: [laughing] Okay, I like it. And did it work?

Michael: It seemed like it. I mean, we never saw any beetles when we were up there. But we did see evidence of a different threat. Here's Rebecca again.

Rebecca: This is active rust where the cankers are opening up and releasing the spores. And it's a bright orange that looks like your Kraft mac and cheese powder.

Michael: Throughout the Rocky Mountains, whitebark pine trees are dying, and here in Glacier, beetles are far from the largest problem.

Rebecca: Basically, the bark starts to just erupt open and then the spores pop out.

Michael: These trees are being protected from beetles because up until now, at least, they've been doing great at surviving an entirely different disease: white pine blister rust, which has already killed over half of the whitebark pine trees in the park. These big, mature cone-bearing trees have been showing resistance to the disease for decades, and the crew has been visiting and “verbenone-ing” them since 2007. [Headwaters Season 2 theme begins to play: somber, dramatic piano music] But today, the crew noticed blister rust on several, turning what should have been an annual wellness check into a sort of inevitable goodbye.

Rebecca: It's—it's sad to see, you know… I don't like to see them dying off, but it's not surprising. Even if just a fraction of them survive, hopefully we can maintain a little foothold up here.

[theme music finishes]

Peri: My name is Peri, and this is season two of Headwaters. We're calling this season Whitebark Pine. But this story is also about so much more than a tree. It's about the purpose of national parks and our relationship with the places we love.

Andrew: I'm Andrew.

Michael: I'm Michael.

Andrew: Hopefully, you've already listened to chapters one and two. But if you haven't, those are a great place to start.

Michael: This is chapter three of a five-part season.

Peri: So far, we've introduced you to whitebark pine, learned about its cultural significance, and heard about the intricate web of life that's connected to this tree. Now we meet the things trying to kill it. So, Michael.

Michael: Mmhmm?

Peri: Hearing about your field day with Rebecca makes me think of this quote by Aldo Leopold, the famous conservationist. He said "one of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds." [sparse, sad music begins to play] I'm realizing that a lot of this whitebark pine story is invisible, something that a layperson wouldn't even notice, but that's a catastrophe to an ecologist and the world's they study.

Michael: Definitely. I mean, I would have never noticed the blister rust on those trees if Rebecca hadn't pointed it out.

Peri: And I'm no ecologist. But as I learn more about whitebark pine, I think I'm starting to get a glimpse of what it feels like to see these hidden tragedies unfolding. In chapter one, I asked hikers on the Piegan Pass trail if they knew what whitebark pine were, and most of them didn't, even though we were standing right next to a ghost forest of dead whitebark. I felt like I was seeing a world they weren't.

[music finishes]

Peri: Professor Diana Six is an ecologist at the University of Montana who studies the threats facing whitebark pine. And today, I'm going to hike back up the Piegan Pass trail with her. We're going to find a big, healthy whitebark pine and core it, to look at the rings, see what it's been through, and ask why it survived.

[pensive music marks a transition to the field]

Diana: So, yeah, my name is Diana Six, and I'm a professor of forest entomology and pathology. I really did start my love of nature in insects as a little kid. I was camping when I was in diapers. I've been out in the forest, in the desert, you know, all my life.

Peri: [in the field] So I'm just envisioning five year old Diana. [expansive synth music beings] Did you bring all these bugs into the house? What did your parents think about it?

Diana: Oh yeah, everything came in the house. I collected, the most famous thing that put some controls on me was I brought home all these little wigglers and put them in my aquarium. And of course, they were mosquitoes. And when they hatched, I was in big trouble, and after that I wasn't allowed to bring live stuff in the house anymore. You know, I begged for a microscope for years and I always got these stupid dolls. I am old enough that in those days, women were not encouraged in science. We weren't even allowed to be in the science club, so I never, ever considered that it could have been a career that I could have gone on to do science or bugs, for sure.

Peri: You might think of a forest entomologist and pathologist as a bit of a nerd, but Diana is very cool. She has all this amazing, insect-themed silver jewelry and listens to heavy symphonic metal, works all over the world, and is very far from the stereotype I imagined. As we hiked up the trail, I asked her what whitebark pine is up against.

[pensive synth music begins]

Diana: So the three main threats really to whitebark are climate change, blister rust, and mountain pine beetle. And the fact that we have those three, and they're all big, makes this a particularly wicked problem. And wicked problems are those kinds that are not only difficult to solve, but they have multiple facets. And so one aspect could be really difficult to fix. But if you come up with a solution for that, you're still going to lose what you're focused on, because you still have these other threats that have to be dealt with.

Peri: And the other thing that makes this a wicked problem is that these threats interact. For example, climate change is enabling beetles to attack whitebark pin.

Diana: Mountain pine beetles are native, which surprises some people because they've killed so many trees. They act like some invasive, but they're native

Peri: In a way, mountain pine beetles are new to whitebark. Beetle larvae are killed by really cold temperatures, which used to be common in the high elevation areas where these trees live.

Diana: But with climate change, it's allowed things to warm up, the beetles could move up the mountain now, and now they're—it's warm enough on the tops of the mountains all of the time that the beetles can persist there, pretty much as residents now. And this is a big problem because whitebark, having been protected for so many years, has never really had to evolve strong defenses against this insect. And so when this insect shows up, it doesn't have a really good way of fighting back. So if you go to lower elevation trees, they've got all this resin they produce. They drown the beetles, they produce all these toxic chemicals. Whitebark doesn't do that. It's a sitting duck. And the beetles just bore in, they don't get drowned. Doesn't take very many beetles to kill the trees, and it's just a disaster—because, well, so many of the trees are so susceptible, and we've seen millions of acres now killed by the beetles just in in the last 10 years.

Peri: [in the field, talking while walking—sounds of footsteps, out of breath] I feel like you could definitely see pine beetles as the villain in this story, or the bad guy. Do you see it that way or no?

Diana: [while walking, out of breath] Ultimately, they're just doing what they do, right? They're native. They have, in the past, always been actually good guys because they regenerate forests, they're a natural disturbance agent, just like fire. And so the forests that have evolved with them really need them periodically to kind of stay vigorous and healthy. Now that we're seeing these really big outbreaks, this is outside their norm. And the root cause of that is not them. It's us. And with a changing climate, these beetles are responding to warmer temperatures, weaker trees, by blowing up.

Peri: Mountain pine beetles have killed a ton of whitebark pines, especially where they grow in mostly uninterrupted stands of just whitebark, like in the Yellowstone area and in parts of Idaho. And they kill them really dramatically and quickly. Whole hillsides of whitebark will turn red and then die within a couple of years. But here in Glacier, blister rust is an even more insidious threat.

Diana: This is a really serious situation because of course, it's a it's an invasive disease. It is not meant to be here. The tree really has very little resistance. This is this is a tough one.

Peri: Blister Rust is a fungus, but not like mushrooms you might picture on the forest floor. Blister rust grows inside the living tissue of other organisms, and its spores are spread through the air, entering through pores on the trees needles.

[somber synth music begins]

Diana: So when a tree gets blister rust, the infection begins in the needles and then will move down through the branches. And at that point, it's really not a big deal. It might kill a branch or something, but once it gets into the main stem of the tree, that's the problem, because there will begin to move horizontally around the tree, which causes something we call girdling. And it will kill this phloem layer that conducts the nutrients for the tree. And once it does that all the way around the tree, everything above that point on the tree dies. And so even if, like the bottom half of the tree is still alive, it's not going to produce cones anymore, so it becomes what we call ecologically dead. It's still alive, but it's not reproducing, it's not passing its genes on, and it's not helping the population survive. And eventually that part of the tree'll die, too.

[music finishes]

Peri: Blister rust spores spread under cool, damp conditions. So Glacier's climate is perfect for it. And it's killed between 50 and 90 percent of the whitebark in the park.

Diana: And there's been a lot of work on it, and luckily people are finding resistance.

Peri: That is, that a small percentage of whitebark pine are naturally resistant to blister rust.

Diana: They're having success at developing trees that can be planted out that have more resistance. So that's promising, but it's a real uphill battle.

Peri: In addition to pine beetles and blister rust, the third threat whitebark pine are facing is climate change. Which is a threat all on its own, but it also makes the other two worse.

[sad music begins to play]

Diana: I personally think climate change is the very biggest threat because that that's really the hardest to deal with, right? If we could find enough resistance to blister us, if we can find enough for the beetles, if they have that evolutionary adaptive capacity, they could probably persist. But then you throw climate change and makes the beetles worse. It can make blister rust worst in some places if it increases conditions for infection, but it is very much going to affect the range of where this tree can live. And so if you have a greatly changed climate, and it's too warm, it's too dry—even if you had all resistant trees, they can't live under those conditions. And you know, it kind of seems like a no brainer, but the forests that you have in a certain place are what they are because of the climate. So if you change the climate, you change the forest.

[music finishes, marking a transition]

Michael: To set the stage, white pine blister rust is a fungus native to China, and it affects white pines, which is a term that describes whitebark, pine and all of its closest relatives, like western and eastern white pines, limber pine, etc. It arrived in North America around 1900, but it didn't cross the ocean on its own. It hitched a ride on American pine trees growing in Europe.

Peri: Why were American trees growing in Europe?

Michael: They were being grown as timber species in nurseries, tree nurseries, which were a new concept at the turn of the century. Many people began to fear that the once limitless forests of North America were being depleted—turned into homes, paper, railroad ties. People like Gifford Pinchot, who would go on to become the first director of the U.S. Forest Service, began to advocate for the idea of modern forestry.

Peri: What would make it modern forestry?

Michael: Well really just forestry in general. It was kind of a revolutionary idea to treat forests like farms instead of like mines, you know, replanting things instead of just harvesting them. So in the early 1900s, you could raise seedlings in an American nursery, but it was expensive. There just weren't that many in this country yet. It was a lot easier and cheaper to send them to Europe. So you could send a white pine seed to a German nursery, and they would raise it into a tree and ship it back across the ocean. But a lot of people were cautioning against that because of the threat of blister rust.

Peri: So someone saw this coming from miles away.

Michael: Miles and years, because in 1898, Dr Carl A. Schenck, a German forester, predicted disaster for America's White Pines if we imported nursery stock from Europe, and that warning went unheeded.

Peri: [laughs wryly] I'm actually kind of shocked that they knew about blister rust and somehow it made it here anyway.

Michael: Yeah. About 10 years later, by 1909, the U.S. had imported millions of eastern white pines that had already, and unknowingly been infected with blister rust.

Peri: Well, hindsight is 20-20.

Michael: It is. Hindsight is 2020, but they didn't need hindsight. This exact story was already unfolding on the other side of the country with a different tree. The American chestnut.

Wendy: [over the phone] Do you want me to say hi or no hi?

Michael: [over the phone] You can say hi, and then your name.

Wendy: Okay.

Michael: So I enlisted some help from out east.

Wendy: Hi, my name is Wendy Cass, and I'm the botanist at Shenandoah National Park in Virginia.

Michael: Wendy works at Shenandoah, a national park in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Appalachia, and I wanted to talk to her because Shenandoah was home to a lot of American chestnut trees.

Wendy: About 35 percent of the park area was probably pure chestnuts, pure chestnut forest. And then another 40 percent or so of the park probably had chestnuts mixed into the canopy. They talk about how the mountains look like they were capped with snow in the spring because of all the chestnuts flowering here. So they were just enormously abundant.

Michael: They covered a range from Georgia to Maine, and they were enormous.

Wendy: Some of them had trunk diameters of, you know, eight or nine feet. That's diameter, not a circumference. And they would live for 100, well over 100 years. So these were just amazing trees.

[sparse acoustic guitar music begins]

Michael: I grew up in the Midwest. I spent time in Appalachia as a kid. I couldn't remember ever encountering an American chestnut. Not that I really knew much about the trees around me. But the only thing my mind kept coming back to was, Oh, it was probably the one referenced in Nat King Cole's "The Christmas Song."

Peri: Oh sure. "Chestnuts roasting on open fire?"

Michael: Yeah, I was like, That must be a reference to them.

Peri: Is it?

Susan: No, it was not.

Michael: It wasn't?

Susan: No, because that song was written in the 40s after American Chestnut had disappeared from the forests. Those were not American chestnuts. Those were the same kind of European chestnuts you buy on the street today. They're much bigger. They look different.

Michael: Luckily, I got a hold of Susan Freinkel.

Susan: My name is Susan Freinkel.

Michael: She wrote the book on chestnuts,

Susan: I'm the author of American Chestnut: The Life, Death and Rebirth of a Perfect Tree.

Michael: White pine blister was not the first forest pathogen encountered in the U.S., and it wasn't the deadliest, either. Our response to blister rust was informed directly by what we learned from another fungus: chestnut blight.

Susan: The blight that decimated chestnut trees is sort of the touchstone for anybody who works in forest pathology because it was such a devastating epidemic.

Michael: Like blister rust, chestnut blight was discovered in North America at the turn of the century in 1904.

Susan: A guy who worked at the New York Zoo noticed that some of the chestnuts in the zoo were dying. That was when people first became aware of the blight.

Michael: And just like blister rust, chestnut blight was invasive.

Peri: Well, where did the chestnut blight come from?

Michael: Well, it took a while, but scientists were able to determine that it was native to Asia.

Susan: This fungus had come from Asia and had probably arrived in the U.S. on Japanese and Chinese chestnuts that had been imported to the U.S. as sort of ornamental trees. But it doesn't kill the chestnut trees in China and Japan. They've sort of co-evolved with the fungus and are able to withstand it.

Michael: The blight's arrival to the New York Zoo was just the beginning.

Susan: You already had outbreaks that were taking place, but unrecognized in Virginia, in Pennsylvania, in New Jersey.

Michael: It's not like there was a proverbial patient zero, and everything stemmed from that. It was on all these different fronts across the nation at the time.

Susan: Exactly. There were, you know, thousands of patient zeros.

Michael: From each of these initial hosts, the blight, in the form of fungal spores, spread incredibly quickly.

Susan: And it's spread by air. It's spread by water. It's spread by, you know, squirrels’ paws, birds’ claws.

Michael: Once it infects a tree, it takes over.

Susan: It's a very, very lethal fungus. The trees died quickly. They would turn silvery, kind of gray color as the bark fell off and the wood died and people talked about, you know, coming across stands of these great ghosts or hearing the trees crash to the ground at night.

Michael: And contrasted with whitebark pine, a tree most folks have never heard of, American chestnuts were present in people's everyday lives. [sweet, joyful banjo song plays] It was a cradle to grave tree, meaning it was used to make everything from cribs to caskets, pianos, railroad ties, telegraph poles.

Susan: Chestnuts were a source of the lumber from which people built their homes. The bark would shingle their houses.

Michael: They were an especially important resource for the people of southern Appalachia.

Susan: They would stuff their mattresses with chestnut leaves. They would brew the leaves into poultices to deal, you know, as a remedy for colds. And the nuts were a really important source of both food and cash for them.

Michael: So when chestnuts started dying, people took notice.

Susan: When the blight first started killing trees, there was a lot of sort of sadness. There were headlines in the newspapers about chestnut trees dying.

[sad piano music begins to play]

Michael: "Goodbye, chestnuts," grieved one 1923 article in American forests, “what was formerly a majestic, soul inspiring landmark is now but a rotting stump, no more are they seen on Main Street. No longer do they stand in battalions in the forests. They are as few as the veterans of the Civil War and just as decrepit.” And nobody really knew what to do. The blight would shrug off all the normal sprays and fungicides used to treat individual trees before, which led other people to envision more drastic solutions.

Susan: There was this idea that maybe the way to stop the blight—you might not be able to rescue trees, you might not be able to rescue forests where it was already infected… But if you could sort of quarantine them, maybe that would be a way to stop the blight. And that's sort of a classic way to deal with, you know, what is essentially an infectious disease.

Michael: This was an attempt at preventative care. If you can't cure the blight, maybe you could stop it from spreading.

Susan: Sort of the most sad, heroic, but sort of misguided was the Pennsylvania effort, I think, is… [fades out as Michael narrates]

Michael: Pennsylvania took the idea of a quarantine zone to its logical extreme and set about dividing their state in half.

Susan: And they said, OK, you know, the eastern part of the state Philly region area around there, that's beyond salvation. All those chestnuts, we can't save them. But we're going to set up essentially like a firebreak in the middle of the state and every

Michael: Pennsylvania decided to inspect everything west of that line. All of western Pennsylvania. Inch by inch, cutting out anything diseased, in the hopes of blocking the blight from spreading westward. But it didn't work.

Susan: Now you're talking about a tree disease that may first appear as a few tiny little orange specks 70 feet above the ground. And the guys who are tramping through the forest looking for the fungus, they're surely transporting the spores on their shoes, on their axes, on their backpacks.

Peri: Wow. So this seems like a pretty overwhelming epidemic.

Michael: Right.

Peri: But were any of the trees naturally resistant?

Michael: That was my thought, too. And when I asked Susan, she said that politicians and scientists eventually came to the conclusion that the only way to salvage any value from chestnut trees was to cut them down before they got the blight.

[sad piano music plays]

Susan: They just started chopping down the trees everywhere.

Michael: Many believe that this practice may have erased whatever natural genetic resistance existed in chestnuts.

Susan: So it's probable that there is some innate resistance in chestnuts, but we actually never got a chance to discover that because so many of the trees either died by the blight or were chopped down by people trying to staunch the blight.

Michael: In the end, we couldn't stop it. The blight won. In just 40 years, it killed three to four billion chestnut trees. Here's Wendy Cass again, botanist at Shenandoah.

Wendy: I think we've mainly learned not to take the forest for granted—that the stable state of things around you is the way it will always be. They were surrounded by these, these enormous trees and everything seems stable and wonderful. And then in a matter of, for Shenandoah, you know, 10 years, every chestnut tree in the park was dead or dying.

Michael: Today, only small stumps remain. Occasionally sending up new shoots, just to have them get knocked back once again by the blight.

Peri: So there are still chestnuts trying to grow, but they're always killed after a few years before they can grow to maturity or reproduce.

Michael: Yeah, exactly. Which means that the American chestnut is functionally extinct. It's been erased from the landscape, and with each passing year, from our nation's cultural memory. The story of American chestnut and the legacy of chestnut blight—these are the stakes in our story. This is why people like Diana are worried about whitebark pine.

Peri: They fear the worst, because the worst has happened before.

Michael: And in a very direct way, chestnuts also influenced the fate of Glacier's trees. The same people that tried to stop chestnut blight were placed in charge of the fight against blister rust.

[somber, sparse music plays as Peri narrates, to mark a transition]

Peri: So we know how it got here and we know what can happen. What did we do about it?

[music ends]

Andrew: Before we get down to business today, Peri, I have something for you to try [Peri gasps excitedly] and do a little sampling.

Peri: Treats?!

Andrew: Uh, sort of. I’ll pour you a little bit of this. [pouring]

Peri: Great. All right. [sniffs, pauses] It smells very… vegetal.

Andrew: [laughs] Oh, okay.

Peri: Very sweet.

Andrew: Very sweet. Yeah, because it's a concentrate.

Peri: It tastes kind of like grape juice, but more mild, less acidic.

Andrew: So what you're drinking is Ribena. It's a currant juice from the United Kingdom, and it's actually a super popular beverage over there, but you've probably never heard of it. And that's because of blister rust. So this juice, Ribena, is made from currants. The name, of course, comes from ribes, which is what scientists call currant plants. And these are really important to our story because they are the alternate host for the white pine blister rust.

Peri: Okay, I remember Diana talking about that.

Andrew: Yeah. You'll remember, she says that white pine blister rust is a fungus, and it uses currants as part of its lifecycle. So it'll grow part of the year on the currants. And then when it's ready, it moves over and infests the whitebark pines. In 1911, the federal government banned the sale, cultivation and transport of black currant. And this ban was in place for over 50 years. It wasn't till 1966 that the federal ban was repealed.

Peri: [laughing] Wow.

Andrew: And to this day in three states New Hampshire, West Virginia and North Carolina, it's still illegal to grow your own currants.

Peri: So this is probably why I have not had currant juice before.

Andrew: [laughing] Exactly.

[sweet and expansive piano music begins]

Peri: And so the thinking was, if we didn't have currants, we wouldn't be able to spread blister rust.

Andrew: Yeah, blister rust needs currants to continue its life cycle. It can't just grow on the trees. It needs to spend part of its life on the bushes and part of its life on a pine.

Peri: So they figured: ban currants and we're rid of blister rust.

Andrew: Yeah. And that seemed to make sense at the time, but there were also a ton of wild currants in the United States.

Peri: Uh oh.

Andrew: This was not really a thing in Europe. Most currants there were cultivated, but you go out hiking in Glacier National Park, you'll see currant bushes all over the place.

Peri: Yup.

Andrew: So even with the ban on cultivated currants, whitebark pines were not safe. There were all sorts of wild sources for this white pine blister rust.

Peri: So what did they try to do about it?

Andrew: Well, to save America's white pines, the blister rust control, or BRC program was created. And from 1939 to 1965, the program operated here in Glacier National Park. And their goal was to save whitebark pine and western white pine by eradicating currants entirely.

Peri: [in disbelief] They tried to completely remove a native plant from the ecosystem.

Andrew: Yeah, it sounds pretty crazy in retrospect, but there is a certain logic behind it. It basically became clear that currants and white pines couldn't coexist. You had to pick one or the other. And white pines are so important here that people wanted to choose them and eliminate the currants.

Peri: I see. And so what did they try to do?

Andrew: Well, they hired these crews of young men. They would go out in the park and try to just remove all of the currants that were near white pines. They would do it manually, chopping them or pulling them, or by spraying herbicides onto these bushes. In total, they removed 4,630,900 ribes, or currant, plants just from Glacier National Park.

Peri: [laughing, disbelieving] Four million plants is so many plants!

Andrew: It's pretty hard to even comprehend or picture how many plants that is. It was a huge undertaking, and we can learn more about it because one of our own, Ranger Doug Follett, actually joined one of these crews in 1942. Doug is a local legend here, now in his 90s, he spent over 50 summers as a ranger. But his first job in the park was on one of these blister rust crews.

[pensive, sparse guitar and banjo music begins playing]

Doug: Well, I was 16. I think. I was part of a blister rust crew, and the blister rust is the white pine disease. And the government agencies—Forest Service, Park Service—to my knowledge, they all had anti-blister rust programs. And blister rust is a spore disease that goes from the white pine tree and matures—it is blown on to the ribes bushes which are wild currant and gooseberry bushes. And there it ripens and blows back and kills the white pines. And so in the beginning, the programs were to pull that intermediate part of the equation—pull out the gooseberry bushes. And that's what I did.

Andrew: So Doug calls them gooseberries there, that's another name for ribes or currant plants. And the work he's describing, this is really tough, backbreaking work.

Doug: Oh God, I look—we didn't think anything about it. I look back now and I say, “How did I do it? I can't pull carrots out of a wet garden now!”

Peri: [laughs] Oh man. Doug is the best. But how did this all work?

Andrew: Well, to make sure that they got every single plant out of there, they would set up these grids with string.

Doug: We threw string balls, about 30 feet apart and two guys worked between the string balls. And the mountains were covered with that very, very fine butcher shop string that all the grocers and the butchers used in those days. A very fine string that disintegrated—but temporarily, all the animals were running around wrapped in grocery store string because the mountainsides were covered with these string lines.

Andrew: Ribes plants could either be pulled by hand, or sprayed with herbicides. The herbicides that the blister control program used were 245T and 24D. When you mix these chemicals together in equal proportion, you get the famous chemical agent orange.

Peri: Wow, that's wild.

Andrew: Yeah, but their methods changed over time. In 1944, Doug turned 18 and joined the Air Force. By the time he got back to his blister rust control work, Glacier's ribes eradication program was mostly given up on in favor of directly applying fungicides onto trees.

Peri: So they were trying to directly kill the blister rust fungus?

Andrew: Yeah, they came up with these really interesting techniques for applying it. I'll let Doug describe that again.

Doug: And at that time, the muscle-bound jocks from the university, building up for the football season, were now carrying five-gallon cans of poison on their backs and squirting that poison with a little hatchet hose right into the white pine trees trying to save them.

Peri: Uh, did I hear that right?

Andrew: Yeah, they were actually cutting into the trees with little hatchets and then injecting poison—fungicide—into the trees. There were also aerial fungicide programs where helicopters would drop these chemicals out onto whitebark forests in the park. In Glacier in 1965 alone, which was the last year of the blister rust control program, 124,000 White Pines were sprayed using fungicide phytoactin L440.

Peri: OK, that's a huge effort. And so did it work?

Andrew: Not exactly. Kate Kendall, the bear biologist we spoke with in the last episode, also studied the BRC program. And she said the main thing it accomplished was putting some men through college. [somber, expansive music begins to play] In 2001, when she studied it, almost 88 percent of the park's whitebark pines had either been killed or infected by white pine blister rust.

Peri: So what were they doing wrong?

Andrew: Well, for one, these fungicides they were spraying had basically no effect, they didn't really kill the blister rust. But there were also problems with the ribes eradication. It was easy enough to find and remove the first 80 percent or so of these currant bushes. You only need a few ribes plants to make it through this process to keep spreading that disease. But one of the biggest issues was that it turned out ribes were not the only hosts of the white pine blister rust. People eventually realized that paintbrush and lousewort plants were actually spreading white pine blister rust as well.

Peri: Paintbrush is one of our most common wildflowers. I mean, if I picture high elevation meadow, like one that would have some whitebark pine in it, it probably has paintbrush all over the place.

Andrew: Yeah. So even if you wanted to get rid of it, you probably couldn't. But people also started to think, maybe it's not a good idea to try to remove all of these pieces from this ecosystem. What other effects might that have if we have that level of intervention? So as the blister rust control program wound down—and blister rust continue to ravage the park's whitebark, western white and limber pines—a different approach was badly needed.

[somber synth music begins to play]

Peri: Listening to these stories of people cutting down all the remaining chestnuts or trying to pull every ribes plant in Glacier, the dramatic irony is really strong. We know now that those efforts were never going to work. But, while it may be easy to dismiss these projects based on how they turned out, you have to admire how much these people cared—that they would go to these lengths just to save a tree. And nearly 80 years later, Doug Follett is still writing poems about the trees of Glacier. [music ends] Today, people are working just as hard, though they have the advantage of some extra decades of science and technology. I'd like to think, then, that we're better off—but we also don't know what the future holds. Will our grandchildren look back and think we were just as naive?

[sad, pensive music plays to mark a transition]

Peri: [in the field, sounds of footsteps in a meadow and voices on a trail in the distance] So we just stepped off the trail into a little kind of clearing where there are a ton of subalpine fir, the kind of Christmas tree looking ones, and then there are a whole variety of whitebark too—a lot of them are dead. There's a few bushy looking live ones and some kind of in between half-alive, half-dead or some red blister rust flags on them. We're pretty close to a popular trail or just just stepped off the trail so I can hear people hiking by on the trail, and they probably don't even know that there's whitebark here. So we hiked all the way up here to core a tree.

Diana: I'd like to core one of these living trees that looks pretty healthy. Take a look at its life, basically, because when you take a core out of a tree, every ring is a year that that tree has survived on the landscape. And that little ring, each one of those rings will tell you how it responded to that year. And so it's really like pulling all these pages of a book out of a tree and being able to read its autobiography. [sound of a bee near the microphone; joyful banjo music briefly plays] And so I would like to take a look at that really big tree over there that looks really good. It's been around for a long time. It's, you know, a lot of stuff. And so I think it'll be really interesting to take a peek inside that tree.

Peri: Coring a tree means boring into the center of the tree, ideally, and pulling out a thin piece shaped like a dowel. It's an ideal way to learn about the tree because you get lots of information from a core, but it doesn't hurt the tree.

[music ends]

Diana: I can't tell if it has blister rust from here. It might have some dead branches, but overall it looks really good. So let's take a look at this one.

[rustling sounds as Diana steps toward the tree]

Peri: The tool Diana uses to copy the tree is basically a long, hollow screw that she twists into the tree, using a T-shaped handle on one end.

Diana: And kind of the trick is you want to get it perfectly aimed into this tiny little spot in the tree called the pith that's probably a few millimeters wide, and you want to hit that.

Peri: [in the field] Easy! [laughing with Diana]

Diana: Yeah, I'm remarkably good at doing it. But today, when somebody is watching, of course I'll be way off, but we'll see. [a soft clicking noise begins]

Peri: That clicking you're hearing, that's the sound the core makes each time Diana turns it 180 degrees.

Peri: [in the field] Cause people have probably seen a, you know, a cross section of a tree, looked at the stump.

Diana: Right.

Peri: [in the field] And so what you're aiming for is the center?

Diana: That little dark spot in the middle, yeah. And you don't have to have it for every kind of research you do. But if you want to know the true age of the tree and what is experienced its whole life, you really do want to get all the way into that point. Then we just stick this little thing in here we call a spoon, all the way down the core center and flip it over, and that breaks the core off inside. And then hopefully the core comes out. And it did! Okay, let's see what we've got here.

Peri: [in the field] Wow!

Diana: Isn’t that cool?

Peri: [in the field] So you can see the rings going—so they start out kind of horizontal. And then as you get towards the center of the tree, it kind of curves around it and you can see…

Diana: Right.

Peri: [in the field] That's where the heart of the tree would be?

Diana: Right! Right.

Peri: [in the field] Wow, that's amazing!

Diana: So I just missed the heart by a few millimeters. So it would have been right here. And then these are those that are wrapping around it. So that's the— the center, or the heart of the tree.

Peri: [in the field] It's really beautiful.

Diana: It is. This one has really tiny rings. It's been slow growing its whole life. Even when it was young, it was very slow growing.

Peri: [in the field] So we're looking at a couple hundred years, probably, of growth?

Diana: Oh yeah, easy.

Peri: [in the field] So like the first knuckle on my first finger is maybe, 30 years.

Diana: Uh-huh.

Peri: [in the field] So to go four, five, six seven… so that's 250 years. Maybe?

Diana: Yeah.

Peri: [in the field] Wow.

Diana: Yeah. The beetles like the fast-growing whitebark pine. Invariably, when we record trees that the beetles killed and compare them to the surviving trees, the survivors were slow-growing whitebarks. And they also, we think, are more tolerant to drought, because if you're slow growing, have less demand for water. And so you have some resistance to beetles, and you can probably survive in a warmer, drier climate.

Peri: [in the field] It's like the tortoise and the hare.

Diana: [laughing] Yes.

Peri: [in the field] Don't overextend yourself.

Diana: And it's genetic. They can pass it on to their offspring.

Peri: [in the field] And so I keep looking at the core. So if we start like, is this the Dust Bowl? Like we probably wouldn't know.

Diana: Don't know! Yeah. And boy, I've looked at some trees with Dust Bowl signatures, you look like, “my god, how did you survive that?” You can see the struggle going on in that tree. And then you look at this, and it's like, “you've had a very boring life, haven't you?”

[both laugh]

Peri: [in the field] Just happy go lucky!

Diana: You know, it just kind of plug along, you know, but you're alive and these guys aren't. So yeah, yeah.

[somber, ambiguous music begins to play]

Peri: I spent a lot of time looking at that little core of wood—all the little lines, each marking a year of survival. What Diana sees when she examines a tree, and what she shared with me, is the life lived in those lines. The good years and bad, and the hardships it's overcome—drought years, avalanches, wildfires. People that walk by might notice the dead trees, but they wouldn't get to read the trees’ story this way. This ecological education I'm getting is a double-edged sword. The more I learn about these trees, the more I'm starting to love and admire them. But it's also painful to understand what we're losing.

[music ends, marking a transition]

Diana: And I took an art class, and it was “Identity in America,” and I had to pick an identity and then express myself with my art. And that's when I named myself a coroner rather than an ecologist and knew that I had a job shift. [sad piano and synth music begins to play as you hear the emotion in Diana’s voice] And that day nailed me to the wall, and I'm actually getting emotional right now. I'm having a very hard time with it. And I don't even know if I want to do science anymore. And that's my passion, because why? You get into ecology, because you love life and you want to know more about what makes it tick and how it works. And because you find the intricacies and everything is just so magical. And anymore, uh, it's hard to go to work because what I see is all the things I love falling apart around me. I study symbiosis and I see them being pulled apart. You know, an ecologist is going to see a lot more than just a regular person walking around in the forest, you're going to see a lot of things that nobody else notices and it's—it's traumatic.

[music ends]

Peri: [in the field] Like what is the worst-case scenario? Like, how bad could things get?

Diana: Personally, I think we will have a lot of environmental destruction, massive extinction, and societal collapse. I think we have a real ethical and moral dilemma with how we treat life around us. I think we have an obligation to support everything that's living on this planet, and not just for our own benefit. Everything has its own right to exist.

Peri: [in the field] So one of the questions that we're exploring is whether people can have a positive impact on the world around us, on the natural world.

Diana: I think we can, but will we—I guess, is the right question because so far we're not doing a very good job.

[quiet, sad piano music begins]

Peri: [in the field] Even if we can help save the species, we've lost a lot and we will lose a lot. And I think a lot of conservation looks back at, “we've broken things, how do we fix them? How do we put them back to how they used to be?” And maybe that's not a helpful frame anymore because we can't put them back.

[music ends, marking the end of the episode]

[plucky, sparse banjo music begins]

Michael: Next time on Headwaters, we meet the people trying to save whitebark pine, and they can be found… climbing trees.

Doug T: You get a really unique perspective being in the top of them, looking at these like big beautiful cones. Nothing like a whitebark pine cone.

Michael: Reaching all the way out to the ends of their branches to place cages over their cones, keeping them away from all the animals that rely on their seeds.

[music ends; guitar music begins and plays under the credits]

Peri: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Glacier is the traditional lands of several Native American tribes, including the Aamsskáápipikani, Kootenai, Séliš, and Ql̓ispé people. Headwaters was created by Daniel Lombardi. Andrew Smith, Peri Sasnett, and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music, and Claire Emery let us use her woodcut piece titled "Wind Poem" for this season's cover art.

Peri: Special thanks this episode to Bill Hayden, Annie Gustavson, Rebecca Lawrence, Diana Six, Wendy Cass, Susan Freinkel, Glenn Taylor, Stacy Clark, Tara Carolyn, Doug Follett, everyone with Glacier's Native Plant Program, the Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation, and so many others. And if you liked this episode, share it with someone else who loves Glacier.

[music ends]

Lacy: This is like for the end?

Daniel: This is in it, yeah. You saying that? That's gonna be in it.

Michael: [laughs]

Lacy: The Glacier Conservancy is the official fundraising partner of Glacier National Park. To learn more, visit glacier.org.

Peri: I think that's the best time you've done yet.

Lacy: OK, do I need to get one more time?

Michael: I think we're good.

Peri: Yeah I think this is good.

Whitebark Pine | Chapter Two

23 januari 2022 | 38 min

An entire ecosystem held together by one tree.

The Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/ Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation: https://whitebarkfound.org/ Tree Huggers Comedy: https://www.treehuggerscomedy.com/ Picture of Clark’s Nutcracker: https://flic.kr/p/2mqRdzH Ben Cosgrove Music: https://www.bencosgrove.com/

See more show notes on our website: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/photosmultimedia/headwaters-podcast.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[car driving by]

Peri: If you've ever driven the length of Going-to-the-Sun Road, you've crossed the Baring Creek Bridge—on the east side of the park. [dynamic piano music playing]

You might have been staring up at the mountains and not noticed it, but it is worth checking out. Built in 1931, the bridge is huge. One of the largest on Going-to-the-Sun Road. It's so big that there's a path you can work on that takes you under it next to the creek. And if you look up, you can see all the beautiful red and green local rocks it was built with. The rocks stack on top of one another to form a single long arch that touches down on each side of the creek. And at the apex of the arch is a single stone that's bigger, and more prominent than the rest. And that's called the keystone. If you pulled out the keystone, the rest of the stones would collapse into the creek.

[music ends]

Peri: Well, not really, in this case. The rocks on the Baring Creek Bridge are just a facade for a concrete arch. But keystones have held bridges and arches together for thousands of years. One iconic stone that transforms to unstable stacks of rock into one of the strongest and most important shapes in all of architecture.

[Headwaters Season Two theme begins: somber piano music]

Peri: In the late 1960s, ecology borrowed this concept and started using the term keystone species. The idea is that some species—like whitebark pine—are so important that they hold up the rest of the ecosystem, the way the keystone holds up the arch. If whitebark pine go extinct, then all the other species dependent on them could go extinct as well.

Peri: My name is Peri, and you're listening to Headwaters Season Two, a story of a tree over the course of a summer in Glacier National Park. Of course, this story is also about a lot more than whitebark pine. It's about the purpose of the National Park Service and our relationship with nature.

Michael: I'm Michael.

Andrew: I'm Andrew. And the three of us are Rangers here in Glacier.

Michael: You're listening to Chapter Two of Five, although we'd recommend starting with Chapter One. And if you haven't already, you could listen to season one of this podcast for an introduction to Glacier National Park.

Peri: Last time, I met whitebark pine. I spoke with foresters, rangers, artists and more to see what we can learn from a tree. Today, I'll meet the plants and animals that depend on whitebark pine.

[jaunty piano music begins]

Michael: Could you introduce us to Piney?

Brad: Yes! So yes, I have a puppet here with me, I'll pick her up. Piney is like an artificial Christmas tree that's been truly gussied up. Whose trunk has been painted white because she is a whitebark pine. [Michael laughs]

She has been giving a beautiful sequined evening gown with some pretty profound pine cone... [Michael laughs again] A pine cone bosom situation, which I will say…

Peri: Glacier has an Artist in Residence program: a way for the park to invite and host artists to visit for a month at a time, while working on a project about the park.

Michael: So she's about three and a half feet tall, three feet tall, green sequined dress, looks kind of like a–

Brad: I would say, like a lounge singer, perhaps. She's got one hand that's perpetually on her hip and one hand that she gesticulates with.

Peri: This year, one of our artists was Brad, who came to our studio with a handmade whitebark pine puppet named Piney, whose plastic needled branches have been squashed into a quasi-feminine form.

Brad: My name is Brad Einstein and I am a federally recognized forest comedian. [Michael laughs again]

Peri: Brad and his friend Kyle Neimer started Tree Huggers Comedy, where they make nature documentaries that they describe as a little John Muir and a little John Oliver. One of the videos they're working on explores a relationship, specifically one between whitebark pine and a bird called a Clark's Nutcracker.

Brad: So the whole play with this noir was that the detective was a Clark's Nutcracker, who had a very good memory for triangulating and finding things.

Peri: Clark's Nutcrackers are a beautiful gray bird that's related to crows and ravens. And they have black wings and a huge black beak that they use to crack into white bark pine cones. They extract their seeds and then cash them for the winter. Here's a clip from Brad and Kyle's video.

Video Clip of Bird Puppet: [a film reel spinning, a countdown beeps, and a playful bass line begins] The name's Clark. Clark S. Nutcracker. From nine to five, I'm a private detective. The rest of the time [caw caw sound], I’m a bird. Why am I a detective? I have a nose for it. More specifically, a beak. There's not a case this thing can't crack. More specifically, seed cases. More and more specifically [a whip cracks], pine cones. And while I’ve cracked lots of cases from lots of pines, there's only one case [romantic music begins], that cracked my heart into two.

Peri: In this bit, Clark S. Nutcracker is a detective, sporting a three-piece suit and a felt fedora. The joke is that, like a detective, these smart birds use their excellent memory to remember all the places where they've cashed whitebark pine seeds.

Brad: He was a private eye, and we kind of had a “Beautiful Mind” sort of conspiracy theory wall of him doing this triangulation. And of course, in that relationship, the whitebark pine was the stemme fatale.

Video Clip of Bird Puppet: [somber music plays] Of all the mountainside she could grow on for centuries. She had to pick this one. She had a voice like the wind [wind blows]

Video Clip, Woman’s Voice: Hey there, Clark

Video Clip of Bird Puppet: Which on second thought it probably was. Holy Crow...Three hundred years old, she had roots for days. In short, a real stemme fatale...

Brad: And hence, [Michael laughing] hence she's a little mysterious. Sassy. I don't know. A tragic female protagonist. Oh no. Her base fell off.

[pensive piano music begins]

Michael: What would I after watching this bit, you know, what, what would you hope I would get from it?

Brad: Hmm. One, I... I think the whole goal always is to kind of remove the otherness of the natural world, and use irreverence in a variety of different ways to promote reverence. Whether that is a feeling of awe towards the grandeur of the natural world, or a feeling of intimacy that like, these creatures, these relationships, this inner-species union is not so different from the relationships that we as humans have.

Peri: When I think about relationships, I see my loved ones—my family, my friends. I don't usually think of the natural world. The way plants and animals interact, the food chain we're all taught in high school, it can feel very transactional, kind of unfeeling. But is that really true? How do the bonds between plants and animals compare to our human ones? How can we relate to them? Or, as Brad said, share a feeling of intimacy with the world around us.

Peri: Biologists call an intimacy between species “symbiosis.” The literal translation from its Greek roots means “living together,” and that describes most life on Earth. Depending on one another. As humans, we depend on plants and animals to survive and to add richness and beauty to our lives. Symbiotic relationships take many forms. Sometimes, like a tick on a deer, only one member of the pair benefits. But when both benefit, like with whitebark and nutcrackers, it's called mutualism. They each gain something and they help one another.

[soft music begins]

Lisa: [wind rustling] I’m Lisa Bate, I'm a wildlife biologist here at Glacier National Park. I mean, I've talked with some other biologists when we mentioned Clark's Nutcracker, they’re like, Oh, what's that? And it's like, oh, ok. [birds chirping] You know, not everyone is aware of birds, and the important role—ecological role—they play in the ecosystem, so…

Peri: You might remember Lisa from season one of Headwaters, in our story about harlequin ducks. Well, she studies a lot of other species, including Clarks Nutcrackers. You've already heard a bit about their unique relationship with whitebark pine, and how they use their specially adapted bills to open cones, extract the seeds, and cache them in the ground.

Lisa: But you mentioned that bill, and it is stout. It's powerful, and it has to be for a reason—because most pine cones open on their own to disperse its seeds. Not whitebark. The only way it opens is with that Clarks just clobbering it. And it's just amazing to watch. And so when it opens it, that allows it to become available to all these other species, too.

Peri: One of the fun things about talking to Lisa is her enthusiasm for the animals she works with.

Lisa: And the amazing–OK–this is like the most amazing thing [others laughing] about Clark's nutcrackers to me, when I first started working on this proposal. They are the only bird in North America with a sublingual pouch. That means a pouch under the tongue. It’s, and they have co-evolved with whitebark pine to collect those seeds, they put them in that little pouch, and if you're lucky enough to see that start bulging, you can actually see the definition of the individual pine seeds.

Peri: I have to say, I've talked with a lot of people who love these birds, and no one has been so excited about their sublingual pouch.

Andrew: Yeah, no kidding. So it's basically the bird version of a squirrel stuffing food in its cheeks?

Peri: Pretty much.

Lisa: But then they use that little pouch to go fly off, and then they bury those seeds like two or three at a time. And they are, their memories are phenomenal. And they can remember, like 98 percent of the places where they...

Peri: Each individual can cache anywhere between thirty and a hundred thousand seeds in a year. And in a win-win scenario, the birds like to cache the seeds and open areas, like recent burns, where the terrain is easy to memorize and there's no shade to block the growth of young trees.

Lisa: They are so smart that they can remember where 98 percent of those seeds have been cached. But it's the two percent—the one to two percent that they can't remember or they don't get to—that's what germinates into the next generation of whitebark pine. So it is, it's just this fabulous mutualistic relationship that's evolved over the millennium.

Peri: So whitebark pine depends on Clark's nutcrackers to reproduce. They need the birds to distribute and plant their seeds for them. But it might go the other way too. Nutcrackers can survive without whitebark pine seeds, they can eat other foods and get by, but the fewer whitebarks there are, the fewer nutcrackers there tend to be. And scientists have observed that in years with very small cone crops, nutcrackers are less likely to reproduce.

Peri: You've probably heard of the birds and the bees, but this is the birds and the trees. It's a beautiful thing, these birds and trees in this ancient, balanced and mutualistic relationship. In a way, I almost feel jealous. I'd love to have that close connection with the world around me. And I don't think I'm alone in that... Humans need community, and we all want to feel like we belong. [pensive music begins] But being part of a community means that you need to give back as much as you receive, whether with friends and family or with your natural environment. There has to be taking and giving, or else you slip from mutualism to something else... Instead of the bird and the tree, it's the tick on the deer. Like any relationship, it's a balancing act. When there aren't enough whitebark pine cones, nutcrackers can end up eating every last seed, turning them from seed dispersers into seed predators.

[music ends]

Andrew: Clark's nutcrackers and Whitebark Pine have this mutualistic relationship where the bird feeds on the seeds and the tree depends on the bird to plant the seeds and to sow the next generation. But lots of other species depend on whitebark too.

[upbeat banjo music begins]

Kate: Whitebark pine seeds are an excellent food source for a variety of birds and mammals; woodpeckers, jays, ravens, chickadees, nuthatches, finches feeding on whitebark pine, as well as grouse, ptarmigan, chipmunks, ground squirrels and of course, the red tree squirrel. Mice, I’ve, I've found whitebark pine seeds in coyote scats, and I've even seen evidence of deer feeding on them.

Andrew: That's Kate Kendall. She worked for decades studying grizzly bears here in Glacier, as well as all around northwest Montana, and in Yellowstone National Park. In addition to all those birds and mammals that will eat whitebark seeds, bears—and especially grizzly bears—love to eat them too.

Kate: It's a highly preferred food. I even know of a study in northern or central British Columbia, where there are spawning salmon. Bears choose to go up and feed on whitebark pine seeds when they're available, even when there are spawning salmon in the creeks below.

Andrew: How did you realize that grizzlies were using whitebark pine seeds?

Kate: Well, first of all in Yellowstone we had a lot of radio-collared bears, and we could see their movements moving to whitebark pine stands in the high elevation, uh, late summer and fall. We also paid a lot of attention to bear scats, or their feces. And it was very obvious when bears had been feeding on whitebark pine seeds, there's almost nothing else in their scats, and so it's very easy to tell what they've been eating.

Andrew: But while Kate knew that bears were eating whitebark pine seeds, there were still a few mysteries. For starters, how were they getting the seeds out of whitebark pine cones? No one had seen it happen in person, so Kate took a bunch of whitebark pine cones to the Boise Zoo to find out.

Kate: So, I took a bunch of cones and then a individual pile of seeds that I had laboriously extracted from the cones [upbeat music begins] to the Boise Zoo, where there were two 10 year old grizzly bears that had been orphaned when their mother died in Yellowstone, when they were just cubs. They had gone through one year of feeding with her, and then the next spring, the mother died and they were put into a zoo, so they had been in captivity for nine years.

Andrew: Kate hope these two orphaned cubs would show her how bears accessed whitebark pine seeds.

Kate: And they still had their regular food which were apples, carrots out there. And as soon as they release those bears into the enclosure, they just absolutely made a beeline to the pile of cones, sat down and started crunching them up. They break them up by biting them, and then they'd let that fall to the ground and they rake out the debris and just very dexterously lick up just the individual seeds. And if they got a cone scale in their mouth, they, it would come get ejected out of the side of their mouth. It was just unbelievable that that...

Andrew: This behavior couldn't have been learned in captivity. The bears remembered the trick that their mom had taught them that one fall, nine years earlier. However, they didn't touch the seeds that Kate had carefully extracted from the cones.

Kate: And I don't understand this, but they never touched that pile of seeds, and sadly, that all got washed down the drain at the end of the day.

Andrew: All your hard work?

Kate: All my hard work, and it was really hard to extract the seeds. Whitebark pine cones are extremely resinous, and I would get my fingers completely glued together and have to pry them apart with solvent in order to, like continue.

Andrew: And the bears don't get their lips glued shut by the pine resin?

Kate: They don't! But, I have pictures of bears, and they had been feeding on whitebark pine cones before the big die off and they had no hair on their bellies because so much resin had collected. And then when they tried to get the resin off, they like pulled out all their hair. They had clubbed feet. Their front paws were just completely matted with resin.

Andrew: It's that good? They wouldn't stop?!

Kate: They wouldn't stop. Nope.

Andrew: But even knowing how bears opened the cones, it's hard to imagine grizzlies getting to the cones in the first place. Whitebark pine cones are kind of unique because they sit way up high in the tree at the very ends of the branches. Black bears are excellent climbers, but grizzly bears are not.

Michael: As it turns out, grizzly bears rely on another animal to do their dirty work and retrieve all the cones for them.

[red squirrel chattering]

Michael: You recognize that sound, right?

Peri: Of course! They are all over my yard right now. Red tree squirrels.

Michael: [footsteps on leaves, walking outside] Oh, my gosh, yeah.

Peri: I know! There's these piles of cones.

Peri: Yeah, so they chatter outside very dramatically all the time, and they've made these piles of cones all over the yard.

Michael: Oh my gosh, yeah, look at them!

Peri: They're just stacked up under these bushes, like

[red tree squirrel chattering]

Michael: Hundreds of them!

Peri: Very neatly, all in little rows, all stacked up. And there's more over here, too. I've never noticed squirrels doing this before.

Michael: But you know why they're doing it, right?

Peri: I mean, I assume they're to eat over the winter?

Michael: Yeah, these are these are piles that have a specific name. They're called middens.

Peri: Like for your hands?

Michael: No, it's middens with a D. M, I, D, D, E, N, S.

Peri: Oh, OK. I have heard that before.

Michael: Yeah. And middens are these stashes of food, preparing for the winter that they build on [squirrel chattering continues] all summer, especially here in the fall when the trees cones are mature. And middens are more than just piles. They look like piles, but they're actually kind of like a refrigerator that preserves these cones all through the summer and into the winter.

Peri: Really?

Michael: Yeah! If they just left all these cones out willy nilly, a lot of them would spoil, would rot because the cones would start opening. Some of them might even start to germinate and turn into a new tree,

Peri: Oh.

Michael: Which wastes a lot of the nutrients that they could easily get out of the seed. And so it's easy to see why all of this hard work that this squirrel puts in, it's something they get very protective over. That chattering you're hearing is them saying–

Peri: Squirrel yelling!

Michael: Yeah, back off!

Peri: Get away from my pine cones!

Michael: I’ve worked hard on that! Don't take my food, which we get to hear all over the park. It's probably not quite as effective when they do it at a grizzly bear because this is what grizzly bears raid. They raid these middens. That's how they get whitebark, pine cones. In fact, early in the spring, when other foods like huckleberries aren't ready to eat yet, bears can still dig up and access these cones. And Kate had seen this sort of thing in real life.

Kate: This whitebark pine stand is cratered by bears that have come out of the den and been able to smell these caches of cones six feet under snow. Dig them out. Feed on them, there's cone debris all over the place, bear scats full of seeds. And I'm telling you, it was it was like bombs had gone off all over the whitebark pine stand.

Peri: Why do you know so much about squirrels?

Michael: OK, well, when I worked as an interpretive ranger, the guided hikes, that sort of thing, we were asked to come up with a 30 minute talk about animals, and a lot of my colleagues gave talks on mountain lions and mountain goats, grizzly bears,

Peri: Charismatic megafauna.

Michael: Charismatic, yeah I gave my mine on squirrels.

[both laughing]

Peri: [joking] Cool!

Michael Yeah, I mean, I REALLY think they are an under-appreciated critter in this park. Just because they're common, it's easy to overlook them. But one adult squirrel could have easily cashed all of these cones in your yard.

[whimsical music begins]

Peri: Honestly, I definitely have a newfound appreciation for squirrels this summer, watching them run around like tiny lunatics [Michael laughs] and build up these huge piles all over the yard. It's been really fun to watch.

Michael: To quantify it, it's like ten, to over a hundred and fifty cones stashed a day

Peri: Wow.

Michael: for the average single adult squirrel, which,

Peri: how industrious

Michael: Very industrious, over 15,000 in a summer.

Peri: Wow.

Michael: So by stashing that many and remembering where most of them are, they are able to stay active all through the harsh Montana winter. Honestly, like looking at these piles in your yard, it's a wonder between squirrels and nutcrackers and bears that whitebark pine have any cones left, any seeds left at the end of the summer.

Peri: So whitebark pine trees know that birds and mammals will eat their seeds, but they have this trick called masting that they use to outsmart them, and masting is when a tree that produces fruit or seeds, nuts, chooses to produce them at kind of unpredictable intervals. And so if a squirrel or a nutcracker knew they could come to whitebark pine every year and just eat as many seeds as it wanted, there would be way more squirrels and nutcrackers that could eat so many seeds that the tree would be totally picked over with no seeds left for it to reproduce.

Michael: So the trees don't produce cones every year they like, take a vacation.

Peri: Yeah, kind of. They take some years off, which prevents these seed predators from having a reliable food source, which then controls their populations. So then, after one or two or three years, the tree will have a “mast” year and produce a ton of cones, way more than squirrels or nutcrackers could ever hope to eat.

Michael: Wow.

Andrew: Evolution has given these trees a great strategy for dealing with seed predators. It's almost like they've outsmarted these animals.

Peri: Yeah, it's almost like they're saying, Ooh, nice try.

[warm guitar music begins]

Peri: So, it's clear that this relationship between a tree, a bird, a bear, and a squirrel—it’s really complex, and it's something that people have studied year after year to understand better.

Kate: I was hiking up one morning and there was this black bear that was digging at the base of a tree, and it just ran off immediately. And so I think, Oh, I need to see whether it's digging up cones or maybe it's finding little seed caches! And so I am down with my butt in the air, digging up, trying to carefully see are there seed caches here? Well, I'm behind the trunk of the tree, and the bear didn't see me, and it comes back and pokes its head, around and we both kind of go WHOOEAAHH! [Kate, Andrew and Michael laughing]

Peri: Hearing Kate's stories of her time spent in whitebark stands, and learning about all these interconnections, made me want to go try and see them for myself. I’ve had the chance to visit the trees themselves, but I never paid much attention to what was going on around them. But now that I know the stories of the nutcrackers and bears and squirrels, I want to watch those relationships in action.

[car noise]

Greg: [answering over the phone] Glacier Dispatch, this is Greg.

Vlad: Hey, Greg, this is Vlad Kovalenko, uh, would you please initiate my backcountry tracking?

Greg: There you are... And out by 7:00 tonight, right?

Vlad: Yep.

Greg: Alright, we’ll talk to you then.

Vlad: Awesome, thanks Greg.

Greg: You got it.

Peri: We're driving to the East Side with Vlad Kovalenko. He's a grad student at the University of Montana, studying Clark's Nutcrackers and their relationship with whitebark pine. And like this show, Vlad's work is supported by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. This summer, he's working with Lisa Bate.

Vlad: I wouldn't say the hike up is pleasant. It's pretty bushwacky, and it's hard to find the path. But once you're up there, it's quite nice.

Peri: And if we don't find it?

Vlad: Then all hope is lost.

Peri: [laughing] Great! Great.

Peri: The goal? Hike up a ridge, and try and find some birds.

Michael: And not by just blindly stumbling around with binoculars.

Peri: No, higher tech than that. So eight birds—eight Clark’s nutcrackers—were equipped with little transmitters that emit a signal Vlad can pick up and follow.

Michael: And that's one thing I had a really hard time wrapping my head around. Like nutcrackers are related to crows and ravens, famously smart birds, like how on earth did they catch them?

Peri: Well, it took a lot of planning and a lot of patience to try and outsmart them. [dramatic piano music begins] They used a bait called suet to lure the birds into a trap called a “bow-net.”

Lisa: [wind rustling] But we had suet strung between this tree and all the way over to that tree. And there was probably what, five feet of snow here? So it hung there and hung there, and nothing happened, nothing happened. We were hiding way back in the trees. But you know, he makes it sound really easy. [Vlad laughing] It was anything but easy. No, we spent like hours, we spent days sitting there in a chair and we had to learn to just hold perfectly still, didn't we?

Vlad: Yeah.

Peri: This is the middle of winter. Snowy, cold, windy. And this went on for months with no luck. Staff and volunteers alike were checking for signs of birds on the bait every week or two, driving several hours and skiing several miles until finally, one day when Lisa was running errands in town, she got a text from a volunteer.

Lisa: Bird on suet. Bird on ground. [birds chirping] And like the first thing I did, I just got goosebumps. I called Vlad, I'm like, What are you doing tomorrow? He said, I don't know, what am I doing? I'm like, we're trapped in a bird!

Peri: The obvious question is, what do they do with the birds once they've trapped them? The first step was just to hold on to them, which wasn't always easy.

Lisa: Every single bird that we handled had a different personality. There was the one that we came away with bruises all over our knuckles. [Lisa laughs] And then there was another one that was just cool as a cucumber, and I don't think we got pecked...

Peri: Vlad and Lisa explained that they tied a tiny backpack with a transmitter onto the birds, which they secured around their wings and across their chest with a Teflon ribbon. It only weighs five grams, which is just four percent of the bird's body weight. And apparently the trick to distracting the birds enough to get this done, was giving them a stick to hold on to with their toes.

Lisa: [wind continues] And that was so invaluable because otherwise, you know, we'd be processing on a towel on a table and they were just picking it up, grabbing anything. Anything and everything. But you gave them a stick, it gave them some obvious sense of security and it would calm them down.

Peri: And once the backpack with the transmitter was tied on, they let the bird go, and sent it off with their gratitude.

Lisa: But, you know, we just kept saying thanks, you're doing this to learn more about your species and you know, you're paying one forward, hopefully for the species, so.

Peri: The cool thing about the transmitters is that they'll let Vlad see where these birds are throughout the year. Even if they leave the park, or Montana altogether.

Lisa: Other biologists have learned when the probability of survival reaches zero in a certain habitat, [somber piano music begins] the bird will leave that area to go somewhere where the probability of survival is much greater. And we were wondering if that's happening here in the park. We don't even know of Clark's breed here anymore in the park. But without Clark's to bury seeds to initiate that new generation of whitebark pine, there will be no natural regeneration of whitebark pines. That's the only way it regenerates is with the Clark's nutcrackers. So without Clark's, no more whitebark and without whitebark, will we lose all of our Clark's? We don't know.

Peri: That's the downside of this mutualism. Sure, when things are going well, they support one another and they both thrive. But when the scales start to tip out of balance, they all pay the price. [somber music ends]

[hiking through bushes]

Vlad: We're about to enter the whitebark zone.

Peri: It was a pretty steep climb up the ridge, but luckily there were plenty of thimble berries to distract me.

Peri: [in the field] Picked too many berries, fell behind. Here I am!

Peri: But as we crested the ridge, the forest gave way to a wide open meadow. The high peaks of the continental divide rose up above us to the west, and to the east I could see all the way out onto the rolling plains of the Blackfeet Reservation. As we hiked, [footsteps on dirt] we were very aware of Kate's stories about running into bears in whitebark pine territory. So we were sure to make lots of noise all day.

Peri: [in the field] HEEEEYYOOOO.

Peri: And we never saw a bear in person. But we did get to see, in sort of a roundabout way, that they are eating whitebark pine seeds.

[upbeat music begins]

Vlad: Nice.

Michael: Oh, that's fresh.

Vlad: [wind rustling] Yeah, look at those berries, didn't even chew.

Peri: We used a stick to poke through the bear poop.

Peri: [in the field] I mostly see berries, although what’s that?

Michael: I need a better stick.

Vlad: Oooh that could be it!

Peri: Yeah.

Andrew: That's cool, but also kind of gross. The way Kate put it, it would be pretty easy to spot evidence of whitebark pine seeds in bear scat.

Kate: It's a combination of these woody coats and then the pine seeds like pinion pine nuts crunched up, coarsely, and it's just packed in the bear scat. And it's actually a good source of food for birds and small rodents. They'll quickly consume a bear scat that's full of whitebark pine debris because there's so much undigested pine seeds in there. [upbeat music ends]

Peri: It was a pretty cool moment, and I got to see proof of this relationship without having to get too close to a bear.

[hiking sounds continue]

Robotic Voice: One. Zero. Three.

Vlad: WOO! That's good news.

Peri: [in the field] So it's transmitting?

Vlad: Yeah, someone's transmitting.

Peri: The robotic voice means that Vlad's receiver is picking up one of the backpack wearing birds that's part of his study. Basically, the higher the number, the closer the bird is.

Robotic Voice One five six.

Peri: The receiver pointed us downhill, so we kept walking that direction.

[hiking noises continue]

Peri: [in the field] And it’ll just keep transmitting as we go?

Vlad: Yeah, it should keep increasing.

Robotic Voice Two. Zero. Eight. [whimsical music begins]

[Clark’s nutcracker cawing]

Peri: [in the field] What’s that?

Vlad: There's our friend the Clark's Nutcracker! [Clark’s continue cawing]

Michael: Oh, one right on the top of that tree!

Peri: [in the field] Oh yeah.

[Clark’s continue cawing, flies buzz by]

Peri: [in the field] Oh, there's a ton of them!

Peri: We found a whole flock of nutcrackers, but we couldn't be sure that any of them were part of lab study without seeing an antenna.

Vlad: Alright, give me an antenna, please...

Peri: [in the field] It sounds so robotic.

Vlad: Yeah, that's an interesting variation of their call on that one.

[music ends]

Peri: Their calls are so harsh, distinctive and loud that it was really easy to hear them, but we still needed binoculars if we wanted to see which one was wearing a backpack with a transmitter.

Michael: It's at the top of this really thin tree. [wind bowing, clark’s calling]

Vlad: That's got an antenna!

Michael: It does?

Vlad: Yeah.

Peri: [in the field] A big fat one.

Michael: What is it doing?

Peri: [in the field] Oh! I see a bunch of opened cones. It's perched right on top of that whitebark. I haven't yet seen it drill open the cones to get the seeds, but there's a bunch of already open cones at the top of that whitebark.

Peri: Seeing a bunch of nutcrackers frolicking around at the tops of whitebark pine trees started to make these relationships more tangible, more real to me. It's not just a set of connections I might describe scientifically, but these trees, and these birds, right in front of me. Having a great time, it seemed like.

[Clark’s cawing back and forth]

Vlad: Gosh, they're fun to watch.

[Upbeat banjo music begins]

Peri: Whitebark's importance to the landscape and the plants and animals that live there is pretty impossible to overstate. But I was surprised to hear that fewer whitebark pine cones in the mountains, might mean a bear in my yard.

Kate: When, when the cone crop is low, or it fails, those bears tend to migrate down to lower elevations in search of alternate foods. That's where there's more human activity.

Peri: Bears looking for food in human spaces usually ends badly for the bears, and the fewer whitebark pine seeds there are in the fall, the more often this happens. But the web of relationships stretches even further than that. Big whitebark pine trees at high elevation, with their poofy canopies, shade the snowpack and slow down spring runoff, so their presence has an impact way downstream.

Kate: So it just has this huge effect, not just as a wildlife food and shelter, but it affects—even human drinking water is higher quality, and more of it because of whitebark pine's presence.

Lisa: [wind rustling] I was camping at Lower Quartz one year, there was a loon nesting. And then the next day I went up to the Upper Quartz. It got really, really hot. And when I came back down, that nest was a foot underwater, in 24 hours. I mean, we have done research showing that Harlequin duck reproduction success is intrinsically linked to stream flows. And in years where we have real chaotic stream flows, you know, high ones, more than one rise and fall, and we lose a lot of nests, so.

Lisa: [wind continues] Black Swifts, as far as we know, they only nest on persistent waterfalls—those waterfalls that are fed by glaciers or snowpacks. So as we lose snowpacks, are we're going to lose black swift colonies? We don't know. It's like a spider web, you pull on one little strand and it's going to affect the whole web in some form or another.

[pensive piano music begins]

Peri: As ShiNaasha said when we visited the Great Great Grandparent Tree; if we lose whitebark pine, we will lose a lot more than just a tree.

Peri: There's this game you can play with kids to teach them about ecosystems and these interconnections. You have the students stand in a circle, and each one gets a card with a different species. Whitebark pine, a grizzly bear, huckleberries, maybe a squirrel. And then you pass a ball of yarn back and forth across the circle to connect each one that provides food or shelter for another. You end up with this crisscrossing web of yarn. And then you have the students lean back just a little bit. And they're kind of skeptical, but the web of yarn supports them. But then you take out your scissors and you snip the strands holding just one species to the others. And the web comes apart and everyone falls down.

[warm piano music beginning]

Peri: It's a little silly. Everyone ends up on the ground giggling, and there's yarn everywhere. But I like it. I think what I like about it is that it puts people into the web. It reminds me that the word symbiosis means living together. What kind of relationship do I have with the world? It really changes when you realize you're living together and sharing a home. In this crisscrossed web of yarn. I've often seen humans as the scissors cutting things apart. But maybe it doesn't have to be that way.

[music ends]

Andrew: [hopeful music begins] Next week on Headwaters, we learn what whitebark pine is up against and the lengths that previous generations went to try to protect it.

Doug: The musclebound jocks from the University, building up for the football season, were now carrying five gallon cans of poison on their backs and squirting that poison with a little hatchet hose right into the white pine trees trying to save them.

Andrew: That's next time on Headwaters. [music ends]

[upbeat banjo music begins]

Peri: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri: Glacier is the traditional lands of several Native American tribes, including the Aamsskààpipikani, Kootenai, Séliš, and Qìispé People.

Peri: Headwaters was created by Daniel Lombardi. Andrew Smith, Peri, Sasnett, and Michael Faist, produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music, and Claire Emery let us use her woodcut piece, titled Wind Poem, for this season's cover art.

Peri: Special thanks this episode to Bill Hayden, Brad Einstein, Kyle Neimer, Piney the whitebark pine puppet, Lisa Bate, Kate Kendall, Vlad Kovalenko, Taza Schaming. Everyone with Glacier's Native Plant Program. The Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation, and so many others.

Peri: If you're enjoying the show, send it to someone else who loves squirrels.

Lacy: This is like for the end?

Daniel: This is it. Yeah. You saying that? That's going to be in it

[laughter]

Lacy: The Glacier Conservancy is the official fundraising partner of Glacier National Park. To learn more, visit glacier.org

Peri: I think that's the best time you've done yet.

Lacy: Okay, do I need to get one more time?

Michael: I think we're good.

Peri: Yeah, I think this is good.

Whitebark Pine | Chapter One

16 januari 2022 | 32 min

Journey across the Flathead Indian Reservation to the most important tree you’ve never heard of.

The Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/

Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation: https://whitebarkfound.org/

Pictures of Ilawye, the Great Great Grandparent Tree: https://flic.kr/p/2mtQsSH

Ben Cosgrove Music: https://www.bencosgrove.com/

Claire Emery Art: https://www.emeryart.com/

See more show notes on our website: https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/photosmultimedia/headwaters-podcast.htm

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

Lacy: Headwaters is brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

[harsh, scratchy calls of a Clark’s nutcracker]

[pensive piano music begins]

ShiNaasha: This tree knows a lot about me. Every time I do come up here, I'll pray to it. I'll talk, I'll cry.

Mike: You met Ilawye. So that's you know, to me, the other side of that. I mean, Ilawye is not alive, but it still has to me, it's like power or spirit. Just when I talk about it, I mean, I get kinda the goosebumps and the chills. But being able to put your hand on it or even hug it, and just knowing that this tree has been here for over a thousand years.

ShiNaasha: This tree has been here longer than me and knows more than me. It's like a lifeline. It's like a lifeline to that, to that other side, to that spiritual realm, you could even say. Imagine if we were to lose this tree, this species—you lose a lot more than just a tree.

[music slowly fades out]

Peri: This story begins on top of a mountain, sitting at the foot of the largest whitebark pine tree I've ever seen. It's called Ilawye, the Great, Great Grandparent Tree. I feel a sense of awe at this tree and what it's seen over the years, and I'm wondering how many generations of trees have grown from its seeds. But this tree is dead, like so many other whitebark pines. More than half of all the whitebark in Glacier National Park and across the western U.S. have died, and we're losing more each day. [Headwaters Season 2 theme begins to play: somber piano music] Meeting Ilawye was my introduction to whitebark pine and the start of a relationship I didn't expect.

[music fades out as Peri starts talking again]

Peri: My name is Peri, and this is season two of Headwaters, a five episode story about my journey with a tree over the course of a summer in Glacier National Park. But this story is about so much more than whitebark pine—it's also a story about the purpose of national parks and our relationship with the places we love.

Andrew: Hi, this is Andrew.

Michael: And I'm Michael. We're all rangers here in Glacier.

Andrew: You don't need to listen to season one to understand this story, but if you're planning a visit to the park, last season will be a great place to start.

Michael: This season is all about whitebark pine, an incredible tree that could soon disappear. Over the course of five chapters we'll learn why it matters, why it's dying, and meet the people fighting to save it.

Peri: It's about a lot more than just a tree. Let's start simply, though. [sounds of a pencil scribbling on paper] Here's Claire Emery, who created the cover art for our podcast this year. We went into the park to find and sketch some of these trees.

[quiet, pensive guitar music begins playing]

Claire: One of the things that caught my eye first about whitebark pine was the silver branches that all reach in the same direction to model what way the wind is blowing, and how they would all just… “phewsh.” It's like they're all, it's like they're flying in the wind, but they're... but they're not moving, you know, and how can they be both at once? It's just so amazing to me that something so static can look so alive.

Peri: When I think of conifers, I usually picture a Christmas tree shape—that classic spruce or fir silhouette. But whitebark pines aren't really like that. They sort of have a wise old, tough look about them. The tops are bushy, with their branches reaching up like a candelabra, and they're not too big as far as trees go. The tallest ones are about 50 feet tall and their bark is white-ish gray—hence the name. Whitebark is part of a group of closely-related trees called five-needle pines, just like the western white pine and limber pine, which also grow in Glacier. What sets whitebark apart, though, is that they only grow at high elevation near treeline, that they have tasty, nutritious seeds, and that they can live for over a thousand years.

Claire: I actually think that's the thing that's the most compelling about it is that it's like... It looks... it is this embodiment of vitality. The shape of those branches, the twist of the wood. It just—they're muscular. They're strong, they're beautiful and they're graceful. They're all of it.

Peri: [in the field] Like a dancer.

Claire: Yeah, yeah. Like a wind poem. I think seeing their brushiness in life, their tuftiness in life—and then their silver poetry in death. [drawing sounds] I think that they're kind of a nice combination of both of those things.

[fun, jaunty piano music begins, marking a transition]

[bird sounds and footsteps begin to play]

Peri: So I'm walking up the Piegan Pass Trail, which is a place in Glacier with a lot of beautiful whitebark pines, and I'm hoping to see how many park visitors have even heard of this tree.

Peri: [in the field] So have you guys heard of whitebark pine?

Visitor 1: No.

Visitor 2: No.

Peri: [in the field] Have you ever heard of a whitebark pine?

Visitor 3: No.

Visitor 4: Uh, no.

Visitor 5: White pine, for sure.

Visitor 6: Yeah, but I don't know if I could identify it.

Peri: [in the field] Have you heard of whitebark pine?

Visitor 7: I have not.

Visitor 8: You graciously pointed one out, however, had you not pointed one out, I would have been clueless.

[music finishes, marking a transition]

Kaylin: 99.9 percent of visitors that attend my program have no idea what a whitebark pine is.

Peri: That's Kaylin Brennan, who's an interpretive park ranger here. She does her evening campfire program on whitebark pine. And for a lot of park visitors, that's their first introduction to this species.

[expansive synth music begins to play]

Kaylin: [giving an interpretive program] So you come around this corner, right when you're getting really tired, you're so ready to take a break. You come around this corner, you see this tree, and it looks like it's floating above the trail, and you're like, “whoa.” So you sit down underneath this tree. It's about 20 to 30 feet high and you hear this bird, you watch it fly to the top of this tree. [Clark’s nutcracker calls] That's the Clark's nutcracker.

Kaylin: [in an interview setting] The trees don't get as much recognition as all the other animals and aspects of Glacier, but yet they're the foundation of all of that.

Peri: Kaylin has been doing her evening program about whitebark pine since her very first season 12 years ago. When she heard we were doing a whole season of the podcast about this tree she couldn't wait to talk to us.

Kaylin: I was wildly excited, like jumping up and down, excited. I was just excited that a bigger audience could learn about the story of this tree.

Peri: [in the field] So you've been giving this program for, what, 12 years now? What do you hope that visitors take away from this story?

Kaylin: I think it's that when humans choose to make a positive impact on the landscape and come together, we can.

Peri: So Andrew, what do you think about that?

Andrew: It's a really nice sentiment. You know, I think it's a pretty commonly held belief that in nature, humans are a bad influence, that we're a virus on the planet.

Peri: I mean, that was more or less the reason behind creating the National Park Service, right?

Andrew: Yeah. There's this idea that in order to keep a place wild and to keep it natural, you have to keep humans out of it. Right? Like a national park.

Peri: Right, or a national forest or...

Andrew: ...a wilderness area.

Peri: Sure.

Andrew: But this is a fairly recent conception, maybe only in the last hundred years have we started to think this way. Once these areas seemed like a limited resource, it became popular to try to protect them by excluding people. It's an idea called fortress conservation,

Peri: like trying to keep that place quote unquote pristine.

Andrew: Yeah, keeping that human influence out because it's seen as a bad thing. But Kaylin seems to think that whitebark pine tells a different story.

[echoes of Headwaters Season 2 theme playing]

Peri: So as I begin this project, I really don't know whitebark pine very well, and most other people don't either. But those who do know these trees love them. And I wanted to find out why.

Peri: [in a car] We've been driving south through the Flathead Valley down onto the Flathead Reservation.

Peri: It's my first day working on Glacier National Park's podcast. But the park is in the rearview mirror.

Michael: [in a car] First field day!

Peri: [in a car] First field day!

Peri: The stories we tell on this show revolve around Glacier, but whitebark pine doesn't recognize lines on a map. These trees are a key piece of the park, but they also occur throughout the Crown of the Continent Ecosystem, which Glacier is just a tiny piece of, and at high elevations throughout western North America.

Andrew: [in a car] I think we're going to make a turn in three miles off of the main highway.

Peri: So today we're driving across the Flathead Indian Reservation. It's even bigger than the park, and it covers a lot of Flathead Lake and the Mission Mountains. The reservation was established in 1855 and is home to the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, or CKST. I'm here because I'm curious what it's like to have a relationship with whitebark pine that goes back thousands of years. To find out, I spoke with Tony Incashola Jr., the head of the CSKT Forestry Department.

Tony: Whitebark pine is a first food for us.

Peri: Mike Duglo Jr., who is the head of the Tribal Historic Preservation Department, joined our conversation as well.

Mike: The story that I've heard is that when we went over Lolo Pass, for instance, they would gather some of the cones that had fallen on the ground and put them by the fire. And when those roasted up and were made easier to open, then they would eat those seeds.

Peri: So I asked if they'd tried whitebark pine seeds themselves.

Tony: Yeah, it's—it's very, very tasty, very good. And that's kind of our goal is to collect enough seeds not only for our reforestation efforts, but also to help introduce it into our cultural feeds again.

Peri: Mike said he hadn't, but—

Mike: I'm looking forward to, you know, having that little bit of a taste someday, too.

Peri: I hadn't heard the term first foods before, so I asked Tony if he could explain that.

Tony: So first food, it's a traditional food for our tribe. Our tribe would follow the seasons nomadically, so to say, and harvest different plants and roots and berries at different seasons of the year. And so first foods would be something our tribe would traditionally use in their diet.

Peri: So in addition to these trees carrying nutritious seeds, they also carry stories and cultural meaning.

Tony: The culture committee has hundreds, thousands of hours of tapes where they've recorded elders and learned from them and their conversations, kind of like we're doing right now, to preserve those stories and that history. And they, they let us know that historically those were used on hunting trips, camping trips and just generally in those high elevation areas. You know, I like to call our tribe a forest tribe. A lot of our ceremonies, a lot of our traditions happen in the forest and especially the high elevation forest—it holds a special meaning for us.

[car noise]

Michael: [in the car] Peri, where are we?

Peri: [in the car] We're several miles up a forest road towards Ilawye.

Peri: A forester with the CSKT Forestry Department named ShiNaasha Pete kindly offered to take us up to meet Ilawye, the Great, Great Grandparent Tree.

Michael: [in the car] How would you describe the road?

Peri: [in the car] It's been pretty bumpy, pretty windy. Some big drop offs on one side, which I didn't love.

[beeping sounds as the car parks]

Daniel: So you think this is it?

Michael: Must be.

Peri: I mean, I hope so.

[seatbelts unbuckling, doors opening]

Peri: We made it!

ShiNaasha: I know, that is such a haul.

Peri: It is a haul!

ShiNaasha: Yá’át’ééh, I am ShiNaasha Pete. I am Navajo and Shawnee. I am a reforestation forester for the CSKT tribal forestry. I've been working on whitebark pine since 2014, as an intern graduating out of SKC, which is Salish Kootenai College, and I am very blessed to be working for the tribal forestry now.

Peri: I have this mental image of foresters as gruff, no nonsense types of folks who carry hatchets and are covered in tree sap.

Andrew: [in the field] Were you into trees and plants and stuff even as a little kid?

ShiNaasha: Oh my gosh, yes, [laughing] I was such a nerd. My friends would be like, “Do you want to go ride bikes and go over to the playground?” And I'd be like, “Do you guys want to go collect mint? I found this really nice patch and we can make sun teas!” And they're like, “what?”

[everyone laughs]

Peri: In a cruel twist of fate for a forester who works on pines, ShiNaasha has a pretty vicious pine allergy.

ShiNaasha: I have a real honker, too. [laughing] It's like “what's that goose in the background? Some goose in the mountain, a mountain goose!”

[everyone laughs]

Peri: ShiNaasha is incredibly bubbly. Like, she jumps back and forth between rattling off scientific names of the plants we're seeing, telling stories about her son, and how different generations of her family are connected to trees.

[pensive, sparse acoustic guitar music begins to play]

ShiNaasha: My grandpa, he was a logger. And so, yeah, so on my maternal side of the family, my grandpa had a logging business, and everybody worked in it. My grandpa, you know, he'd come home and he'd smell like chainsaw and trees and the forest, and I loved it, it was Grandpa. He talked about whitebarks, big whitebark back in the day. How huge it was. It was really cool actually to hear his stories about it and him seeing it and and how, you know, even then, he didn't ever cut it. And then my grandma, she would do all the books and stuff like that. So she was always at home. And when I would hang out, we would go for these long walks in the woods. She would teach me all the trees and all the species, and we'd pick flowers and make bouquets.

Peri: Now ShiNaasha is the one passing this knowledge on to a new generation.

Michael: How old did you say your son was?

ShiNaasha: He's 12.

Michael: What does he think about what you do?

ShiNaasha: I go, “Let's go on a hike.” “No.” “No? Come on!” “Every time we go for a hike, it just turns into a plant lesson.” [laughs] But yeah, he sees that I love it. But what's really cool with him is I can connect it to the cultural side. And then it's more of like, okay, you know, instead of like, “Oh yeah, that's cool.” That's more just like, like understanding or like a realization like, “Oh okay, that that's why—the purpose of it.”

Peri: [in the field] So it's not just trivia, like, “that's what this plant is.” That's why this matters.

ShiNaasha: Exactly.

Peri: She now focuses her work on whitebark pine.

[music finishes playing]

ShiNaasha: When this project started to come together and they brought elders together to talk about the cultural component of whitebark pine, there was an elder from up on Blackfeet country, and it took him a while to remember the name. If you lose the tree, then, yeah, you can lose that story. And then when you lose that story about the tree, then you're going to lose the story about the nutcracker.

Peri: That's the bird that feeds on whitebark pine seeds.

ShiNaasha: It continues on and on. So if we lose whitebark culturally, then like I say, you're going to lose those lessons.

Peri: Glacier is home to Native America Speaks, or NAS, which is the longest running indigenous speaker series in the National Park Service. And like this podcast, NAS is funded by the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The program includes over 100 events each year, bringing together speakers from the Flathead Reservation where ShiNaasha, Mike, and Tony live, and from the Blackfeet Reservation to the east of the park. I spoke with one of the NAS presenters, Robert Hall, just before one of his talks in Two Medicine.

Robert: [Speaking Blackfeet] nō´m˝ṫoōṫoō ǎmssk̇ǎaṗiiṗiik̇ǔni, niṫtsiṫō´ṗii iiṫo´nnyō´•ṗ´. My name is Robert Hall—well… [introduces himself in Blackfeet] and my white name is Robert Hall, and I grew up on the Blackfeet Reservation, and I live in Browning, Montana.

Peri: Robert works on Blackfeet Language revitalization, and I wanted to get his perspective. And the first thing I wanted to know was the word for whitebark pine.

[quiet piano music begins to play, building throughout the conversation with Robert]

Robert: The pine tree is ṗǎa˝ṫo´k̇ii. What it means, it just means pine tree, and then the woodpecker ṗǎa˝ṫō˝ksissis.

Peri: [in the field] Is that the same as Clark's nutcracker?

Robert: Pretty much, and if you want to get more specific, you know, and someone would say, tsǎ ǎnissṫǎapsii ṗǎa˝ṫō˝ksissis, what kind of woodpecker? You just say sikssk̇ii, it's got a black face, right? And what it means is, all it means is like a pounding nose.

[Robert tapping his finger on the wooden bench to demonstrate the woodpecker’s pounding nose]

Peri: [in the field, laughing] Very appropriate.

Robert: So again, there's a kind of a little insight, if you will, of how our language is focused on what things do, to an extent.

Peri: I only had a few minutes to speak with Robert before his program, but I was curious how your language can shape your relationship to nature. I asked about the Blackfeet language, but Robert flipped the question on its head.

Robert: Really, I think the question more so that we need to look at is why is English so separate from the earth? It's kind of obvious why most indigenous languages would be entwined with the earth, because that's our natural state is to be with the earth. That's who we naturally are, right? It's the English language that is kind of odd.

[music finishes, marking a transition]

[branches snap]

Peri: The hike up to Ilawye isn't long. But there were a lot of fallen trees after the winter.

[footsteps on a trail]

Michael: [out of breath] Yeah I'm worried that people listening to this will not be sufficiently impressed with us. [chuckling] Can you describe what we're doing?

ShiNaasha: [laughing, out of breath] We are dying on the side of the mountain. [whole group laughs] Scrambling over blowdown of dead trees and getting swatted by false huckleberry, and wishing that these berries were ripe. But the tree is not very far from here.

[loose rocks clatter and clank underfoot]

Peri: [in the field] So this is Ilawye?

ShiNaasha: Yes, this is her. It's definitely, definitely gorgeous. All the green in the background and then just like this one big, huge white skeleton against all this black talus, yeah, it's pretty.

Peri: I squinted in the midday sun and I could see Ilawye standing alone, with distant peaks beyond. We walked across the loud clanking slope of rocks and kind of nestled among Ilawye's huge silver roots. It was very quiet, and it felt sacred. This is how I am first introduced to whitebark pine—to a tree that will totally upend how I see the world around me.

ShiNaasha: The base of it is so huge and just the way the branches are so big and it's like, like lazy octopus arms, like they're too big, they can't pick them up. But then you're like, well, you know, is, is that the branch or is that the root system, you know? If it was the root system, then imagine how even more big this tree was.

Peri: [in the field] I didn't even think about that.

Peri: It's sad to meet the species through a dead tree, but it's also kind of fitting. But even in death, Ilawye is a pretty great ambassador. Even though only the bottom 15 feet or so is still standing, the trunk and branches are enormous, bigger than any tree I've ever seen at this elevation, which is almost 7000 feet.

ShiNaasha: But I can't imagine what this looked like back then. This tree had to be huge, like redwood status for Montana, it really had to be. And I can't imagine like how much it stretched out.

Peri: I think a lot of people would probably say they love trees, especially big, tall, ancient ones. But asking people to articulate why they feel this way or trying to do that myself kind of hits a dead end. ShiNaasha was the first person I talked to who was really able to answer that question.

ShiNaasha: Think of all of the energy that they have absorbed from everything that has happened over that time, whether it's bad or good. [slow, pensive piano music begins to play] But then even when you have an opportunity to come to something so old and filled with wisdom from all of that energy absorbed, if you were to take that time to go to it, it's going to share energy with you.

Peri: My science education emphasizes learning about the natural world. So I saw Ilawye as something to study or observe. But ShiNaasha sees Ilawye almost like a friend or a family member, someone to learn from. And a tree can teach you a lot, if you're willing to listen.

ShiNaasha: Perseverance. That's what I see. You go through hardships, but you keep going. Sometimes in life, you have setbacks. Sometimes you get the strength yourself to continue going by adapting or you have a helping hand. You take that helping hand and move forward. You know, what's funny is like this—I love this place, and I’ve always wanted to bring my family here, but I have not yet gotten the opportunity to bring them here. I really wish I could have brought my dad.

[music swells and then finishes, marking a transition]

Tony: Traditionally, that's how, you know, a lot of our stories have always been told, is we watch the animals. We watch how they take care of the land. The land was here, put here, and the animals took care of it for us and they prepped it, and we watched them and how they do it. And so after watching them and learning from them now, it's kind of our duty to continue it. And so all of our stories, all of our values come around keeping everything together as a whole, as a system, so it can function correctly.

Peri: Even for those of us who've grown up without this worldview, one of the reasons I think we all feel that sense of awe around ancient trees is how old they are, and how much they've seen. Trees are rooted in the same spot, sometimes for thousands of years, as the world changes around them.

Tony: And you look at the site it sits, the view it has, it looks over the Mission Valley. You know, it's seen a lot of things. It's seen a lot of change, a lot of shape.

Peri: When Ilawye was young, over a thousand years ago, Tony and Mike's ancestors were living in the valley below as they had since time immemorial, [somber synth music begins to play] and Ilwaye watched as settlers arrived and everything changed. Now, Tony and Mike are working to revive and pass on traditional knowledge to new generations.

Tony: And that's part of our success story we wrote about, too, is we're bringing this to our younger generation now. You know, I'm a little younger than Mike and whitebark pine traditionally hasn't, I haven't learned about it until until recently, and so there is a little gap in there. And it's awesome to see, you know, groups of children out there on field trips, hiking trips and starting to show them the importance, not just for, like you said, ecology for restoration, but introducing that culture back into the young generation.

Mike: And bringing kids up there to meet Ilawye is, you know, pretty special for them. They're not just learning about the importance of the tree and the seeds, they're learning the importance and the significance of our great, great grandparent and how, you know, throughout history this has been part of our lives.

Peri: [in the field] Where did the name Ilawye come from?

Mike: I named that tree.

Tony: Yeah.

Mike: And I got to touch the tree. And I was like, this is a special tree. It's kind of like my medicine tree.

Peri: Most relationships begin when you learn someone's name, and I guess that's true of the natural world, too. For me, learning the names of wildflowers and birds started out as trivia. [pensive piano music playing] But eventually, in addition to just asking, “What are you?” I started to ask, “Who are you and why are you here?” I started to notice which birds live, where, what time of year glacier lilies bloom or raspberries ripen, and when animals migrate in or out of my neighborhood. Species became individuals—not just a hummingbird, but the rufous hummingbird that zips around my flowers every day. Not just a huckleberry plant, but the patch I visit and pick each year. In her book Braiding Sweetgrass, Indigenous author and scientist Robin Wall Kimmerer says that paying attention is a form of reciprocity with the living world, and that learning names of the beings around you is a sign of respect, the first step toward that reciprocal relationship. Which is why meeting Ilawye, the Great Great Grandparent Tree, felt like a fitting introduction to whitebark pine.

[music finishes]

ShiNaasha: You know, trees and plants and medicines are here to help us. That's why we help them.

Peri: In the past, it never occurred to me to frame the relationship with nature or a tree in this reciprocal way where we take care of each other. The National Park Service mission is to preserve and protect this place, but until now, I had thought about that relationship as mostly one-sided—people protecting nature. It didn't occur to me that the natural world could take care of me too. And Tony explained to me that the CSKT Forestry Program incorporates that kind of thinking. It's not just about growing and harvesting timber as a crop. It's about restoring the ecosystem.

Tony: And that's something I've always learned from my father is—is what I do now is not for me, it's not for my kids, it's for my kids’ kids. [wistful, somber music plays] And that's why forestry and our tribe is connected with forestry so much. I think it's because whatever we do and whatever restoration efforts we do, it's looking down the road and the future. And with climate change, that's really why we've looked at our future.

Peri: And Tony mentioned this idea of thinking seven generations down the road.

Tony: It's—we're learning from generations past. We're applying it now for generations future.

[music finishes; we hear again the sounds of rocks clattering underfoot that we heard while visiting Ilawye]

Peri: I set out on this journey to meet a tree, and I discovered a lot more.

ShiNaasha: This tree is the oldest that I know, so there is a lot that I have learned from it already. It has a lot that I still will learn.

Peri: This is not just a story about a species and the efforts to save it. It's a story about how we relate to the world around us, [slow, somber music begins to play] what we stand to gain if we can think of that relationship in a new way, and also about what we could lose.

ShiNaasha: Imagine if we were to lose this tree, this species. It's like losing a whole other soul. You lose all of that knowledge, you lose the culture, you lose a lot more than just a tree.

Peri: And this is a very real possibility. And in addition to their spiritual and cultural significance, they also hold together our high elevation ecosystems.

ShiNaasha: You're going to lose that tradition. You will lose that cultural component of that piece of nature that makes your tribe, your tribe.

[music finishes, marking the end of the episode]

Michael: Next time on Headwaters, we explore the ecosystems tied to whitebark pine, including grizzly bears, birds, and squirrels, but it all starts with a puppet.

[sweet, joyful music playing on a banjo]

Brad: [laughing] Piney is like an artificial Christmas tree that's been truly gussied up.

Michael: So she's about three and a half feet tall, three feet tall, green sequined dress.

Brad: [vamping narrator voice] “She's… a little… mysterious, sassy.” Oh no, her base fell off. [laughs]

Michael: That's next time on Headwaters.

[music finishes; different guitar music plays under the credits]

Peri: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from our partner, the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Peri: Glacier is the traditional lands of several Native American tribes, including the Aamsskáápipikani, Kootenai, Séliš, and Ql̓ispé people. Headwaters was created by Daniel Lombardi. Andrew Smith, Peri Sasnett, and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music, and Claire Emery let us use her woodcut piece titled "Wind Poem" for this season's cover art.

Peri: Special thanks this episode to Bill Hayden, ShiNaasha Pete, Tony Incashola Jr., Mike Durglo Jr., Robert Hall, Sierra Mandelko, Claire Emery, Kaylin Brennan, Debby Smith, everyone with Glacier's native plant program, the Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation, and so many others. If you enjoyed the show, we love it if you'd rate, review, and subscribe and share it with a friend.

[music ends]

Lacy: This is like for the end?

Daniel: This is in it, yeah. You saying that? That's gonna be in it.

Michael: [laughs]

Lacy: The Glacier Conservancy is the official fundraising partner of Glacier National Park. To learn more, visit glacier.org.

Peri: I think that's the best time you've done yet.

Lacy: OK, do I need to get one more time?

Michael: I think we're good.

Peri: Yeah I think this is good.

Confluence | Two Medicine

6 december 2020 | 44 min

Glacier National Park, a place often celebrated for its natural scenery, offers an equally diverse and rich cultural landscape.

In this episode of Headwaters, food offers an introduction to the area’s Indigenous communities. We also explore the longest-running Indigenous speaker series in the National Park Service.

Featuring: Darnell Rides At The Door, Vernon Finley, Mariah Gladstone, Rose Bear Don’t Walk, Tony Incashola Sr., and Kelly Lynch.

For more info, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

EPISODE TRANSCRIPT

COOKIES INTRODUCTION

Michael: This is Michael. [music starts] I am currently in my kitchen in West Glacier, because while I am not the most accomplished baker, I learned an interesting cookie recipe that I wanted to make for Andrew before recording tomorrow.

Michael: [kitchen] I don't know how much I need to add, but let's start with that.

Michael: Again, not the best baker, so I hope they turn out all right. But we'll see.

Michael: [kitchen] Into the oven they go [tray sliding into oven, timers going off]. Well, I think that's as good as I could have hoped for. I hope he likes them!

Michael: Hey Andrew, before we started out today, I have a surprise.

Andrew: Oh? Yeah, what is it?

Michael: Well, I made some cookies last night and I was wondering if you'd want to try some.

Andrew: Oh, for sure! Yeah. Hand me one of those.

Michael: Here you go.

Andrew: Oh, is that huckleberry?

Michael: I had some frozen huckleberries leftover that I put on the top. What do you think?

Andrew: [stammering with mouthful, both laughing]. They're pretty good! Not as sweet as I was expecting, but a really nice, fresh flavor to them. What's the occasion?

Michael: While these cookies are simple to make and tasty, what interests me the most is that they're made using only ingredients indigenous to North and Central America.

Andrew: Oh really? That's, that's pretty cool.

Michael: Huckleberries, for instance, are native here. And as you know, have been eaten and used by people for thousands of years.

Andrew: Yeah. Lots of people too, Glacier National Park like America as a whole is a place where a ton of different cultures have converged.

Michael: In each episode, you'll hear us acknowledge some of those cultures, the ǔmssk̇ǎaṗiiṗiik̇ǔni, Kootenai, Selis, and Qlispe people.

Andrew: Because while Glacier National Park has only been around since 1910, this area has long been and continues to be the traditional territory of these and other Tribes.

Michael: On the east side of the park, the Blackfeet Reservation is home to the ǔmssk̇ǎaṗiiṗiik̇ǔni South Piegan. Also known as the Blackfeet.

Andrew: On the west side of the park, the Flathead Reservation is managed by a Confederation of Tribes, the Kootenai, Selis, and Qlispe or Pend d’Oreille people.

Michael: And these Tribes aren't monolithic—like any other culture, they are diverse. And reservation boundaries fail to define the extent of their people today, or their place in a vibrant Indigenous community that stretches far beyond Montana.

Andrew: To date, throughout the United States, there are 637 federally and state recognized Tribes. Odds are, wherever you are right now is the traditional territory of one or probably several Indigenous groups. Yellowstone National Park, for example, has 26 associated Tribes.

Michael: And whether here or at home, learning about the people who came before you—whose connection to a place reaches beyond scholarly definitions of history itself—that could strengthen your understanding and appreciation of wherever you are.

Andrew: That's especially true here at Glacier. A place still visited and used by Native communities today.

Michael: But my question is what is the best way to start learning about another culture?

Andrew: Uhh. Let me think...

Michael: I'll give you a hint. It's not reading.

Andrew: Okay. Um...

Michael: [whispering] What did I bring in today?

Andrew: Cookies?

Michael: Yeah, well food.

Andrew: Okay. I like where you're heading.

Michael: So take as many of these cookies as you like.

Andrew: Don't mind if I do,

Michael: Because on my journey to learn this simple recipe, I learned a lot, lot more.

Michael: Welcome to Headwaters - a Glacier National Park Podcast. Brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy, and produced on the traditional lands of many Native American Tribes, including the Blackfeet, Kootenai, Selis and Qlispe people.

Andrew: We’re calling this season: The Confluence, as we look at the ways that nature, culture, the present and the past all come together here.

Michael: I’m Michael.

Andrew: I’m Andrew.

Michael: And we’re both rangers here. We had the chance to cover loads of different topics in this season of the show.

Andrew: And throughout it all, we’ve tried to seek out Tribal perspectives on concepts like wildland fire, the night sky, climate change—

Michael: But in this episode, we met with Tribal members directly to learn more about their cultures. How they shaped the place as we know it now, and how it shaped them.

NATIVE FOODS AND CULTURE

Michael: To kick off this episode, I drove to Two Medicine, the southeast region of the park,

Michael: [in the car] Welcome to the Blackfeet Nation,

Michael: Which means driving through the Blackfeet Reservation who shares our eastern boundary. There are some opportunities for recreation on the reservation, including a section of the continental divide trail, but you'll need to grab a recreation permit from the Tribe first. If you're going to the park though, you'll pass through the gateway community of East Glacier.

Michael: [in the car] Here we are in East Glacier, head straight to make it to Browning or turn left, to get to Glacier National Park.

Michael: That left-hand turn takes you under the train tracks at the East Glacier train station. One of the first places early tourists, disembarked from.

Michael: [in the car] My favorite part—driving under the train tracks.

Michael: And a short drive later, you'll find yourself in Two Medicine.

Michael: [in the car] Man. The view never gets old.

Michael: When I got there, just past the entrance station, I stopped at the first real destination on the drive in: The Running Eagle Falls Trailhead.

Michael: [outside] ...alright, as you hike around this trail, you see the option to go to Running Eagle Falls itself or along a nature trail.

Michael: But before we go any farther, have you hiked the Running Eagle Falls Nature Trail?

Andrew: I've definitely been out to the waterfall. I don't know if I've walked the whole loop there. Why?

Michael: Well it's a short hike, just under a mile, and it's one of the few wheelchair accessible trails in the park. Now the waterfall view is stunning, but on the rest of the trail, you'll find illustrated signs that teach you how to identify native plants.

Michael: [outside] Black cottonwood can be recognized by the deep, rough, furrowed, gray bark on mature trees...

Michael: And they also teach you their traditional names and uses.

Michael: [outside] the wood is said to be ideal for TP fires, because it does not crackle and produces clean smoke. Huh?

Michael: I have one of them here. I just sent to you for thimbleberry, if you want to look at it.

Andrew: Sure. Okay. Oh, wow. This is a nice watercolor illustration here at thimbleberries one of the best berries in the park. I agree. I'm like a raspberry. Um, okay. This must be the Blackfeet name then, otohtoksinii.

Michael: Yeah. So there are seven different signs on that trail, all teaching you something about different native plants and foods. And, I said at the beginning, that food is the best way to start learning about other cultures. And I stand by that. I mean, we all need to eat. So you immediately have something in common with folks you may have never met before. You're pretty well-traveled. Do you agree with that take?

Andrew: Definitely. Yeah. You learn so much from, you know, having some yakitori in the stall of a Tokyo market, or sharing some fresh mango on the banks of the Mekong, it's—in many cases, it can be hard to know where to begin otherwise.

Michael: Yes, precisely, which is doubly true of the Tribes in and around Glacier, who have been here for a long time.

Darnell: [Speaking in Blackfeet] What I just said is: "hello, my name is lone camper and I am from the South Piegan. You know, it as Blackfeet, but we call ourselves the ǔmssk̇ǎaṗiiṗiik̇ǔni.

Michael: I met with a Blackfeet Tribal member whose English name is Darnell Rides At The Door, who told me about the history of the Blackfeet in this area.

Darnell: Well, we've been here since time immemorial. We have always been here is what we say as the niitsitapiiysinni, the real people, and creator gave us this, this area to take care of. And, um, we are very unique because we are as the Blackfeet, the Blackfoot Confederacy, we're the only inhabitants that are in the original territory that creator gave us.

Michael: Now Two Medicine where I went was an area primarily used by the Blackfeet, much like the rest of the east side of the park. But there are a lot of Tribes associated with the land that is today Glacier.

Andrew: Yeah. The Kootenai, for example, predominantly used to the area on the west side of the park. I've had the chance to learn some of their stories about Lake McDonald.

Michael: That's right. And a lot of these stories were shared with the public and the park by Tribal members like Vernon Finley.

Vernon: Uh, my name is Vernon Finley. I am a member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes that are on the Flathead Reservation, just, uh, south of, uh, Flathead Lake, which is south of Glacier Park. There are two Culture Committees on the Reservation and I'm the Department Head for the Kootenai Culture Committee.

Michael: I had the chance to sit down and talk with Vernon about the Kootenai. And as with the Blackfeet, they've been here for a long time—longer than you could really wrap your head around, which Vernon described using the Kootenai language as an example.

Vernon: However, the Kootenai language is a language isolate. Which means, according to linguists, they haven't been able to link it with any of the families of languages that are around. It's a family of its own. For as long as languages have been spoken, the Kootenais have only been here. The Selis, you can link them with other Tribes out to the coast and up the coast. You can link for Dene further South. You can link all the other languages everywhere else. The Kootenai has only always been right here.

Michael: And you needn't look far to see imprints of this ancient history. Features throughout the park bear the names that Tribes gave them thousands of years ago,

Darnell: Place names can give you, um, markers, land markers, but it also tells you what our people did at a certain time.

Michael: But not all of them.

Darnell: In the geographical documentation, they changed the names of a lot, a lot, especially the mountains got English names, but we already had had a name for them.

Michael: And as Darnell mentioned, many names in the Blackfeet and Kootenai languages were more than mere titles, but often served as instructions of sorts.

Darnell: You knew which one was the pass to go onto the other side of the mountain. You knew which one that was and how it was named in your language. If you didn't know where you were, you didn't know where you were going.

Michael: Knowing where you were going. There's a tremendous importance to the Tribes in this area because, they might've used the land in Glacier, but they would travel far beyond its boundaries.

Darnell: We were good at it. Very good at it. Because you had to know, we had a runners that would go out in this territory, which ranged all the way from way up on the North Saskatchewan River to the Yellowstone. That's a lot of territory.

Vernon: The Kootenais were aware, well aware of the existence of the world. There's coyote stories that describe going across the ocean, and the lands on the other side. An awareness of the entire world was there.

Michael: The Kootenai, Blackfeet, Selis and Qlispe, or Pend d'Oreille people all traveled far and wide throughout the course of the year.

Andrew: Their routes through Glacier in many cases became the routes that roads and trails follow in the park today.

Michael: But wherever they went, these Tribes had access to similar foods, foods like some of the plants on the signs at the Running Eagle Falls Nature Trail. But I didn't drive to Two Medicine just to read signs. I mean, as we're doing now, I could have just looked them up on the computer. I went to Two Medicine to meet with Mariah Gladstone.

Mariah: My name is Mariah Gladstone, and I am a descendant of the Blackfeet Nation. I am the founder and operator of Indigikitchen, which is an online teaching tool dedicated to re-sharing information about Indigenous diets.

Michael: Indigikitchen is essentially like an Indigenous food network, teaching people how to cook using Native foods.

Andrew: Oh, that's such a cool idea!

Michael: It is! I also sat down in the studio with Rose Bear Don't Walk.

Rose: I am Bitterroot Selis and Crow from the Flathead Indian Reservation. And I currently am a Selis ethnobotanist.

Andrew: And let's pretend for a minute that I've never heard the term ethnobotanist before. What does that mean?

Michael: Well, somebody who studies ethnobotany:

Rose: Uh, ethnobotany is the study of different cultures, groups of people, societies, even, and their interactions and relationships with plants, whether it's for tools, for food or religious purposes.

Michael: And I wanted to talk to them both, not just because they're knowledgeable (and they are brilliant), but because they have a background in teaching others about Native foods.

Mariah: Of course middle-schoolers are always interested in any skills that will help them survive zombie apocalypses—

Rose: Talking to people about science, and talking about plants, and—

Michael: So they can do it all. Outdoors or online, with adults and students alike. I figured they'd be able to help me learn a little bit about Native foods. But first, I wanted to know what drew them to working with and advocating for Native foods in the first place. And both of them cited the diet related health problems facing Native communities: diabetes, heart disease, obesity—

Mariah: And a lot of that stems from the decimation of the bison populations in order to control Plains people.

Michael: Meaning that in the 1860s, the U.S. Government sought to kill bison because Native Americans like the Blackfeet relied on them, with one Colonel in the army quoted as saying: "Kill every Buffalo you can, every Buffalo dead is an Indian gone."

Mariah: And from that, of course, we see this reliance on government rations like flour and sugar and lard and beef, and things that were not indigenous to our diets.

Andrew: So she's saying that after the new eradication of bison, Plains Tribes, like the Blackfeet, couldn't eat or live the way they used to and had to eat government rations, there weren't nearly as healthy?

Michael: Precisely. And this switch from traditional diets to rations was a foundational traumatic change with lasting ramifications.

Mariah: For the Blackfeet that's especially relevant because our reliance on government food systems led us to make really hard decisions.

Michael: Here's Joe McKay and Carol Murray from the video on display at the St. Mary Visitor Center—

Joe: In September of 1895, late September, the government sent new treaty commissioners to meet with the people and they called them all together. They said "we come to buy some of that land up there, those rocks, those mountains." And one of the leaders stood up and he said, "well, we don't want to show you any more land." And after four days, looked like no agreement was going to be reached. And finally something happened, that last night, and some kind of an agreement was made. And we ceded the land that you call Glacier Park to the federal government for $1.5 million.

Carol: I think one of the real big impacts of why they sold the land, if they so sold, it is we had a starvation winter in 1883, 84. I believe they thought that the money would provide resources for them to survive. Our people were literally starving to death.

Mariah: As a Blackfeet person now, that sees the land that I'm standing on in Glacier Park, and how our ancestors lost that land from our Reservation space so that I could exist today. That is something I consider to come with a huge amount of responsibility to take care of these lands.

Andrew: Wow.

Michael: Yeah.

Andrew: And I know stories like that are far from rare across Indigenous communities.

Michael: Which means that Mariah and Rose's efforts to share knowledge of Indigenous foods are resonating far and wide.

Andrew: Well, okay. You've set the stage or table so to speak, but what would a traditional Indigenous diet look like?

Michael: Well, that obviously varied a lot place to place and seasonally, but I asked Mariah and Rose about that.

Rose: A lot of it was shaped by the coming and goings of different game animals. Like when the Buffalo are ready to be hunted the winter kind of like the winter hunt and the summer hunt.

Mariah: Pemmican mixes. So dry meat mixed with different berries. Of course, in the summertime, we have lots and lots of plant foods that we have access to: root vegetables like prairie turnips to biscuit roots, all of which are root vegetables. Fresh greens, things like false Solomon’s seal, nettles, which I'm looking at right now.

Michael: A lot of these foods could just be harvested and eaten, but some required preparation like Indian ice cream.

Andrew: What's Indian ice cream?

Rose: Which is, uh, made from foam berries. They picked it, they put it in a bowl and they whipped it up with some water and it made just this beautiful foamy little concoction.

Michael: Whoa!

Michael: And you're familiar with our local plants, you know camas?

Andrew: Oh yeah. It's a beautiful blue flower.

Michael: Well, while it has a pretty flower, it was actually their bulbs that were an important food source.

Andrew: The bulb being the organ the flower stores food in under the soil.

Michael: Yeah. With onions, probably being the most famous example of a bulb.

Mariah: For really traditional food, we can see things like camas bakes, and the camas bulbs that were harvested and baked in a pit.

Michael: And the process of preparing the bulbs, a camas bake, might just be the most complicated recipe I've ever heard of.

Rose: One of my workshop ideas was to do a camas bake. And so a couple other young women and I got together and we, we did the thing.

Michael: How long did it take?

Rose: Traditionally, the camas bake is three to four days in an earth oven.

Michael: How do you, how do you make an earth oven?

Rose: Okay. So you dig a pit, you need enough space in the hole to lay a layer of rocks. And then you put all their branches and ferns and skunk cabbage in there—

Mariah: The proteins in there, which are generally not very digestible if you eat them raw, it takes a really long time to break those things down.

Rose: You kind of cover that with dirt. You get those rocks at the bottom, super hot in a fire and you kind of dump them in there and you have a stick in the middle and you build around that stick, pull the stick out and you pour water in there. So when the water hits the rocks,

Michael: Oh it steams.

Rose: —it starts to steam! Yeah. So it's a steam cook earth oven.

Michael: Whoa.

Rose: Yeah.

Michael: That's complicated.

Rose: It is!

Mariah: All those sugars and starches in the camas roots would caramelize, and you would get sweet almost potato-like starches. The trial and error process that must have happened in order to recognize how long you have to bake camus bulbs for those to caramelize into something that's really, really good.

Michael: Yeah. Trying to just analyze the little examples of trial and error in my own experience, trying to be a home chef. It blows my mind how many iterations that had to have gone through before arriving at that procedure.

Rose: Mm-hmm!

Michael: Wow. That's really neat.

Rose: And the procedure has, you know, existed for probably thousands of years now.

Michael: Yeah.

Rose: Which is incredible!

Michael: Wow. And this intricate process is the sole responsibility of women. I later learned that Kootenai men aren't even allowed near the roasting pit, unless it was to bring firewood.

Rose: Women's roles are just so incredibly important to our societies, but also their roles in our food systems were, were huge. They were the main, you know, foragers, processors, cookers, and keepers of all of this knowledge.

Michael: The role of and significance of women came up time and time again in our interviews.

Andrew: It's a topic really worthy of its own episode.

Michael: And it's no wonder they were so respected because even a camas bake could be life and death.

Mariah: Um, the problem with identifying camas for harvesting is that it was traditionally eaten after it bloomed. And we also have death camas. Death camas is incredibly toxic, And if you have one death camas bulb in a whole bunch of regular blue camas bulbs, you will get incredibly sick and possibly die.

Andrew: Wow. that's really scary.

Michael: Yeah. And it wasn't just camas. Poisonous foods came up quite a bit.

Rose: Uh, Rose hips are chock full of vitamin C,

Michael: But the seeds are poisonous, right?

Rose: The seeds—don't eat the seeds! Don't eat the seeds.

Michael: So on top of the knowledge required to prepare food. You also needed to know what things to avoid. And some of that knowledge was passed down through stories.

Rose: The Selis have a story about that too, you know, about the seeds. Coyote stories are based on this kind of trickster paradigm that's very prevalent in a lot of Indigenous cultures. There's usually a being in our history that, you know, do, as I say, not as I do type guy. Kind of does all the wrong things so we learn from him. And so we do have a story about him eating the berries. But the word for rose hips in Selis, it does tie to something along the lines of coyotes' berry. And they call it coyotes' berry because, you know, if, if you eat the seeds, you get an itchy digestive system or like, you know, an itchy, butt.

Michael: [Laughing]

Rose: Because it's not good for your system [laughing]! So that's how, that's, that's how we learned. Um, and that's why we call it that.

Michael: This is a good to slip. In some advice if you're looking to forage for food. A simple rule, no story required, is that if you don't know what something is, don't eat it.

Andrew: And even if you think you know what it is, but you're not a hundred percent sure just don't eat it.

Michael: And if you're hoping to forage in the park while you're not allowed to pick for commercial purposes, you are allowed to pick a few berries for a snack. And that's a good place to start.

Mariah: Looking at the amount of thimbleberries that are ripe in the immediate vicinity—

Michael: Now, when I arranged to meet with Mariah, I knew we wouldn't have the time or tools at our disposal to make anything complicated. But I wondered if there was a simple recipe we could make. And after talking for a bit, she asked me to start picking thimbleberries. So I set out to grab as many as I could.

Michael: [picking thimbleberries] Oh, that one was good.

Michael: Knowing now what we were going to use them for, we spent way longer than we needed to collecting them. But it's fun!

Andrew: I know I've found myself carried away, picking berries, time, just kind of slips away.

Michael: And as I was running around in thimbleberries bushes, I was thinking about what I know about plants. As a ranger, my focus was often on the scientific side, learning how they work, how to tell them apart... Talking to Mariah and Rose, I was learning about camas bakes, about Indian ice cream—practices that date back thousands of years. And these cultural components of plants are invisible, and often, far more difficult to learn about than Latin names.

Rose: A lot of people, when they're bringing up memories of how they started to interact with plants, how they know these plants—it was with their grandma. They, you know, went out into the woods and they learned how to properly make Indian ice cream.

Michael: And the connection between people and plants extends beyond fond childhood memories and into language itself.

Rose: So the, the word for foamberry in selis is Sx̣ʷo̓sm. And the x̣ʷos in that, in the middle, means foam. Means to like foam up. So in even just naming that particular plant, it's based on how it was used and how it was known.

Andrew: Yeah. Wow. So yeah, just like the place names you mentioned earlier, plant names on their own could even instruct you as to how to use them as food.

Michael: Exactly. It would be like naming potatoes, boiling-oil-root or something.

Andrew: Well, that actually might be helpful to some people.

Michael: Now, Rose and Mariah have a wealth of lived and learned experience and knowledge about native plants and have been using new and exciting ways to share that knowledge with others.

Mariah: ...different things. Obviously I do cooking videos online so that everyone has access to a lot of the work that I'm doing. But I also go in and I do demonstrations and classes, both for, uh, Native and non-Native communities.

Andrew: Is it easy to teach these recipes? How have people reacted to the ingredients she uses?

Michael: Well, she said students often surprise her.

Mariah: It's pleasantly surprising. Many students know things that are edible, but don't necessarily know how to prepare it,

Michael: Which I feel like that's the camp I'm in. I take the time to learn if a plant will kill you or not, but don't know much anything beyond that. What Mariah does that is pretty clever is incorporate these ingredients into dishes that you've likely had before. Like with nettles.

Mariah: I know that we did a catering gig one time where we used that almost like spinach and an omelet there's ways that you can incorporate traditional foods, obviously into foods you may be more familiar with.

Michael: And after picking, collecting, and greedily eating them for a bit, that turned out to be what we were doing with our thimbleberries.

Andrew: Oh yeah. So this is where the cookies come in.

Michael: Yep.

Mariah: I'm thinking that we can make some thimbleberry thumbprint cookies.

Michael: Everyone likes a good cookie, and we were going to make some with only indigenous ingredients. Now to be clear, we used ingredients indigenous to North and Central America, so not all of this grows in Montana, but can be found at your local grocery store. But what is the first thing you gotta do if you're making cookies?

Andrew: I guess make cookie dough?

Michael: Exactly.

Mariah: The first thing I'm going to do is, I actually have some chia seeds. And I'm going to let the chia seeds soak in water for a second, just a little bit of water, about double the amount of chia seeds that I have—

Michael: The first step to make our dough was to soak chia seeds in water, which causes them to get kind of gel-ly.

Mariah: Yeah. And that'll help everything stick together. It works just like an egg.

Michael: Next comes the flour.

Mariah: And while I do that, I'm actually going to take some of these raw sunflower seeds—so the shells are off of these sunflower seeds—I'm going to take these and I'm going to pound the crap out of them.

Michael: Once you grind the sunflower seeds into a flour, you add them to the gelled chia seeds,

Mariah: So we're going to add our sunflower seeds to our chia mix and stir them together.

Michael: And then you are almost done with your dough.

Mariah: And then to sweeten everything up for these cookies, because this is a dessert recipe—or a healthy snack? I don't know. Um, we're going to add a little bit of maple syrup into this mix. And obviously the amount of maple syrup you add is dependent on your preferences. It looked like there was going to be an awesome sound for that maple syrup being poured.

Michael: Mold it into a desk and press a thumbprint in the middle, and all that's left is to add your toppings.

Mariah: We went and picked thimbleberries and we're going to use them as the filling and our little thumbprint cookies.

Michael: And lo and behold, they were delicious.

Background: So good, I could eat those all day.

Andrew: And pretty simple!

Michael: Yeah.

Mariah: Considering I just did it sitting on the middle of a trail. Yes. This is pretty simple.

Michael: Super simple.

Mariah: Sunflower seeds and maple syrup are pretty easy ingredients to find. And it's cool to recognize their indigenous roots, even if they aren't necessarily from this area. And then it's fun because we used both huckleberries and thimbleberries, and you can use whatever type of edible berries you could find, even if you're using berries that only grow in your home community and not necessarily in Glacier Park.

Michael: So hopefully I did him justice today.

Andrew: I thought they were pretty good. And I looked up Mariah's website. She's got a ton of recipes to choose from.

Michael: Her website and YouTube channel are a great resource. You could also find Rose's whole ethnobotany paper online, we'll have links in the show notes to both—but while I've used my time so far to argue that food is the best gateway into another culture, luckily for us here at Glacier, that's just the beginning. Thanks to something called the Native America Speaks Program.

Background: With no further ado and bologna, I shall turn you over... to Vernon! [clapping]

Vernon: Okay. Is this on okay? Can you hear me okay?

Andrew: Glacier is home to the longest-running Indigenous speaker series in the National Park Service, which has been going for over 30 years!

Michael: Native America Speaks programs happen at visitor centers and camgrounds all around the park, giving Tribal members the opportunity to share their own stories.

Andrew: In 2019, that meant over 100 different events by nearly 20 different speakers.

Michael: Including everyone we’ve met so far in this episode!

Andrew: I met with Tony Incashola Sr., director of the Selis Kalispell Culture Committee on the Flathead Reservation, who has been involved since the beginning of the program.

NATIVE AMERICA SPEAKS - ELDERS

Tony Incashola Sr.: They were starting this new program and they were asking if I was interested, and I had seen that it was an opportunity to educate, to share and try to bring understanding.

Kelly Lynch: It's such an amazing opportunity. It's just so authentic. And it's from their heart.

Andrew: This is Kelly Lynch.

Kelly Lynch: I have been working with Native American Speaks for, I guess this will be the fourth year. I heard someone once say, you can't think about Glacier Park and not think about all the Tribes, cause they're part of it. It's part of them. And they're telling stories about this landscape. It's just really powerful. I'm a pretty emotional person. And I probably cry at most of the programs because they're just really powerful.

Andrew: Here's Darnell Rides at the Door—

Darnell Rides at the Door: I was one of the first ones that presented in... 30 years ago. And it was at Two Medicine campground.

Michael: Do you remember what that presentation covered?

Darnell Rides at the Door: Yes. It covered speaking above the wind next to a rock where people couldn't hear me.

Kelly Lynch: This is just a small little opportunity to learn about another culture that very few people know much about because it's not even written in history books. And it's, yeah, giving them the respect and honoring them for this knowledge that they hold.

Darnell Rides at the Door: I wanted people to know who we are, the real people, the real us, and where we come from, and dissolve some of those myths about Indian people. And that we're not just what you see in the movies. And even to this day, there's still those misconceived notions as to that we're still here. We do exist.

Andrew: Here's Vernon Finley—

Vernon Finley: When I tell the part of history after contact, it gets difficult for some to hear because there was, there was a lot of unpleasant things. And so I've had a few people get up and walk away because of the difficulty of it. But early on, when I started doing the presentations, the Elders Advisory Group for the Culture Committee requested me to come and present to us on what you're telling the white people out there. So I did, I went in and told them what it was all about. The eldest person there finally spoke and said, well, what you say is truthful, but truth is difficult to hear sometimes for some people. And so when you do this presentation, make sure, make sure, absolutely sure that they know how much we appreciate them coming here. And because Glacier Park and Ya'qawiswitxuki, and this whole area, it's kept this way for them not for us. And so, I said, okay, I'll make sure they understand that.

Darnell Rides at the Door: When we do presentations with the museums, some of the younger kids say, well, I thought Indians were only in the movies. Well, how did you get here? I thought Indians didn't drive cars. Do you live in a house? We thought you just lived in teepees. It's humorous in a way, but it's also very educational for us as well. And dissolving a lot of the myths, a lot of the prejudices that we don't need in this world because we're all people. We're all people, no matter our color, our religious beliefs, whatever.

Andrew: Here's Tony Incashola Sr. again—

Tony Incashola Sr.: To me, honesty and truth is the best foundation you can build. We can't change history. What happened in the past happened, but we use that history to make sure that it doesn't happen again, but also to make sure that that the truths come out on that. We don't want to change history because we can't, for any reason at all. It's always best to be honest and truthful because we're the ones responsible for our elders’ stories and information.

Darnell Rides at the Door: It's a joyous occasion. I mean, it's just to get close to the mountains is wonderful. And then to mingle with the people that's, that's one of my grandmother's terms mingling. But she'd say mangle. Just being able to see those people from all over the world and, and, associate with them.

Tony Incashola Sr.: And I think for anybody that comes to these, I think they will learn to understand a little bit more about themselves. That's when I try to let people know. That there is a difference and there's a reason why there's a difference. And each one of us in this country have a role to play and a role to carry and responsibility for the next generation. You know, time goes by so quickly, very quickly, and we don't have time to do anything, but prepare the next, for the next generation. And that's what I learned from my, my elders is that everything that we do today is not for ourselves. It's not for us. It's always for the next generations down the road, the next seven generations. Those are the generations that we live for. Those are the generations that we are doing things today for. So the next generation can learn and pass it on.

Andrew: We'll hear from that generation after this break.

GLACIER NATIONAL PARK CONSERVANCY AD

Michael: Each episode, we seem to cover at least one thing that—like this podcast—wouldn't be possible without the support of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Andrew: With the help of some friends over there, we got the number of executive director Doug Mitchell, and decided to call him up out of the blue and ask about some of these projects.

Michael: For this episode, every time we coordinated the interviews with Tribal members, we made sure to let the Conservancy know.

Andrew: So we called Doug to find out why.

Doug: Glacier National Park Conservancy, Doug Mitchell speaking, how may I help you?

Michael: Hey, Doug, it's Michael and Andrew, how are you doing?

Doug: Hey, it's my audio bloggers. I guess that was the old name before somebody came up with, uh, podcasters—but we don't have iPods anymore either, so I'm not even sure what that's about.

Michael: No we don't [laughs] Well, for the podcast this summer, and for this episode, we've had the chance to talk to a lot of Native America Speaks presenters. And every time we schedule an interview, we reach out to let you all know at the Conservancy when that interview is taking place. Why would we need to work with you to plan an interview with Tribal members?

Doug: Well, we are super privileged at the Conservancy to be the park's partner to help fund these Native America Speaks programs. And in 2019, we were able to have over 100 programs—there was one every night of the summer in the park. To be able to give park visitors access to these very, very important stories about people before the park, the land before the park. Montana's first people.

Andrew: It's great. It's a pretty unique opportunity to get to listen in and hear the stories of these people that are still keeping their traditions alive today.

Doug: Yeah. I mean, you used exactly the right word: "Listen." You know, these stories are there, but they're only accessible if we are willing to listen. And the superintendent has really set an expectation in his staff, and in our team, that we really want to listen and engage in the story of this place. And that story rings completely hollow without its very foundation, which is the Native people.

Michael: Yeah. And that we could provide that opportunity for visitors, not just every night of the summer, but uh, in virtually every corner of the park—these programs are offered at some point, whether it's Two Medicine or Lake McDonald or St. Mary—they're all over the place.

Doug: The stories are all over the place, and the telling of them is actually now even being able to be extended outside the park. I know there are Native America speaks programs going on right now in schools in Montana. They might not have been able to travel to the park, but now they're going to get that story. So this ability, as you guys are doing, to deliver things digitally is really going to be an interesting new expansion of this program.

Michael: And it's something we're really fortunate to be a part of as well. And thank you, as always for that. And for taking some time out of your day, we'll talk to you soon.

Doug: Well Andrew and Michael, you guys are a great thing to have to this podcast program is super exciting. We're just so thrilled to be a part of it.

Michael: Well, we'll talk soon.

Doug: Cheers.

Michael: Bye.

Andrew: Cheers.

NATIVE AMERICA SPEAKS – THE NEXT GENERATION

Andrew: Here's Rose Bear Don’t Walk—

Rose Bear Don’t Walk: There's parts in our US history that we tend to think were a really long time ago. But in actuality, I mean the boarding school era was a couple of decades ago, and that still has a lot of imprints on our communities. So for example, my, you know, my grandparents were in boarding schools and so their knowledge of different cultural things was not as robust because of the way that boarding schools were created and carried out. And I have so much respect for my grandparents and all that they've done and all that they've persevered through, but that kind of left a gap. It left a gap in that cultural continuity. And so I think that's kind of what we're seeing in why this younger generation is just so... They just want to learn so much and engage and research and help the community and just do all those things, because we know about those gaps in our history and those particular things that have happened.

Andrew: Tony Incashola Sr.—

Tony Incashola Sr.: You know, I, where I work at the Culture Committee, I have what I call an Elders Council. I had a question all I had to do, I had 30, 20, 30 elders I could turn to. And, you know, they'd have an answer. And about two years ago, I had a question I turned around. There was nobody there. You know those elders that I depended on, the elders that were knowledgeable, were gone. And then I realized that, Hey, wait a minute, I had to answer it myself. I was next in line.

Andrew: And Darnell Rides at the Door—

Darnell Rides at the Door: Grandma lived with me off and on, and as well as a couple of the other grandchildren throughout her life, towards the end of her life as well. And I always thought she'd always be here. When she passed it, left a void, a great void. And it made you think, well, who's going to tell us stories now? Who do we go to to ask who we're related to? She could go back 10 generations, and I'm not exaggerating because she could.

Tony Incashola Sr.: And now I'm kind of starting a new generation of elders that are younger, but I'm bringing them in and I'm sharing, trying to get up to speed so they can take over.

Darnell Rides at the Door: It's kind of a rude awakening. I started to realize that when my grandkids started to ask me questions, and then I began teaching the Blackfeet skies or the ethnobotany, or just how to make a lodge. And when I found out that I'm the one teaching that, that reality hit me. And not only that, I never did consider myself old. I am the oldest of my nine siblings, but I never thought of myself as being an Elder.

Andrew: Mariah Gladstone—

Mariah Gladstone: So my dad co-founded the Native America Speaks program. And at the time when I decided to reach out about joining the speaker series, the program participants and the speakers were still primarily elder men. Obviously there is a huge amount of wisdom in our elders, but I also think that as Native people, we have always made it a point to listen to our youth as well.

Darnell Rides at the Door: Age doesn't matter. They have a curiosity that's untold, but also diversity and uniqueness in that there's no prejudices in their vocabulary.

Rose Bear Don’t Walk: I think there's a big push for a lot of young people just to get really involved. And they're just so excited about it. They're so excited to learn about the culture and the traditions and things like that.

Mariah Gladstone: Being able to share those different stories I think makes the Native America Speaks program far more interesting than if we just had one demographic that was speaking. And I think if you've been to one Native American Speaks program, you should find another one and go to that one and find a different speaker and go to that one because you're going to get different knowledge, not just because you're getting knowledge from different Tribes, but because people are coming into it with different experiences and their specialties are in different areas.

Andrew: That’s our show for you today—If you’re interested in learning more about the Native America Speaks Program, or learning more about the cultures you met in this episode, you can find links in our show notes to our website.

Michael: Thanks for listening!

CREDITS

Renata: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The show was written and recorded on traditional Native lands. Andrew Smith and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music. Alex Stillson provided tech support, Quinn Feller designed our art, Renata Harrison researched the show, Lacy Kowalski was always there for us, and Daniel Lombardi and Bill Hayden were the executive directors. Support for the show comes from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The Conservancy works to preserve and protect the park for future generations. We couldn't do it without them, and they couldn't do it without support from thousands of generous donors. If you want to learn more about how to support this podcast, or other awesome Conservancy projects, please go to their website at glacier.org. Of course you can always help support the show by sharing it with everyone you know— your friends, your family, your dog... And also leave us a review online. Special thanks this episode to Mariah Gladstone, Rose Bear Don’t Walk, Vernon Finley, Tony Incashola Sr., Darnell Rides At The Door, and Kelly Lynch.

Glacier National Park, a place often celebrated for its natural scenery, offers an equally diverse and rich cultural landscape. In this episode of Headwaters, food offers an introduction to the area’s Indigenous communities. We also explore the longest-running Indigenous speaker series in the National Park Service.

Featuring: Darnell Rides At The Door, Vernon Finley, Mariah Gladstone, Rose Bear Don’t Walk, Tony Incashola Sr., and Kelly Lynch.

For more info, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

Confluence | St. Mary

6 december 2020 | 48 min

In this episode of Headwaters, we visit St. Mary, looking for experiences that are disappearing from the world. After hearing about the legendary St. Mary winds, Michael gets up early to try to see a grizzly bear, and we learn how these animals are faring in Glacier’s ecosystem. Andrew stays up late to visit the St. Mary observatory and learn about dark skies and stargazing in Glacier.

Featuring: Debby Smith, Bob Adams, Tabitha Graves, and Lee Rademaker.

For more info, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

EPISODE TRANSCRIPT

WIND INTRODUCTION

Debby Smith: I know I had a number of moments early on working over at the St. Mary Visitor Center, as you kind of get to the edge of the building and the building is no longer blocking the wind. I've had things that just got sucked right out of my hand.

Andrew: That's Debby Smith, she's in charge of among other things, the St. Mary Visitor Center,

Debby: You know, it's also funny, we'll, we'll often get these high wind warnings. I think it was for 40 to 50 mile an hour gusts and maybe even as high as, as 85. And I've, I've told people that, that don't live around here, that that's our weather forecast. And they're like, Oh no, that can't possibly be right. You know, you couldn't possibly have wind that high, but, but we do.

Andrew: How does wind affect people's experience when they're visiting the St. Mary area?

Debby: Partly, it's just about the sort of obvious things like making sure their tents don't blow away and making sure when you're eating lunch, that you're, you have, you know, a hold of everything that, that you brought with you. And then there's also being able to see what the park is like, and whether it's seeing St. Mary Lake on a day that it's really windy with huge white caps. Even sometimes at the St. Mary Visitor Center on really windy days, we'll get the spray from the lake, hitting the windows on the side of the building, because it's just blowing it that far.

Andrew: And the Visitor Center is not right on the edge of the lake there. The wind has to carry that spray over a quarter mile for it to hit the building. When people are hiking in St. Mary, what are some of the effects of wind that they might see in the plants or the landscape?

Debby: One would be flagging on trees. When you see trees that basically all the branches on the windward side are broken off, or they're kind of deformed. So that side that's facing the direction from which the wind is blowing. And then it resembles a flag because all of the branches are just on the other side.

Andrew: Besides the practical side of not letting things blow away. Do you think you've learned anything from the wind there?

Debby: I think a lot of it is just learning about this place. And I mean, there's the obvious challenges that it presents to people like you were mentioning, but I think also the wind is, is something that makes the east side of the park really beautiful, and it makes it, you know, this diverse place and dynamic and harsh and wonderful all at the same time. It just adds to the experience and it, it creates the amazing place that we have on the east side.

Andrew: How does wind affect life in your area? Does it invert umbrellas, sculpt dunes, or drive wildfire? Maybe you hardly think about the wind at all. The way you interact with wind is largely dependent on where you live. In tornado alley, wind is a life-altering force, but in other parts of the country, it might be more of a curiosity. In this episode, we're going to look at two elements that, perhaps like the wind, have been eliminated as a major factor in many people's lives, but that still find a home in Glacier National Park. First, you'll hear a story about the grizzly bears in the park, and then about our dark starry night skies.

Andrew: Welcome to Headwaters - a Glacier National Park Podcast. Brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy, and produced on the traditional lands of many Native American Tribes, including the Blackfeet, Kootenai, Selis and Qlispe people.

Michael: We’re calling this season: The Confluence, as we look at the ways that nature, culture, the present and the past all come together here.

Andrew: I’m Andrew.

Michael: I’m Michael.

Andrew: And we’re both rangers here. And today we're in the St. Mary Valley. St. Mary Lake is the second largest Lake here and home to some of the most breathtaking scenery anywhere in the park.

Michael: I mean, the view from Wild Goose Island overlook is even on Montana State driver's licenses. It's so beautiful.

Andrew: Really, it is?

Michael: Yeah. I mean, look at your own. It's like the, the shimmery thing in the background that they...

Andrew: Oh, yeah, there it is. Wild Goose Island.

Michael: So we're headed to St. Mary because it is a great place to look for experiences that over time have grown harder and harder to find anywhere else.

Andrew: Yeah, Glacier is in many ways, the last best place for experiences that the rest of the world may once have taken for granted, but have since faded away.

Michael: Today, we're going to focus on two of those experiences. One that it helps to get up early for. And one that it helps to stay up late.

Andrew: Yeah. Something for the early birds and the night owls.

BEARS

Michael: Now, one thing that makes Glacier special is that we are home to an abundant and diverse range of wildlife.

Andrew: We have 71 species of mammal, 276, different birds, six amphibians, and even three reptiles live here.

Michael: Yeah. And I'm curious what your experience has been Andrew, but as an Interpretive Ranger, it seemed like half of the questions I got from visitors were logistical. Like, where should I hike? Is this campground open? Et cetera. And the other half was about wildlife. Do you have moose here? Yes. Where can I see a mountain goat? That sort of thing.

Andrew: Definitely. You could make someone's whole trip by just pointing a spotting scope at a herd of bighorn sheep.

Michael: But that excitement for wildlife encounters can go both ways, cause some people are thrilled at the prospect, but others are actually scared. Glacier is home to predators like mountain lions and wolves, but the critters most people think about when they're here are bears.

[Sound of bear growling]

Andrew: [Piano music starts] We have a lot of bears here.

Michael: Both black and grizzly bears.

Andrew: As of 2018, the population of grizzly bears for the whole Northern Continental Divide Ecosystem of which Glacier is a small part, was estimated to be about 1,050 individuals. Of these about 250 to 300 would live in Glacier.

Michael: Wow.

Andrew: Some bears are gonna spend part of their lives in the parks part of their lives outside of the park. And the black bear population in Glacier was thought to be about 600.

Michael: I've heard that that's more grizzly bears per acre than anywhere else in the lower 48.

Andrew: Mmhmm.

Michael: But how do we even know that this place is huge? It's like finding a thousand needles in a million acre haystack.

Andrew: Yeah, it was actually a pretty big undertaking to get those numbers. I actually talked to Tabitha Graves, the scientist who was involved with a lot of this research.

Tabitha Graves: Hi, I'm Tabitha Graves. I am with USGS, I'm a research ecologist.

Andrew: Not only is it a massive area to survey, you have to figure out how to distinguish individual bears. So you don't just keep counting the same ones.

Michael: And I know with birds in these sort of situations, biologists will catch them and mark them with a leg band, some other animals with ear tags.

Andrew: Yeah. But capturing and marking hundreds of grizzly bears would be super expensive and time-consuming, sounds very dangerous, and would probably seriously disturb the animals. So the scientists use some really cool technological advances to measure the bear population in a different way.

Tabitha: Back in 1998, my predecessor in my job, Kate Kendall, started doing research using genetics of bears. She put out strands of barbed wire around some trees in the woods with some stinky lure in the center of it and found out that grizzly bears would go into smell that when they did that, when they walked over or under the barbed wire, a few strands of hair would be pulled out. And in that hair there's DNA in the hair follicle. And from that, you can identify individual bears.

Andrew: With the DNA captured in a hair trap. You could tell how many distinct individuals were around. This initial experiment proved the concept, and then they did a much bigger in 2004.

Tabitha: Where we got a population estimate, it was the first population estimate that had good confidence intervals and was fairly precise. That was 765 animals was the point estimate in 2004...

Andrew: From there, they took the survey even wider. And I cannot overstate how big of a project it is. They were monitoring a ton of hair traps across the whole northern continental divide ecosystem. Michael, do you want to take a guess at how many rub sites they were monitoring for bear hair?

Michael: Well, I imagine they tried to put them all over the park in the different regions. I'm gonna say, maybe like 500?

Tabitha: Um, we had across the whole ecosystem there around 4,000 rub objects per year,

Michael: 4,000? Holy crap, that's a lot!

Andrew: Yeah. And Tabitha told me that this genetic data is useful for a lot more than just those population surveys.

Tabitha: [Music starts] Yeah. That's the cool thing about having genetic data is yet you can not only identify individual bears, but you can actually see who's related to who.

Andrew: For instance, they found.

Tabitha: One male grizzly bear that had 101 descendants. So that included his offspring, his grand Cubs and his great grand Cubs.

Michael: So how's the population doing now?

Andrew: It actually seems like it's still growing in, even in Glacier National Park, which Tabitha said is good news. Tabitha: Well, we were actually surprised that the population was still growing in Glacier Park because the protections have been so strong here for so long. We thought it was possible that it would just be completely stable. Because bears have larger home ranges, it could be that changes that are going on on the Blackfeet Reservation or the Whitefish range are also influencing the number of bears here.

Michael: Wow. That's amazing. But it makes it all the more frustrating that I haven't seen any in the park this summer. I saw one really early in the spring, but once summer started, I mean, I just haven't been able to find them.

Andrew: Have you been out looking for them?

Michael: I mean, yeah, I've driven all over. I did a ton of biking and day hiking. [Music starts] I've gone backpacking collectively for nearly 20 days so far and no bears.

Andrew: Wow, that's... That's pretty bad luck.

Michael: So as a last ditch effort, I thought I'd go to St. Mary along St. Mary Lake is a stretch of open meadows called two dog flats, a place where in the past I've seen bears before.

Andrew: Yeah, me too. It's great habitat.

Michael: And a common piece of wisdom is that if you want to see wildlife, it helps to get up early.

Michael: So this morning I left the house around five.

Michael: Really early.

Michael: [In car] Let's get this over with

Andrew: That's especially true in the summer. When it gets hot in the middle of the day, wildlife like bears are going to be more active around dusk and dawn.

Michael: Exactly, so with that in mind, [music starts] I drove over to St. Mary from the west entrance, a nearly two hour drive, to make it there before sunrise.

Andrew: Before sunrise?

Michael: Yep.

Andrew: You don't have the reputation of being a...

Michael: [stammering] No, I'm not very much of a morning person.

Andrew: There it is.

Michael: But this was serious business! I can't have gone the whole summer without seeing a bear.

Andrew: Seriously

Michael: [In car] That's a promising sign. I just drove through some bear poop.

Michael: So I parked on the roadside pull off, got out my binoculars and scanned the horizon.

Andrew: And binoculars will definitely help. At a distance, it's pretty hard to tell the difference between black and grizzly bears.

Tabitha: So there's eight species of bears in the world and brown bears, grizzly bears, kodiak bears are all the same species. Grizzly bears and black bears are different species. And some of the differences between them are grizzly bears are more oriented towards digging, black bears climb trees more.

Andrew: One of the most common misconceptions is that black bears are all black and that grizzly bears are all brown. The truth is we have brown-black bears, black-grizzly bears. And there are examples of both species that are cinnamon or blonde here in the park.

Michael: So don't rely on the fur. Look for physical characteristics. Tabitha mentioned that grizzly bears like to dig. That means they have huge shoulder muscles that give them a really pronounced hump on their back. Black bears, on the other hand, spend a lot of time climbing trees—which gives them really strong hindquarter muscles and gives them a nice big rump. And there are other little things to look for too: grizzly bears have longer claws, black bears have a straighter snout—but to use any of this information, you have to find a bear in the first place. Which was something after an hour I had not managed to do.

Michael: [From the field] Now, the first thing I've seen that isn't a bush, is a deer bounding through the field.

Andrew: You can't find any bears there. Nope. How long did you wait?

Michael: Three hours.

Andrew: Oh, wow.

Michael: [From the field] I’m parked like on top of a pile of bear poop. So I know that they come through here, but there's been nothing.

Michael: But I didn't want to throw in the towel that easy. Just a few miles away, the trail to Otokomi Lake started. A trail I've also seen a bear on. So I decided to try my hand at seeing a bear while hiking. And with very high hopes of seeing bears earlier in the summer, I interviewed one of Glacier's resident bear experts. Could you introduce yourself?

Bob Adams: Sure. [Music starts] Well, Michael I'm Bob Adams and I have been here in Glacier as a seasonal ranger for, specifically 44 seasons before this.

Michael: Bob is a legend in Glacier. After serving in the military, he came to Glacier on a whim in 1966, went on a day hike to the Sperry Chalet and wound up meeting his now wife, Carolyn.

Bob: And I did a lot of hiking up to Sperry. In fact, I've packed a half gallon ice cream, solid with dry ice and packed it up to Sperry. I think that's the only reason that Carolyn and I ended up together. I don't know.

Michael: That ice cream?

Bob: The ice cream, you betcha.

Michael: More or less, he's been here ever since wearing a variety of hats. He staffed entrance stations, campgrounds done law enforcement, but he spent most of his time as the lead bear management ranger in Many Glacier.

Bob: I haven't counted up exactly the number of years, but it's been about 25 to 30. I would say as bear management ranger at Many.

Michael: A job that often direct contact with bears, even deciding if a trail needs to be closed for bear danger. But to hear him say it, the job is mostly about people.

Bob: My emphasis is in meeting the public and trying to educate the public every day on the trail about bear safety certainly, and safety around the large animals and safety in regard to other environmental hazards of the park.

Michael: I figured he'd be the perfect person to ask about how to safely see a bear on trail.

Bob: The ideal situation, in my estimation for seeing a bear—black bear or grizzly—is when it's way more than a hundred yards away from you, up in a hillside or down in a valley. It's a pretty exciting experience to get that chance and to have a few minutes to stop and look and get out your binoculars.

Michael: Seeing wildlife from a safe distance is obviously the best scenario for all involved. Seeing animals up close can be a different story.

Bob: Moose are very large animals, maybe a thousand, 1100 pounds with a brain the size of a Walnut. I mean, nothing could go wrong I'm sure.

Michael: [laughs]

Bob: So anyway.

Michael: If you're in its personal space, any animal or person for that matter will respond more dramatically. So keeping wildlife at a distance is step one. In fact, park guidelines state that you should stay 25 yards from herbivores like deer and mountain goats and a hundred yards from predators like bears.

Andrew: Which is easier said than done on a lot of trails in the park. It's pretty rare to be able to see anything, let alone a bear from a hundred yards away. Twists and turns in the trail mean trees and rocks can block your view.

Michael: Exactly. And while it's never ideal to be up close and personal with a bear, the worst case scenario is to surprise one. Something you can easily imagine happening around a blind corner. So the best thing to do while hiking is to regularly let them know you're there.

Bob: To minimize the likelihood of encountering a bear, or surprising a bear, is to make noise when you travel. That means using your voice to call out. It's not conversation. People say: "Oh yeah, we're talking, we're talking." Okay. Sometimes your conversation carries quite a distance if the wind is blowing, but usually it does not.

Michael: [yelling, from the field] Coming through.

Michael: Bears, have an incredible sense of smell. They are believed to be able to smell things from over a mile away. But their sense of hearing is about as good as ours.

Bob: I, in Glacier Park, am just obnoxiously known for my presence, I guess. Every 50 yards or so I'll shout out, especially around a blind corner where there's high noise from wind or a waterfall or a stream nearby. You want bears to know you're in the area, because bears' natural inclination is to move away from people. Even though they are accustomed to our presence, they have no interest in really getting up close and personal with us, so give them that opportunity.

Michael: [yelling, from the field] Heyo!

Michael: So making noise is a must. Even if it feels a little silly, sometimes.

Andrew: Making noise has helped me avoid surprising bears, but it won't always prevent you from running into them.

Michael: You're right. Sometimes even if they know you're there, you might still see them.

Bob: We get reports all the time—every summer, every week—in the visitor center. "Oh, the bear was coming toward me. It was charging me!" It was lots of different things in their perception, but the bear usually is just walking toward them and they are petrified. And you and I can understand how that might be. If you've never been around a bear, maybe even in a zoo, this is, this is daunting. And if the bear for example is walking on the trail towards you, or is coming up behind you on the trail. And that's when they really get excited because they are sure the bear is after them. It's very personalized. It's not the case, the bear is moving where it wants to go, the trail is the easiest way for the bear to travel.

Andrew: One time a few years ago, I was leading a ranger hike up to Avalanche Lake, and we were all stopped talking about the trees—and someone very calmly tapped me on the shoulder and said that there was a black bear coming down the trail. It made total sense. Why would the bear want to bushwhack through the brush when there's a trail that's clear right there?

Michael: Precisely. And Bob has advice if you ever find yourself in that situation.

Bob: What we as visitors, hikers, should do is move slowly away from the bear, back up slowly. And if you find a spot on the trail that's safe for you to get off, on the downhill side of the trail—not over a cliff, but where you can walk down five or 10 yards and just stand still—the bear is going to walk past you. That's what the bear is going to do. It may turn and look at you. You may feel more comfortable, and it's perfectly okay to get out your bear spray and have it in your hand, but do not plan to discharge it at the bear. Uh, that's just going to stir things up. There's no need to do that.

Andrew: That's how it's happened in my experience—just moved my group off as far as we could, and the bear just strolled right past us and kept minding its own business. But he also mentioned bear spray.

Michael: He did. Bear spray is the number one recommended deterrent for diffusing or preventing bear encounters. Easier to use, and shown to be even more effective than firearms, but what is it?

Andrew: Well, it would be a dangerous mistake to think of it as a repellent like mosquito repellent. You do not want to spray it on yourself. What it is is a high volume, high concentration, high pressure can of what's essentially pepper spray.

Michael: And having been on the wrong end of an accidental discharge. It is not fun to deal with personally.

Bob: This stuff is very effective, very effective if used properly.

Michael: Emphasis on, IF YOU USE IT PROPERLY.

Bob: Because most people do not take the time to learn a couple of things about bear spray. One is when one should use it. And how.

Michael: So if you're visiting the park, you should get bear spray, but you should also head to a visitor center to learn how to discharge it.

Andrew: Yeah. [Music starts] During the summer, we would lead twice daily bear spray demonstrations at the Apgar Visitor Center—using a can of inert spray that doesn't have the pepper in it to show people the ropes.

Michael: There are some basics like knowing you've got five to seven seconds worth of spray in there, and knowing where to aim.

Bob: You just have to aim it correctly. You want to aim it down so that it hits the ground in front of the bear that's moving toward you, so it rolls up into the bear's face. You don't want to aim it straight at the bear's face because it comes out in a cone shape pattern—half of that bear spray would go over the top of the bear's head, you don't want that. And you don't want to do this when the bear is 30 yards away or 20 yards away, it is not effective.

Michael: Armed with that knowledge, you can prepare for an instance when it would be needed.

Bob: If you surprise a bear, which is the most likely scenario for getting hurt by a bear—especially a sow with cubs— coming around a blind corner, and you have not been making noise or whatever. It didn't work. You're at 20 yards from the bear or less. And suddenly that bear comes at you. That bears moving 44, 45 feet a second. I mean, you don't have time to think about this. While you are aiming at the bears chest and at its paws, you're going to discharge that spray. You could give it a short burst [short spray sound] as soon as you get that out of your pack. Give it a half second or so if the bear is at 20 yards—within a very short time it's going to be on you, discharge the whole thing in his face. I mean, [longer spray sound] just hold it down.

Michael: With a face full of bear spray, that bear is going to scamper off in search of a quiet place to wait out its new whole head hangover. In a little while, they'll be just fine and you'll be long gone. The stuff just works.

Bob: You have to have that bear spray somewhere where you have actually gone through the physical motions of putting your hand on that spray and ripping the velcro. You should be able to get that out in one to two seconds. It can be done, but you need to practice that.

Michael: I have never once needed to use my bear spray, but even still, I had Bob's advice in the back of my head on the way to Otokomi Lake. Making plenty of noise, being observant and keeping my bear spray handy. But I still hadn't seen any wildlife—that is, until I rounded the corner, got to the lake itself... Where all of a sudden, just 20 feet from me—a fish jumped and splashed in the creek.

Andrew: Oh, come on.

Michael: It kinda scared me! What?

Andrew: You knew, what you were implying. It happened.

Michael: Okay, believe me, I was disappointed too. I ate lunch there for 30 minutes. Eventually started down to the car with my proverbial tail between my legs. I didn't see any wildlife on the hike out either. Only a few other hikers going the other way.

Andrew: Well, don't beat yourself up too much.

Michael: Yeah. Well, something else Bob had said was reverberating in my head, the whole hike out, no matter how badly I wanted to see a bear:

Bob: Most people are going to walk up any given trail at Many Glacier or elsewhere in the park, and they're not going to see a bear—either a black bear or a grizzly bear—they just aren't.

Michael: Just because they're more common here than elsewhere doesn't mean you're going to see one. And even if more times than not you don't see one, you always have to be prepared in case you do. Because normally, you see them when you least expect to. [In the car] I see people stopped! [In the studio] Sure enough. I had given up all hope as I began my long drive back home. I mean, I'd been out for nearly 12 hours. But before I could even drive out of the St. Mary Valley, I noticed cars parked at a roadside pull out.

Andrew: Oh?

Michael: And I thought back to one more thing. Bob had mentioned. Bear Jams.

Bob: And a lot of them are just happy to see them from the roadside, which creates some other problems: Bear jams.

Andrew: And not jam like jelly, right?

Michael: [laughing] No.

Bob: The piling in of cars along the road—

Michael: Seeing a lot of cars parked in the road, or at a pullout with no trailhead, is usually a sign that somebody spotted an animal. And animal sightings are exciting, but these bear jams can be problematic.

Bob: Preventing bears from even crossing the road to get to water because there are 30 to 40 cars parked, solid.

Andrew: People, essentially acting as a barrier between the bear and food or drinking water.

Michael: Exactly.

Bob: People out of the cars and advancing toward the bears. I mean, it's— It's hard being a bear, [sound of car honking] I guess you could say.

Michael: With a roadside bear sighting, if you're the one driving and you spot it and nobody else has seen it yet: what should you do?

Bob: Well, I can tell you what you should do perhaps. And I'll tell you what you're going to do. I know what you're going to do, you're gonna stop—you're going to call the kids to the window, and if it's no more than that, at least you're going to be there clicking from the car. And of course, once you do that other cars pile in and then the thing goes pretty quickly to chaos, or certainly can. What you should do is take a look, slow down, take a look, keep moving. That's what we'd like people to do. It never happens. [laughs]

Michael: But amazingly, that afternoon, everyone had pulled safely off the road into a large pull off that didn't interfere with traffic in any way and had binoculars trained up the hillside where over a hundred yards away, two grizzlies were foraging.

Andrew: Really? That's awesome!

Background: [In the field] We came across someone else who had spotted him when he was further down the mountain. Yeah. Oh that's huge! [laughing]

Michael: I mean, it was the perfect bear encounter. They were enormous, for one, like the one bear was scarily huge. They were far away, and we weren't bothering them in the slightest.

Andrew: That's really good to hear.

Michael: And people there were clearly absorbed by the experience. One couple set up a spotting scope to share with everyone so you could see them really clearly. And many were seeing a grizzly bear for the first time.

Background: [In the field] I was looking—I thought it was going to be darker. Me too. Well the back is dark, and the front is light.

Michael: As fun as it is, to make sure I didn't add to the parking problem—after I got a good look and talk to the few people I got back in my car and I kept driving. Now, I spent all day trying to find a grizzly, and I was mesmerized when I did—along with everyone else at that roadside pull off. But as we hinted at earlier, seeing a grizzly bear, hasn't always been that rare of an experience.

Bob: Most people know that the range of the grizzly was vastly larger. I think it stretched back almost to the Mississippi River if you go back 300 years or so.

Michael: Through 200 years of hunting and poaching, the grizzly population of the lower 48 was reduced by as much as 99% compared to 1800 levels. Today, thanks to conservation efforts like the Endangered Species Act and even protected lands like Glacier, they're no longer on the brink of extinction—but they are still far less common than they once were.

Andrew: And as exciting as it is to find one today, bears aren't just here for us to see. This isn't a zoo. They play a really vital role in the ecosystem. Here's Tabitha Graves again—

Tabitha: They have effects on, on lots of different parts of the ecosystem because they dig for roots a lot, particularly in the spring, in the fall, they're actually digging up the soil and that's actually a kind of nutrient cycling. They might eat huckleberries for instance, in one place. And then because they can move such large distances, being large animals, they are really important for seed dispersal.

Andrew: They regulate prey populations, breakdown logs—really the list goes on and on. Their role in this ecosystem is enormous.

Michael: The fact that we not only have them here today, but that thousands—millions of us each year can share this place with them, speaks to the strides we've made in bear management. Which as Bob put, it used to be... well, different.

Bob: Oh, bear management has changed quite a bit. Oh, will you indulge me a little story?

Michael: Go right ahead. A story from Bob's first season as an employee in 1967.

Bob: We patrol rangers, road patrol rangers, would cruise through the campground in the evening because they invariably had bear problems. [Music starts] Because there were no bear-proof cans, garbage cans. They just had regular 50 gallon galvanized cans and people left their gear, their stoves, their food, their ice chests out.

Michael: So bears could get into these things and learned that they had food in them.

Bob: You could find out where the bear is cause you hear people shouting and banging on their pots and pans: "Hey bear, Hey Hey Hey!" Bang, bang, bang. So we know where the bear is, so we cruise up. And we had a really fun tool in those days, crazy—we could have died using this. But we had a shaved off wooden baseball bat behind the backseat. We'd jump out with a baseball bat, and shout at the bear and run up and whack it in the, but I'm, I'm not kidding you with a baseball bat a black bear. When it's sitting there at the table, you know, going through somebody’s ice chest.

Michael: What.

Michael: Wail on it. And that bear would take off like a rocket and go up the nearest tree. And we'd say, "okay, job done. We're moving on." Guess what? 15 minutes later, bear's down working the campground again. Now that was bear management in '67.

Michael: Holy cow.

Bob: Yeah!

Andrew: No way. That's, that's crazy.

Michael: I mean [laughing], I lost, but this era, this technique of bear management is dangerous for more than just the ranger carrying the bat. Visitors were injured or killed by bears that started to see us as a source of food. And more bears had to be euthanized too for this behavior. Understandably things are different now.

Andrew: We've definitely changed quite a bit.

Michael: Bob covered a lot of ways that we can alter our behavior in bear country. But how can we affect bear behavior?

Andrew: Yeah. Well, thanks to the research of Tabitha and a lot of other scientists, we understand bears a lot better today than we did during Bob's story 50 years ago.

Tabitha: Yeah. We did a study that we called nature versus nurture.

Andrew: And it used that same genetic data that we discussed earlier.

Tabitha: We were trying to understand how grizzly bears become habituated. What we did is we looked to see whether their mothers also had a history of conflict and whether their fathers also had a history of conflict. We found that offspring who got into trouble were more likely to have mothers that got into trouble. And this is consistent with what we know about bear life history: young bears stay with their mothers for a couple of years. So there's an opportunity for them to learn how to get into trouble basically, or how to learn those associations of humans and food in the early years.

Michael: Okay. So let me get this straight. Cubs with habituated fathers who get into food, et cetera, they don't become habituated, but the cubs that have habituated moms do?

Andrew: Exactly. And what this means is that since a bear's father doesn't raise it—its only contribution is genes—the behavior isn't inherited.

Michael: Okay. So cubs must be taught this behavior by their moms.

Andrew: Yeah, exactly. So Tabitha told me that this realization emphasized how important it is for visitors here to properly secure their food.

Tabitha: Yeah. Our research really highlights the need to prevent food conditioning from happening in the first place because there could be kind of these longer-term effects that could be passed down from mother to offspring. So it's really important to put your food away, make sure that you're storing all of your attractants safely at night inside of a hard-shelled vehicle or in a bear box in some place that keeps the foods and attractants away from bears.

Michael: Wow. Talk about the butterfly effect. I knew it could affect our bears today, but if it gets in the hands of a—or the paws of a female bear...

Andrew: She's going to teach it to her cubs and they'll teach it to their cubs and so on. So it's really important that we always secure our food and trash. It can affect generations of bears.

Michael: So as we've learned this information over time, the park's bear management policies have evolved. Given the same situation [Bob laughing] this summer, you probably wouldn't use the shaved off baseball bat.

Bob: No, we wouldn't use the baseball bat. Absolutely not.

Michael: Sawn-off baseball bats have given way to a variety of safer and more effective tools that rangers can use to teach bears, to keep their distance from us. There's cracker rounds, bean bags, rubber bullets, and also infrastructure set up to know how and when to close trails or campgrounds to prevent encounters in the first place. But like Tabitha mentioned the most important tool that has kept our wildlife as wild as can be in a place with 3 million visitors a year is food storage.

Bob: All foods, all things that are associated with foods kept away at all times, except mealtime. That's the mantra.

Michael: And the result of all of this is that today in Glacier, you just don't see grizzlies in a dumpster. You don't see bears in the campground running off with bratwurst or breakfast pastries. You see them up on a hillside foraging for huckleberries, chasing ground squirrels, sliding down snow. And that difference is important.

Background: Oh that's huge! [laughs]

Michael: The next time you come visit, read up on our food storage regulations. Buy, carry, and learn how to use bear spray and embarrass your friends and family by making noise on trail.

Michael: [yelling] Good morning!

Michael: Because you might not see a bear. Heck, you probably won't see any. But what if you do? After all, where's the fun in a guarantee?

Andrew: After the break, our final story.

[Music starts]

GLACIER NATIONAL PARK CONSERVANCY

Andrew: Each episode, we seem to cover at least one thing that like this podcast wouldn't be possible without the support of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael: With the help of some friends over there, we got the number of executive director, Doug Mitchell, and decided to call him up out of the blue to ask about these projects.

[Phone numbers being dialed, dial tone]

Andrew: For this episode, we wanted to ask about their support of astronomy programs.

Doug Mitchell: Glacier Conservancy, this is Doug.

Andrew: Hey Doug, it's Andrew and Michael here.

Doug: Oh, the mad podcasters. How are we doing over there today?

Andrew: Pretty good. But, uh, we've, we've got an issue. We were hoping you could help us settle it. We've been arguing all day about whether the morning or the evening is better here in Glacier National Park.

Doug: Michael, make your case.

Michael: So I think that the evening is better because there's nothing worse than having to get out of bed early in the morning. And it's a lot easier to stay up late and the sun doesn't even set it seems like till 10:00 PM at some points in the summer. So that's why I think it's better to stay up late.

Doug: All right. Very good. Andrew, counterpoint.

Andrew: Well, I've got to say the morning is the best time to be out in Glacier National Park. You get out early, the sky is all lit up with the sunrise. You really can just get going on your day and enjoy all the beautiful scenery. In the evening it's cold, you're sleepy, you can't see much. So, in my opinion, you've got to get out early when you're in Glacier.

Doug: Wrong! Michael, you are the winner. No doubt about it. [Michael laughing] For those of my age group, that is a Saturday Night Live ripoff. We love the evenings here at the Glacier National Park Conservancy because there's so much programming that goes along with the night sky. So evening is the right answer.

Michael: Woo! Told you...

Andrew: Well, I should've known Doug would come down on your side since the Glacier National Park Conservancy funds so many dark sky and astronomy programs in the park.

Michael: Yeah. I'm going to be holding this over his head for the rest of the day.

Doug: As you should, as you should. You are the king, long live the king.

Michael: All right. Well, thanks for the time, Doug. We'll talk to you later.

Doug: Thank you guys. Call anytime. Cheers.

Michael: Bye.

ASTRONOMY

Andrew: And we're back. One of the things I think is so unique about this place is that people have a chance to interact with wild animals that are in their natural habitats. It's an experience that would have been really common for our ancestors, but to most modern people, it's just really not part of life anymore.

Michael: That's interesting to think about. For thousands of years now, knowing how to interact with large carnivores that could kill you would have been an essential skill, but at some point, it just stopped being part of most people's lives.

Andrew: Yeah, it's so interesting to think about these situations that were part of what it was to be a human for hundreds and hundreds of generations. So long, that knowing how to respond to them is literally inscribed in our DNA. One of the amazing things about national parks, in my opinion, is that they connect us to universal ideas of what it means to be human. Visiting a place like Glacier National Park allows you to see and feel the same things that millions of other people have seen and felt here over thousands of years.

Michael: I think another example of what you're talking about is looking at the night sky and the Milky Way. For millennia, the Milky Way was just what the night sky looked like. Humans that looked up at the night sky, saw the stars and planets and galaxies. In fact, when our nation chose its flag, stars were used, because no matter where you lived in the United States, the night sky was a universal experience. But since then, for most people, that experience has faded away. So I think you should check that out.

Andrew: Well, I have been wanting to go stargazing, since the night skies are so well-preserved here, but I'm not sure I can really get myself to stay up late enough.

Michael: I mean, it's worth it. The park has an observatory even now. So, there's more you can see. You won't regret the missed sleep.

Andrew: [Sighs] All right, I'll do it. [Break as music fades in] Armed with two cans of iced coffee, some high energy music, and my microphone, I drove across the divide from my Apgar office to Glacier's observatory at the St. Mary Visitor Center. [Knocking sound] There, I met Lee Rademaker, the ranger who spearheads Glacier's astronomy program,

Andrew [Talking to Lee]: Hey, Lee. Good to see you.

Andrew: As he started up the observatory and aimed the telescope. I asked him some questions about Glacier's night sky program.

Andrew [Talking to Lee]: First of all, what do we mean by dark skies? [Observatory machines humming in background]

Lee Rademaker: Dark skies are more than just a night sky. Dark skies are really about a sky that lacks light pollution - straight light that shines up into the sky that creates a sky glow. And they are getting rarer and rarer.

Michael: Okay. So light pollution is extra light that is making the stars less and less visible?

Andrew: Yeah, that's right. And having dark skies is actually pretty impressive.

Lee: So in the biologic realm, basically every single organism that lives on the surface of this planet has evolved with a day-night cycle. Our internal workings rely on that day-night cycle to reset the clock. And it's not just, you know, things with eyes. Plants are also impacted by light pollution, or by a lack of dark skies.

Michael: All right. That makes sense. Plants and animals are used to dark nights. If light pollution makes the night brighter, it can throw things off.

Andrew: Yeah. But there are cultural impacts, too.

Lee: Culturally, dark skies are really important. Throughout time, societies around the world have relied on the skies to help tell stories, to help know when animal migrations are going to occur, know when the seasons are coming. The sky has really helped them kind of predict the world around them.

Andrew: For Lee, the dark skies are one of the best parts of working in Glacier National Park.

Lee: To me, dark skies are an opportunity to discover. It's an opportunity for things like mystery and awe.

Andrew: And sharing that sense of discovery with visitors is really rewarding.

Lee: It's really kind of fun, because a lot of people that come to the park have never had the opportunity to experience truly dark skies. They often are in a sense of disbelief about what they're actually seeing. And on more than one occasion, people have thought that we were tricking them when we were showing them Saturn through a telescope. They're just kind of blown away and into disbelief. That's a really fun experience for me to be part of.

Andrew: Glacier National Park has made a massive effort to expand the opportunities for visitors to experience dark skies here. All of which culminated in Glacier, with Waterton Lakes National Park in Canada, being designated the world's first transboundary Dark Sky Park.

Lee: The process of becoming an International Dark Sky Park was pretty extensive.

Andrew: The park started by hosting night sky interpretive programs. Then a lighting inventory was conducted, looking for lights all around the park that unnecessarily shine up into the night sky. These lights were then replaced with less polluting and more efficient lights.

Lee: And we were able to do that with the help of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Andrew: In the midst of this process, the building we find ourselves in right now, the Dusty Star Observatory, was constructed.

Lee: We're inside of a SkyShed POD MAX, 12-foot dome observatory. So it's that kind of classic observatory shape that you've seen in pictures. And in the center of the building is a big steel pier. And sitting on top of the pier is the telescope mount. This mount controls where the telescope points.

Andrew: As a Dark Sky Park, Glacier has a lot of astronomy programs for people to attend, mostly in the months of July and August, at the Apgar and St. Mary Visitor Centers.

Lee: And we have astronomers set up that can help people experience the night sky using telescopes, binoculars, and other, even just, kind of, you know, sitting out on a lawn chair and looking up and having an astronomer point different objects out to you, that you might see with your naked eye.

Andrew: As we talked, the skies darkened, and by about 11:30, the Milky Way emerged, and stars began to carpet the entire sky above us. It was time for the fun part. Lee pointed the telescope at the planet Saturn. I should note that the telescope in the Dusty Star Observatory is a type called an astrograph.

Lee: Which is a fancy word for a telescope that you typically don't look through with your eye. And it focuses its light down through the back of the scope, where we have a camera that is able to project, or send, these images off to the computer.

Andrew: Which is why you'll hear us referencing a screen rather than an eyepiece. I carefully watched as Lee aimed the telescope.

Lee: So, right now, Saturn has popped up on the screen. And right now it just looks like a really bright white oblong shape. I'll see if I can fine-tune it a little bit to make those rings come out...

Andrew: In no time the planet came into focus.

Andrew [Talking to Lee]: So cool though, you can very distinctly see the rings.

Andrew: Well, Saturn was super cool. I was really hoping I could convince Lee to show me the comet NEOWISE, which was at its most visible the night I was out there. That particular comet only comes by about every 6,800 years. So it's really no exaggeration to say that seeing it in this telescope would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. After a few minutes of adjustments, Lee got the comet squarely in the telescope sights and it didn't disappoint.

Lee: So now you've got the nucleus of the comet on the left side of the screen, and the tail stretching out to the right.

Andrew: [Talking to Lee]: Oh my God. Yeah, that's really impressive. He talked me through what I was seeing here.

Lee: The NEOWISE is a fairly green hue and actually has a greenish ion trail. Every comet has two tails as it approaches the sun. One is the tail kind of made up of the dust and gas that's kind of blasted off of the core of the comet. And then a second one is an ion tail, that's formed from the interaction between the comet and the solar wind. And so the ion tail is kind of this greenish-blue, and then the comet itself is more of a kind of a greenish, emerald-almost color.

Michael: Wow, I'm so jealous! I told you it was worth staying up late. Did you get a picture?

Andrew: We did! Here, check it out.

Michael: Oh wow! You could really see the tail and everything! We should put that on the park's website for listeners, too.

Andrew: That's a great idea. We can get it up there. By now, as we looked at the comet, it was getting really late. The excitement of seeing the comet had given me a rush of energy, but I knew it wouldn't last forever. And Lee had to work early the next morning.

Lee: It may be time to call it a night on this fairly successful image, I have a seven o'clock shift tomorrow.

Andrew: I gotta drive back to West Glacier.

Andrew: You can enjoy the stars on any clear night in Glacier, even if you're not able to make it to an astronomy program. All you really need is a clear view of the sky. Lee recommends bringing some warm clothes, maybe a lawn chair and a pair of binoculars can help too. And he said that if you can't make it to an event, with a smartphone, you can...

Lee: Download an app and point it at the sky, and learn a little bit more about what there is up there.

Andrew: If you decide to check out the stars while you're here, and you definitely should - it was well worth staying up for - it's important to think about leaving no trace with stargazing. Lee reminded me that Leave No Trace principle seven, "be considerate of other visitors," means taking an effort not to shine bright lights where people are stargazing. If we take these simple steps to leave no trace, we can make sure that there's continued opportunities here to be part of this ancient human tradition of viewing the night sky.

Lee: Today, when you look up at the night sky, you're not just seeing the stars. I think you're really connecting to that, that shared humanity and that shared culture.

Michael: It sounds like you had a great night. I'm really thinking now about all the ways that people, and our lighting, clashes with the natural dark skies, and how it hasn't always been that way. So I called Darnell Rides At The Door, an Amskapi Piikani, or Blackfeet, Tribal member that I met in another episode, to learn more. And she pointed out the observatory's name, Dusty Star, is actually a Blackfeet term for a comet. Darnell Rides At The Door: Those are comets and we call them dusty stars: iszika-kakatosi.

Michael [Talking to Darnell Rides At The Door]: The concept of a, of a dusty star, might've been especially relevant this year with the comet NEOWISE. My coworker Andrew got the chance to go look at that in the St. Mary Observatory.

Darnell Rides At The Door: Oh, how awesome!

Andrew: Oh yeah. That makes total sense after seeing it. Comets are, like...just...dusty stars!

Michael: Yeah. Darnell told me that the Blackfeet language is a very visual one.

Andrew: You know, it's interesting to think about the last time that comet NEOWISE passed by Earth, some 6,000 years ago, Blackfeet people were probably looking at it up in the sky and calling it by that same word,

Michael: The things we talked about today, seeing grizzly bears and the Milky Way, are just a few of the countless unique experiences you could have here.

Andrew: Yeah. You can also find here some of the last alpine glaciers in the contiguous U.S., endemic plants that occur nowhere else in the world, and opportunities for solitude and quiet that are becoming increasingly rare.

Michael: [Music starting] Heck, if you could prove there's a better place on earth to pick huckleberries, I'll eat my shoe.

Andrew: These are opportunities for people to connect with the natural world that may disappear forever if we're not careful.

Michael: So it's our collective job now to make sure that the types of experiences we talked about today, like seeing a bear, viewing the stars in the night sky, are possible for people for another 6,000 years.

Andrew: I think that if we can learn to come together as a community, we can do it, but it's going to be a big job.

Michael: Yeah. I think we're up to it.

Michael: That’s our show for today—If you’re interested in learning more about bear safety or astronomy programs in the park you can find links in the show notes for more info.

Andrew: Thanks for listening!

[Music starts]

CREDITS

Renata: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The show was written and recorded on traditional Native lands. Andrew Smith and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music. Alex Stillson provided tech support Quinn Feller designed our art Renata Harrison researched the show [Background: And researched the credits!], Lacy Kowalski was always there for us, and Daniel Lombardi and Bill Hayden were the executive directors. Support for the show comes from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The Conservancy works to preserve and protect the park for future generations. We couldn't do it without them, and they couldn't do it without support from thousands of generous donors. If you want to learn more about how to support this podcast, or other awesome Conservancy projects, please go to their website at glacier.org. Of course you can always help support the show by sharing it with everyone you know— your friends, your family, your dog... And also leave us a review online. Special thanks this episode to Debby Smith, Darnell Rides At The Door, Tabitha Graves, Bob Adams, and Lee Rademaker. In this episode of Headwaters, we visit St. Mary, looking for experiences that are disappearing from the world. After hearing about the legendary St. Mary winds, Michael gets up early to try to see a grizzly bear, and we learn how these animals are faring in Glacier’s ecosystem. Andrew stays up late to visit the St. Mary observatory and learn about dark skies and stargazing in Glacier. Featuring: Debby Smith, Bob Adams, Tabitha Graves, and Lee Rademaker.

Confluence | North Fork

6 december 2020 | 64 min

Featuring: Colter Pence, Amanda Wilson, Kurt Constenius, Dale Greenwalt, Christoph Irmscher, Beth Hodder, Karen Reeves, and interviews & letters from Kay Rosengren—courtesy of the NWMT-FFLA.

For more info, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

EPISODE TRANSCRIPT

WILD AND SCENIC RIVERS INTRODUCTION

Andrew: In 1940, biologist, Dr. John Craighead, famous for his pioneering work with grizzly bears, wrote a letter for Montana Wildlife magazine, about a raft trip on the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, the southern boundary of Glacier National Park. The following is an excerpt from that letter. Alex (as Dr. Craighead): I have rafted most of the large fast water rivers of the mountain west. There is no doubt in my mind that this is one of the most scenic wild rivers in the northwest. One which conservationists should strive hard to save. It is essential to preserve intact a few of the wild rivers of this region for recreation and education of future generations. The aesthetic and recreational values of a river are so very easily destroyed, far more easily destroyed than similar values of hill and mountain country. It is my belief that we should strive to keep intact some wild rivers on the basis that they're essential to our way of life.

Michael: This idea, born on the middle fork of the Flathead River, and articulated in that letter became the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, which was signed into law in 1968.

Andrew: Glacier National Park is bounded by two rivers protected under the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act. So it's really special that this is where the idea for the act first originated. And while part of the Flathead River is in Glacier National Park, most of it actually lies outside of the park's boundaries.

Colter Pence: The three forks of the Flathead primarily flow through the Flathead National Forest.

Andrew: That's Colter Pence. Among other things she's the Wild and Scenic River Program Manager for the Flathead National Forest. As wild and scenic rivers, the forks of the Flathead River flow through the park, the national forest, as well as state and private lands, making their management a deeply collaborative effort.

Colter Pence: And I would say from my work as a forest service employee, it's one of the more interesting parts of my job. Our common work with wild and scenic rivers has us interacting all the time. And that's why I say some of my closest colleagues are even national park staff.

Michael: Of course, the clear clean waters of the rivers make for spectacular recreational opportunities like fishing and boating.

Andrew: But the river also makes corridors for all sorts of wildlife from giant grizzly bears to the smallest of bugs.

Michael: All of it protected by the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act.

Andrew: In fact, the corridors around the three forks of the Flathead River are home to an amazing array of resources, which the wild and scenic rivers act refers to as outstandingly remarkable values. Here's Colter Pence, again—

Colter Pence: Of our outstandingly remarkable values, it's fisheries, wildlife, botanic in some places, recreation, scenic, historic, ethnographic, like that prehistory, and even geologic. We have all of those present as outstandingly remarkable, meaning to say they're rare or even unique.

Andrew: The fact that these rivers were protected was not inevitable.

Colter Pence: Yeah, you can't take it for granted that a landscape is protected or that it's always been protected or that it always will be protected.

Andrew: And it's important to keep protecting these places because rivers bring people together. You might think of a river as a dividing line, but it can also be a gathering place and a place where people and nature can come together.

Andrew: We’re calling this season: The Confluence, as we look at the ways that nature, culture, the present and the past all come together here.

Michael: I’m Michael.

Andrew: I’m Andrew.

Michael: And we’re both rangers here. Today, we’re headed to the North Fork, the northwest region of Glacier.

Andrew: The North Fork is one of the most rugged, and least developed areas of the park.

Michael: Not a paved road in sight.

Andrew: Which makes it the perfect place for today’s episode.

Michael: Today, we bring you three examples of people coming face to face with the wild and the unknown.

FOSSILS

Michael: Okay, Andrew when we started this episode, you brought up the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act. And you mentioned the phrase outstandingly remarkable values.

Andrew: Yeah, I remember that.

Michael: Looking at the act itself and the list of values they included, the word fossils stood out to me. When you hear the word fossils, what do you think of?

Andrew: Well, I guess dinosaurs is probably the first thing?

Michael: Right, me too. Hey Amanda. It's Michael.

Amanda: Hi Michael!

Michael: So I called a friend, an old coworker from Glacier who now works at Dinosaur National Monument.

Amanda: Uh, Amanda Wilson, interpretive park ranger, at Dinosaur National Monument.

Michael: What sort of dinosaurs do you have there? I mean, it's your namesake.

Amanda: So our main like "famous" dinosaurs are dinosaurs like stegosaurus, allosaurus was the dominant carnivore at the time.

Michael: Wow. Creatures straight out of drastic park. So you worked at Glacier, were there fossils like that here?

Amanda: Um, no.

Michael: If I were a visitor, I came up to you and asked about the fossils in Glacier. How would you respond?

Andrew: Well, most of the rock in the park is super ancient, like a billion and a half years old. And it predates most complex life on earth that would leave fossils behind. So really we only have fossil stromatolites, which are these clumps of blue-green algae.

Michael: So most of the rock in the park is too old for fossils more complex than algae or cyanobacteria called stromatolites. And fossil stromatolites are really cool, and certainly it's true that they're the most prevalent fossil in Glacier... But as it turns out, our fossil record has a lot more in common with Jurassic Park than you might think.

Andrew: Wait, what? What do you mean?

Michael: [Laughing]

Andrew: What else is here? I've been telling people for years that stromatolites are virtually the only fossils here I've been lying to all these people?

Michael: Alright don't, don't worry—I think you're the clear. The visible rock in the park is overwhelmingly ancient, and the only fossils anyone are ever likely to see are still stromatolites. And because of that, for a long time, it was believed that they were really the only fossils in the area. But this story taught me that no matter how well you think you know a place, there is a lot to learn if you dig a little deeper. Which is where Kurt comes in.

Kurt: So my name is Kurt Constenius.

Michael: He has a long title.

Kurt: I am an adjunct professor at the University of Arizona and a research associate of the Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

Michael: I spent a day in the field with Kurt and with Dale.

Dale: My name is Dale Greenwalt,

Michael: Who also has a long title.

Dale: ...Research Associate the Natural History of National Museum of, let me start over.

Background: [Laughing]

Dale: Where do I work?

Michael: He works for Smithsonian. Dale and Kurt are some of the foremost experts on a geologic oddity to this area. Outcroppings of fossils unlike anything else in the park. Now, as a ranger here, you learn a lot about the geology of the park, but I'm not a geologist by trade. So I brought a few friends, Emily and Teagan, along as geologic interpreters. To set the stage, Glacier is a mountainous park. The continental divide runs right through it. To the east, you have the great plains stretching flat into the horizon, and to the west, you can see more mountains, but you'll cross valleys or basins to get to them. And this is where I want to challenge you, Andrew.

Andrew: Okay.

Michael: We often describe Glacier's geologic history as having four stages.

Andrew: Yeah. Silt tilt, slide, and glide.

Michael: So to make it difficult, I want you to describe each stage in 10 seconds or less. Okay. You think you can do it?

Andrew: I think I'm up for it. Okay. So silt. Okay. So over a billion years ago, sediment eroded from highlands and collected at the bottom of an ancient sea called the belt sea.

Michael: Nailed it. Tilt?

Andrew: Okay. So about 150 million years ago, this sediment had compacted into rock and tectonic movement lifted up a slab of it that was several miles thick.

Michael: Great. And slide!

Andrew: This is 60 to 70 million years ago, tectonic forces pushed this slab about 50 miles east; this is what we call the Lewis overthrust fault.

Michael: Nailed it, and glide.

Andrew: Okay. Now we're back to about 2 million years ago, the place to see an ice age and large ice sheets, advanced and retreated repeatedly carving out the valleys and sculpting the mountains of the park.

Michael: Perfect. A whirlwind tour of our geologic history. Silt, tilt, slide, and glide represents the deposition of sediments—it turns to mountains, and then glaciers come in and carve it out. The stage most important to our fossil field day was Slide. That slide, as you mentioned, was driven by the Lewis overthrust fault.

Kurt: The main structure that dominates the landscape here is called the Lewis overthrust. And it, it started motions about 75 million years ago. And they continued up to about 50. And in that it translated a plat—.

Michael: The overthrust took a slab of earth up to nine miles thick and pushed it over another one.

Kurt: And a transported it at about 80 to 90 miles to the Northeast.

Michael: In the mountains you find on the eastern side of the park, didn't start out there but were shoved into place. But the Lewis overthrust that shoving force, it didn't last forever.

Kurt: And then just about like a light switch, immediately after the Lewis thrust had ceased motions, the mountain belt began to collapse.

Michael: When the rock was no longer being pushed upward by tectonic plates, gravity began to pull it back down to earth. The crust broke along fault lines, creating the valleys and basins we see today that separate the mountains in the park from the mountains to the West. One of those basins is called the Kishenehn Basin.

Kurt: The history of that collapse are the sediments that were deposited in the Kishenehn Basin.

Michael: The sediments collected in Kishenehn basin became the rock of the Kishenehn Formation, which is huge. It stretches throughout the western part of the park. You could find it under Park Headquarters, the Apgar Visitor Center, even the Lake McDonald Lodge. The only problem is, something happened more recently that buried the Kishenehn Formation, covered it up.

Andrew: The ice age! That slide stage we were talking about.

Michael: Exactly. Ice age glaciers carved and carried a ton of rock and debris. All of which got dumped out eventually completely burying the Kishenehn. So the only reason we're able to see it is thanks to the Flathead River.

Kurt: The Flathead River and its tributaries have incised down through all the glacial material. And it gives us this window into, into the Kishenehn, some of the best exposure to the tertiary rocks in North America.

Michael: Tertiary in this instance, referring to the most recent era of geologic time.

Dale: WIth potassium-argon dating and they gave us an age from the middle part of the Kishenehn of about 46 million years.

Michael: And we can learn what this place was like 46 million years ago by looking at the fossil record. Now geologically speaking 46 million years ago is actually pretty recent. 20 million years after the extinction of the dinosaurs.

Andrew: Wait. So most of our rock is too old for dinosaurs, but the Kishenehn Formation is too new for dinosaurs. So what did you find?

Michael: Well, if we wanted to find anything, we had to look really closely.

Michael: [Outside] One to two millimeters. I'm just looking at pebbles and like, these are too big.

Michael: We found tiny snails—

Kurt: Snails, some snails are only like a millimeter two millimeters in size. Those can be adult snails out. Yeah.

Michael: Some snail fossils were the size of your thumb while others look like they could fit through the head of a needle. And I actually brought in some of the snails to show you,

Andrew: Wait, are you guys allowed to be collecting fossils?

Michael: Oh—good question. Like anything else in the park, wild flowers, rocks, heck moose. You're not allowed to collect fossils and take them home. The only exceptions to this rule are for research purposes. Kurt and Dale both have permits to collect fossils in the park, and take the restrictions associated with the permit very seriously. They gave me these few examples, but I could only take pictures otherwise.

Andrew: Okay let's see it. Oh cool! There are like dozens or hundreds in here.

Michael: And once they were pointed out to you, you kind of started to see them everywhere.

Dale: So many times I reach for a white snail and it turns out to be a bird dropping. That's disappointing.

Michael: [Laughing]

Michael: We found clams, this one was underwater cemented in the rock and just slightly covered by dirt. It was beautiful!

Dale: It looks like you can still see the mother of pearl.

Michael: We even found a tooth that belonged to a pretty large mammal.

Michael: [Outside] Yeah, and it's probably an inch and a half long, from root to top or...

Kurt: Yeah, that's right! I'll go get a container for that.

Michael: And then on accident, we knocked it loose and nearly lost it.

Teagan: So it's in this area right here.

Michael: [Laughing] Oh no, now I can't step anywhere.

Andrew: Wait, you lost it? How did that happen?

Michael: It was very precariously sitting in the cliff face and someone trying to take a picture of it, shook it loose and it fell into the dirt.

Andrew: Who was it? Who knocked it loose?

Michael: I will not name names.

Andrew: Was it? You?

Michael: I, I can neither confirm nor deny, but after what felt like an eternity of me being sure that Dale and Kurt were going to ban us from fossil collecting, we found it!

Andrew: Oh—hey, found it.

Teagan: That's it!

Kurt: That's it. We've got the whole thing. Emily: Success!

Teagan: I was about to pass out.

Andrew: Okay. Well you said the tooth was what, an inch, Inch and a half?

Michael: Yep.

Andrew: Okay. That's a pretty big tooth. What did it belong to?

Michael: With the benefit of hindsight, and Kurt's friend who is a paleontologist, it was identified as a uintathere, an enormous rhino-looking mammal.

Andrew: Whoa. A rhino?

Michael: Yeah. So on top of feeling lucky that we didn't lose the uintathere tooth. We were also feeling lucky that we even found it in the first place. Kurt and Dale had told us ahead of time that it was incredibly rare to find mammal fossils.

Dale: Yeah. What was the chances?

Kurt: I wouldn't say slim to none, but.

Dale: In fact, we were able to collect it twice!

Michael: Finding a tooth like this is about as good as it gets. You rarely find fossils that are completely intact.

Dale: Yeah. You never find a whole fossil organism, unless it's an insect.

Andrew: Ooh.

Dale: There are some places in the world where the insects are primarily just isolated wings, and they identify everything based on the wings. But in the Kishenehn, almost everything is fully articulated: all the wings, all the legs, all the antennae.

Michael: This is why I got interested in the Kishenehn in the first place: Its unrivaled preservation of fossil insects.

Andrew: Very cool.

Michael: And this is Dale's expertise. So for our last stop of the day, he took us to one final location where we first had to ford, or walk across the river on foot.

Dale: And there's a place down river, about a half a mile at a site that I call deep Ford because the first time I tried it, I stepped into that pool that looked like it was three feet deep and it came up to my neck and I was lucky that I didn't.

Andrew: Could you not just float across the river?

Michael: I know, it sounds like that'd be the way to go. But it's not especially easy to get to the spot where we crossed. Uh, Dale had tried one lightweight approach in the past.

Dale: Well, you know, I, I bought a big inner tube and I brought it down here, and pumped it up. And had a paddle. And you know what happens when you paddle an inner tube? It goes around in circles and you don't go any place.

Michael: But ultimately he found a spot where we could walk across safely. And before I crossed, I asked him how the insect fossils were preserved in the first place.

Dale: So the insects are flying around, as you can imagine, buzzing all over the place. And some of them land on the surface of the algal bloom or the wind blows them on the surface. If they're big enough, that's not a problem. They just fly away. But the really tiny ones get caught in the slime.

Michael: So small insects will get trapped in the algae, but the algae will continue to photosynthesize and to grow.

Dale: And so the insects are entombed inside the algae, which protects them from degradation, from predation, from the waves, breaking them up.

Michael: Eventually the algae will die and take all the insects it's entombed down to the bottom of the lake with it, where it's covered by dirt. Year after year, this process would repeat accumulating layers of algae and insects on the bottom of the lake. 46 million years later, it's all turned to oil shale, but those layers of algae and sediment called varves, are still visible in the rock today.

Dale: A piece of this material, and look at the edge of it. So this piece here is maybe two millimeters at most, and it probably would have 10 layers.

Michael: Thin layers of dark colored, algae, and light thick layers of sediment.

Dale: It's within that algal mat that you find the fossil insects. And luckily it's also within that algal mat that the shale will split.

Michael: It was like a paleontological scavenger hunt, grabbing pieces of oil shale, getting them wet, splitting them open with a putty knife and finding an insect perfectly preserved inside.

Dale: And have everybody look at it. This is a spectacular specimen here, a tiny wasp, uh, of the family, uh, ichneumonoidea. And it has both of its four wings, beautifully spread out and preserved.

Michael: I mean, it was a childhood dream come true just hunting for fossils for the afternoon.

Andrew: I can imagine. So you found a wasp or what else did you find?

Dale: Plants, One beautiful plant. I think Michael, you found that. Several gnats and midges. A couple of beautiful ants, a couple of beautiful love bugs or bibionids.

Kurt: Oh really?

Dale: Yeah. What else did we find? We found some crane flies, nice crane flies, a number of other flies.

Michael: The insect fossils at this site were actually first discovered by Kurt's parents back in the eighties. And while Kurt was studying the subject at the time, his parents were just hobbyists. His dad was a dentist in Whitefish. And on top of finding some of the first insect fossils here, they also found some of the Kishenehn's most important, including the one that drew me to this story in the first place.

Dale: They found the first blood engorged mosquito we found—yep.

Andrew: Wait, what? Mosquito [stammering].

Michael: [Laughing]

Michael: So you remember how they clone dinosaur DNA in Jurassic Park?

Andrew: Yeah. I mean, you're, you're joking, right?

Michael: No!

Dale: Uh, the very first one, and we recognized it is a blood engorged mosquito.

Michael: The only mosquito fossils with intact blood-filled abdomens ever found—ever! Anywhere on earth! Have been right here along the boundary of Glacier.

Dale: And if that isn't crazy enough within the abdomen of the blood engorged mosquito are remnants of the blood. The hemoglobin from the host that it sucked blood from 46 million years ago.

Michael: A fossilized mosquito with blood in its abdomen that can still be identified.

Dale: Yeah.

Michael: That's full-blown Jurassic Park stuff.

Dale: Oh yeah, yeah. So when, when we published that paper and we got calls from National Public Radio and whatnot, invariably, the first thing they asked was: "Does it contain dinosaur blood?" No, no, it doesn't. 20 million years too late.

Andrew: This is crazy. I've been here for years and had no idea that this is a real life Jurassic Park opportunity.

Michael: I know, I had no idea either, but while this lines up perfectly with the premise of Jurassic Park, it doesn't line up in time. By tracking down that mosquitoes living ancestors, we know it was feeding probably on birds, not dinosaurs.

Andrew: Having this all in, like, one of the most famous movies of all time gave me the impression that this sort of fossil would be way more common.

Michael: Yeah, me too. And Dale said, it's certainly possible that fossils like this one occur elsewhere, but are still buried. And they haven't had a forest like the Flathead River to uncover them. Or that they exist, and we just haven't found them yet. Because after all, they're not that easy to find. Whatever the case, no blood engorged mosquito fossils have been found anywhere else. So Michael Chrichton, who wrote the book that inspired the movie, used a plausible sounding—but in 1990 as of yet unproven phenomenon to bring Jurassic Park to life.

Andrew: But okay, I can't let it go. Can we extract DNA? Can we clone something with these?

Michael: Well, no. As far as we know, DNA cannot survive the fossilization process, let alone for 46 million years. So we won't be cloning, whatever this mosquito had drawn blood from, but that does not mean you can't learn anything from the fossils of the Kishenehn, far from it. Like Jurassic Park, but with much less risk of being chased by a T-Rex, the fossils of the Kishenehn have helped reconstruct this prehistoric world in a relatively unknown era in Glacier. Take the snails and clams, for example.

Kurt: One of the cool things about the Kishenehn, it has the largest molluscan fauna in North America. So there's 72 different taxa, or different species of snails and clams found in the Kishenehn Formation.

Michael: Their fossils can tell us things that no other fossils could, their shells can act almost like a map.

Kurt: The poor snails, they never get any credit. They're, they're a fantastic window into the paleo-environment because they're very similar...

Michael: There were three groups of snails in the Kishenehn: ones that used wet tropical areas as habitat, semi-tropical areas as habitat, and upland or higher elevation areas is habitat. But no matter where they lived, as they slimed their way throughout the day, they'd be forming shells layer-by-layer crystal-by-crystal, from the minerals in their surroundings.

Kurt: I've been working with Majie Fan from the University of Texas Arlington. And what she'll do is she has what they call micro mill. And she'll go through and she can drill microscopically each of those individual crystals.

Michael: And this is where it gets a little technical. Water that falls at different elevations has a distinct molecular signature.

Kurt: Her work is ultimately trying to understand what's what's the paleo elevation? What were the, what were the heights of the mountains and the basin floor?

Michael: And because of a snail's limited home range, their shells preserve a record of all precipitation that came to that area. You could read that record to determine how tall the mountains used to be.

Kurt: And her work showed that the mountain ranges were probably in excess of four and a half kilometers, high, 12 to 15,000 feet. So basically in the Middle-Eocene, we had a towering mountain range. They're bigger, bigger than we have today.

Michael: 12 to 15,000 feet is significantly taller than the mountains in the park today. The tallest peak in the park today, Mount Cleveland is just over 10,400 feet.

Andrew: Wow. That's that's incredible.

Michael: I have been obsessed with this story all summer long because it took something I thought I knew well and turned it on its head. As it happens, we have way more fossils than just stromatolites here. And we are home to fossils not yet found anywhere else on earth. These snails, uintathere tooths, and blood-engorged mosquitoes show us that even in a place as well-studied and well loved as Glacier, there is always more to learn. And perhaps most excitingly, even in the Kishenehn, we've only just begun.

Dale: Published, what, about 20 papers? And we've named about a hundred new species of insects and we've just barely scratched the surface of the potential here.

Michael: And what we can discover next is anyone's guess.

Michael: We’ll be back with our next story after a quick river safety PSA.

RIVER PSA

Andrew: Hey folks, since we're on the river today, I enlisted Colter Pence of the Flathead National Forest to give us some tips so we can make sure to leave no trace while on the Flathead River system or any river, really. Tip one: plan ahead and prepare.

Colter Pence: You don't just show up and be uninformed. You need to do that research. And we have a great product here, the park and the forest worked together on this. And that is our three forks of the Flathead Wild and Scenic River Float Guide. It's a spiral bound booklet it's made of waterproof paper and it shows all of the three forks of the Flathead calls out the rapids by name and all of the river access sites. Some of us who've seen this river a lot, we still use this as a resource. I do want to encourage people to pick up the float guide.

Andrew: Tip two: minimize campfire impact.

Colter Pence: Campfires. We ask that people use fire pans, fire blankets, and that's particularly important in the wilderness stretch.

Andrew: Tip three: dispose of waste properly.

Colter Pence: Disposing of waste properly, on the North Fork and Middle Fork of the Flathead. If you're camping in the river court, or you are expected to pack out your solid human waste--cat hole method is not acceptable here, and that's maybe acceptable some other places, but not here. Now, if you're going to camp at a river access site that has an outhouse, you can plan to use that, but if you're camping in a place that does not have that feature, you need to plan how you're going to pack out your solid human waste.

Andrew: Tip four: store food properly.

Colter Pence: We're in bear country, there's a lot of bears here. And river users need to take food storage seriously. So you need to have a plan that's consistent with the leave no trace principle, that you have a plan on how you're going to store your food properly.

Andrew: Tip five: be considerate of other visitors.

Colter Pence: It's really important, especially as we have more visitors to this area. Realize you're not going to be the only one there getting ready to go for an hour. You need to do your boat prep and get your gear together on the side so that when you are actually ready to go, you can use the ramp or the slide and quickly get out of there. It is very frustrating when people think that they're going to be the only ones and they clog up the site, so to speak. Being respectful in terms of noise, speaker systems. Many people came here to enjoy the river system and the natural sounds that come with that, that, that flowing water sound, right. We need to be protective of that.

Andrew: By taking these steps, you can help us to keep these incredible places clean and in good shape for generations to come. Thank you.

AGGASSIZ

Andrew: So Michael, if I asked you how many glaciers there are here, what would you say?

Michael: Well, that's a common questions, so I think I actually have this one. As of 2015, the last year we have complete satellite imagery, there were 26 named glaciers, larger than 0.1 square kilometers. But some of those may have fallen below that threshold since our last measurement.

Andrew: So you said 26 named glaciers. They have names?

Michael: Yeah. There's Grinnell Glacier, Sperry Glacier, Jackson and Blackfoot Glaciers, to name a few famous ones.

Andrew: Exactly. Yeah. I've actually got a list here of all 26 names. I'm going to give it to you. Looking at this list. What do you notice about the names in general?

Michael: Well, some of them are named after Indigenous people or Tribes like Piegan Glacier. Others are named for non-Native people like Sperry Glacier, and some seem to be named for their shape or nearby geographic features like Salamander Glacier.

Andrew: Have you ever wondered why these glaciers are called by these particular names?

Michael: Yeah. These features must have had many names over the years. Like Kootenai names, Selis names, Blackfeet names, and probably multiple English ones too.

Andrew: Well, you might notice that while people use a bunch of different names for a place, all official government publications, like our park maps here, will use the same name.

Michael: How did they decide which name to you, I mean, who decides, what name to use?

Andrew: To avoid confusion and ambiguity in these place names, all federal agencies use names approved by the United States Board of Geographic Names, which was created by an executive order of president Benjamin Harrison back in 1890.

Michael: This board comes up with the names, pulls them out of the hat?

Andrew: The board doesn't actually come up with names. They just adjudicate which proposed name should be the official one. Most of the official names of places in Glacier National Park were approved by the board before 1930. So they're pretty old and kind of a grab bag of different things.

Michael: Yeah. Some of the features have names that come from Native people in the area, but others are clearly names given by homesteaders or other early non-Native visitors.

Andrew: Yeah. And even the Native names are kind of a mixture of different things. Some names are English translations of Blackfeet, Selis or Kootenai words, like Many Glacier. Some places are named after Indigenous people by non-Native people like Siyeh Pass. There are even some places where there's still debate over whether the name comes from an authentic Native story or one concocted to sound authentic by white visitors, like Going-to-the-Sun Mountain.

Michael: There are even some places that are named after the Indigenous name, given to a white person like Rising Wolf or Apikuni, named for Hugh Monroe and George Willard Schultz, respectively.

Andrew: Yeah, so it's really all over the place with these names.

Michael: How do you know so much about the Board of Geographic Names?

Andrew: Well, I started to look into it when I got curious about the origin of Agassiz Glacier's name.

Michael: Yeah. Oh, I've seen that one. That there's a phenomenal view of it from the pit toilet at the Boulder pass backcountry site. And honestly, I didn't even know how to say it. Agassiz?

Andrew: Yeah. You've got it. It's Agassiz. Yeah. It's up in the North Fork. The glacier's on the seldom seen southeast shoulder of Kintla Peak.

Michael: So what did you find out about that name?

Andrew: Well, at first it seemed really simple. Agassiz Glacier was named for Louis Agassiz. He was a Swiss scientist who is credited with discovering the ice age.

Michael: Given the importance of the ice age here, it seems like a natural enough connection.

Andrew: Yeah. But then when I looked into the history a little bit further, things got complicated.

Michael: Go on...

Andrew: Well before he took up glaciology Louis Agassiz had actually been an ichthyologist, studying and classifying different species of fish. And he was really good at it. He had studied under some of the greatest scientists of his time, like George Cuvier and Alexander Von Humboldt.

Michael: So how did fish connect to the ice age?

Andrew: Yeah. Agassiz was looking for a way to kind of make his own name and step out of the shadow of his mentors. While vacationing in the Bernese Alps of his native Switzerland, he was hiking. And he started to wonder about the origin of the large boulders scattered around the valleys.

Michael: Like the ones you'll see along the Avalanche Lake trail, erratic boulders?

Andrew: Yeah. And for anyone who doesn't know what is an erratic boulder?

Michael: Sure. Yeah. During an ice age, huge glaciers, scrape massive rocks from the mountains, carrying them down into valleys. And as the ice age ends and the glaciers retreat, the boulders are left behind. And we're talking about huge boulders, they could be car or even house size rocks sometimes.

Andrew: Exactly. So then in 1837, he made a speech where he laid out his theory that the boulders, like the ones in the Bernese Alps or on the Avalanche Lake trail had been carried to those spots by moving ice sheets that had once covered much of the world.

Michael: The ice age!

Andrew: Exactly. But this is where the story gets messy. The ice age wasn't really Agassiz's theory. His old college friend, a man named Carl Schimper had already proposed a similar theory, and he'd even used the term "ice age" in a letter he wrote to Agassiz.

Michael: Oh, well, I mean, there's still a glacier here named after him. He must've gotten away with like scientific theft, so to speak?

Andrew: He did. And to figure out how he managed to do that. I decided to bring in an expert, Christoph Irmscher. He's a provost professor of English at the University of Indiana Bloomington and the author of the book, Louis Agassiz: Creator of American Science.

Michael: What did you find out?

Andrew: Well, Christoph told me that at the time Agassiz announced his theory of the ice age, he hadn't actually collected any data to support it. Was just kind of going off his instincts. So then Agassiz had to figure out a way to quantify this ice sheet movement that he had described.

Christoph Irmscher: One of the mountain guides said a little cabin that he built, and Agassiz noticed when he went up to the glacier that this guy's cabin had been traveling, which was an indication that the glacier was moving. Eventually it was entirely gone. So Agassiz started his own field station. He would put stakes in the ice and measure their locations, keep track of their locations. You had a thermometrograph, so you would do temperature readings. So it was sort of a host of things that he would then use, data that he would accumulate. In one particular famous episode that was illustrated at the time, he had himself lowered into one of the crevasses in the glacier, you know, going all the way down. Which of course added to the luster of the famous Agassiz, that he wasn't afraid of doing these things, physically.

Andrew: Agassiz wasn't just a scientist. You should think of him as like a celebrity. He tried to cultivate an image of a brave, manly and physical person.

Michael: Kind of sounds like his approach to the ice age theory too. He was less concerned with actually coming up with a theory, then he was getting credit for it. It's all branding.

Andrew: Yeah. He was very much concerned with his image, but that's not to say he didn't do any good science.

Michael: Yeah, I mean, measuring the movement of stakes and taking temperature readings of the area are similar techniques to what glaciologists use today.

Andrew: Yeah. So he made some real contributions to the development of the scientific field of glaciology.

Michael: I guess the marketing element is important too. A scientific theory doesn't do much good if no one in the scientific community buys into it.

Andrew: Yeah. That's true. And Christoph told me that Agassiz was pretty effective at this marketing. He was able to gain acceptance for the ice age theory in not much time.

Christoph Irmscher: It was actually surprisingly, as far as these things go, when you think about, you know, how long it took for Darwin's theory really to take hold universally. I mean, again, it wasn't super long, but Agassiz was very, very quick. Partially because he was so charismatic and he was his scientific entrepreneur, meaning that once he has a theory, he just goes around to talks about it. So a year later he's at a gathering of naturalists in France, he talks about it. He travels to England and very, very famous people at the time contemporaries, there was some people who never came around, but famous contemporaries would say, okay, yes. Great, fantastic. Yes, I'm on it. Really within a year, a year and a half, you see people essentially saying yes. And of course it helps that other people have been doing the work too and people knew about it at the time.

Michael: What about the other people that were already working on the ice age theory? They couldn't have been happy to see Agassiz get all the credit.

Andrew: Yeah, that's for sure. Agassiz burned a lot of bridges in Europe, both in his professional and personal life and not long after he started this glaciology work, he had to pack up and leave for the United States.

Christoph Irmscher: It was not so much a move or a planned move. It was Agassiz getting out of Dodge really in a way. Because as I mentioned before Neuchatel had become rather precarious for him, for different reasons. His wife left him, which is really unprecedented if you think of it in 19th century terms. His professional life had become complicated because there were people who resented what he'd done. He was a scientific con man in some ways. Taking other people's ideas is never going to win you many friends. And he was in financial trouble. I mentioned that he had his own printing press. He was broke. There was really not much of a way forward in some ways. And Humboldt managed to help him get an invitation to Boston where he delivered the Lowell Lectures.

Andrew: After coming to America, Agassiz never really worked on glaciology again, but at that point, glaciology didn't need him anymore. Once people started thinking about the ice age, they would see evidence all around them.

Michael: That's definitely the case here.

Andrew: Yeah, can you name some of the features here that provide evidence for an ice age?

Michael: Well, I mean, just about every road in the park follows a glacially carved valley. So you could drive through those big U-shaped valleys, looking up at the mountains, you could see the fingerprints of glaciers all over them. There are features like aretes where there's a glacier on either side leaving this knife's ridge. Or horns, like that had three or more glaciers that create these points like the, the Matterhorn.

Andrew: Exactly the features of Glacier National Park were carved during an era called the Pleistocene glaciation, the most recent of Earth's five major ice ages. It started about two and a half, million years ago and the Pleistocene glaciers here probably totally melted out just over 10,000 years ago. So the glaciers that visitors to the park see today, like Agassiz Glacier, are probably mostly distinct from the massive 3000 foot thick ones that carved the valleys in the park.

Michael: Okay. So I pulled up the fact sheet, Agassiz Glacier, like all of the glaciers in the park, is currently shrinking. Between 1966 and 2015, years where we have data from every glacier, it shrank by 213 acres, which is actually more acreage loss than any other glacier in the park for that timeframe.

Andrew: Yeah, it's really shrinking. And like the glacier named for him, Louis Agassiz began to shrink as well, but in reputation rather than size.

Christoph Irmscher: He was really convinced that science had a public relevance and American naturalists were thinking about race, and were trying to come to terms with it. Agassiz arrived as slavery was being hotly debated. And he felt that science had to play a role there. And he went over to the dark side in terms of what was happening in the scientific discussion.

Michael: The dark side... That's ominous. What did he say?

Andrew: After moving to America, Agassiz became a proponent of what can really only be called a racist pseudo-science.

Michael: He had never been interested in that stuff before?

Andrew: No he really never wrote about race in his European work. And it's not like no one in Europe was thinking about these things. Lots of European naturalists of his era had started to develop theories about race, but it was something about his experience here that piqued Agassiz's interest. It's a bit of a mystery, what exactly motivated his racism, but Christoph gave me a couple of theories.

Christoph Irmscher: It gave Agassiz in a sense, a chance to affirm or to privilege whiteness and to make himself a little less of an alien than he was. You know, he'd left his own country behind. He was not an American. He spoke with a very noticeable French accent. He was somebody who had come from outside, that sort of emphasizing that European element of American society gave him sort of a way of normalizing who he was. All these explanations of course don't excuse it. And his racism had very, very tangible forms and left a legacy.

Michael: What did his contemporaries make of all this?

Andrew: When Asa Gray, the great botanist, first heard Agassiz lecture. He was pretty disturbed

Christoph Irmscher: Asa Gray said, oh my god, that's not what's going to help us. He said, he doesn't realize how dangerous this is here in America. He doesn't understand it. He's coming from somewhere else. You know, this is not what we need.

Andrew: So his views were pretty offensive to many people in his circle. His particular racial theory, which was called polygenism was dismissively summarized by the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow as the idea that there was a separate Adam and Eve for each race. In fact, Christoph first came to studying Agassiz because rangers from the National Park Service at Longfellow House, National Historic Site in Massachusetts, asked him to look into how Agassiz and Longfellow could have even been friends when they had such disparate views.

Michael: Yeah, I guess that's pretty disturbing to think of.

Andrew: Yeah, and there's an ongoing conversation about what to make of historic figures with views like this. And it's not just about Agassiz, but also other people that are important to the conservation movement, but who held racist views, like John Muir. Only by acknowledging the dark parts of the past and shedding light on them can we begin the process of healing.

Michael: Well I guess with what we know about his life, Louis Agassiz's name itself carries a lot of baggage.

Andrew: Yeah. And Christoph told me that some institutions, like schools, that had been named after Louis Agassiz have now changed their names for that exact reason.

Christoph Irmscher: Yes. And if people are now saying his name should be dissociated from the museum of comparative zoology, I have no problem with that. The fact remains that he was the one who gave the impulse for that he, you know, implanted in people's minds the notion that science literacy is important. Unfortunately, Agassiz didn't apply it to himself and made himself as literate in everything regarding science as he should have been because that obviously would have educated him about race. But that's something that is also part of Agassiz's legacy. And as you know, we have an enormous, enormous knowledge gap. And when it comes to science today and the public about global warming and so forth, which we always come up against whenever there's opinion polls or something like that. So I would sort of describe these different impulses. If he had not gone to the United States, he would probably be remembered as a great data guy, right. A data collector essentially, but he did his best to destroy that when he came over here.

Michael: Well, nature here is sort of taking care of that name question already. As the atmosphere warms and ice melts that outlined around his name is shrinking on the map. Eventually it'll be gone.

Andrew: Yeah. It's interesting. Louis Agassiz's reputation and Agassiz Glacier have followed kind of a similar trajectory once big and formidable. They're both now reduced to a mere shadow of their former selves.

Michael: So it seems like now through his own doing Agassiz's remembered more for his racist beliefs than for his science, if he's even remembered much at all.

Andrew: Yeah. Because of his hubris, he failed to recognize the mistakes in his own thinking. He didn't turn the scientific lens back on himself and his own actions and ideas.

Michael: But I suppose in his mistake, we can see a better path forward.

Andrew: Definitely. One where there's a confluence between a scientific mindset and our collective action. One where we can come together to forge a better future for our planet.

Andrew: After the break, our final story.

GLACIER NATIONAL PARK CONSERVANCY AD

Andrew: Each episode, we seem to cover at least one thing that like this podcast wouldn't be possible without the support of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael: With the help of some friends over there, we got the number of executive director, Doug Mitchell, and decided to call him up out of the blue to ask about these projects.

Andrew: For this episode, we wanted to ask about the preservation of historic documents.

Doug Mitchell: Good afternoon, Glacier Conservancy. Doug Mitchell speaking.

Michael: Hey Doug. It's Michael and Andrew.

Doug: Hey fellas. How's it going in the park?

Michael: It's going pretty well. And for this episode, we want to learn more about historic fire lookouts. So we're going to put you on the spot.

Doug: Okay.

Michael: Do you happen to know when the Numa Ridge Fire Lookout up near Bowman Lake was constructed?

Doug: I do not have any idea, but it's a great question. You know Glacier Park has a terrific archives that is really becoming publicly accessible through a digitization project we've been very proud to support at the Conservancy, the Montana Memory Project. And I think that's really going to be a great tool for people to answer these and other great questions about the history of the park.

Andrew: That's a good idea. I've heard that they've digitized some superintendents reports all the way back to 1911.

Doug: It's really amazing. I've been able to see some of those, you know, Franklin Delano Roosevelt came out to the park in 1934 and the superintendent notes about that and the preparation for that are really something to see. And, and this Montana Memory Project and the work that's happening to be able to take those documents and make them accessible to the public is really, really significant.

Michael: I mean, it's hard enough to get access to things anymore that started digital. So to be able to bring elements of the past into the present is pretty remarkable.

Doug: Yep. You can go online and find a lot of information and we're adding to that every year. Not everything's there yet, but our goal is to be able to really make as much as possible and whether that's in written form or film form or audio form, eventually gentlemen, you're going to be in the archives and people are going to be wanting to look this up a hundred years from now.

Michael: Oh gosh. That's...

Andrew: ...that's a scary thought.

Michael: Well, thank you so much for pointing us in that direction. We'll be sure to add to the show notes where people can find this information, but I guess we'll talk to you later. Thank you.

Doug: Hey, thanks you guys, take care.

Michael: Bye.

LOOKOUTS

Michael: For our last story, we're going to fast forward a little bit beyond Louis Agassiz's time to May 11th 1910, when an act of Congress established Glacier National Park and protected over a million acres of pristine Rocky Mountain landscapes. A few months later, it was burning. Consumed by one of the worst fire years the West had ever seen, over 120,000 acres of Glacier had burned by the end of 1910, burdening park managers with their first real problem. Now we know that public land managers sought to totally suppress wildland fire for much of the 20th century, and we talk more about that history in the Lake McDonald episode. But before anyone could fight fires, they first had to find them.

Beth: They started to make camps and people were climbing trees and doing everything to see if they could find fires.

Michael: That's Beth Hodder.

Beth: Yes, I'm Beth Hodder.

Michael: She's a board member of the Northwest Montana Forest Fire Lookout Association.

Beth: We are soon to be changing our name to the Northwest Montana Lookout Association because we will...

Michael: An association that safeguards structures that have been integral to our relationship with fire: fire lookouts. Structures built on mountain tops and high vantage points, allowing observers to spot fires as soon as they start. And this new approach proved to be pretty effective.

Beth: Anyway, these lookouts kept building and building and building because it was easy to put these buildings in—not easy, but I mean, they had the ability to do that and they wanted—

Michael: Glacier built 17 lookouts in the park, but the neighboring Flathead National Forest built 147 lookouts by 1939.

Beth: Until all of a sudden World War II came along and they no longer had the funds to go into these lookouts. And from there, they started to realize that they could not take care of all of them.

Michael: Of the 17 towers erected in Glacier, today only nine remain. And of the eight that were destroyed, some were claimed by weather, but many were raised to the ground by rangers. Why would they be tearing down lookouts?

Beth: There were airplanes and helicopters and infrared technology and everything that was a lot cheaper to look for fires than to have people funded up in lookouts.

Michael: Despite it all, several lookouts in the park are still staffed today. And while a lot of people are drawn to the structures themselves—their architecture and location—I've always been fascinated by the people who staff them. People who spend their whole summer living in extreme mountaintop tiny homes. In the North Fork, nearly 3000 feet above Bowman Lake, you'll find the Numa Ridge Lookout, and it's been staffed off and on since its construction in 1934. In 1975, it was even staffed by Edward Abbey—the controversial but celebrated author of books like Desert Solitaire and the Monkey Wrench Gang. And most who know Abbey know him for his musings about the desert. Sometimes they were angry manifestos about industries like ranching or mining. And other times they were love letters to what is now Arches National Park, and the idea of being alone in the wilderness.

Michael: His writing from his time at Numa Ridge is sometimes poetic, often funny, but always grumpy.

Karen: Yeah. I don't think Abbey liked the weather much.

Michael: That's Karen Reeves who staffed the lookout in 2020.

Karen: …he was used to the Southwest and he really was a desert rat. And he didn't…

Michael: And it's worth noting Abbey, wasn't up here on his own.

Michael: I think his wife did most of the lookout duties when they were up here. Uh, at least she made most of the entries in the actual day-to-day journal.

Michael: And Abbey infamously wasn't alone during his time at Arches National Park, either stories about Edward Abbey and fire lookouts, often romanticize isolation, celebrating a sort of rugged individualism. And these ideas are appealing. Heck I think when I first moved to Montana, that's what I was looking for. But that's not what this story is about. The longer I've worked here, the more I've come to understand that this place isn't the utopia for rugged individuals that I'd imagined, but a place where folks from all walks of life bond over a shared love of a place. When I was looking into the history of numerous lookout, I learned about Kay Rosengren.

Kay (Interview): I grew up in Fargo, North Dakota, flat as a pancake Fargo.

Michael: Beth Hodder from the lookout association interviewed Kay Rosengren a few years ago about her experience as a lookout.

Kay (Interview): What year was this? This was in 1958. Okay.

Michael: Kay also provided copies of letters to the Northwest Montana Lookout Association as part of their ongoing work to preserve lookout history.

Kay (Letter): Dear Mom and Dad Rosengren: Well, here we are in Glacier National Park and loving it.

Michael: In 1958. Kay turned 21, got married to her husband, Keith, and they both moved out to Montana to staff the Numa Ridge fire lookout. This is the story of that summer. A story about how no matter what it is that brought you to Glacier, you can find yourself, head over heels, and welcomed into an ever-growing community of park stewards. And right off the bat, you get a sense of Kay's personality: witty, charming, and empathetic.

Kay (Letter): Before I go on it is only fair that I clear something up. I am not pregnant. I say gathered. You thought when we told you over very modest and hurried wedding plans, the reason we mobilize so hastily was because we didn't know until three weeks ago that I would have a job too. Did you even know that Keith had a job out here? Did you know that we were engaged? I suspect not as your son is not much of a communicator.

Michael: A friend had suggested to Keith, her boyfriend at the time that he should apply to be a lookout. So he applied and got the job. In his hiring paperwork, it mentioned that for some positions, they also hired wives.

Kay (Interview): So my husband wrote back and said, if I get a wife, will you hire her? Well, about two weeks later, he got a letter saying you better get that wife because she has a job.

Kay (Letter): Keith will be on the payroll five days a week. And I will work two days a week.

Kay (Interview): I finished college finals the day before, and then we got married in, came up.

Kay (Letter): The challenge now is to learn to cook. I can boil water, scramble eggs, but beyond that and completely ignorant, I will try not to starve or poison Keith

Michael: After arriving in Glacier. Kay and Keith went to fire school or training for their new job.

Kay (Letter): Fire school was interesting and scary. We were told we would receive just 40 gallons of water every two weeks. And those gallons will be for everything. These precious drops will be delivered by mule pack, train to you, dudes. The words leave me imagining Keith and buckskins and me and a Calico. And Sunbonnet, as you can tell, I'm trying really hard, but not successfully to resist the romance of the old West. However, fanciful, my image of life on a mountain top is there was one young wife at fire school from Chicago whose grasp of reality is even shakier than mine. She asked me what kind of washing machine there will be in their lookout. At first I thought she was joking, but then I realized that she either didn't hear or chose to ignore no electricity and water bypass drain. I didn't tell her there was no Maytag in her immediate future, less she cut and run right back to Illinois.

Michael: After training, they set out to reach their new home.

Beth: Now, to reach the lookouts. Did you hike? Did you head, were you given a horse to take up?

Kay (Interview): No. You hiked.

Kay (Letter): The hike up here was beyond my powers of description. Suffering of the sword is not noble.

Kay (Interview): And I thought I was going to die. I didn't know about altitude and breathing and...

Beth: Where they towers? Did they sit on the ground?

Kay (Interview): They sat on the ground. Two stories. The bottom of was storage. And then the top was where you lived. And that was glassed in, of course.

Kay (Letter): Your son. You may notice the change from my husband to your son found my faint heart did not make me a fair maiden. He arrived up top all you're going as to explore the mountain, then the lookout, while I languished on the lumpy mattressed cots.

Beth: Cots or…

Kay (Interview): Two cots, and, um, a table in the corner.

Michael: And I asked Karen, the lookout from 2020, the question on everyone's minds, where is your bathroom?

Karen: It's down over the hill. I just got a new outhouse last summer. The other one was chock-full [laughing].

Kay (Interview): The outhouse on Numa was wonderful because the view was fantastic [laughs] and there was nothing in front of it. Nobody could come and see you.

Michael: Once they got there, they settled into the job itself. A job they quickly learned was less solitary in practice than it was in theory.

Kay (Letter): Today, we turn on our two-way radio. We check in at 8:00 AM and at 4:00 PM. Once in a while, we are expected to report to headquarters or to the lookouts on Apgar Mountain. In the evening, we have a little up here containing some instruments and Duff pine needles, et cetera, to simulate the forest floor and doing this. We get the burning index BI, which gives us a fair idea of how dry the forest is and how quickly fire might spread.

Michael: Their work was only effective because they were part of a network of other regional lookouts and fire managers, their new community, who all worked together to protect their new home.

Kay (Letter): During fire school, we were taught to assess the kinds of clouds. We have their stages, et cetera. We keep speculating that all of the other lookouts in the Northwest are as unsure as we are about what they're seeing. Keith and I often disagree. And we shudder to think that our collective ignorance might be taken as gospel. To track the lightning, a fire finder is used. It is a large round wheel with a map in the center. It has a metal rim that can be moved. To the middle of the contraption is what looks like a ruler. When a storm threatens, we are to place a piece of paper on the map and draw a line—along the metal piece, on the paper—to indicate the line of sight from the lookout to the lightning strike.

Beth: Did you have fires while you were up there that you had to call in?

Kay (Interview): Yes, the first year again, you know, they tell you in fire school, well, "fire might smolder for two weeks" and I thought oh yeah right. You of course record all your lightning strikes, and our first fire was two weeks after we had recorded that strike.

Kay (Letter): We were told to record strikes until storms are so close the hair on the backs of our necks stands up. At which time we are to retreat to the safe corner. The fire finder is metal, as are the cots and the stoves, which means only the corner with the wooden table and chairs is safe.

Karen: And it's kind of fun. When you get lightning storms, it's kind of a front row seat to a pretty extreme firework show.

Michael: Now some parts of the job are flashy, even scary. Like the neighbors.

Kay (Interview): I tell you, I'll be honest. I thought some grizzly had been given my name and I did not leave Numa the whole summer.

Michael: In reality. One of the biggest challenges of the job is not bears, but boredom. Kay and Abbey both brought a load of books to Numa just to stay entertained.

Karen: It's a good place to bring projects. And you find out if you are interested in that hobby at all or not. I found out that I was not a quilter. [laughs] You bring it up here and you've got the time. So if you're not going to do it up here, you're not ever going to do it. So, um, I've been able...

Michael: The way Kay tells it though. The hardest part was cooking.

Kay (Letter): Perhaps the biggest challenge up here on Numa Ridge is learning to cook. I clearly remember pledging not to poison your son. There are days when I feel as if that was a promise made in haste. There's no way bread can be kept here. There's no freezer never mind a refrigerator. So I had my first foray into the wonderful world of baking bread. It was heavy enough to be a doorstop. It was gray and it quivered. Spam is a staple for us and we are both sick of it. But Keith has devised a sauce that kills the taste of the stuff, not to mention our taste buds. I am grateful. I'm also grateful for a small stained booklet that goes with the place. It is a basic cookbook written with bachelor lookouts in mind. It has become my Bible.

Kay (Interview): It was invaluable because I didn't know how to cook. I did. I knew nothing.

Kay (Letter): The recipes are simple and clearly explained. On the cover. It says it was compiled by some wives of forest service personnel. Bless them.

Karen: The cookbook was very specific that you should eat butter at every meal. That’s a cookbook I can get behind.

Michael: Finally, she highlights the moments that stood out.

Kay (Letter): A father and son hiked up from Bowman Lake campground a couple of days ago. The son appeared to be about 16.

Kay (Interview): The kid said to me: "What do you miss most up here?" And I said: "A, Coca Cola." And the child hiked up with one for me. It's the sweetest gift I ever got.

Kay (Letter): If anyone had told me before we signed on for this job, what life up here would be like, I would have cut and run a bare bones description would have sounded grim and impossibly austere. What it is instead is an adventure and proof that much of what we prize in the way of possessions and comforts is expendable. I've saved the best for last. The view of Bowman Lake below us is sublime. The water is emerald green with a touch of turquoise. And when it is still, the surrounding scenery is perfectly mirrored. The whole area is so lovely that I get teary at times. As we have no camera, our memories of this awesome splendidness will have to suffice.

Kay (Interview): No, we didn't have a camera at that time.

Beth: Okay.

Kay (Interview): No, we didn't get so many wonderful photographs that we could have gotten because we didn't have a camera.

Kay (Letter): If I could be granted one wish while I live on this mountain, it would be that we could somehow communicate the beauty of this place, and the exhilaration of breathing the air, and the reverential feeling we have as we go about our daily chores.

Karen: And I can't emphasize enough how much the light and the play of light is one of my favorite things about being a lookout.

Kay (Letter): Mornings, especially are magical. I find myself holding my breath as if the very act will break the spell and will be sent below to live among mortals. It is not hard to see why the Greek mountains inspired toxic gods and special beings.

Karen: Sunrise, sunset, moonrise, reflections of Bowman Lake, northern lights. This year, the comet NEOWISE, I mean. There's just. The light is always playing. It's fabulous.

Kay (Letter): This morning dawned with just the peaks of surrounding mountains, and us, above clouds. Which were white and perfect, and looked solid enough to walk on into infinity. It is a picture we will treasure always.

Beth: If you had to do it again, would you?

Kay (Interview): Oh, yes, it was fine. And there was something new every day. Never once wished I was somewhere else. Yeah, no, I certainly would have done it again.

Michael: Kay and Keith have both since passed away. These letters and her interview give us the chance to share in her charm and wit and to be transported back to life as a lookout in 1958. And a lot has changed since then: there was the moon landing disco, the Berlin Wall, perms, Y2K and Facebook. But throughout all that time, life as a lookout has more or less stayed the same. Karen has a few more gadgets in 2020, but otherwise her job is the same as Abbey's in 1975 or Kay's over 60 years ago. From Numa Ridge, it is easier to see the things that have—like the lookout itself—stayed constant. And Kay's story helps to show that the passion for the park I've seen in visitors, friends, and peers, a love for Glacier and a commitment to preserving it—time hasn't changed that at all. Lookout towers were built by an optimism that our participation in public lands could protect them. And while we romanticize the isolation that comes with their location, protecting a place like Glacier is a burden too big for any individual. So if you're in search of a weekend alone in the woods, by all means come and visit. But you may find more than you bargained for. After all, even in one of Glacier's most remote destinations, Kay and Keith found a life and community here, and spent summers in Montana for the rest of their lives.

Michael: That’s our show for today—If you’re interested in learning more about the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, fossils, Louis Agassiz, or fire lookouts, you can find links in the show notes for more info—including to the Northwest Montana Forest Fire Lookout Association website.

Andrew: Thanks for listening!

CREDITS

Renata: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The show was written and recorded on traditional Native lands. Andrew Smith and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music. Alex Stillson provided tech support Quinn Feller designed our art Renata Harrison researched the show, Lacy Kowalski was always there for us, and Daniel Lombardi and Bill Hayden were the executive directors. Support for the show comes from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The Conservancy works to preserve and protect the park for future generations. We couldn't do it without them, and they couldn't do it without support from thousands of generous donors. If you want to learn more about how to support this podcast, or other awesome Conservancy projects, please go to their website at glacier.org. Of course you can always help support the show by sharing it with everyone you know— your friends, your family, your dog... And also leave us a review online. Special thanks this episode to Colter, Brian Dao, Echo Miller-Barnes, Dale Greenwalt, Kurt Constenius, Teagan Tomlin, Emily Crampe, Christoph Irmscher, Jean Tabbert, Karen Reeves, Lora Funk, Beth Hodder, and the Northwest Montana Forest Fire Lookout Association.

In this episode, the Flathead River reveals our own notions of wilderness, and remarkable fossils. We learn about a glacier with a complicated past—and we climb to a mountaintop to learn that even the park’s most isolated office isn’t as lonely as it seems. Featuring: Colter Pence, Amanda Wilson, Kurt Constenius, Dale Greenwalt, Christoph Irmscher, Beth Hodder, Karen Reeves, and interviews & letters from Kay Rosengren—courtesy of the NWMT-FFLA.

For more info, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

Confluence | Many Glacier

6 december 2020 | 39 min

Many Glacier is home to some of the park’s most popular trails, like the Grinnell Glacier trail. Many want to see Grinnell because—like the other glaciers in the park—it is retreating.

In our search to understand how Grinnell has changed, we meet someone who last visited the glacier over 30 years ago and hike with a researcher who discovered the power of portraits.

Featuring: Gerard Byrd, Bob Adams, Diane Sine, and Lisa McKeon

For more info, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

EPISODE TRANSCRIPT

GRINNELL INTRODUCTION

Michael: Okay, Andrew. It's summertime as we're recording this.

Andrew: Yep.

Michael: But I want to rewind the clock to mid-may of this year. Think cool air, drizzling, rain, you know, spring.

Andrew: Okay. I'm with you.

Michael: This may I volunteered with the Harlequin duck project and we were trying to capture ducks on Upper McDonald Creek. And as we talked about in the Goat Haunt episode, you catch them by stringing a net all the way across the creek, and trying to catch them as they fly down. But with all the melting snow in the spring, that creek is flowing too fast to safely walk across. So a few people, and one end of net, get carried across to the other side in a raft.

Andrew: So did you get to go across the Creek?

Michael: Well, no, I stayed behind to help spot the birds with binoculars. But at the end of the day, everyone on the other side had to come back, and I volunteered to help catch the raft and pull them to shore. The raft—really conveniently—has a handle on the bow that helps you grab it. And I leaned over to grab it, totally missed, and fell face first into McDonald Creek.

Andrew: [laughs] Ouch.

Michael: Yeah, I was totally soaked.

Andrew: Well, it's pretty cold in the spring. Did you have a change of clothes?

Michael: Well, yes and no. Uh, it was very cold, but I didn't have any spare clothes. But the volunteer paddling the raft that I failed to catch had a spare pair of long johns. And despite my insistence that I'd be warm enough, made me go change into them.

Andrew: So you had warm legs and a bruised ego... But isn't this episode about Many Glacier?

Michael: Okay, let me finish. That volunteer's name is Gerard, and I'd met him before cause he drives a school bus for some of the local students I've led on field trips. But through the Harlequin project, I got to know him a little better. And a few weeks later I had the chance to get him in the studio.

Gerard: Yeah, my name is Gerard Byrd, born and raised about nine miles from Glacier National Park in a little town of Martin City.

Michael: He's the sort of wonderful person that seems to know everyone and can do anything. What were you doing just before this interview?

Gerard: We were helping band songbirds. Yeah. Trapping and banding.

Michael: I think he volunteers with every single wildlife research project in the park.

Gerard: We started about 12—maybe 13—years ago helping out with the wolverine project, got involved and we put in roughly 175 back country miles.

Andrew: Did you make him come into the studio just to return his long johns?

Michael: No, he's, he's got wonderful taste and long underwear, but that's not why I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to talk to him about a trip he did with the Glacier Institute in 1986

Gerard: Glacier Institute was founded in 1983, started working in '84, I came on board in '85. I'm a school bus contractor. They were looking for someone to transport students around the park, specifically up over Logan Pass.

Andrew: Wait, so what is the Glacier Institute?

Michael: The Glacier Institute is one of the park's three official partners. They offer hands-on, field-based learning opportunities for both kids and adults all throughout Northwest Montana. And they do a lot of work here.

Gerard: There's grizzly classes, flower classes, and then some geology classes, which included glaciology as well. And this one particular class, we were hiking into Grinnell Glacier—and it was a geology class, but one of the founders had wanted us to go and meet this gentlemen that was giving... I can't remember where he was from now. But anyway, he was giving a speech on Grinnell Glacier. And so—

Michael: The guy's name was Bob Anderson, and he was a geologist with the California Institute of Technology. And he wasn't just giving a talk on Grinnell Glacier. He was giving a talk in Grinnell Glacier.

Gerard: They had an access point that we were able to enter underneath this glacier

Michael: Into an ice cave.

Andrew: Whoa.

Gerard: It was about maybe three foot high, and it kind of went back maybe 20-some feet.

Michael: The times I've spent in other park units like Mammoth Cave National Park. One of the biggest takeaways was just how dark it got, like what was the lighting?

Gerard: Straight up? I mean, it's no different than a regular cave. If there were human bodies blocking that entrance. Yeah, it was, it would be no different than being in an underground cave. As I looked around, there was probably 20 of us crowded into this small space and there was a flash photographer taking tons of photos—leaned over and I said: "Lex, what? How come this is so obnoxious?" He goes: "Gerard, National Geographic's in here doing a photo-op here under this glacier."

Andrew: National Geographic was there?

Michael: Yeah! They published a 20 page article, not long afterwards, which really reads like an introduction to Glacier: where it is, what it's all about. A harrowing search and rescue tale. And here's the one photo they use from the ice cave.

Andrew: Wow, this is crazy. So this is under Grinnell Glacier?

Michael: Yeah. The photo, it's really dark—this guy's wearing bright yellow pants sitting on the ice and yeah, it's in Grinnell Glacier.

Andrew: I've been to Grinnell Glacier a handful of times, and this looks nothing like anything I've seen up there. It's like a totally different world.

Michael: Yeah. And it's hard to tell in the photo, I asked him what the weather was like outside, and he said it was sunny. But it doesn't look at all like that.

Andrew: No.

Michael: It just looks dark.

Andrew: And cold.

Michael: Gerard described these little threads of ice that would dangle from the ceiling of the Glacier. And if you looked at it too long, either your breath or your headlamp would even melt them. So it was a really powerful experience for him.

Gerard: Well, the funny thing was, is, um, I had visited with my wife when I came out and I said, Oh my gosh honey you got to come in and look at this. I said, this was incredible, I was so moved. Well, raising five kids and whatnot, it just was about three years later—and we decided that we could go back in. And we hiked in, come to this rock face, And I, [stammering], this is where the glacier was. I kept looking at the rock face, thinking, God, maybe I'm on a whole different, but I, I, I did recognize the area where we . And the glacier had melted back about 200+ feet. I was absolutely astounded.

Michael: Three years.

Gerard: Three years. That's when I really became aware of, of man's impact on our beautiful planet. Yeah.

Andrew: So if that's how much it changed in just three years, what has he noticed in the last 30 years since then?

Michael: Yeah, that was something I was really interested in, but he surprised me. When's the last time you went back to Grinnell Glacier?

Gerard: It was back then probably '89.

Michael: Really?

Gerard: 80's, yep.

Michael: Haven't been back since?

Gerard: I haven't been back there since then. I've done a lot of different areas in the park since, but um, not, not been back there since '89.

Andrew: Wow. 30 years. I can't imagine what he'd say. If he got to see it now

Michael: I know. We have got to get Gerard to Grinnell Glacier this summer.

Michael: We’re calling this season: The Confluence, as we look at the ways that nature, culture, the present and the past all come together here.

Andrew: I’m Andrew.

Michael: I’m Michael.

Andrew: And we’re both rangers here. And today we're going to be taking you on a journey to the Many Glacier Valley.

Michael: Nestled in the northeast corner of the park. Many Glacier is one of its most spectacular destinations. I know every time my family has come to visit, we've made a point of taking Highway 89 on the east side of the park, just to get there. Typically the road is open from mid-May to late October, but the high elevation trails have a much shorter season because they're only reliably clear of snow in August.

Andrew: According to longtime Many Glacier ranger, Bob Adams, there are two trails in particular that people come here to see.

Bob Adams: ...that would be the Grinnell Glacier Trail. And that would be the Iceberg Lake Trail, which...

Andrew: This area is popular, like really, really popular.

Bob Adams: ...but there are lots of people, roughly 600 or more a day.

Andrew: That's 600 is on each trail.

Michael: So this isn't the place for solitude?

Andrew: Not exactly. And to make it even more extreme, Bob sometimes has to close one of those trails for bear activity. And if the Iceberg Lake trail is closed, then...

Bob Adams: You'll get 900 people on the Glacier Trail.

Michael: 900 people on the Grinnell Glacier Trail?!

Bob Adams: So that may not be what you want. It may be exactly what you want because you maybe feel safety in numbers. That's, that's a false assumption, but people make that assumption.

Michael: Why do so many people come here?

HOTEL

Andrew: I asked Diane Sine, she's a ranger. And she spent more than 40 summers in Many Glacier.

Diane Sine: It not only has the, the actual glaciers that are still hanging in there, just barely. Then we also have the historic hotel, we have in my opinion, the best hiking trails in the park. So if you just wanted one location that sums up all, that's excellent about Glacier National Park it's Many Glacier. And yes, this is a commercial for Many Glacier.

Andrew: And she's not totally joking about the commercial thing, the marketing of Many Glacier and of the Glacier National Park region as a whole is a really important part of the Park's history.

Michael: What do you mean by that?

Andrew: Well, in the early days of Glacier National Park, a lot of the infrastructure was built by the Great Northern Railway and the railway executives wanted this place to look like the Swiss Alps.

Michael: Yeah. There's definitely Swiss architecture noticeable, not just at the Many Glacier Hotel, but the Lake McDonald Lodge too. But why Swiss?

Andrew: That's actually a pretty interesting story. To learn more about it I decided to join Diane Sine, the ranger you heard a minute ago, on a tour of the Many Glacier Hotel.

Michael: Well, I'm jealous.

Andrew: Luckily for you and our listeners, these tours are offered during the summer at the Many Glacier Hotel and Lake McDonald Lodge. You can find the schedule in your ranger led activities guide, which you'll receive at the park entrance station.

Diane Sine: Well, welcome. My name is Diane Sine. I'm a seasonal ranger here with the National Park Service. I have done this for a whole lot of summers. This is our daily walking tour of the historic Many Glacier Hotel.

Andrew: She told us about how she first fell in love with Many Glacier as a child on a family camping trip and all through college worked here in the summers as a singing waitress.

Michael: She was a singing waitress?

Andrew: Yeah. As she tells it:

Diane Sine: In that era, all the employees at the Many Glacier Hotel were hired to staff the regular hotel positions because they all had music or drama backgrounds. And as a little girl just starting out as a cellist, I thought that's what I wanted to do.

Michael: Why did they do that?

Andrew: Well in those days, the Many Glacier Hotel was a bit beat up and weathered. So to attract guests, the manager decided to use music.

Michael: Well, why have I never heard Diane sing at the hotel?

Andrew: Well, she's not a singing waitress anymore. After those summers singing and waiting tables, something changed deep inside of her.

Diane Sine: After having worked here for four years for the hotel, my life was warped. I was hooked on this place and I figured out how to become a park ranger.

Andrew: And once Many Glacier wormed its way into her life, it never left.

Diane Sine: Along the way I met my husband, who was another ranger here. We got married at Lake Josephine, had our wedding reception here at the dining room of the Many Glacier Hotel. My stepdaughter met her husband here as well. And the tradition has continued. So...

Andrew: But this is all a bit of a digression because although this place is important to Diane...

Diane Sine: The Many Glacier hotel is considered to have national significance. It has value to the American story as a place that ties us to the past, not only the past with visitor experiences, but the past with the early development and advertising of national parks.

Andrew: Diane told us about the construction of the building in the winter of 1914 when temperatures hit 40 below.

Michael: Okay. We've both been here in the winter and 40 below is cold.

Andrew: It's very cold. As Diane described it, the workers, the Great Northern hired:

Diane Sine: Were hardy Scandinavian descendants and they could withstand hardy winters. And the story is...

Andrew: The finished hotel was pretty impressive.

Michael: Paint a picture for me.

Andrew: Well, as you approach the hotel, a friendly bellhop clad in alps style, lederhosen opens the front door and offers refuge from the harsh winds of the valley in the warmth of the lobby.

Michael: Wait, okay, lederhosen?

Andrew: We'll get back to that in a minute.

Michael: Okay.

Andrew: Once you're inside, the lobby is vast and echo-y with a hodgepodge of different styles. A massive copper fireplace anchors one end, while the other opens up to an elegant spiral staircase. Naturally your gaze will be drawn up as your eyes trace the giant Douglas-fir beams towards the ceiling. And dangling from that ceiling is an impressive array of Japanese style paper lanterns.

Michael: So I'm standing in a wild Montanan and Swiss chalet with Japanese paper lanterns?

Andrew: Now you're catching on that's right. But even though there's a lot going on, the thing that really pulled me in was those giant Douglas-fir beams. And according to Diane, this was their intended effect.

Diane Sine: The idea behind the design of both this Many Glacier hotel and the Glacier Park Lodge at East Glacier, they were originally referred to as "big tree lodges." The idea is that you can be down here in the lobby and you can actually feel like you're in the forest with the trees rising above you.

Michael: That makes a lot of sense having stood in them, but you still have not addressed the lederhosen thing.

Andrew: Okay. Okay. Well, part of it is actually an accident of history in 1914, as construction was just about to begin for the Many Glacier Hotel, World War I, cut off Americans from some of their favorite European vacation destinations. The Great Northern saw in this an opportunity to put the American West on vacationers' radar. And they started to market this area as a replacement for the Swiss Alps.

Michael: Okay. But people go on vacation to Spain or to Germany. Why Switzerland?

Andrew: Well as Diane tells it Louis Hill, who at the time was the president of the Great Northern Railway, just really liked Swiss architecture.

Diane Sine: He had a home outside St. Paul where his family would go for winter getaways and ice skating parties. And that home was designed as a Swiss chalet. But he also had a winter home at Pebble Beach, California. In fact, his home became part of the golf course there. The design for his Pebble Beach home was also Swiss architecture. So the guy just had a thing for Swiss chalets.

Michael: How'd the Great Northern get word out about the area?

Andrew: Well, they decided to do this big advertising campaign called See America First.

Michael: See America first, huh.

Andrew: And the idea there was to try to convince Americans that vacationing in the national parks was the patriotic thing to do. They also gave artists free trips out here. And as you can imagine, once those artists saw this place, they took the idea of See America First and just ran with it. One of these artists was the writer, Mary Roberts Rinehart.

Diane Sine: She was a very well-known writer of the time. She went on to write a couple of books about her experiences in Glacier Park. She said, "I have traveled a great deal of Europe. The Alps have never held this lure for me, perhaps it is because these mountains are my own in my own country." So that was her idea. Be a patriotic American, see America first, come to the Switzerland of North America, come to the Many Glacier Hotel.

Michael: So this marketing campaign is why we have all the Swiss buildings around Glacier?

Andrew: Exactly. And it's had a pretty big impact on the way people use the park even to this day. But it also starts to get at something that's really central to the mission of the park service.

Michael: What do you mean?

Andrew: Well, we're supposed to be preserving these places for future generations, but our mission is also to allow for their enjoyment today, that can be a tough act to balance.

Michael: Okay. I see what you're getting at. People come to Many Glacier to see the bears and the glaciers, and to feel a sense of wilderness, but their very presence alters those things.

Andrew: Right, the Many Glacier Hotel and the marketing around it got a lot more people to come out and enjoy this area. But it also changed the character of the valley. When people and nature come together, both are changed by the encounter.

Michael: But it's not always a bad thing.

Andrew: Certainly not, encountering the natural world is an important way that we can learn and grow as people.

Michael: I know that hiking here in Many Glacier has changed both you and I, but in our next story, I'd like to look at the way that we collectively, as people have changed Many Glacier as well, although we might not have meant to.

Andrew: You know how we've been talking about doing a hike in Many Glacier.

Michael: Yeah.

Andrew: Well, I just talked to Lisa McKeon. She's a physical scientist with the USGS. She invited us to go up to Grinnell Glacier with her next week.

Michael: Oh my gosh. We've got to bring Gerard!

Andrew: I thought you might say that. So I asked Lisa about it and it turns out that they actually already even know each other from some projects he's volunteered on and he's welcome to join us too.

Michael: Of course they know each other. Well, I've got to call him.

Andrew: Yeah, let's get him on the phone.

Michael: After the break, we try to get ahold of Gerard.

[GLACIER NATIONAL PARK CONSERVANCY AD]

Andrew: Each episode, we seem to cover at least one thing that, like this podcast, wouldn't be possible without the support of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael: With the help of some friends over there, we got the number of executive director, Doug Mitchell, and decided to call him up out of the blue to ask about these projects.

Andrew: For this episode, we wanted to ask about the restoration work done on the Many Glacier hotel.

Doug Mitchell: Glacier Conservancy, Doug Mitchell speaking. How can I help you?

Andrew: Hey Doug, it's Andrew and Michael, how are you doing?

Doug: Hey guys, great to hear from you today.

Michael: Likewise.

Andrew: We wanted to call because for this episode I had the chance to go on a tour of the Many Glacier hotel with Diane Sine, and she pointed out a staircase to me that she mentioned you might've had something to do with.

Doug: Ah, the famous double helix staircase. To be able to bring that back here in the 21st century is really a treasure. And those people who haven't seen it ought to definitely get out there and take a look.

Michael: Yeah, it's pretty remarkable. This magnificent, as you said, double helix, like kind of DNA strand staircase.

Doug: Yeah. You know, we joked a little bit around here that they needed a t-shirt for the lodge that says history it's in our DNA. And history and historic renovation really is in our DNA here at the Glacier Conservancy, as well. And that is a property at Many Glacier that had fallen in disrepair. And actually some had talked about tearing it down and what a great decision not to.

Andrew: Absolutely. Has the Conservancy, had a chance to be involved in any other historic preservation projects in the park?

Doug: We really have spent a lot of time and focus on that because really our future is part of celebrating our past. There's a lot of different kind of places that we've been able to help like the Wheeler Cabin and the Sperry Chalet of course, and the Walton Ranger Station. And those kinds of historic preservation projects are ones that we've been very proud to be involved in over the years. And really we think add to the fabric of, of this great tapestry that makes up Glacier National Park.

Michael: Well, thanks for making the project possible in the first place. And thank you for taking some time out of your day.

Doug: Absolutely. Thanks guys. Call anytime.

Michael: All right, bye Doug.

Doug: Alright, cheers.

CLIMATE—PART 1

Michael: Before the break, I found out I had a chance to get Gerard back to Grinnell Glacier for the first time in 30 years—so I called him. Naturally, Gerard’s a busy guy—I didn’t get ahold of him the first, or second time I called.

Gerard: Hey Michael, Gerard here. Yeah I haven’t forgot about you, I had you on my list, but I—

Michael: But after playing voicemail phone tag, I reached him. And invited him to join us. Well, we're going on Tuesday with Lisa McKeon. So you're certainly welcome to tag along.

Gerard: Oh I would love to, I'll have to look at my calendar to see what's on there, but I, that would be a wonderful invite. Thank you.

Michael: The next day, he shot me an email.

Michael: So we had everybody meet at Park Headquarters and wasted, no time getting going, because if you're headed to Many Glacier, you should plan on an early start. Whether you're looking for a parking space or a campsite, everything fills up early, like really early. And on top of that, it's not especially close. It's the farthest main entrance from the airport. And from the West entrance alone, it takes about two and a half hours. Whether you take Going-to-the-Sun Roard to St. Mary or Highway 2 under the south end of the park. But we found a spot and set off on one of the crown jewels of Glacier’s trail system. Now the trail is popular not just because of its destination, but because of the scenery along the way. If you're not looking at wildlife, you're looking at towering snow-capped mountains, or crystal-clear lakes. Roundtrip it's 11 miles and you gain 2,600 feet of elevation, so it's not an easy hike. In fact, one of the fan favorite ways to do this trail is to actually skip the first few miles entirely. The Glacier Park Boat Company offers historic wooden boat tours, and some of their tours include a hike to the glacier. Taking that boat shuttle shaves off nearly four miles of the hike, but none of the elevation. If you're interested in boat tours in Many Glacier, or anywhere else in the park, it pays to plan ahead. We didn't catch a boat though, we just hiked. And you don't have to hike too far before you stumble into one of the most famous views in the whole park, a bright blue Grinnell Lake tucked into the mountains.

Andrew: And if you've ever seen a poster of the park odds are, it was a picture of Grinnell Lake. In fact, Lisa McKeon told us she had a poster of the view in her college dorm room.

Lisa: Yeah, I've never, I've been up this trail so many times. I never thought about that, but, uh, you know, the classic Grinnell view.

Gerard: Good story.

Michael: When I worked for a different agency in a different state, that same poster was on the wall at the office next to me.

Andrew: And I had a funny experience with this view as well. When I got hired, I was in college and I was so excited about it. I'd never been here before. And so I Google Image Search “Glacier National Park,” downloaded some cool pictures for my like phone background. And I didn't ever really look up where it was, but I was hiking up here for the first time and I'm like, "Oh my God, this is the view from my phone." So I took my own photo from that spot. And I still have it as my phone background.

Daniel: That's still your background?

Andrew: Yeah.

Daniel: This whole time.

Andrew: I was like, this is it! That's why I came here.

Michael: And it is so easy to get swept away by the beauty of this trail: by the wildflowers, by the wildlife, whether it's mountain goats or bighorn sheep. But the entire time, I was distracted wondering how Gerard was going to react once we finally saw the glacier. And the trail does a really good job at building that anticipation because you can't really see it the very end. But after a few hours and a few thousand feet, we made it. We crested that final hill and were able to look down at Grinnell Glacier. And it was the first time any of us had seen it that year. But for Gerard, it was the first time seeing it since the eighties.

Daniel: All right, Gerard, what's the big reaction to this view?

Michael: That's our producer, Daniel.

Gerard: There was just more snow and ice here. Right here, there was just... snow.

Michael: Gerard's a guy who always has something clever to say. I had never seen him at a loss for words, but he stood there for a minute. Stock-still. Staring out at the ice in disbelief.

Gerard: Holy cow.

Gerard: Wow.

Michael: I felt pretty fortunate to be there in that moment with Gerard. I left him totally speechless, and experiences like his are as powerful as they are rare. In the grand scheme of things, most people are lucky to see a place like Grinnell Glacier once in a lifetime, let alone have the chance to revisit it. I mean, growing up in Ohio, I could have driven in any direction for several days and never seen anything quite like it. And that's where Lisa's work comes in. Lisa McKeon is a physical scientist with the USGS or United States Geological Survey. And over the course of her career, she's taken experiences like Gerard's and made them a lot more accessible.

Lisa: No, I agree. I mean, we've got, you know, area change data. We've got some volume estimates. We've got mass-balance. We have a lot of quantitative data looking at change—most people can't relate to that, and they can look at a pair of images and go: "Wow! Something's happening there." Yeah.

Michael: The USGS' Repeat Photography Project is an effort to visualize glacial change, not with graphs or charts, but with pictures. By retaking historic photos of glaciers throughout the park, you can see the change that's happened in the intervening years with your own eyes. And Lisa has been involved since it got started in 1997.

Lisa: I got swept up into doing repeat photography, right at the very beginning. Jerry DeSanto had brought in this repeat pair early in the spring and showed Dan, and we had decided: "Oh yeah, let's, let's do some of this let's document glaciers in the park with photography." And then later that summer Vice President Al Gore decided to come out and have a little event here at the glacier. And they, he was talking about climate change. And like, right then at 1997, the media came out and we had taken a few repeat photos and they couldn't get enough of them. You know, it was a first, some of the first really visual evidence that people could relate to with this idea of climate change.

Andrew: It struck a chord, like as soon as you started.

Lisa: Mmhmm. Because they're so easy to—.

Gerard: Yeah, they answer to themselves.

Lisa: Yeah, yeah. You don't really need any text, nothing. It's just, it's...

Michael: A picture really is worth a thousand words. Because I could read through statistics about how Boulder Glacier's area today is 35,298 square meters when it used to be 829,577 square meters. Or I could show you a picture. Well, not really. This is a podcast, but you could find the photo from a 1932 horse packing trip to Boulder Glacier where 80% of the frame is filled with ice. And four people stand there staring into the mouth of a towering ice cave. When Ranger Jerry DeSanto took that same photo just 50 years later, the frame was empty. The ice had receded, revealing only barren rock and the distant mountains. These repeated photos have made it possible for people no matter where they are or when they are to make sense of this change. But while these repeated photos are easy to understand, they're quite difficult to capture.

Lisa: Some of them take quite a while. Some are, you know, much harder than others. But it's been amazing, sometimes, when you think "Oh, I know where that one is." And you go, Oh, no, I guess that's not it. Oh, it's up here. So then you climb up, Oh wait, no, no, no, no. It was down quite a bit. And you just can go up and down, up and down, we've gotten better at it, for sure.

Michael: They don't physically mark any of the sites. So they rely purely on perspective to initially find the right spot. And one thing that's helped a lot is technology.

Lisa: It's been really helpful with Google Earth now, cause you can kind of go in the landscape and line up the peaks pretty well that way before you get out in the field.

Michael: The next part of our day was actually taking a repeat photo. And while Lisa had taken this repeat photo before, had seen it on Google Earth, even had the GPS coordinates—she gave us the authentic experience. Using a printed photo, we had to line up what we could see (boulders in the foreground, mountains in the background) with the landscape in the picture, which was easier, said than done.

Lisa: Further that way...

Michael: We knew from the picture that we'd have to go up. So we started up this moraine or hill of loose rock, and feeling pretty good about it until it dropped off. And we had to climb down the boulder field and scramble it around until we saw the snow patch. And then we had to go over... [fading out]

Michael: Needless to say, it took a while. And as we were searching, we had to be very mindful of timing. Because a lot of factors go into a successful repeat photo. The time of day, can cast shadows off the mountains that make it harder to see the ice. And on a larger scale, the time of year is important. Seasonal snow is a huge obstacle to taking a good photo.

Lisa: You have to wait so long. I have people in June asking if they can come to the park and take some photos for me. And I have to say, well, you can't really until the end of August at the earliest, maybe, or September, you gotta wait for the snow to melt. So you can see the actual margin.

Gerard: Are we seeing snow there on top of the,

Lisa: yeah, it's mostly. Yeah...

Michael: And even we were cutting it close, right?

Andrew: Yeah. Quite honestly, our trip was really more about getting a behind the scenes look at the process and not necessarily because Lisa needed to repeat this particular photo.

Lisa: We don't have the Moraine in front. No, no. Cause that's going to be,

Michael: Once you finally find the place where the photo is taken, your last step is to get the camera set up and line up the shot.

Lisa: Yeah. So I'm just putting the camera on the tripod and then I'll just kind of start lining things up and slightly overshoot it so I can crop it down a little bit. But I try to match it as closely— I haven't taken any photos all summer. So half the battle is remembering how to use this camera.

Andrew: No pressure, you just got everyone watching you.

Lisa: Yeah. I'm not even like paying attention to that.

Michael: Once it's all said and done, you've got the photo. If it's good enough, Lisa, will line it up next to its historic reference photo back at the office and upload it onto the repeat photography project webpage where you can access all of them. And at the time of this recording, at least 80 photos have been repeated of 20 different glaciers throughout the park. But after spending the day playing research assistant to Lisa, we wanted to take a repeat photo that had never been done before. One that had her in it.

CLIMATE – PART 2

Andrew: In the summer of 1988, the year before Gerard returned to the glacier with his wife, a teenaged Lisa McKeon had hiked with her parents up to Grinnell Glacier. When they got to the top, Lisa posed for a photo. With a white tank top, yellow shorts, and some very 80s sunglasses Lisa stepped out onto Grinnell Glacier for a picture. With a grimacing smile that screamed “mom, please don't make me take another photo,” Lisa unwittingly created the perfect opportunity for a future repeat picture. So Michael, when I pulled out that photo of Lisa up at Grinnell Glacier, that was your first time seeing it, right?

Michael: No, it was, and it took me a second to even figure out what the photo was of let alone, who is in it.

Daniel: Do you recognize Lisa in them, would you have know that was her?

Michael: I don't think so, no.

Daniel: You would have been like, who are these people?

Michael: Look at this lovely picture.

Daniel: What if Gerard was like in the background?

Lisa McKeon: That's right. Wouldn't that be cool? He's down below us. In the cave, going "oooOOOooo."

Andrew: I tried to find the spot for Lisa to stand and recreate her vacation photo, but I ran into a problem: the lake.

Andrew: I spent the last 10 minutes or so trying to find this other spot that we have from one of Lisa's photos from the eighties. And I keep coming further down this way, and I still think I've got to go, we've got to go a lot further that way to get to the spot. I think where you were standing is in the lake at this point.

Lisa McKeon: Yeah, I would guess.

Andrew: So I don't think we're going to be able to get you back to that spot.

Lisa McKeon: Yeah, I know, right?

Andrew: Finding the nearest dry spot to where she had stood in 1988, Lisa replicated the pose and grimacing smile. Daniel started to wonder if these photos might be used someday too.

Daniel: What about the next 20 years and like the photos that you're in, do you think that people working for USGS in the 2050s will be using photos of you as a teenager and repeating those?

Lisa McKeon: I have not submitted these to the archives yet.

Gerard: "Who was that babe?"

Lisa McKeon: We'll see. I, yeah, I'd probably rather have those submitted than now, but certainly, I mean, it's really exciting thinking that the photos I'm taking now will certainly, you know, be used in decades to come.

Andrew: This place has meant a lot to Lisa. Some of her best memories are here in this glacier basin.

Lisa McKeon: I've been lucky enough to come up as, you know, a youth. And I brought both of my daughters here because I think it's a really special place. And I want them to see the beauty and, and to see the change, you know? I want them to have their own memories of what it was and then be able to see how it's changing. And my husband proposed to me here too. So I have a lot of great memories associated with this place.

Andrew: Where was that?

Lisa McKeon: Um, I think it was right down on some of these rocks here. Actually. I don't even remember exactly the spot. Yeah. Beautiful piece of slick rock like this.

Andrew: Over a lifetime of visits, she has seen so much change, not just to the glacier, but to people's understanding of it and to our understanding of the changing climate.

Lisa McKeon: Well, our glaciers are going. They're on a track to disappear now. But I think what we've done is helping the world understand the connection between climate change and what's happening on the landscape. Yeah. A little piece of that, you know, this happens to be a really visible piece, but there's so many other ways that climate change is impacting this park that are not as visible as a glacier melting away. They get people thinking about climate change. And I love that maybe it begs the question of, wow, what else is happening in this park? And there's scientists out there figuring that out. And there's people maybe looking a little more closely for it in their own experiences here.

Andrew: It made me wonder, when did Gerard learn that the changes he'd seen up here were part of a wider global phenomenon?

Michael: Yeah, that's something I was wondering too. And I asked him, were you aware of climate change when you made that trip up to Grinnell?

Gerard Byrd: I was aware that something was taking place because of humanity here or how we were living. Because when I come back that three years, I was like astounded. I was just so impressed that we could get underneath the glacier at that time. And I told my wife, I said, Oh honey, we got to go back in. I've got to show you this. This was the coolest experience. And so I, I wasn't really aware of it at that time. It was the three years later.

Andrew: So it sounds like you noticed that something was going on just from your experience here, but later, did you read in the paper or hear on the news about climate change science and realize, Oh, that's what I saw at Grinnell Glacier.

Gerard Byrd: Yeah. Then the pieces to fit in the puzzle. And I was like, well, yeah, I witnessed something there that was pretty profound. And didn't know it at the time.

Andrew: With all the good memories from this place, but also all the evidence of melting. I wanted to ask Lisa how she felt about Grinnell Glacier on the whole. Does she have a good or bad feeling from this place?

Lisa McKeon: Yeah. I think what you described, bittersweet is exactly what it is. Cause it's always a stunningly beautiful place, but the glacier is shrinking and I mean, that's one of the main comments I get back from the repeat photos is people feel loss.

Andrew: But when I asked Lisa, if she still had hope she perked up a bit.

Lisa McKeon: I do have hope. Yeah. Yeah. I mean, like I said, I don't, I don't have hope that these glaciers are going to last here, but I'm hopeful that climate change is not going to be the end all for this planet.

Andrew: Before we left. Lisa wanted to walk up to the glacier itself to let us see what was happening to it with our own eyes, hear it with our own ears. As we approached the sound of melting water rushing off the glacier turned into a roar. I had to shout just for Lisa to hear my question,

Andrew: Where is all this water coming from?

Lisa McKeon: It's coming from the glacier, every bit of it. It's melting off the glacier. It's quite a torrent today. It's a hot day in the glacier basin and things are cranking.

Andrew: As we stepped onto the glacier we reflected on what made this change so meaningful. The earth has always been changing and glaciers have advanced and retreated many times, but something about this felt different.

Andrew: Yeah, I guess the fact that these changes that have historically happened on like geologic timescales are now happening on human timescales makes it really dramatic.

Gerard Byrd: Yeah, very poignant. And I think that's where the repeat photography comes into play. That's a very visual, you can see that you don't need to be one political party or the other, old or young, you can see that blink of an eye, right there.

Lisa McKeon: I think for me, I feel part of this change. There's something major going on— that's climate change. And ice melts when it gets warm. And we're part of that equation. I'm part of this. But I also feel like part of the solution to, not necessarily changing the trajectory for these glaciers, but in a larger sense, this brings awareness. It's, it's pretty stark. It's raw.

Gerard Byrd: Well, it's such a quick change in geological time and there was change in the past, but it was thousands of years. I mean, what I've witnessed in just my little lifetime here is incredible. Your grandkids, your great-grandkids won't see this. It's brought an awareness to me for just being present. You know, this is all we have. Tomorrow is not here, yesterday is gone. This is all we have. We're just fortunate to be able to witness the last part of Grinnell Glacier.

Andrew: That’s our show—If you’re interested in learning more about the Many Glacier Hotel, the USGS Repeat Photography project, climate change, or are interested in getting to Grinnell Glacier yourself, we put links in the show notes to more info.

Michael: Thanks for listening!

CREDITS

Many Glacier is home to some of the park’s most popular trails, like the Grinnell Glacier trail. Many want to see Grinnell because—like the other glaciers in the park—it is retreating. In our search to understand how Grinnell has changed, we meet someone who last visited the glacier over 30 years ago and hike with a researcher who discovered the power of portraits.

Featuring: Gerard Byrd, Bob Adams, Diane Sine, and Lisa McKeon

For more info, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

Confluence | Logan Pass

6 december 2020 | 55 min

In this episode of Headwaters we visit one of Glacier’s most popular and unique destinations: Logan Pass. First, we’ll learn about the road that gets us up here, the Going-to-the-Sun Road, and about some hilarious attempts to reduce our impact at Logan Pass. We’ll learn about appreciating the natural smells of the park, and end with the search for a rare and disappearing flower.

Featuring: Bill Schustrom, Jeff Hoyt, Emlon Stanton, Will Rice, and Darren Lewis.

For more info, visit go.nps.gov/headwaters

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

EPISODE TRANSCRIPT

BIKING INTRODUCTION

Andrew: One spring, shortly after I first came to Glacier National Park to start working as a ranger here, I made my first trip up to Going-to-the Sun Road. In spring while the plow crews are still working on clearing the winter snow from the road, the area past Avalanche Creek is closed to cars. At this time of year, it's popular to bicycle up on the closed part of the road. One afternoon, I took my bike up to Avalanche Creek to ride. Only planning to bike a few miles. I was outfitted in just a t-shirt and carrying only a simple repair kit, a small water bottle, and of course a can of bear spray. When I reached my intended destination, a switchback in the road called The Loop, I was still feeling strong. The sun was bright, and the sky as that deep blue color you only really get in wide open country. From that spot there's a spectacular view of a mountain called Heaven's Peak. I just couldn't turn around.

Andrew: I eschewed my original plan [sound of bike pedaling] and kept pedaling up towards Logan Pass. I couldn't stop. Those miles above The Loop are home to some of the grandest mountain views you’ll find anywhere. As I came around each corner, a new and breathtaking vista came into focus. The effect was magnetic. As my legs became leaden from the miles of climbing up towards the pass, the mountain views compelled me forward foot by foot. The beauty of the scenery, practically physically pulling me up. If you've ever ridden the Going-to-the Sun Road, you know exactly what I mean. The feeling was ineffable and unforgettable. Eventually I reached the high point of the road, Logan Pass. And by then I was in a complete euphoria. As I looked around, I relished the alpenglow lighting up the mountains, the evening light shimmering in the snow, and the glacier lilies pushing up through the fresh soil.

Andrew: The pinkish orange of the sunset was so beautiful I screamed. I couldn't react except primordially. I breathed the crisp mountain air and the place became part of me. I turned the handlebars of my bike back towards the car and began to cruise down the road. But as night started to close in on me, my bliss quickly turned to worry. The sun dropped behind the tall peaks and the temperature plummeted. The road was coated with frigid water from the melting snow, which was kicked up by my tires and soon saturated my green t-shirt. My stomach growled with hunger. I had cycled much further than planned and missed dinner. But worst of all was the wind. The air itself was still, but biking, downhill and picking up speed, I would generate my own wind faster and faster. I couldn't decide whether to descend slowly, staying warmer, but dragging out the experience, or to just let go and frigidly descend as fast as possible.

Andrew: Gravity and the thought of my warm car were irresistible. I let loose. As I picked up speed, the cold wind turned my hands numb. They slumped over the handlebars pale and useless. Suddenly I regretted that decision. In the fading light I saw a herd of bighorn sheep jump down into the road from a rocky outcropping above, directly into my path. I squeezed my brakes as hard as I could with my unfeeling hands, not knowing if it would have any effect. With a shriek my tires locked up and my bike came to a halt. I was a little too close for comfort to the curly horns of a large ram. He seemed unmoved. Slowly. I made my way down to the car arriving safely, but well, after dark. At home, I cooked up fried eggs, refried beans, anything caloric and warm I could find in my cabinet. Since then I've biked the Going-to-the Sun Road many times and the views still capture my heart. But now before I leave, I always make sure I have all the necessary safety gear, including snacks, a jacket, and especially gloves. Welcome to Headwaters - a Glacier National Park Podcast. Brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy, and produced on the traditional lands of many Native American Tribes, including the Blackfeet, Kootenai, Selis and Qlispe people.

Michael: We’re calling this season: The Confluence, as we look at the ways that nature, culture, the present and the past all come together here.

Andrew: I’m Andrew. Michael I’m Michael.

Andrew: And we’re both rangers here. And today we're at Logan Pass. And after a brief description of the place itself, we'll hear some stories about what makes it so important.

Michael: As the highest point on the Going-to-the Sun Road Logan Pass is a place of extremes.

Andrew: One extreme is visitation. This is the starting spot for two of Glacier's most popular trails, the Highline and Hidden Lake, and has some of the most coveted parking spots anywhere.

Michael: To get one of the 234 spots here on a summer day, often means arriving before 7:00 AM.

Andrew: Logan Pass is also home to extremes of weather.

Michael: Once, wind speeds of at least 99 miles per hour were recorded for 12 hours straight.

Andrew: It can snow any month of the year here and often there's still 10 plus feet of snow on the ground into July.

Michael: As crazy as this may sound to listeners from warmer areas, if you show up to hike at Logan Pass in July, don't wear your sandals. You'll likely be walking on snow.

Andrew: Because of the extreme geography and weather here. There's really only a short window to visit.

Michael: Crews start plowing the Going-to-the Sun Road every year at the beginning of April, but it's a monumental task.

Andrew: The plows will have to maneuver through avalanche chutes, manage extreme weather, and finally tackle a section simply called "The Big Drift" where snow often blows into a pile 80-feet deep. They do all of this on extreme terrain and it all has to be finished before the road can open to the public.

Michael: Typically, the Going-to-the Sun Road opens for the season in late June or early July, but the opening date will depend on conditions. So if you're planning to drive to Logan Pass, don't plan your trip any earlier than that.

Andrew: If you want to bike, like I did, the road will be available for biking before it opens to cars, but you're not allowed to bike in the immediate vicinity of working plow crews for obvious reasons.

Michael: To reach Logan Pass you'll need to bike after hours or on the weekend when crews aren't working.

Andrew: Once Memorial Day hits and car traffic really ramps up, there are more restrictions on when and where you can bike on the Going-to-the Sun Road.

Michael: You'll really want to consult the park website or a newspaper to read all the details.

Andrew: It's only a few short months before winter makes it's return to the past. Winter storms have ended the Logan Pass season as early as September in recent years, but mid-October is more typical.

Michael: It's a narrow window and that's not accounting for wildfire or other natural events that can lead to unplanned closures.

Andrew: But Logan Pass is a magical place full of wildflowers, wildlife, and unsurpassed views. The wild and rugged nature of this place, which makes it so appealing, can also make it unpredictable. It's good to keep in mind that some things you plan to do just might not be available. Be flexible and have a backup plan. There's always something fun to do if you're creative and prepared.

Michael: With all that in mind, let's move into our first story of the day, about how workers in the 1920s and 30s were able to build the engineering marvel that is the Going-to-the Sun Road.

GOING-TO-THE-SUN ROAD

Andrew: So Michael, how many times would you estimate you've driven the Going-to-the-Sun Road?

Michael: Oh gosh. Um, I've never really counted, but I'd say over the last seven years, over a hundred?

Andrew: That's a lot of trips. Do you ever get tired of it?

Michael: Absolutely not. No. Every time you drive it, thanks to changing sunlight or weather, it looks different. And out of all those trips, I've only ever seen one porcupine or wolverine. So it really does feel like each time you go, you notice something new.

Andrew: Yeah. We're pretty lucky to live in this place and to get to drive that road all the time.

Michael: Yeah. You can say that again!

Andrew: When I'm driving the Going-to-the-Sun Road, as it climbs along those sheer cliffs and hugs the side of the Garden Wall, I always think about the engineering that must've gone into it. I mean, they constructed that thing in the 1920s.

Michael: Yeah. And the road would still be impressive if it had been constructed today. So how did they pull that off nearly a hundred years ago now?

Andrew: You know, I have an idea of just who we should talk to someone who's been teaching the history of this road for decades.

Michael: Ranger Bill?

Andrew: That's exactly right.

Andrew: Bill has been working here for a long time.

Bill Schustrom: Well, I started in Glacier National Park in 1966. I worked for the boat company and then in 1988, I was lucky enough to score a job with the National Park Service. And up until this year, I think I had 32 years in.

Michael: If you're lucky enough to meet Bill, you'll find that he's got a ton of stories about the park throughout the years.

Andrew: When I asked him what he'd say to someone about to drive the Going-to-the-Sun Road for the first time he didn't undersell it.

Bill Schustrom: First of all, I would tell anybody that I was talking to that they're in for probably one of the greatest experiences of their life.

Andrew: In Bill's reckoning, the road really democratized Glacier National Park. It made it a place accessible to a lot more people.

Bill Schustrom: It allowed everyone that came to the park, whether you're young or old, or if you're from a different country, it gives you the opportunity to get up very close and personal with one of the finest wilderness areas in the United States, as well as alpine scenery.

Andrew: According to Bill, the Going-to-the-Sun Road's origins go all the way back to the inception of the Park Service.

Bill Schustrom: It came back to Steven Mather who you probably know was the first director of the National Park Service. The National Park Service came into existence in 1916. Steven Mather, within a year, became the director.

Michael: Okay. What about the route? I mean, it seems obvious now, it's absolutely spectacular, but how did they decide where to put it?

Andrew: According to Bill, the routing we have today was not even the one that they had originally planned on.

Bill Schustrom: The first architect, a landscape architect that was involved in the road, was a guy by the name of George Goodwin. And George Goodwin proposed 15 switchbacks over that 3,000 foot climb up to Logan Pass. And Steven Mather came out, and he rode up to the area where he proposed the 15 switchbacks. And Goodwin's whole thought process was, he wanted to show the human spirit, and what the human spirit was capable of doing. And he felt that a road like that would definitely be there for all time to come.

Michael: Oh really? The road was supposed to have 15 switchbacks? I mean it only has one now at The Loop, right?

Andrew: [Chuckling] Yeah. They intervened, and the 15 switchback idea was shot down.

Bill Schustrom: But along on that trip was another, younger, architect by the name of Thomas Vint. And Thomas Vint said, I don't think that's a good idea. And Steven Mather also said he didn't think it was a good idea, that they would ruin this incredibly beautiful, scenic part of the park.

Michael: Okay. Yeah. I've got to agree. That does not sound like a good idea.

Andrew: 15 switchbacks would have covered like the whole area in pavement. So Vint proposed a different route instead: one that only had a single switch back. One where the road would blend into the landscape, emphasizing the natural scenery rather than the human engineering.

Michael: It sounds a lot more like the road that I know.

Andrew: Stephen Mather preferred that proposal as well. He wanted the road to lie lightly on the land, to emphasize the natural over the human.

Michael: So what was the next step to take it from drawing board to asphalt?

Andrew: Well, they had to do a survey of the route.

Bill Schustrom: When they finally decided that it was going to be a one-switchback road, a civil engineer out of San Francisco by the name of Frank Kittredge came in and hired a group of 30 men. And he'd had a lot of experience building roads along the ocean.

Andrew: Michael, you know how steep and cliffy that terrain is. Well, surveying it was so terrifying and challenging, that a lot of people simply quit. Turnover was so high on these survey crews that Kittredge had to have three crews simultaneously. One that was actually working. Then he also had to have...

Bill Schustrom: One crew coming and one crew quitting. And the ones that quit said that it wasn't worth it to climb up and down those cliffs and put your life in the hands of a rope.

Michael: Yeah, I don't blame them. That sounds terrifying.

Andrew: To be out on that crumbly sedimentary rock...no thanks. They finished that survey in 1924 and the next yearn the contract to build the West side of the road was given to a company out of Tacoma, Washington called Williams and Douglas.

Bill Schustrom: When they came in in 1925, instead of starting from the bottom and working up to the high point, Logan Pass, what they did was, they established along the West side five, maybe six different camps. And they would work from there. They'd work in both directions until they ran into the other camp that was coming their way.

Michael: Oh, that's clever. So they were able to work on a bunch of different sections of the road all at the same time.

Bill Schustrom: They estimated that there were 300 men that worked on the road. And you know, there was no OSHA, there were no hard hats and there, you know, the kind of clothing they wore, that wasn't such a big consideration. And the amazing thing about that is there were only three deaths.

Andrew: It's really pretty humbling to know that three people died working on that road, that we all enjoy so much. I can't even imagine what it'd be like to be part of those crews.

Michael: No, I don't want to either.

Andrew: Yeah. I asked Bill what some of maybe the biggest challenges they were facing were.

Bill Schustrom: I think the biggest thing was safety. You'd see guys rappelling down off the sides of very steep cliffs, you know, with a thousand-foot drop below them. And when they did it, they actually to get all of the materials they needed up to those five camps, they actually had packers that came in. Many of them from Columbia Falls, Montana, one in particular was a guy named Joel Opalka. And the interesting thing about Joe was, in 1983, they had the 50th anniversary of the Going-to-the-Sun Road. And I was lucky enough to be there. They had a lot of the civil engineers, a lot of the people that were responsible for building the road were there and they spoke, and they were eloquent. They were eloquent in the fact that this is going to be a National Historic Site, which it is. And it's actually an, obviously a Civil Engineering National Historic Site and said all this big flowery stuff about it. And Joel Opalka turned around to one of his old buddies that was sitting there, you know, 50 years later and said, aw hell, they can talk all they want about it, that was just one dangerous, damn hard thing that we were involved in and a lot of hard work, and it was scary.

Andrew: Joe Opalka passed in 1991. So we're pretty lucky to still have people like Bill who knew those involved in the original construction.

Michael: How long in total did it take to build the thing?

Andrew: While a few small sections had been built in earlier years or even decades, the bulk of the construction was done in just eight summer. Because of the limited working season, it's really only about three years' worth of working days. The road was finished in 1932 and then...

Bill Schustrom: In 1933, they dedicated it, I think it was on the 15th of July, and there were 4,000 people that showed up. Now, today, it would be an environmental disaster, because 4,000 people and they camped out all over the beautiful meadows and the wildflowers.

Michael: That is a lot of people at Logan Pass.

Andrew: [Chuckles] Yeah. So I guess some things haven't changed that much. Bill emphasized to me that hearing about the road and learning the history is great and all, but you know,

Bill Schustrom: People need to come here. You can ooh and aah at the pictures, but when you're on that road, Oh. My. God.

Michael: There's something irreplaceable about really being there.

Bill Schustrom: It's just like now where I live, you know, they're rebuilding my road, and now they're digging. The guy that runs the excavator - he is phenomenal, the way he handles that, that great big bucket. That's gotta be like this, you know? And he's just like, he's just got it in his hand and he can put it here and there. And I, I just actually took a chair out last week and just sat out there one kind of sunny day and just watched them work. It was just so much fun, but you, I was there and I was part of it. And to me, that's what education is all about. You gotta be able to - hell, you can talk about wild flowers, but when you can actually see it happening, it's just so much more effective.

Andrew: It's such a great image of Bill sitting out in his lawn chair, watching the excavator.

Michael: Yeah. It actually does sound pretty cool to watch.

Andrew: [Laughs] Yeah. And I loved the way Bill described the experience of the Going-to-the-Sun Road.

Bill Schustrom: It's like giving somebody a hug. You're hugging the park because it's so beautiful. And the road obviously is a tribute to the, you know, the spirit, the human spirit, but it also is a tribute to nature. You've got to respect it. You got to take your time. And you've got to realize you're in a place that pretty much is starting to disappear in our world, in our country. When you think about all the industrialization that has gone on, but Glacier is a place where you can come and it's still relatively untouched.

Andrew: He told me about an experience that can really only happen at a place like Logan Pass.

Bill Schustrom: Working up there a couple of years ago. And there was a mountain sheep, beautiful mountain sheep, just this big huge horned guy. And it was looking at us and just like a statue and a guy came up to me and he said, "Jeez, Ranger." He said, "I swear to God, that same mountain sheep was standing in exactly that position 20 years ago when I came here." And I looked at him and I said, "You know, who knows? Probably not. But the park is just exactly like it was when you were here 20 years ago, because it was set aside to become a National Park and how fortunate we are to have places like that.

Michael: We’ll be back after this break with a story about some of the interesting steps the park has taken to deal with the impact of visitors at Logan Pass.

[GLACIER NATIONAL PARK CONSERVANCY AD]

Andrew: Each episode, we seem to cover at least one thing that like this podcast wouldn't be possible without the support of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael: With the help of some friends over there, we got the number of Executive Director, Doug Mitchell, and decided to call him up out of the blue to ask about these projects.

Andrew: For this episode, we wanted to ask about a very special ranger you'll sometimes see at Logan Pass.

Doug Mitchell: Glacier Conservancy, this is Doug.

Michael: Hey, Doug it's Michael and Andrew. How are you doing?

Doug: Michael and Andrew, what a treat to hear from you today!

Michael: Likewise, well, we're calling because Andrew and I have both worked at Logan Pass as park rangers, but no matter how good of rangers we are, most visitors who come up to us are asking for a different ranger, one special ranger. Do you have any idea what ranger that might be?

Doug: I have a feeling that it is our own four-legged ranger, Gracie, the bark ranger. Would I be correct?

Michael: You're absolutely right.

Andrew: Can you tell us who Gracie is and what she's doing up there?

Doug: Sure. So Gracie is an amazing addition to the team at Glacier Park an especially trained animal who helps separate the public from wildlife. Gracie and her handler Ranger Mark Beal have won a bunch of national awards for the work that they've been able to do in Glacier to be able to keep wildlife and people interactions safe.

Michael: Basically Gracie the bark ranger is a specifically trained wildlife dog that the park uses to mitigate human wildlife conflict at Logan Pass. When you say Gracie's helping maintain a safe distance between animals and visitors, is it usually visitors approaching animals, animals approaching visitors, or a little bit of both?

Doug: It's a little bit of both. So, you know, obviously, as unfortunately we know animals are attracted to salt, which can, can come from the bottoms of our cars. And so they can end up in the parking lot and either people can get too close to them, in which case Gracie will gently nudge her way around both the people and the animals. And generally shoo the animals back to the other side of the road, where they are safe and sound and out of harm's way as are the people who may not know that you just don't get within five feet of a bighorn sheep. That would be a bad idea.

Michael: Yeah, big horns have a few big reminders on their head to keep that distance, but it's nice to have a charismatic ranger doing the extra work.

Doug: I think in the, generally in the name big and horn you just would get the idea.

Andrew: It's always fun to hear about the special projects that Glacier National Park Conservancy funds and supports here in the park.

Doug: Always fun to hear your guys' latest podcasts. Thanks for the work you're doing.

Michael: Great. We'll talk to you soon.

Doug: All right. Thank you. Bye.

LOVED TO DEATH

Michael: Welcome back to Headwaters, a Glacier National Park podcast. In this episode, we are at Logan Pass. And for this next story, I wanted to talk to someone who had worked there. On an average summer day. How early would you say the parking lot filled up there?

Emlon Stanton: Uh, normal, probably 7:45 was about average. When I first started working there in 2013, it was probably closer to 9:00.

Michael: Wow.

Emlon: So it started people kind of got the idea that they need to get there early.

Michael: That's Emlon Stanton.

Emlon: Emlon Stanton, and I was a Visitor Service Assistant for Logan Pass.

Michael: Who spent seven years more or less managing the whole area. You're one of the people that would make the call to close the parking lot?

Emlon: Right.

Michael: When it's full. How do you know when it's time to do that?

Emlon: Uh, normally for closing it, if there's more than 20 cars circling is normally when we made the call to close it.

Michael: In the summer of 2019, Logan Pass was open for 86 days, and three fourths of the time the parking lot of the visitor center was full by 9:00 AM.

Andrew: And from having staffed that visitor center, it's worth noting that Emlon or another ranger who's making the announcement that it's full, they don't live up at Logan Pass. They have to drive up in the morning like everyone else. So if the lot is actually full at 6:30 in the morning, it won't get called in until Emlon arrived at work.

Michael: Yeah, you're right. So what would your advice be to somebody who didn't find parking at Logan?

Emlon: Just go down the road, try to find a pull—, a legal pullout, and have them just take the shuttle back up.

Michael: Now on a personal level, I don't think anyone when they visit Glacier is excited to have to jockey for parking or deal with congestion. I mean, it's just not fun. But there are some other concerns that park managers have when they see crowds like this at Logan Pass.

Andrew: Yeah. You've got to think about, you know, can an ambulance get up here? Are people going to be forced to walk on the vegetation? Are we getting too close to the wildlife? Is someone going to get gored by a mountain goat?

Michael: Things like this are often cited as proof-positive that our national parks are being "Loved to Death." And while that might be a little hyperbolic, they are great examples of the difficult nature of carrying out our agency's mission. Now the mission of the NPS is beloved, but actually implementing it proves challenging—thanks to what's known as its dual mandate. Could you describe the dual mandate?

Andrew: Sure. Well, the mission statement says that places like Glacier are to be preserved unimpaired, but you're not going to set a glacier aside in a museum or hermetically seal it only to be viewed at a distance. Because the mission also states that they're to be preserved for future generations to use, for people to enjoy and learn from.

Michael: Yeah. And that balance between protecting something as it is and allowing for others to enjoy it—that's a tightrope walk. Too far to one side and you'll preserve it so well that nobody could ever see it. And too far to the other, you build enough road, resorts and attractions that you built a theme park.

Andrew: Yeah. You've got to find a middle ground somewhere.

Michael: Logan Pass, as we've said, is a place of superlatives, it's the highest point on the Going-to-the-Sun Road with some of the park's most extreme weather and abundant wildlife, but it's also a case study in how in the face of extreme visitation Glacier has grappled with this dual mandate.

Michael: And none of these concerns are unique to Logan Pass, destinations all along Going-to-the-Sun Road seem to grow more and more popular each year. But as the literal and figurative high point of many people's visits here, Logan Pass has been at the center of both the visitor experience and park management for a long time. And if you look at its history, you'll find some of the most misguided, controversial, and just downright bananas attempts the park has made to define our relationship to this place. Today, I'm going to share three examples of times that our favorite alpine playground was nearly "loved to death." Now the Logan Pass Visitor Center was built as part of Mission 66; a massive National Park Service program to expand and standardize infrastructure park sites all over the country in preparation for the 50th birthday of the NPS. Andrew, could you describe the Logan Pass Visitor Center?

Andrew: Sure. It's built into a hillside and it's got this big sloping roof that kind of matches the contour of the hill. It's made with stone walls and big windows everywhere to enjoy the views.

Michael: Yeah, it's beautiful. It's visually striking and I think really compliments the scenery well. But as with any construction project, it disturbed the ground it was built on. This is my first story of management foibles and folly at Logan Pass, and I'm calling it the coverup. But first Andrew, could you describe what the meadows are like?

Andrew: There's all those sub-alpine Meadows with glacier lilies, monkeyflower, all sorts of grasses...

Michael: Exactly. By the time construction had finished in 1965 pictures of the building show barren dirt all around it. But the same photo just two years later shows lush green vegetation all around the building.

Andrew: Wait, what? This seems impossible.

Michael: Yeah, no, look at it.

Andrew: Things don't usually grow that fast up at that elevation.

Michael: They don't?

Andrew: Those meadows are covered in snow for like eight months of the year. So I would expect it to take decades for all those plants to grow back.

Michael: Yeah, you're right. And here's how they did it—if you could read this excerpt from a newspaper article at the time.

Andrew: Sure—okay. Park officials decided to gather alpine turf elsewhere and transplanted around the visitor center, exactly as one might in developing a new lawn in the city. The source of the alpine sod, unfortunately, is a short distance from the visitor center, just out of the line of sight. Collectively the sites represent an area as large as a football field. Wait, they just stripped away plants from another spot and replanted them there?

Michael: Yeah. And they didn't try very hard to hide what they were doing either, cause hikers on their way to the Hidden Lake Overlook just behind the building immediately noticed patches of barren dirt, like 200 yards from the visitor center.

Andrew: Oh no—that's, that's pretty egregious.

Michael: Yeah. So management caught some flack for that, as seen from that article you just read from, but what came next was an attempt to actually protect the meadows.

Andrew: Okay. That seems like a good thing.

Michael: In a story I'm going to call "The Toxic Trail."

Andrew: Well that doesn't...

Michael: The hikers that noticed the side stripping were on their way to hidden Lake overlook a mile and a half southwest of the visitor center. Now, today, if you were to hike there, what would you be walking on?

Andrew: It's mostly on a boardwalk.

Michael: Yeah. A raised wooden boardwalk. When the visitor center opened, it was just a regular trail.

Andrew: So let me guess. After they built the visitor center, it got a lot more crowded up there. And the park was worried that all these people would start to stray off trail and walk on the plants. So they built a boardwalk to try to keep people on the trail?

Michael: It's almost like you work here! But you're right. A boardwalk was proposed for that very reason, but it wasn't a popular proposal. It was widely criticized notably by the trail crew members that would be tasked with its construction. In a letter to the editor of the Hungry Horse News. They opposed the boardwalk for four reasons. Now I haven't here. Can you read them?

Andrew: Yeah, sure. Okay. Obvious damage to the aesthetic value of this Alpine area, nothing short of an atrocity.

Michael: And their second complaint?

Andrew: We do not feel that this boardwalk will fulfill the purpose for which it is intended.

Michael: Third?

Andrew: There are a good many well-used trails in Glacier Park that are in dire need of repair and maintenance. And this money could be put to much better use.

Michael: And final.

Andrew: And finally, we feel as do all park employees, that visitor impressions are important. And so far all comments from visitors viewing this project have been negative,

Michael: A pretty thorough rebuke. Yeah.

Andrew: But there actually is a boardwalk up there today. So they must have changed their minds?

Michael: Well, park management actually dismissed both the feedback and the employees who gave it. The trail crew members who spoke up were actually fired.

Andrew: Wait really? Yeah.

Michael: The parks superintendent at the time, William Briggle, was so insistent on finishing this project despite widespread concerns, that the trail crew was replaced and work began immediately on the boardwalk. And this haste led to additional complications as well. The wood initially used was treated with pentachloraphenol, a petroleum based solvent. It pretty much right away began to leak out onto plants.

Andrew: Oh, that's not good.

Michael: Yeah. And folks that were there at the time observed the death of trees or grasses growing alongside it, but it also made it slippery and toxic for us to walk on

Andrew: What a mess. .

Michael: Yeah. Needless to say, they got a lot of flack for that as well and replaced all the wood with environmentally friendly wood at great inconvenience to visitors—because it stayed closed for longer—and at great cost to the park. But I saved the best for last, the most absurd story of visitor management, in my opinion anywhere in the park, centers around the toilets at Logan Pass.

Andrew: Oh no, this can't be good.

Michael: We often advertise that the park is home to over a million acres. But we don't advertise that we've got over 300 toilets.

Andrew: 300?

Michael: Not including lodges or hotels.

Andrew: Does that count all the backcountry campground toilets too?

Michael: Yeah. Vault toilets, pit toilets, flush toilets, outhouses, low riders, visitors centers, campgrounds, you name it.

Andrew: Hmm.

Michael: Waste management is kind of a great unspoken truth of civilization. When you've got to go, you've got to go. Even if you're miles into the backcountry. And remote restrooms, like some of them here are met with a unique set of challenges. Sperry and Granite park chalets, which you reach after hiking thousands of feet up from the trailhead, get enough traffic that their pit toilets rely on barrels that are sealed and flown out at the end of the year by helicopter.

Andrew: And I think I've heard that there used to be a solar-powered composting toilet somewhere.

Michael: Yeah, there was! Until it was destroyed by an avalanche.

Andrew: [laughs] That sounds like a huge mess.

Michael: And I even ran into a backcountry toilet this summer that had been completely torn off its foundation by a curious bear.

Andrew: Oh no, that also sounds messy.

Michael: So one of the reasons we don't advertise that we have over 300 toilets is because they're kind of gross, but it's also because nobody seemed to know the number offhand. I had a series of really humorous emails with facilities management to try to track down that estimate. But the whole reason I started looking into toilets and waste management in the first place was because I learned about our third and final story: a story I'm going to call "The Fleeting Fountains." Coinciding with the new visitor center, a new waste treatment facility was installed at Logan Pass. One that promised to capture and treat waste with a septic system that filters out liquid waste in a 17,000 gallon tank, before spraying clean water out of nearby nozzles.

Andrew: Nearby as in, out onto the meadows at Logan Pass?

Michael: Yep, watering the plants so to speak. The only problem was after the 17,000 gallon septic tank opened to the public, it got 5,000 visitors and 20,000 gallons every day.

Andrew: Oh no, that's what... 3000 gallons over capacity?

Michael: Yup. Yup. And that 17,000 gallon tank that they advertised to the public, that they reported to a federal sanitary engineer. Well, they exaggerated the size a little bit, it turns out it was only 6,000 gallons.

Andrew: So the system was faced with a demand more than three times its capacity.

Michael: Mmhmm.

Andrew: That's a big, that's a big difference. That's a lot of excess waste you gotta deal with.

Michael: A LOT. The result was... Well, can you read this?

Andrew: Okay. "The tank continued to overflow and untreated sewage effluent continued to run directly into Reynolds Creek. It was an awful sight. Saturated toilet paper made its way through the spray heads and was draped on adjacent small trees, undecomposed fecal matter was sprayed onto the subalpine vegetation, killing some of it with the liquids then flowing into Reynolds Creek."

Michael: [laughing]

Andrew: Oh, that is, that was a terrifying description.

Michael: It's just horrific. Some people began referring to them as the fecal fountains of Logan Pass and suggested the best way to solve the issue of people seeing and being disgusted by them was to only set off the nozzles at night and light them up with a colorful light show that rivals that of Disney World.

Andrew: [Laughing] Oh my God.

Michael: [Laughing] Isn't that nuts?

Andrew: That's... yeah.

Michael: Luckily these three examples of management fiascos at Logan Pass. Weren't all for not each scenario has new management solutions today. Take the sod-stripping. What do you think we do in that situation today?

Andrew: Well, rather than pull up plants that are already doing fine in the park, we'd grow new ones and the native plant nursery.

Michael: Yeah! In the case of disturbances like construction, we can replant vegetation using local seedlings collected and raised by our nursery staff. Now in the case of the boardwalk, there are systems in place now to evaluate potential development or construction before it happens.

Andrew: Yeah. And it's not unique to National Parks, but any project like this boardwalk would now require an environmental impact statement.

Michael: Or assessment.

Andrew: Which would detail all the ways that the project would impact the environment.

Michael: And finally, the toilets.

Andrew: Yeah. I don't think we use that system anymore.

Michael: Oh no. We've got a new system.

Michael: [in the car] Wow, it is a beautiful day.

Michael: And one morning this summer I drove up to Logan Pass to meet with one of the folks that helps the system work.

Michael: I feel absolutely puny in my little sedan behind this thing.

Michael: The fecal fountain fiasco was a huge black eye to the park, ultimately attracting national attention. In a letter to the then Senator from Montana, the assistant director of the national park service wrote the following: here, one last thing to read.

Andrew: Okay—"Sprayfield on Logan Pass is being eliminated and there will only be holding facilities. Next summer, Logan Pass sewage will be pumped into tank trucks and hauled to lower elevations for disposal. This will make unnecessary any additional engineering improvements to the existing system and will obviate further intrusion on the natural environment."

Michael: What's your name and job title then? Jeff: Jeff Hoyt, equipment operator.

Michael: I met with Jeff outside these vault toilets at Logan Pass. After he drove one of those tank trucks all the way up here. Speaker 4: Do you have a name for this thing?

Michael: No, it's the bigger one. Either the big pumper or the little pumper, that's which one you're taking.

Michael: And they are as noisy as they are enormous.

Andrew: How big is that tank?

Michael: Huge. Do you know how big this tank is? Jeff: Um, it is a 3,500 gallon.

Michael: Wow. Jeff: 3,500 gallon.

Michael: That tank could hold 18 hot tubs, and when full would weigh as much as seven bull moose. Now all of the waste at Logan flows into a storage tank, which is periodically vacuumed up into tank trucks like this one before being trucked down to a waste management facility near the entrance. Jeff: On a busy season. We're usually three, four loads minimum.

Michael: A day? Jeff: Every day.

Andrew: Three to four trips every day?

Michael: Yeah.

Andrew: That's like what? 28 bull moose worth of human waste.

Michael: Yeah, and that's just Logan Pass. There are at least three more vaults like it along Going-to-the-Sun Road alone that get the same treatment. It's an incredibly labor intensive strategy today. It's worth noting. We get more than three and a half times. The number of visitors that they did when the visitor center opened in 1965. All these tools, the native plant nursery, environmental impact statements, vault toilets—the park uses them to maintain the balance of our dual mandate: using and enjoying these places without destroying what we love about them.

Andrew: Yeah. We can have convenient bathrooms with no fecal fountains.

Michael: Exactly. But this balance can get harder and harder to handle in the face of increasing visitation. Now we wouldn't have the solutions we discussed today if people hadn't spoken up about the old ones. It was the voices of visitors that raised awareness of sod-stripping and put pressure on the park to fix the boardwalk. The most effective management tool a park could hope for is a community of people that support it, that care for it and are conscious of their impact during a visit. And if my time here has been any indication, we're incredibly fortunate to have supporters and stewards all around the country. In fact, if you're listening to this right now, you're a part of that community. So thank you.

Andrew: Yeah, we really couldn't do all this without you.

Michael: So the next time you're at Logan Pass, pat yourself on the back and spare a thought for the toilets. Because they are a slightly smelly symbol of our collective ability to protect this place.

SMELLSCAPES

Andrew: Okay. All this talk of toilets has got me thinking about the smells here. There are so many things to smell. Do you have any scent related memories here, Michael?

Michael: Yeah, I remember the second summer I came out here to work. I noticed how much I associated the smell of the forests around park housing with the park itself. I remember calling my family to let them know that I made it safely to Montana and mentioned that I realized how much I missed that smell. My sister, Katie thought it was hilarious. Like, what do you mean you miss the smell? Bringing it up on phone calls from time to time. But when they finally got the chance to visit, I remember her apologizing, you know, I know, I know what you're talking about now. It's it smells great.

Andrew: Yeah. That's a great story. And you're definitely not the only person who has ever been teased for their interest in the smells here. I want to play you a clip from a conversation I had recently.

Will Rice: So much grief from my colleagues, just like kind of jabbing at me, like smellscape, are you still like doing this? Like, what are you talking about? Smellscape that can't be real! And I was reading Aristotle for a class at the time and he called smell the lowest of the human senses. And it's like, even he's beating up on smells! We've never given smell its due whether it's in the parks or just in culture.

Michael: I mean, that sounds a lot like what happened with me and my sister who is, who is that?

Andrew: That's Will Rice. He's an assistant professor at the University of Montana's department of society and conservation.

Michael: Did I hear him use the word smellscape like, what is that?

Andrew: When will was doing his graduate studies at Penn State, he worked on a survey about what motivations people had to visit an especially busy part of Grand Teton National Park. One visitor told him:

Will: Well I'm here for the smellscape and initially it was kind of funny, you know, like the smellscape, that's kind of an odd term. We hear soundscape a lot in national parks and a lot of the research I do surround soundscapes. So, I was just interested. Well, is this even a thing that's been studied in any capacity.

Andrew: You realized the same thing that you were just talking about and that your sister realized when she visited: that smells play a big role in how we experience national parks, but we hardly ever talk about them. So, he wrote a paper here. You can check it out:

Michael: Pungent Parks: Smell's Growing Relevance in Park Tourism by William Rice, Garrett Hamilton, and Peter Newman.

Andrew: Luckily for us, since Will now just work down in Missoula, he was willing to drive up and take a walk with me around Apgar here and talk about the smellscape.

Andrew: So, first of all, Will, can you tell me what is a smellscape exactly?

Will: Sure. So a smellscape is just the aggregate of all the smells that make up a certain area, and the scale can really vary. So we can have smellscapes that are just the size of a small room or just a meadow, or we can have the smellscape of all of Glacier National Park, you know, the aggregate, but really it's, it's kind of what you're smelling as you're moving through a space.

Michael: The whole concept of a smellscape kind of seemed like a joke at first, but I totally get what he's talking about. If you're at Logan Pass, you're going to have a very different experience if the main scent you smell is the pit toilet versus wildflowers.

Andrew: And interestingly Will told me the biggest threat to natural smellscapes is not toilets, but actually climate change.

Will: Droughts we know are going to become more prevalent in an era of climate change and droughts tend to really change, like we're standing right now around a bunch of wild lowers that are dependent on rain every year. And if we go through a period of drought, those wildflowers may become less prevalent. In turn, if we have a larger rain event, like you're seeing, you know, with the super blooms in Southern California, that changes the smellscape. Changing weather patterns, but also wildfire is a big one. A wildfire can really dramatically change the character of a smellscape rather quickly.

Andrew: Have people tried to capture these national parks smells in any way?

Will: If you go into a store, they have officially licensed candles, air fresheners, and laundry detergent that smell like various parks. So we're trying to bring that home. I would say, you know, like if you open up the candle for Rocky Mountain National Park and you get this hit of lavender, maybe that's not exactly what it smells like, but we're trying to authenticate it somehow, but we really failing because it is so unique.

Andrew: Why should people care about smells?

Will: They're vitally important from an ecological standpoint, but also from the standpoint that I study parks from, the social experience, the visitor experience. Imagine walking into Glacier, you know, with your nose pinched, it's really going to affect your experience. And as we, as we noted in the paper, there's so much about your park experience that you can curate, that you can really make your own. Now it's taking pictures and putting them on Instagram. You can share this experience. You can record the soundscape as some people are starting to do with microphones and taking those home and mixing that. But you can't really take the smell home from a park, at least legally, you're not supposed to take, you know, pine straw home. Everyone's experiencing the smellscape while they're in the park, it's tying us all together in a place. And so we're left with this really authentic experience.

Andrew: Thanks so much for joining me today, Will.

Michael: I had never thought about it that way. There's all sorts of pictures and videos of the park. There are recordings and now even a podcast of the sounds, but to experience the smells, you just have to be here.

Andrew: Yeah, and our last story today is about another experience that you really just have to be here to have. It's something you can't experience anywhere else in the whole of the American Rockies. Just this one spot in Glacier National Park.

Michael: What is it?

Andrew: Well, you'll have to join me to find out.

Michael: Okay.

GENTIAN

Michael: Okay. You've really got me on pins and needles here. What is this experience you were talking about that's rare?

Andrew: Well, I think we should replicate the journey of one Marcus Jones.

Michael: Who's that?

Andrew: Jones was a botanist. He worked in Montana in the early 1900s. He was pretty prolific. In his career he documented and even named a ton of plants. So he was a really great botanist, but he's actually best known for his roasts.

Michael: Wait, so he's a botanist that moonlights as a roast comic?

Andrew: In a sense, he was a pretty prickly guy. And in fact, his views were so unorthodox that by the late 1920s, he was shut out of most of the botany journals. So he just took matters into his own hands. He bought a printing press, taught himself to typeset, and he started putting out his own botany journal called “Contributions to Western Botany.” With no one to edit or censor him, Jones just took to excoriating those botanists he disagreed with. I had a friend dramatize, a few of his comments for you.

Darren (As Marcus Jones): It is a common comment of workers in the Gray Herbarium that Fernald is becoming a common scold. He needs to be taken out in the woodshed and given a spanking. It is to be hoped that this will be done before he gets to the Bronxian position of seeing nothing good in the work of outsiders.

Michael: Wow. He really doesn't pull any punches.

Andrew: Yeah. And the next one's probably even worse.

Darren (As Marcus Jones): There have been several notable deaths in the botanical world since my last Contributions. Green, the past of systematic botany, has gone and relieved us from his botanical drivel. They say that the good that men do lives after them, but the evil is interred with their bones. I suspect that his grave must have been a big one to hold it all. Green was first, last, and it all the time a botanical crook and an unmitigated liar.

Michael: Holy crap, wow, wow.

Andrew: He was not afraid of speaking ill of the dead. Now to be fair, Jones was just as likely to praise those he agreed with as to nail those who he felt had crossed him.

Michael: So, okay, you can't deny that he was witty if a little bit temperamental, but what does that have to do with Glacier?

Andrew: Well, Marcus Jones spent the summer of 1909 all around Glacier National Park. During that time he spotted a rare plant, the glaucous gentian. And to this day, over 110 years later, it's never been found anywhere else in the American Rockies, besides this one pond along the continental divide in the alpine of Glacier National Park. I think we should go see it.

Michael: I'm game. What was it called again? Glock...?

Andrew: The glaucous gentian.

Michael: Okay. Uh, where is it?

Andrew: I'll have to show you it's near Logan Pass, but it is a bit of a hike.

Michael: Yeah. Okay.

Andrew: Okay. So yeah, we've hiked just over 10 and a half miles already this morning, climbed 4700 feet. And now I think we're within like a hundred yards of our gentian. We're getting really close. I'm pretty excited to see it in a minute here. So when we get up to the pond, there's some water kind of seeping out the bottom of it, and you can see there's these mossy patches that have started growing in that wet area below the pond. That's our habitat. So we're gonna walk down there, I think that's where we're gonna find our flower. And we're just going to be looking for something just a couple inches tall.

Michael: It's a pretty tough hike up here. So I was glad to get a little break while you explained some of the background of the flower and why we're up here in the first place. So he discovered the glaucous gentian, the gooseneck sedge. Did he name all these things?

Andrew: He didn't. The glaucous gentian was named actually all the way back in 1790, a Prussian botanist named Peter Simon Pallas named it.

Michael: What does glaucous mean?

Andrew: Glaucous is, I think it's a really interesting word. It's not one that people use very much these days, but it's actually one of the oldest color words that we know about. Glaucous goes all the way back to Homer. In the Odyssey, Athena is described as glaucous eyed and so it became a descriptor of a kind of blue-green color.

Speaker 3: So what is special about this glaucous gentian?

Andrew: Well, it's a pretty unique plant because it grows in so few places. It really has evolved to a very specialized kind of habitat here. This is a really harsh environment. There's a lot of snow, a lot of wind, it's cold, really short growing season. This particular spot we're in is really wet. It's fed by a snowfield. You'll see more of this type of habitat, like in the Arctic circle. So this plant is really adapted to, really an Arctic situation. But because this area is kept moist by a snowfield, it's pretty threatened by climate change. If that snowfield were to disappear, this area is going to dry out. So, scientists have been monitoring this site for 40 years, trying to track how the hydrology affects the plants. And they've noticed a statistically significant decline in the number of gentians that grow here. It really seems like it's attributable to that shrinking snowfield. It's not keeping things as moist as it used to be.

Michael: Oh, wow. So it sounds like climate change is making this plant even rarer.

Andrew: I talked to one scientist, who's been coming up here for years. And he said, when he first started, he would kneel down to look at the flowers and when he'd stand up his pants were soaking wet. And in recent years he stands up and his pants are still dry. It's just not as moist here anymore. It's interesting because you know, we've seen the climate trends in this area. We've seen increased temperatures obviously, but we've also seen somewhat increased precipitation, so you think maybe a wet plant would benefit from that, and it would be fine. But because that summer heat is so intense, it starts so early, it's warmer in March, April, May. Often it stays about freezing at night in May things are just melting out faster and it doesn't stay wet late enough into the season.

Michael: So it's less about the amount of moisture, but about the consistency?

Andrew: The timing. Yeah. It doesn't stay all, all summer anymore. So we're gonna keep monitoring this site and see what happens to the gentians, but they're really a signal for us to the health of our snowfields and, and the changing climate up here. Oh, and there's a mountain goat.

Michael: Well, I'm excited to try to find it.

Andrew: Should we go ahead down there?

Michael: Sure.

Andrew: Okay. It's been about 30 minutes now. I really actually thought we would have found it by now, but, no sign of it so far, the search continues.

Michael: Spotted saxifrage, buttercups, and lots of moss. No, Gentian yet.

Andrew: Alright, we're hitting the one hour mark. Still no sign of the flower. I'm a bit puzzled. Thought we definitely would have found it by now.

Michael: Big pile of bear poop.

Andrew: Okay. We're approaching two hours. Starting to wonder if this thing is even here anymore. I really don't know where else to look, but, I think we're going to give it just in a little longer, maybe another half hour.

Michael: I think Andrew just found it. I heard him shout.

Andrew: I have like the biggest smile on my face right now. It feels so nice to find it. Ah, ah, it feels so good. We've been looking for a couple of hours at this point. Yeah. Two and a half hours of just combing every square inch of this area, but it's here. It still exists. It's as glaucous as advertised.

Michael: Yeah. When you said blue-green, I was picturing more blue than green, I think. But it definitely was hard to pick out from everything around it.

Michael: I can only imagine the insults Marcus Jones would have hurled at us after that performance.

Andrew: Hey all's well, that ends well. And it was pretty exciting when we finally found it.

Michael: One of the coolest and most special things about Glacier National Park is the easy access to these wild alpine habitats. I mean, you could just drive right up to what is basically an arctic habitat zone at Logan Pass. That's pretty incredible.

Andrew: Yeah, it's really great. But it comes with some responsibility as well. These alpine environments are really sensitive to disturbance, like from climate change as we discussed, but also our small individual actions like walking on or picking the flowers. It's never worth stepping on one flower to get a better picture or view of another one. But despite the toilets and the cars and all of the people up there, Logan Pass is still one of the best places in the world to get close to nature.

Michael: And together, if we leave no trace, we can be sure to keep it that way for a long, long time to come.

Andrew: That’s our show for today—If you’re interested in learning more about visiting Logan Pass, or how to Leave No Trace when visiting a natural area, you can find links in the show notes for more info.

Michael: Thanks for listening!

CREDITS

Renata: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The show was written and recorded on traditional Native lands. Andrew Smith and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music. Alex Stillson provided tech support Quinn Feller designed our art Renata Harrison researched the show, Lacy Kowalski was always there for us, and Daniel Lombardi and Bill Hayden were the executive directors. Support for the show comes from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The Conservancy works to preserve and protect the park for future generations. We couldn't do it without them, and they couldn't do it without support from thousands of generous donors. If you want to learn more about how to support this podcast, or other awesome Conservancy projects, please go to their website at glacier.org. Of course you can always help support the show by sharing it with everyone you know— your friends, your family, your dog... And also leave us a review online. Special thanks this episode to Bill Schustrom, Emlon Stanton, Will Rice, Darren Lewis, Jeff Hoyt—along with the entire facilities crew here at Glacier.

Featuring: Bill Schustrom, Jeff Hoyt, Emlon Stanton, Will Rice, and Darren Lewis.

For more info, visit go.nps.gov/headwaters

Confluence | Lake McDonald

6 december 2020 | 60 min

How does fire affect our relationship with the park? In this episode of Headwaters we explore our relationship to fire through different lenses. What is it like to be in a wildfire? How have native people used fire? How does fire affect plants and animals? And finally, what can we learn about our history from fire?

Featuring: Chris Peterson, Tony Incashola Sr., Dawn LaFleur, Teagan Hayes, Mike Sanger, Sarah Peterson, and Brent Rowley.

For more information, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

SPRAGUE INTRODUCTION

Michael:

It's Thursday, August 10th, 2017. And I have the day off.

Andrew:

For context, we were both rangers here in the summer of 2017.

Michael:

Yes. And the job of leading guided hikes campground talks and staffing the visitor center is very rewarding, but can also be exhausting. So when the weekend rolled around some friends and I planned a relaxing backcountry, camping trip. We got a permit for the backcountry campground on the West shore of Lake McDonald. One of the few back country campgrounds that you can paddle a canoe to. So we loaded our gear into dry bags, packed our life jackets and set sail for some RNR. The campground itself is known for being sunny, that burned over in a wildland fire in 2003 and the remaining lifeless and limbless trees offer little in the way of shade.

Andrew:

That's an understatement.

Michael:

So we set out in the afternoon thinking we'd arrive after the heat of the day had passed. The first half of the paddle was nice and sunny, but the further we went, the clouds began to roll in. With each stroke the sky seemed to grow darker and we paddled faster and faster and faster to reach the shoreline. We thought we'd beaten the weather as we pulled our canoe ashore, but a clap of thunder echoed off the mountains and signaled the night that was yet to come. As we frantically assembled our tents and shabby burritos, the storm arrived. Rain came in a torrent instantly soaking me through my jacket. We hung our food up so we could retreat to our tents. But then the wind began to pick up. In my memory what came next was a loud, deafening blur. Rain pelted the ground, and began to sound like angry radio static.

Michael:

The wind was strong enough you had to brace yourself against it or be blown over and begin to topple the trees around us. And as they crashed down left and right, we ran to the lakeshore for safety as lightning and thunder reverberated up above. But just like that, it was over. The air was calm. The rain had stopped and we breathed a collective sigh of relief as we returned to the soggy rice and bean burritos we'd put away. As we ate, we tried to make sense of what had just happened, pointing out the trees that had fallen down, comparing how well our jackets had worked. But only then, with mouthfuls of burrito, did we notice a column of smoke across the lake. Smoke that would eventually grow to become the Sprague fire that burned 17,000 acres and the Sperry chalet.

Andrew:

Wow, that's crazy that you sat through the storm that started it all. I was actually just straight across the lake from you. At the same time at the Lake McDonald lodge, I was supposed to give the evening ranger program up at the Lake McDonald lodge auditorium that night. It was super stormy as I drove up from Apgar. And while I was getting ready for my talk, the power went out in the building. It was pitch black in the auditorium. I didn't think people would really be able to safely walk around the room so I just decided to cancel the program. So if you were trying to attend the ranger program at the Lake McDonald Lodge auditorium on August 10, 2017, I'm very sorry. You'll have to catch me another time. When I canceled, I stood outside the building to let people know that the program wouldn't be happening that night. It was at 8:36 PM, a few minutes after the talk was scheduled to start, that lightning struck the hillside above me and ignited the Sprague Creek fire. With no program to give I drove back down to my office in Apgar. There were lots of people just standing around and watching the flames. So in a routine that would become common over the coming months from across the Lake, I watched the fire glow against the dark night sky. I was still wearing my ranger uniform. So I stayed on the beach there for hours answering questions from concerned visitors.

Michael:

The fire became a spectacle. At night people would gather to watch it burn. Slowly at first, then rapidly as one hot and dry week was followed by another.

Andrew:

In all the Sprague fire burned for about three months on the east shore of Lake McDonald, until it was finally extinguished by autumn snow.

Michael:

Here on Lake McDonald, wildfire is a fact of life for plants, animals, and people are like, if you want to exist here, you've got to learn to live with it.

Andrew:

In this episode, we're going to learn about something that's becoming an everyday concern for people around the American West: what happens when people and wildfire come together. Welcome to Headwaters - a Glacier National Park Podcast. Brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy, and produced on the traditional lands of many native American tribes, including the Blackfeet, Kootenai, Selis and Qlispe people.

Michael:

We’re calling this season: The Confluence, as we look at the ways that nature, culture, the present and the past all come together here.

Andrew:

I’m Andrew.

Michael:

I’m Michael.

Andrew:

And we’re both rangers here. And today we're in the Lake McDonald valley.

Michael:

Near the west entrance of the park, the Lake McDonald area is the most visited region of Glacier. Lake McDonald itself is one of the park's, most cherished attractions, at 10 miles long, and over a mile wide it's also the largest lake in glacier.

Andrew:

This area gets hit with a ton of lightning, and that means that wildfires start with considerable frequency.

Michael:

What happens in a place dense with people and fire. And that's what we're going to explore in this episode.

TRAPPER PART 1

Michael:

To start out. I wanted to talk to someone who knows the park as well as anyone even better than most rangers.

Chris Peterson:

My name is Chris Peterson and I am the editor of the Hungry Horse News.

Andrew:

Oh yeah, Chris!

Michael:

Hardly anything happens in Northwest Montana without Chris writing or at least knowing about it.

Andrew:

It seems like he's been here forever. How long has Chris been around?

Chris Peterson:

Since 1998, which would make it a, this will be my 23rd summer.

Andrew:

I've seen his byline a lot, but he's a photographer too, right?

Michael:

Yeah. You're right. After graduating college, Chris started working for a small town daily newspaper in New York where he started to pick up photography.

Chris Peterson:

Back in New York, uh, at the daily you had to shoot your own photos. So my photos were terrible. I was awful photographer. Didn't know what I was doing. And so I started shooting Buffalo bills, games, you know, at a Buffalo bills game you know, it was like 85,000 people there, but there's also 120 photographers. So you could, you can learn a lot just by watching the other guys.

Michael:

And after he really developed his photography skills.

New Speaker:

Oh boy.

Michael:

He landed a new job.

Chris Peterson:

So that kind of set up my portfolio and then the Hungry Horse News had put out an ad for a photographer and I applied and I got the job and the rest is kind of history, I guess.

Andrew:

That's a big switch to go from photographing Bills games to bald eagles.

Michael:

Yeah. It's a big adjustment, but he took to it. But part of covering news in the West is wildfire something Chris didn't have any experience with from his time in New York.

Chris Peterson:

Oh, well, you know, in, in New York there are, I mean, big fires. Yeah. But they were all houses or, um, you know, tire dumps.

Michael:

But it didn't take him long to get experience. The second summer, he covered the West Flattop fire, two years after that the moose fire, then the Anaconda fire.

Chris Peterson:

So, so I'd cut my teeth.

Michael:

All of which led up to 2003. You had a couple of seasons of experience then covering summer fires. What was the feeling going into the summer of 2003?

Chris Peterson:

You know, in retrospect, um, we probably should have known that we were going to have a big fire year, but I can remember in June, like just people just having fun. Cause it didn't rain. I mean, June typically is one of the wettest months. If not the wettest month in the park. It didn't rain. So everyone was having, you know—everyone's camping and fishing and float. And you know, the park is just full of people...

Radio:

The fire danger rating has been moved up and is now high.

Michael:

But by July fires began to crop up. In fact, on July 17th, after a morning storm, six fires were spotted in the park.

Andrew:

Wow. That's a lot.

Michael:

Yeah. More fires than the park season. Some whole years, just in one morning. The next day, Numa Ridge lookout spotted the Wedge Canyon fire in the North fork, which within two days had grown to 4,000 acres. And due to the number of homes in the area was the number one priority fire in the nation.

Andrew:

Wow. Uh, so what was Chris doing at the time?

Chris Peterson:

We were out running around, taking photos of them. You know, drove up and looked at Wedge Canyon and man, it was ripping across the ridge one day. So we knew unless it rained that things were probably going to get worse, not better. I don't think we thought they'd get as bad as they did.

Michael:

At the same time the Wedge Canyon fire was burning in the North fork, a fire was burning in the heart of the Upper McDonald Creek Valley: the Trapper Fire. The fire at the heart of our story was at the time. So remote that it was seen as a low priority. Park employees like Chris Baker, the lookout stationed on Swiftcurrent mountain, described what it looked like. She wrote an article after the fire all about it. Here, can you read the first part?

Andrew:

Okay. "When I arrived back at Swiftcurrent, flattop mountain was puffing here and there, but the smokes just weren't that impressive. The lightning storm had planted its seeds, but nothing much was showing yet." So for a while, trapper was underwhelming?

Michael:

Yeah, it was.

Andrew:

But that obviously didn't last forever.

Michael:

No, it did not.

Chris Peterson:

July 23rd comes along, changes everything.

Michael:

The forecast for the 23rd called for extreme winds, 30 miles an hour or more.

Chris Peterson:

Right. Right. Exactly. And so that's why, that's why we're at the loop on the 23rd.

Michael:

Now, if you've ever driven the Going-to-the-Sun Road to Logan Pass from Lake MacDonald, you may remember the loop as the single hairpin turn on the whole route. As the road turns back on itself, you've got eight miles left to Logan Pass as you rise above the trees, getting a view of the McDonald Creek Valley—And, Chris hoped, the Trapper fire.

Chris Peterson:

Okay, it's pretty windy day. Let's get up there, see what's going on. And let's take a look at it.

Michael:

His instincts were right. Chris Baker, the lookout at Swiftcurrent watch the trapper fire grow that day. And rather than have you read everything, Andrew, I had a friend read the rest of her quotes for it.

Chris Baker:

There was no mistaking it when Trapper decided to make its move. I was looking right at it when it did. That wimpy white column suddenly grew tall, turned to brown, then black. Then it was wider and moving.

Chris Peterson:

And you could see that fire probably I'm guessing five miles away. And it's just starting to look like a tornado. If you can imagine a huge, a really big tornado in the sense that it's like this big circular cloud black and it just starts spinning and you can see it and it's coming closer and closer and closer.

Andrew:

That's nothing like what I expected.

Michael:

And Chris was far from the only person at the loop watching this unfold.

Chris Peterson:

I mean more and more people showed up and were just watching it. And there were other people there everyone's taking pictures.

Michael:

So there were reporters like Chris there, visitors had stopped to take pictures. There was even a corporate marketing team there.

Chris Peterson:

One of the more memorable things was there was this a couple of women in their twenties, um, with like tank tops on. And they had a red bull pickup truck, you know, red bull, that energy drink, but it had it like a big fake can on the back of a pickup truck.

Michael:

As the fire was coming closer and closer and everyone was taking photos. The red bull staff was running around with free samples.

Andrew:

Okay. I think watching a fire race towards you is a situation where you definitely would not need the extra boost from an energy drink.

Michael:

[laughing] Yeah, I think you're right. But without the Red Bull, Chris described the atmosphere being charged with anticipation and excitement.

Chris Peterson:

So we're taking pictures of her with the smoke and the fire and smoke and stuff in the background and they're taking pictures and it just kind of got into like almost a party type atmosphere in the sense that here it comes. And it came like right to the edge of the, you know, the Canyon.

Chris Peterson:

It was just a, like a, you know, a freight train.

Andrew:

But he must've gotten out safely.

Michael:

He did.

Chris Peterson:

The fire gets to the loop. Everyone he takes off because it didn't burn over the loop. It's obvious it's not going to stop.

Michael:

As it burned over the loop. It claimed anything in its path vehicles that were parked there, trail head signs, heck for years there were stains on the pavement from where port-a-potties melted into the asphalt.

Andrew:

That's kind of gross. Uh, what happened next?

Michael:

Well, the Trapper fire continued to burn uphill straight towards the Granite Park Chalet and... Well you'll have to wait and see. I talked to Mike Sanger, one of the employees that was at granite park chalet that night later in the episode.

Andrew:

I see.

Michael:

But Chris' experience goes to show that even when it's coming towards you, even when it's endangering your own safety, you can't help but watch fire. As powerful and destructive as it is. It has a sort of magnetism.

TRADITIONAL FIRE

Tony Incashola:

My name is Tony Incashola Sr. I'm the director for the Salish Kalispell Culture Committee for the Confederated Salish and Kootenai tribes.

Andrew:

People interacting with wildfire here is not a new phenomenon. In fact, it's been happening for thousands of years. To learn more I decided to talk to Tony Incashola Sr. about the role that fire plays in the traditional Salish way of life. We talked about how, from Tony's perspective, not enough people understand the significance and value of fire. This misunderstanding of our environment makes fire more dangerous. And he talked about how national parks are a place where we can learn to connect with the natural world. So Tony, if we have listeners from other parts of the country or the world who aren't familiar with, the Selis people, what do they need to know about Selis history?

Tony Incashola:

According to the stories from our elders, the Selis-speaking people have been in this area since the last ice age. My, my group, my band of Selis are the most eastern Selis-speaking people here in Montana, and our aboriginal territory consisted of about 22 million acres. And then it came along in 1855 when more settlers and homesteaders moved into our area a treaty was, was negotiated. And it took several days before the leaders of the tribe agreed to, to be put on a reservation. And so that's why we are where we're at today on our 1.3 million acre reservation here. So that's kind of in a nutshell from the past where we started and how we got to where we're at as Selis-speaking people.

Andrew:

So I wanted to have you in today to talk about fire. What role does fire have in the Selis tradition?

Tony Incashola:

The Selis people, they would set fires to their favorite hunting areas, their favorite spots. When the weather was predictable, they would set fires knowning that the fire would be put out as soon as the snow got here. So there was no fear of that being a wild fire. When they did that, they'd go back into spring time and where they had set fire, they could see all the new growth coming up, the green grass, clearing the underbrush for the berries and for all the other foods that were necessary, both food and medicinal plants. It would clear it out. It was like doing work in a garden, you know, as you go in the garden, you clean out all the weeds. That's what they used fire for.

Andrew:

Were there other advantages to setting fires?

Tony Incashola:

The other thing they use it, of course, before they had horses and before they had rifles, you know, getting buffalo, hunting buffalo, sometimes was very difficult on foot. So sometimes they'd look at certain areas and they'd see these areas and they'd use fire to bring the herd to certain places. And then once they get to these certain jumps they'd build these running lanes and they used these cliffs for buffalo jumps, so go over there. So that was another way of using the fire.

Andrew:

That's really interesting, using fire to manage vegetation and to drive buffalo over cliffs, to hunt efficiently. It's a pretty amazing technique. How did traditional people actually manage these fires?

Tony Incashola:

Just like our professionals today, we have professional fisheries, water, people in those areas. Well, back then they had these people that were dedicated and assigned to fires and they were the only ones that would set the fire, because they've studied fire, they've understood fire. And so they're the ones that were allowed to set these fires.

Andrew:

And how did they actually start the fires? Where did the embers come from?

Tony Incashola:

They used buffalo horns or different things to carry these embers of fire because it was so hard, you know, to, to make fire. So they'd make a fire and then take these embers and store them in these buffalo horns or something, then they'd have these firestarters, what they call them, firestarters. They'd gallop to these different places and set fire. And like I said, only those people were allowed to do that.

Andrew:

Why do you think so many people have negative feelings about fire?

Tony Incashola:

One, I think is a misunderstanding exactly what fire is, what it means and what it could do. The other thing is fear. Naturally, it's frightening. I mean, you look at California today and how dry, how brushy some of those go up like matchsticks. And I think that's what people are afraid of, that because they don't understand fire, not knowing how our environment works, how the trees, how the animals, how the rain, how the fire--everything has a role in our ecosystem. And the people today don't understand. They don't understand how our ecosystem works. They need to know that fire is necessary. Fire must happen so that we don't get what we're getting in California today.

Andrew:

What's the reason for this poor understanding of ecosystems?

Tony Incashola:

I think because of the values, value system that we created and the values that we think are more important now today. That our lives are put first, rather than together with other things. You know, everything goes hand in hand. One of the things, when I was growing up, my grandparents and my parents and all of my elders that have always taught me, and always said, every living thing is equal. You treat it as an equal. You don't think you're better. You don't go, you don't dominate, because you dominate you destroy. And that's what we have as human beings. We've dominated certain things. We've changed certain things, and we've destroyed that. And so I think a lot of that is as misunderstanding. And national parks are kind of a stronghold of what used to be. So national parks are places that continue to be very important, especially to me, especially to natives that understand what the park is. You know, because it used to be this whole country. And there's still a need for parks. There's still a need for areas like this for our spirituality, for our wellbeing, for our minds. How many times have we in our lives have got so frustrated with our jobs, with the things that we do every day over and over that we need these areas of solitude to go, touch the ground again, to put your feet back on the ground and kind of soothe everything. All of that weight seems to lift and create something, a peace of mind that lets you move forward again. We need these places.

FIRE ECOLOGY

Andrew:

So, fire has a long history in this place. It can be a creative as well as a destructive force. And whether you like it or not, it's a factor that has to be considered in deciding how to manage this park. To learn more about what role wildland fire plays in the ecosystem here. I decided to talk to Dawn LaFleur.

Dawn LaFleur:

My name is Dawn LaFleur, and I am the vegetation management biologist for the park.

Andrew:

What does a vegetation management biologists do?

Dawn LaFleur:

What does that entail? It basically manages the vegetation for the park. So that's anything from forest management, basically making sure we have healthy forest ecosystems, as well as maintaining native plant communities. So whenever we have disturbance, human-caused disturbance, we go in behind the disturbance and utilize native plant materials that we've collected and grown at our native plant nursery. So basically trying to manage the native vegetation as well as the invasive vegetation to maintain healthy ecosystems.

Andrew:

I met Dawn on the site of the Howe Ridge fire, which in 2018 burned about 14,000 acres on the west shore of Lake McDonald. It was one year after the Sprague fire, which we talked about at the top of the show, and on the opposite side of the lake. At times, it can be a bit noisy here now that there's not much of a forest to shelter you from the wind. I asked Don what this area had looked like before the fire.

Dawn LaFleur:

It was cedar-hemlock, big old growth trees. Usually anywhere between a 100 to 200, 300 year old trees were here. And then we had the Howe Ridge fire that came through and actually burned it very, very hot, where this hadn't burned at least for 400 years.

Andrew:

So that was a pretty intense fire?

Dawn LaFleur:

It was very intense. It was very unusual. We had the extreme fire behavior happened at night and came down here very fast, very quickly and burned very intensely.

Andrew:

About two weeks after this spot burned, Dawn was one of the first people to come back here and start to assess the impact.

Dawn LaFleur:

So what we were looking for were signs of vegetation, any potential signs of vegetation recovery already, as well as the impacts to our soil.

Andrew:

The type of soil impacts Dawn is looking for are things like, how burnt is this soil? Will things be able to grow in it? And she'll look at hillsides to see if any of them have potential for erosion now that root systems that were holding them together might be burnt out. Do you remember what your initial impressions were at the time?

Dawn LaFleur:

Oh my goodness. Oh my gosh. All we have left are toothpicks, were my initial impressions.

Andrew:

For a fire to burn up essentially every tree was unusual. Typically when Dawn visits a recently burned area, the fire

Dawn LaFleur:

doesn't wipe everything out. It'll find a section of vegetation or trees, a pocket of trees to burn in and move around and kind of skip and create a mosaic or little islands of vegetation, which actually helps for rehabilitating the landscape afterwards.

Michael:

So why was this fire so intense?

Andrew:

It was a combination of factors. For one, the summer of 2018 was extremely hot and dry, but fire suppression efforts in the early 1900s had also disrupted some of the natural cycles here.

Dawn LaFleur:

Has a huge role in this natural ecosystem. We have plants and tree species like lodgepole pine that are fired dependent.

Andrew:

These are species that have evolved to rely on fire to succeed. Lodgepole pines, which need a lot of sunlight, have special cones that are tightly bound shut by resin. The seeds are trapped inside the cone until there's a wildfire, the type of event that would clear out the canopy and make it sunny enough for them to grow. When fire passes through

Dawn LaFleur:

the coons get heated up and release their seeds and they establish a forest. And then after about 20, 30 years, you have mountain pine beetle, which is also a native.

Andrew:

The mountain pine beetle will kill a few of the pines, but not all of them. Since these two species evolved together, the pines have a natural defense against the beetles. Then a low or medium intensity fire would burn out the killed trees, thinning the forest.

Dawn LaFleur:

So it's been a natural cycle between 20 and 30 years of fire to be on the landscape. We've been suppressing it since the 1920s. And so that's why we're starting to see more intense fire on the landscape.

Andrew:

In Dawn's career she's witnessed summers get warmer and drier, and the snowpack disappearing earlier in the spring, allowing soil and vegetation to dry out. These effects are changing the role that fire plays in the ecosystem.

Dawn LaFleur:

What it is is climate change. We're getting drier and hotter sooner. And then the other thing we're seeing is with extreme fire and not enough moisture in the spring, what takes advantage of those open niches after a fire are non-native plants. The opportunists, we're seeing a lot more non-native invasive plants coming in into our burned areas than we have had in the past.

Andrew:

But Dawn hasn't lost hope. She still has a clear and optimistic vision of how this area can recover.

Dawn LaFleur:

My hope would be in five years, we should have conifers that are three to four foot tall, a good diversity of conifers. I would hope a lot of larch in here, cause they tend to be fire resistant. And it would be wonderful to see pockets. I don't expect it all across the landscape up here, but little pockets of moisture where we could see cedar-hemlock coming back, and this would be completely green and you've got woodpeckers utilizing the snags and everything. We would be standing here and we would be, we would have vegetation over our heads.

Andrew:

Sounds lovely.

Dawn LaFleur:

And as we get more vegetation established, that will out-compete, as we get an overstory, it'll out-compete these, newly established invasives. And so much more native plant diversity.

Michael:

Protecting plant diversity in Glacier National Park is a collective endeavor. Dawn can't do it alone.

Andrew:

She asks that when people visit here, they take a moment to think about how their actions will affect the plant life around them.

Dawn LaFleur:

Stay on the trail, definitely stay on the trail, walk in the mud, don't go around mud holes and don't pick the flowers. Please don't pick the flowers.

Andrew:

The reason to walk through the mud is that if you go around, you'll widen the trail and disturb the vegetation around it. And we leave flowers where they are so everyone can enjoy them. And because they're part of the ecosystem here.

Dawn LaFleur:

Yeah, minimize your impact by just being respectful of the vegetation.

Andrew:

The plant life in Glacier National Park evolved in the presence of fire, and is adapted to frequent burning. Fire can be a source of renewal and even catalyze the processes of growth and change that make Glacier home to an incredible diversity of plant life, over 1100 species.

Michael:

As climate change affects the behavior of wildfire and fire ceases to behave in the way plants are adapted to, its destructive tendencies can start to outweigh its constructive ones.

Andrew:

It's something that scientists in Glacier like Dawn will continue to monitor.

Michael:

When a wildfire changes the makeup of a forest and what kind of species grow there, the effects aren't limited to just plant life.

Andrew:

These changes to the vegetation are going to have consequences that ripple down the whole food chain, affecting everything from the bushy tail wood rat up to the moose and grizzly bear.

Teagan Hayes:

Mule deer in particular are browsers. And so they rely really heavily on shrubs and other kind of nutrient dense species. So...

Andrew:

That's Teagan Hayes. She's a wildlife biologist. Her master's thesis was about ungulate forage in wildfire, dominated landscapes. In other words, how deer food is affected by fire. One of the study areas was not far from where we're standing right now. Teagan explained to me that wildfire...

Teagan Hayes:

...allows for species to get the nutrients they need in their home range or in their population range. And so for my research, when I was looking at mule deer, mule deer don't really change their home ranges very much geographically. And so change is especially important for a species like that, where if you never allowed disturbances to happen, then they will not be able to find the food they need. So, and that's the same for a lot of species in the park.

Andrew:

In other words, mule deer need fire. It promotes the growth of shrubs that are the bulk of their diet and they aren't keen to move around to find these plants. They need the fire to happen right within their home range. A deer population, in turn, is necessary to support grizzlies, mountain lions and wolves, a whole thriving ecosystem dependent on regular wildfire. I took Teagan to the Forest and Fire Nature Trail near the Camas Creek entrance to the park, this trail is a great spot to get an introduction to the fire ecology of glacier national park. Burnt in the 2001 moose fire, it's now home to a thriving lodgepole pine and aspen forest.

Teagan Hayes:

So we are now in a young aspen stand. Of course you have the nice rustle of the leaves, which aspen are named after the quaking aspen, the vegetation, the shrubs and the understory are a bit taller. So we have, there's a little more diversity here.

Andrew:

Aspen is one of the habitat types that responds best after a fire. Aspens that burned down are able to re-sprout from underground roots. In no time or recently burned stand of aspen will be a lush and suitable deer habitat.

Teagan Hayes:

They tend to love aspen. Aspens provide a different kind of cover and they provide a different suite of forage species and they tend to stay kind of cooler and wetter for longer. So I think they offer that, kind of that multitude of things, where you have higher diversity of plants, you have longer blooming period often, or period where things are fresh and nutritious. They tend to provide pretty good security as well.

Andrew:

As we moved down the trail, Teagan pointed out a flower, which I was surprised to hear was a good food source.

Teagan Hayes:

Oh, we've been seeing rose, which despite its prickles is also actually usually pretty sought after by ungulates too. So they'll nip just the ends off and avoid the worst of the prickles.

Andrew:

Wildfire is kind of a contradictory thing here. On one hand, it's natural and totally necessary for many of the plants and animals. But on the other hand, climate change is making it much more common and severe. And regardless of whether it's good or bad, it's always tough to live with.

Teagan Hayes:

Yeah. I mean, some of the most interesting and kind of disheartening research is when there's abnormally hot fires or more frequent fires than would normally be occurring in a forest. And they'll actually burn so hot that the seedlings can't establish anymore. And so you can end up having what was once a forest become a grassland or you can, you'll see that the tree species that used to grow in an area are no longer suited to the climate or the climate that a disturbance has created.

Andrew:

Still, she recognizes the importance of having natural fire on the landscape.

Teagan Hayes:

Fire, because it's a hot and dry climate during some of the year, it's one of those natural disturbances that Glacier and other mountainous places are adapted to and so it's, it's a necessity.

Andrew:

Of course, what applies in a national park where there are no subdivisions full of houses will be different from a policy that makes sense in a more densely inhabited area.

Teagan Hayes:

We can't always let fires burn due to all kinds of challenges, whether that's with human structures or infrastructure. So we're really right now just trying to find the balance between what we, what the ideal situation is for fire and what the ideal situation is for living in this area.

Andrew:

In places like Glacier National Park, where natural processes still dominate, and where we try to minimize our intrusion into the web of life, fire will continue to play a part, and scientists like Dawn and Teagan will continue to try to understand it. In the Lake McDonald Valley, where humans and wildfire are both common. We need to learn to live with fire, to let it play its natural role, creating the rich, diverse and thriving ecosystem that we come here to enjoy.

Page Break

GLACIER NATIONAL PARK CONSERVANCY AD

Andrew:

Each episode, we seem to cover at least one thing that like this podcast wouldn't be possible without the support of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Michael:

With the help of some friends over there, we got the number of executive director, Doug Mitchell, and decided to call him up out of the blue to ask about these projects.

Andrew:

For this episode, we wanted to ask about Sperry chalet.

Doug Mitchell:

Glacier Conservancy, Doug Mitchell speaking.

Andrew:

Hey Doug, it's Andrew and Michael, how are you doing?

Doug Mitchell:

Hey, good. How are my favorite podcasters today?

Andrew:

We're doing well, just enjoying the beauty out here. Got to go up and check out the new Sperry chalet. And it was phenomenal. It, it looked just like before, even down to the stonework.

Doug Mitchell:

Yeah. It's really incredible what they were able to accomplish. I'm glad you brought up the stonework. I was talking to Zach Anderson of Anderson Masonry and his family were the original stonemason family. So if it looks the same, there's a reason and the care they took to make sure that it looked the same way it did when it was originally built in 1913 is really rather remarkable.

Andrew:

Yeah, and it's a great thing for people to check out while they're visiting and go see all the attention to detail and craft that went into it.

Doug Mitchell:

It really is a remarkable discovery. I was able to hike there this year with some people who had never been there and we hiked through Gunsight and to come over the top and see Sperry, it's almost like you just have to stop in your tracks as they did to see how is this possible. I've hiked 13.1 miles into the wilderness and look at what is there. It really is. It really is something. Yeah.

Michael:

We wanted to talk to you about it because we know the Glacier National Park Conservancy as the park's official non-profit partner played a huge role in helping restore the chalet.

Doug Mitchell:

We were in the superintendents office the very next morning at 10:00 AM after the fire burned Sperry. And by later that week, we had taken our lone credit card down to the hardware store here and bought the pieces of wood that held Sperry up over the winter. And it really was a remarkable public-private partnership that really made the improbable happen.

Andrew:

Thanks for taking some time to talk to us. It's always great to hear from you

Doug Mitchell:

Always great to talk to you guys and thanks again for all you're doing.

Michael:

Absolutely. Thanks for funding it. We'll talk to you soon.

Doug Mitchell:

Alright, cheers.

Michael:

Bye.

TRAPPER PART 2

Michael:

So we just heard from Dawn and Tegan about how plants -

Andrew:

Like Lodgepole pine,

Michael:

- and animals,

Andrew:

Like mule deer,

Michael:

- can benefit from the presence of fire in the ecosystem.

Andrew:

And from talking to Tony, we know that the Salish and other Indigenous communities have a deep understanding of fire's role on the landscape, and would use, it as he put it, almost like a gardening tool, to invite new and healthy plant growth.

Michael:

Working here, a big part of our job has been sharing that knowledge with visitors, talking about the plants and animals that thrive in fire’s aftermath. Yet knowing and understanding these things won't change how you respond to fire when you're faced with it - when the flames themselves are bearing down on you. So, we met Chris Peterson earlier, who watched and photographed the 2003 Trapper fire as it made a run over the Loop...

Andrew:

Yeah...

Michael:

But after it burned over the Loop, it kept going, racing upwards towards the Granite Park Chalet, a historic compound of stone cabins high in the mountains that still provide rustic lodging and dining accommodations.

Andrew:

To get there, you can either hike the Highline trail from Logan Pass, or start up from the Loop on the Loop trail.

Michael:

I hiked up to Granite Park this summer to talk with someone who's worked there since 2002 and was there on July 23rd, 2006.

Mike Sanger:

My name is Mike Sanger. I'm from Great Falls, Montana originally. I live in Belt, Montana now. I've worked for the Park Service, this will be my 19th year here at Granite Park.

Michael:

Mike keeps Granite running, managing the waste disposal system, addressing bear encounters, medical emergencies...When I caught up to him, he was fixing the sink in the chalet kitchen. And having grown up in Montana, Mike had been familiar with wildfire from afar.

Mike Sanger:

Seeing them in the distance, not quite as close as I did here [chuckles].

Michael:

But, in the unprecedented fire year of 2003, he came face to face with the Trapper fire.

Michael:

Well, I understand you were hiking up here on July 23rd. Is that right?

Mike Sanger:

I was. My boss, Walter Tab, had dropped me off at the Loop trailhead. The trail was already closed at that time and it was smoky there at the parking lot. And I asked him, I said, well, the trail’s closed. And he goes, well, you better get moving. You need to get up there. And on the way up, I passed a female ranger, and what they were doing at that time was sweeping the trails for people and trying to get them up here. And she asked me if I knew where the fire was. And I said, I have no idea, but once we get to Granite, we'll probably be able to see better and know exactly what's going on.

Andrew:

As I understand it, Mike's up there for a week or so at a time, then rotates out with a partner.

Michael:

Exactly. He was originally scheduled to hike back in to tap out his partner on the 23rd, but was sent up that day with a different goal: to help protect the chalet itself.

Mike Sanger:

And we made really good time getting up here to Granite Park.

Michael:

Yeah, goodness. When did it sink in that it was going to be a problem?

Mike Sanger:

When I got up here and I saw fire hoses strung out all over the place and Chris Burke, my partner was here and I asked, I said, where's the fire? And he pointed towards Flattop. And it was immediately apparent that we had a problem on our hands.

Michael:

So, they had to fortify the compound. With limited time and supplies, that meant converting their finicky drinking water pump into a sprinkler system to keep the buildings wet- an approach that they weren't confident would work.

Mike Sanger:

We went down to start the pump and it took two or three times. And you had to talk nice to this thing. And Chris pulled it, and the first time, it went off, and we're all high-fiving...

Michael:

But celebrations could wait. As the fire grew closer and closer, conditions only worsened.

Mike Sanger:

It was really horrific for quite a while because we had no idea where the fire was. The winds were horrific. I mean, they were blowing probably 70 plus miles an hour. And, um, and we were having embers starting to come down. And what we did is we pulled all the railings from the chalet. We were trying to reduce fuel in case the fire did get here.

Michael:

What did it sound like?

Mike Sanger:

You know, a lot of people paraphrase this with tornadoes and everything else, but it sounded like a freight train. And it was just unbelievably hot. I've always had a mustache. And after this was all over, it had curled and burnt and I just ended up whacking it off. That's the first time I've not had a mustache in many, many years because it was just glowing orange.

Michael:

Around the same time. Chris Baker from Swiftcurrent Lookout was choked with smoke.

Chris Baker:

I can remember using the word surreal a lot in my journal that afternoon. It didn't take too long before my vista towards the West was nothing but amber billows of smoke and embers. Visibility deteriorated to nothing. And I began coughing from the intense smoke. So I soaked a bandana in water and took to breathing through it, to filter some of the soot.

Andrew:

Oh my gosh.

Michael:

Yeah.

Andrew:

That's a scary situation.

Michael:

It is. In the face of it all, Mike and Chris were doing everything they could to protect the chalet and everyone in it.

Mike Sanger:

And, uh, we charged our hoses. We had everybody inside the chalet, sitting on the floor. We had the tables up against the windows because the wind was horrific and it was blowing ash and embers all through the area. And we charged the hoses and started wetting the roof.

Andrew:

How many people were in it?

Michael:

Well, between the guests that had planned to stay there that night, and hikers that were seeking refuge, there were quite a few.

Mike Sanger:

We had 39 people trapped up here. We thought the fire was actually going to come up and go over the top of this and down the other side. Why it went up Swiftcurrent Pass, I have no idea. You know, every bearing that we had, and the wind was blowing directly at us, and fires like to run uphill...so I was quite sure the fire was going to come up and over us, and instead it made a turn, and went up over to Swiftcurrent.

Andrew:

It missed them?

Michael:

Somehow, they were saved. The fire avoided the chalet and falling embers were effectively combated by the hoses and sprinklers they'd set up.

Mike Sanger:

Because could have really gone south for us and it really could have been a horrific thing. And you know, through God's graces, or whatever, the fire didn't come over. Chris, we each made one phone call, brief phone call to our wives and said, we don't know what's going to happen. We just wanted to call and tell you right now, we're all right. And we're doing the best we can.

Michael:

And while they didn't know what the next day would hold, they allowed themselves to breathe a small sigh of relief.

Mike Sanger:

Chris and I came in here, it had been a long day for both of us. He was due to go out that day and I'd hiked up, or ran up, here that day. And his wife had brought him a little bottle of Black Velvet whiskey. So we each had a drag off that and it actually felt a little better and he goes, let's get on with it. And I said, all right,

Michael:

After feeding and finding beds for everyone at Granite, the two of them stayed up all night watching the flames.

Mike Sanger:

We'd take turns. There was a chair between this building and the chalet, and one in front of the chalet, and about every hour we'd switch.

Mike Sanger:

Also up all night was Chris Baker, watching the flames from her vantage point at Swiftcurrent lookout, a thousand feet above the chalet.

Chris Baker:

Night fell. And finally, I could see the fire up here through the smoke as a thousand points of flame and torching trees. I remember just staring a lot in unbelief. Sleep wasn't even an option. This was history and I was privileged to have a front row seat.

Michael:

It was a long night and a close call. Thankfully, no one was hurt. And the chalet was saved. Mike and his partner, Chris Burke were even honored by the Department of the Interior with Valor awards, for their heroism and bravery. But Mike's a humble guy. If you have the chance to meet him, you might hear him tell stories of that night. Sometimes the chalet even asks him to give a program about it to their guests, but you won't hear him bragging. He's seen firsthand the power of fire and worked in its aftermath every year since, but even that, that night standing guard, after hours of fear and uncertainty, he could see a beauty in the flames.

Mike Sanger:

The one thing that struck me is once it got dark and you could see the fire, you know, despite what was going on, it was actually kind of pretty to look at. And, you know, I don't mean to sound morbid or anything, but it was, it had its own kind of natural beauty to it.

Michael:

A month later, the Trapper fire had died down, and Chris Baker reflected on the fire. She hiked down from Swiftcurrent lookout for the last time of the year.

Chris Baker:

I regaled in the switchbacks down to the tree line, gazing out over the pristine beauty of the divide. But then I came to the trees, those beautiful firs I have come to love. My friends and companions on my ascents and descents of Swiftcurrent mountain, the ones that frame Heaven's Peak in all my photos. And that my kids have learned to take for granted. They weren't there. Instead, I saw blackened ghosts and charred ground cover. I hiked through a lunar landscape that I knew was both natural order and devastation. I thrilled and mourned all at once. I don't think I will ever feel that again.

ARCHAEOLOGY

Andrew:

So were you up there on the night that Sperry Chalet burned down?

Brent Rowley:

No, I was actually on this trail when it burned down and I actually heard it all go down on the radio...

Andrew:

That's Glacier Park Archeologist Brent Rowley.

Brent Rowley:

...which was kind of a crazy experience. I was actually just back there probably a few hundred yards, and I heard this radio transmission that was like calling the incident management team on the radio. I'd be like, you know, I need to give you a satellite phone call cause we need to have like a conversation right now. And it turns out that was the chalet catching on fire, like the dormitory building.

Andrew:

Fire teaches us about the natural world, but it also teaches us about ourselves, and sometimes in unexpected ways. When the Sprague fire burned down the main building of Sperry Chalet on August 31st, 2017, it felt like we had forever lost a piece of our history. But the fire had another effect as well, by clearing out the vegetation around the building, it unearthed a wealth of archeological sites from lots of different eras. Out of the ashes Brent found a whole world of history.

Michael:

In a place like glacier, the vegetation is so thick that you can't see the surface of the ground to find artifacts. A fire that comes in and clears out the vegetation will often reveal major archeological sites.

Andrew:

After the Sprague fire, Brent and his team found a series of dumps where all types of people like construction, crews, cooks, and chalet visitors had thrown their garbage for decades, starting in the early 19 teens. Brent was intrigued. He told me that these types of sites hold a lot of information that you can't just read about.

Brent Rowley:

In the history books about a site, like say Sperry Chalet you only hear about the experiences of the people that are actually staying in the chalet. You don't hear the story of the people that worked at that chalet, and that may have worked at a trail camp or a CCC camp that built a lot of the infrastructure in the park. And a lot of those dumps preserved the information of like, what was daily life like for them? What were they eating? We might find game pieces or, you know, what were they doing in their spare time at their backcountry camp?

Andrew:

As we hiked the six miles up to those archeological sites, Brent told me all about his experiences that year.

Brent Rowley:

And I got assigned to the fire as a resource advisor for cultural resources. So during that summer, I probably hiked this section of the Sperry Trail forty times. And you know, so I got to watch the fire come down this ridge and sort of change the forest gradually, cause in the cedar forest, the fire just kind of creeps along. It rarely ever like really gets up into the tree tops. It kind of travels along the deadfall and through the root systems.

Andrew:

When the fire in the chalet was finally extinguished, the stone exterior walls were still standing. The fire had only burned the interior and the roof of the building. A few days later, Brent was flown to the site in a helicopter to help the park determine if the still standing walls would survive the winter.

Brent Rowley:

It was really surreal, like all the bed frames had melted kind of look a little like a little bit of a wasteland inside.

Andrew:

The stone walls were able to be salvaged. And over the next two summers, the chalet was reconstructed within them. Brent and I arrived just days before the grand reopening, when the chalet would welcome guests for the first time since the fire, it was also the first time that Brent had been in the new building, and he was a bit taken aback by the difference.

Brent Rowley:

The last time I was standing in this very spot, I was like four feet lower. And then, you know, there was debris everywhere and you know, it's pretty crazy to be standing in the same spot, but now in a constructed building.

Andrew:

After the fire, Brent and his team were tasked with surveying the burned area and noting any archeological sites that had been revealed. What they found was a vast assemblage of objects that painted a vivid portrait of early 1900s park life. What kind of objects are we talking about? Well, actually one of the most common things they found were chamber pots. What do they look like?

Brent Rowley:

They're just bowl shaped, but a little, oh, right there is one. A really good one.

Andrew:

Yeah, it looks like a, just a small bowl but with kind of a big rim around it.

Brent Rowley:

Yeah, just big enough to do your business in, you know. But those things were all over the place like down this hillside, it's kind of interesting. I just like to imagine someone walking out in the morning and getting ready to toss the contents of it over the hill and accidentally loses their grip, and there it lies. Cause that one definitely is not broken.

Michael:

Okay. That did paint a vivid portrait. What else did you find?

Andrew:

One thing that really caught my eye were these tubes of clear blue glass. Brent explained to me that those were insulators for a historic phone line.

Brent Rowley:

So in a phone line, you've got the wire that the message travels through through vibrations, the insulators allow you to attach that wire to a telephone pole or a tree or whatnot, a solid object, without interfering with the signal. And so I'm guessing, considering there's a scatter of them here that you know, once they pulled down the phone line here, sometime probably in the 1940s, they just chucked it over the hill.

Michael:

So until the 1940s, there was phone service at Sperry chalet?

Andrew:

Yeah. I think maybe a lot of people imagine the early days of the park as a much wilder time, but in many ways the visitor experience was much more managed than it is today, at least for some types of people.

Brent Rowley:

So I think out here on this point, there was some sort of tent camp set up and I don't know exactly the dates of the tent camp, but I think it was certainly early on in Sperry chalet's history. So probably 19 teens, maybe even into the 1920s. And so there's a lot of the really diagnostic artifacts that have actual Great Northern Railway logos. And you know, that differentiates it from like say a worker camp for the workers that built the chalet or maintain the chalet because those higher end ceramics would be what you would serve the very wealthy guest, oftentimes, that were coming to the chalet. Whereas, in a little bit, we'll go to a worker camp and they were eating out of cans.

Andrew:

I pointed out a ceramic shard. It was about the size of my hand, to see how Brent could interpret it.

Brent Rowley:

So this is probably like a large serving platter dish that would have been about that big. So like a communal, indicating like a communal dinner setting where sort of family style dining, I guess you would call it today.

Michael:

Oh, that's, that's interesting from just that small piece, he was able to figure out about how they dined.

Andrew:

Yeah. What was most interesting about spending the day with Brent was seeing how these little pieces of what seemed like just garbage, gave him really deep insights into how people thought and behaved a long time ago.

Brent Rowley:

I don't know how this dump got here, but it's one of the most interesting assemblages of stuff. This is it all spread out because it's all jammed in that crevice and there's everything from an assortment of condiment bottles, like this is probably ketchup, there's a medicine bottle. Here's one of those coffee ration containers. There's poison bottles like multiple of them. So it's like a really strange thing. Like, I don't know if this was like kind of where maybe some workers at some point were camped out, like the poison bottle in particular I mean kind of throws me. Like that tells me, I feel like that it's gotta be related to workers

Michael:

Wait, okay. What was the poison for?

Andrew:

Yeah, I was wondering the same thing. Brent told me it was probably to poison rodents of some sort, maybe mice, pack rats, or a particularly aggressive marmot.

Michael:

How did they find all this stuff?

Andrew:

There's a couple different ways these sites get discovered.

Brent Rowley:

This one a firefighter showed it to me. But usually, yeah, when we survey areas, we do transects.

Andrew:

One of the main things that Brent has found here is the class distinctions between the different people who used this area and how this manifests, even in their trash.

Brent Rowley:

Up at that tent camp, everyone was always eating off of, you know, fine ceramics and being very proper, I guess you would say. And here it's like, you just open up the can and eat out of the can sort of thing, which is more indicative of I guess, lower class status, you know, like a worker, rather than someone that's on a very expensive vacation. Do you know what would have been in these cans? Some of them. See like, a can like this where you can tell by the openings. So see this had to be liquid. And in fact, I think this was probably a milk can. So, so they slit that one open. So when we record these cans sites, we always record what type of openings they have. Cause it can tell you a lot about what was in them.

Michael:

Wow. So we can learn something from even just the way I can was opened.

Andrew:

Exactly. There's so many levels to it. Brent even says it, the way that trash is hidden can tell us what era it's from.

Brent Rowley:

In the 19 teens, the way everybody all over America treated their waste was to throw it over the cliff or over the hillside or into your pit toilet. Later on though, people started, the ethic started changing of like, you need to hide your garbage, you put it in a centralized, garbage dump. And here, obviously, they've tried to hide it. So probably after that ethic changed, which really started, you know, in the 1920s and 30s.

Andrew:

A desire to learn about people whose stories aren't always told as motivated Brent's career from the very beginning. The first excavation, he was a part of, on a plantation in West Virginia, showed Brent the significant differences in artifacts from enslaved people versus slave owners. This technique of using historic artifacts to understand how people were treated in the past is an idea that still drives his work today.

Brent Rowley:

In Glacier, you can learn a lot about indigenous people's history prior to European settlement. And we can learn a lot about what people were doing in this landscape by what artifacts they leave behind. And those people were often, you know, are often not included in the history books. And in fact, I hate the term prehistoric or pre-history because it implies that indigenous people don't have history. It's just, their history is documented in different ways--by oral history and also by the archeological evidence that their ancestors left behind.

Andrew:

There are countless stories covering thousands of years of history, buried in archeological sites, all around glacier.

Michael:

Some of these stories will be lost forever. If these sites are disturbed.

Andrew:

So please leave historic objects where you find them. Brent says that objects are best to telling their story when they stay in their original location.

Brent Rowley:

Once they're removed from the site, they are kind of just meaningless objects. But when they're in the context of the site, they tell the story of like what sort of products people were using as they visited Sperry Chalet.

Andrew:

Our discussion was interrupted by a mountain goat grazing on the forbs that had sprouted up where fire had cleared the canopy and finally allowed sunlight back onto the forest floor. We had to step off the trail to let the goat pass....

Brent Rowley:

Then I went to work for... Oh crap.

Andrew:

There's a goat coming.

Brent Rowley:

Hey, move aside, don't eat my poles either.

Andrew:

As we sat there talking about the history of the area, a new chapter was already being written. As Brent and I moved out of the goat's path. It was hard not to think that we needed to do the same as the goats and flowers here--to learn from what we couldn't control and to flourish in the sunshine that followed.

That’s our show for today—If you’re interested in learning more about the role and history of wildfire in Glacier, or about the Selis Kalispell Culture Committee, check out the links in our show notes.

Michael:

Thanks for listening!

CREDITS

Renata: Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The show was written and recorded on traditional native lands. Andrew Smith and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music. Alex Stillson provided tech support Quinn Feller designed our art Renata Harrison researched the show, Lacy Kowalski was always there for us, and Daniel Lombardi and Bill Hayden were the executive directors. Support for the show comes from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The Conservancy works to preserve and protect the park for future generations. We couldn't do it without them, and they couldn't do it without support from thousands of generous donors. If you want to learn more about how to support this podcast, or other awesome Conservancy projects, please go to their website at glacier.org. Of course you can always help support the show by sharing it with everyone you know— your friends, your family, your dog... And also leave us a review online. Special thanks this episode to Chris Peterson, Tony Incashola Sr., Dawn LeFleur, Teagan Hayes, Mike Sanger, Sarah Peterson, and Brent Rowley.

Confluence | Goat Haunt

6 december 2020 | 53 min

You should always bring food, water, and plenty of layers when you go hiking in Glacier—but sometimes you might even need… a passport? In this episode, we’ll learn about the friendship that led to the world’s first International Peace Park. After that, two stories about how that designation has affected those that live and work here.

Featuring: Natalie Hodge, Tracey Wiese, Lisa Bate, and Justin and Kim McKeown. Voice acting from Bob Adams.

For more information, visit: go.nps.gov/headwaters

---

TRANSCRIPT:

---

INTERNATIONAL PEACE PARK INTRODUCTION

Michael:

All right, Andrew, my first season working for Glacier, I was a receptionist at Park Headquarters.

Andrew:

Okay.

Michael:

Lowest paid position in the park, mind you, answering questions people had via phone, email and letter.

Andrew:

Gotcha.

Michael:

Occasionally we had people in person come to the front desk with a question. And one of the most challenging questions we ever got was: "where is your World Heritage Site plaque?"

Andrew:

[laughs] Our what?

Michael:

We are a world heritage site—recognized by the United Nations for protecting natural and cultural resources that are important to the whole world. And every world heritage site gets a plaque to commemorate this designation.

Andrew:

Okay. I don't think I've ever noticed this before. Where was it?

Michael:

Well, that's the thing. Nobody knew. I told them I'd never heard of it and neither had my coworker. So they described to us a two foot by three foot bronze plaque. And we started asking around. We asked our boss who coordinates exhibits around the park, he didn't know. We asked facilities management, they didn't know. We asked the superintendent... Nope. We asked everyone in headquarters, and started calling all over the park to see if anyone had any idea where it might be. And then—it turned out it was in Canada.

Andrew:

Oh, that explains it.

Michael:

Glacier national parks in Northern boundary is the 49th parallel. Also known as our border with Canada and right across the border in Alberta is Waterton Lakes National Park. And the World Heritage Site plaque was displayed at a pavilion in Waterton. So I wanted to call up somebody who works there.

Natalie:

No, that's a great question. And I don't know that I fully know the answer to that. Um, we've recently redone the pavilion in Waterton. So I don't know if the plaque is actually still visible there or not. That's something I'll have to go and look for now.

Michael:

The mystery continues!

Natalie:

Exactly.

Michael:

That's Natalie Hodge.

Natalie:

My name is Natalie

Michael:

Who works for parks, Canada, the Canadian counterpart to the NPS.

Natalie:

I am the interpretation coordinator in Waterton Lakes National Park

Michael:

Waterton, a literal stone's throw away has been Glacier's neighbor since the very beginning.

Natalie:

Yeah. Waterton was actually created in 1895 and it was originally entitled the forest park reserve

Michael:

Two years before glacier was established as a forest preserve in 1897.

Andrew:

Wow. That's really early.

Michael:

Not to mention that Parks Canada—the Canadian counterpart to the NPS—also beat us to the punch

Natalie:

Parks Canada was actually founded in 1911, and it actually became the world's first national park service.

Andrew:

Predating the National Park Service by five years!

Michael:

The two parks administered separately and their respective nations oversee a contiguous landscape that doesn't recognize the political boundary that separates them.

Natalie:

There's many jokes about animals, not needing a passport in order to go back and forth between the two nations. We see blackberries go back and forth across the border with no issue. Um...

Andrew:

[Laughs].

Michael:

[Laughs]

Natalie:

Sometimes same with moose as well.

Michael:

Now that elusive plaque that I mentioned...

Andrew:

yeah?

Michael:

If you managed to find it, wherever it is, it wouldn't say Glacier National Park on it.

Michael:

So we refer to our park, each of our parks is kind of abbreviated names: Glacier National Park, Waterton Lakes National Park... But what is the full name of our parks together?

Natalie:

The full name of our parks together would be Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park.

Michael:

Our two parks share more than an international border Waterton and Glacier National Parks agreed that this incredible landscape deserves our cooperation. Setting aside political divisions to cooperate in the management of everything from invasive or endangered species to wildland fires.

Natalie:

For example, if there's a fire in Waterton Lakes National Park, often fire crews from Glacier will come down and help, and then vice versa.

Andrew:

And while there are over a hundred international or transboundary parks and protected areas today, back in 1932, we were the first ever international peace park,

Michael:

Which on top of signaling management cooperation was a symbol of goodwill between nations. A statement of unity that—in 1932 in between two world wars—must've been refreshing. With a passport, Waterton is just a few hours away from most places in glacier. And there are a lot of ways to experience it.

Andrew:

Yeah, there are some remarkable hiking opportunities in Waterton that range from short trips to all day outings.

Michael:

And a personal favorite of mine is to visit some of the phenomenal restaurants in Waterton Townsite.

Andrew:

Yeah, we don't have quite the same variety down here,

Michael:

But Natalie leads, what I think is the coolest way to see the place, a way to really experience the international part of our title: the International Peace Park Hike.

Natalie:

I have definitely been fortunate over the years and have been able to lead that Peace Park Hike. And it's probably one of the coolest elements of my job working for Parks Canada. The hike is unique really in the sense that participants start out hiking in Canada, get to cross an international border by foot, and finish the hike in the United States. And our audience members are generally quite excited about the opportunity to be able to hike in two countries in one day.

Michael:

It's so cool. They even hold a little hands across the border ceremony.

Natalie:

And this is where our participants line up on either side of the international border, and they shake hands as a sign of peace and Goodwill with those across from them. And this is a long-standing tradition of the hike, and it's been ongoing since the creation of the hike in 1978.

Michael:

The International Peace Park hike or IPP is 14 kilometers long, or just over eight and a half miles. You essentially walk the length of Upper Waterton Lake to wind up back in Glacier, where you'll finally catch a ride on The International, a 200 passenger boat that's ferried people across Waterton lake since 1928.

Andrew:

Yeah. And from having taken that ride myself, it really stands out as one of the most unique experiences anywhere in either park.

Michael:

Yeah. I agree.

Andrew:

Even just looking into the other country, let alone getting to hike or boat into it is... Powerful.

Michael:

Now again, you do need a passport to visit and you need a reservation to ride the international or to join the IPP. But no matter what you do on your visit, seeing both sides of the border will only enrich your experience. So the next time you come to visit, make sure you visit our sister park, keep that spirit of goodwill alive. And maybe if you're lucky, you could even find that plaque.

Michael:

Welcome to Headwaters - a Glacier National Park Podcast. Brought to you by the Glacier National Park Conservancy, and produced on the traditional lands of many native American tribes, including the Blackfeet, Kootenai, Selis and Qlispe people.

Andrew:

We’re calling this season: The Confluence, as we look at the ways that nature, culture, the present and the past all come together here.

Michael:

I’m Michael.

Andrew:

I’m Andrew.

Michael:

And we’re both rangers here. Now, we've mentioned so far that Glacier has a lot of titles.

Andrew:

National park world heritage site...

Michael:

But today we're going to focus on just one of them: International Peace Park. An agreement between the NPS and Parks Canada to cooperatively manage our shared resources.

Andrew:

And no place better represents the International Peace Park than Goat Haunt, one of the most remote and least visited regions of Glacier.

Michael:

Okay, real quick. What's with the name? Goat haunt?

Andrew:

Yeah. It's kind of an archaic term, but a haunt is a place where someone or something hangs out. So essentially Goat Haunt is a place where the mountain goats like to hang.

Michael:

I see. Well, odds are, even if you've been to Glacier before you probably haven't made it to Goat Haunt. And for good reason!

Andrew:

Yeah, there are no roads leading to it. And the shortest hike to get there is 22 miles

Michael:

Shortest hike from the U S that is.. So you can either backpack for a few days South of the border, or you can drive to Canada.

Andrew:

Yeah. Goat Haunt sits at the Southern tip of upper Waterton Lake. One of the largest lakes in either part, which stretches across the border into both Canada and the U S

Michael:

Meaning Goat Haunt is just about three miles from the Canadian border.

Andrew:

Yeah. So people overwhelmingly access Goat Haunt from Waterton lakes National Park.

Michael:

Oh, now I understand where the name comes from. Waterton Lake, Waterton Lakes N--. Okay, whatever.

Andrew:

[laughing] Yeah. So some people get there on foot, uh, like on the International Peace Park Hike, but most people arrive to Goat Haunt by boat,

Michael:

including even the Rangers that work there.

Andrew:

Talk about a commute.

Michael:

In this episode, we'll be looking at what it means to be an International Peace Park; how it happened in the first place and how it has affected those that live and work here.

BACKCOUNTRY

Michael:

All right, Andrew, where is our border with Canada?

Michael:

I think it's about 20, 30 miles north of here, as the crow flies?

Michael:

Yeah. Well, could you be even more specific? Where is the border?

Michael:

It lies on the 49th parallel.

Michael:

Yeah, exactly. The 49th parallel was first proposed as a border by the Hudson's Bay trading company in 1714, which is a story for another day, but it was ultimately adopted by the U.S. and British governments, because at the time, Canada was still under British rule. Now, British and American teams surveyed the border in the 1860s, with brief interruptions for the Civil War and monuments were erected that cemented a border nearly 4,000 miles long.

Michael:

But did you know that that survey was actually wrong?

Michael:

Wait, really?

Michael:

Yeah. The border was first surveyed when we still thought the earth was a sphere, but it's actually an oblate spheroid.

Michael:

What??

Michael:

Essentially it's a sphere that bulges at the equator due to rotation. All that to say, the original line doesn't perfectly follow the 49th parallel.

Michael:

Really!

Michael:

No, it's close, but it's not exact.

Michael:

Spheroid and all, it does transect present-day Waterton Lakes and Glacier National Parks.

Michael:

And visiting the border between the parks today, you'll notice the only thing separating the two countries is a swath of cleared trees - a 20-foot-wide unvegetated line, continuing into the horizon.

Michael:

And as far as this area is concerned, the most meaningful discussions of that symbolic boundary occurred not in the halls of Congress or Parliament, but on the trail and around the fire.

Michael:

Two of the earliest proponents of a jointly managed park were John "Kootenay" Brown and Albert "Death on the Trail" Reynolds.

Michael:

Big fans of nicknames.

Michael:

Yeah. Brown was the first superintendent of Waterton Lakes National Park.

Michael:

Reynolds was the first ranger stationed in the present day Goat Haunt area.

Michael:

Yeah, and it was these two that hatched the idea that two parks in two countries could be managed together.

Michael:

And the story of their friendship is an origin story of the Peace Park itself.

Michael:

We actually know an awful lot about John "Kootenay" Brown. He was raised by his grandmother in Ireland during the great famine and led a colorful life. After leaving home, he joined the Royal Militia in 1858, but never saw combat. In search of excitement, he chased a fortune in the gold fields of British Columbia, working as a prospector, constable, trapper, guide, mail carrier, swamper.

Michael:

Swamper, what the heck is that?

Michael:

Someone who steers canal boats. 50 years later, he had garnered a reputation for knowing the region as well as anyone, which led to his appointment in 1910 as the first supervisory forest ranger of Kootenai Lakes Forest Reserve, which is now our northern neighbor, Waterton Lakes National Park, at age 70. He earned $75 a month to manage the whole area.

Michael:

Wait, only $75? That's like the highest ranking position in the whole park.

Michael:

Yeah. It's $2,000 in today's money.

Michael:

All right. Now much less is known about Albert "Death on the Trail Reynolds." Born in Wisconsin in 1847, he and his wife moved to Montana's Flathead Valley in 1871 so he could work at a lumber mill. And to escape the nervous strain of work, 30 years later, he retired from being the supervisor at the lumber mill to become a ranger at the then-Flathead Forest Preserve. When that preserve was converted to Glacier National Park in 1910, he was stationed on the Southern end of upper Waterton Lake. And while there have been biographies written of Brown, most of what we know about Reynolds, we learned from his diary. Take this entry from 1912, where he's looking for poachers.

Bob Adams:

Found where some hunters had camped and hauled down a sheep or deer from the mountains. But it was in Canada about six miles from the boundary line.

Michael:

Which had been brought to life here by the voice talent of ranger Bob Adams. Reynolds lived in one of the most undeveloped and least visited areas of the park, often with only wildlife as his company.

Bob Adams:

Friday, October 25, 1912. When I arrived at camp, a bear had been there last night and he raised hell all aroound camp he went, looking into all three windows, took a bath in the wash tub and stood in front of the looking glass and combed his hair with a scrubbing brush.

Michael:

His nickname "Death on the Trail" was self-described, and his disdain for horses led him to walk everywhere. He regularly walked 17 miles south to get his mail.

Michael:

I walk just about one mile to get my mail. And I thought that was rough. But Reynolds would also walk north to visit Waterton, where he befriended Brown.

Michael:

Yeah. He walked the full 12 mile length of upper Waterton Lake, which starts in Montana at Goat Haunt, and ends in Waterton townsite in Alberta, walking that whole way to visit his friend Kootenay Brown, unless he could catch a boat ride.

Bob Adams:

Sunday, October 20, 1912. Left the camp 7:00 AM in one of Mr. Hazzard's boats. Went as far as Weeks' Landing, where I walked to the post office, got some mail, then went to Mr. Browns.

Michael:

His duties as a backcountry, ranger included looking out for poachers, forest fires and other "threats to the park."

Michael:

Okay. So what constituted a threat to the park?

Michael:

Well, in the early years, the Park Service was guided by a fundamentally different understanding of ecology than it is today. And Reynolds' writing illustrates this really well. Early park managers were especially eager to protect ungulates like deer. He would actually follow deer in order to chase them towards better foraging habitat.

Bob Adams:

Left camp. As soon as I could. Went up the trail that the deer took up the mountains, I located them up on a high bench, almost at the top of that mountain. I managed to get above them. There were about 40 of them. I got above them after a hard struggle, snow was deep.

Michael:

He thought he could get them to go somewhere where they'd be happier and safer, if he could only jump out and surprise them.

Bob Adams:

Some went one way, others took my trail and went down. Last of them that I saw was about two miles and still going. They're safe.

Michael:

I think if I did that in a uniform today, people would think I was totally crazy.

Michael:

On top of chasing deer around, he would actively hunt and kill anything that could harm them. To kill coyotes, he even enlisted the help of his friend, Brown, the superintendent of Waterton.

Bob Adams:

I went to one of Mr. Brown's baits for coyotes, and I found that the coyote had been here this morning and had taken a meal out of it. I followed his tracks for nearly two miles and he did not show any signs of the poison. So I left. Canadian poison is no good.

Michael:

In the years since, we've come to understand that predators like coyotes, wolves, and mountain lions play essential roles in the ecosystem, and the practice of poisoning them has long since been abandoned.

Tracy Weisse:

It's not part of our job anymore, no. It's, it's nice that, uh, attitudes have changed in that respect and decided that all animals have a right to be here, not just the ungulates.

Michael:

That's Tracy Weisse.

Tracy Weisse:

Yeah. My name is Tracy Weisse. I've been working here at Belly River for the last 16 summers,

Michael:

The Belly River Ranger Station where she works is one of the northernmost in the park. In fact, to hike in to meet her, I parked at the Canadian border, spitting distance from the customs office. And while Tracy and her husband Bruce work here in the summer, Reynolds worked and lived near Goat Haunt yearround, with only a wood-burning stove for warmth.

Bob Adams:

It was 12 below freezing this morning and now 6:30, it's 10 below.

Michael:

Even on holidays.

Bob Adams:

I made a bread pudding for dinner and took a cup of cold water. That was my Christmas.

Tracy Weisse:

I honestly cannot imagine the rangers that spent winters out here in that kind of cold and that kind of wind. It must have just been phenomenal.

Michael:

But rain or shine, Reynolds would travel north to visit Brown.

Bob Adams:

December 27, 1912. The snow was deep and soft. The wind was awful. It took till 4:00 PM to make Mr. Browns.

Andrew:

From what we can tell, the two were fast friends, even though Brown, who wrote poetry and spiritual musings, never seemed to write much about Reynolds.

Michael:

Yeah. And, Reynolds, you know, in the journals of his that we have, he doesn't write about his friendship with Brown either. His journals are really utilitarian. A simple summary of what he did that day, often signing off with the number of miles he had traveled, but even still, Reynolds wrote often about his trips to visit Brown.

Bob Adams:

Wednesday, December 4, 1912, left camp 9:15 AM with Mr. Brown. He went as far as Weeks' Landing with me to see if I got safe over the river, I had to break ice about a hundred feet before I got into the main stream, but I made it okay.

Michael:

They collaborated for work. They shared notes. They sought one another's advice and they socialized. And as you know, Andrew, the winters here can be pretty drab.

Andrew:

Yeah. Cold, gray skies, socked in.

Michael:

Which, by all accounts gave them plenty of time to discuss the philosophical facets of their jobs. Like the artificiality of the line separating the two parks they were sworn to protect. One person who met Brown and Reynolds was Samuel Middleton, an Anglican reverend in Canada. And after meeting the two rangers, he wrote about their discussions of the boundary.

Andrew:

Emblematic of the trouble with dividing the two parks was Upper Waterton Lake, which lay partially in the United States and partially in Canada.

Michael:

Reynolds suggested that geology recognized no boundaries. And that as Waterton Lake lay in its glacial cirque, no man-made boundary could cleave its waters apart. It'd be better, then, to accept nature's creation by removing the boundary line and acknowledging one park, one lake, in its own territory.

Andrew:

And Brown agreed. He said that since the lake could not be physically divided, it was senseless to divide its management.

Michael:

This was a powerful idea at the time.

Andrew:

A subtle suggestion, through the lens of a landscape, that a political boundary could not divide us.

Michael:

This idea of theirs to jointly manage the two parks could not come to fruition in their lifetimes.

Bob Adams:

All the days I ever saw, today has put the cap sheath on them all. Talk about wind, it has been a corker. I had to face it every step of the way, 18 miles. 9:00 PM. Beautiful storm raging. Don't know where from, and can't open the door to look out. Snowdrifts all through the house.

Michael:

Reynolds was clearly an incredibly tough person with a fortitude that's hard to fathom today.

Bob Adams:

Wednesday, January 15, 1913, went up to the lake, had to use my snowshoes. It snowed hard all day. It was so soft, I sunk in above my knees on snowshoes. I reached home camp, found six feet of snow on the roof. I had to go up and shovel it away from the stove pipe before I could build a fire. It took over three hours. Did not get it nearly all off. Will finish in the morning. It was 10 below zero all day and snowing hard. Distance, six miles. And one frozen toe.

Michael:

But, as tough as Reynolds was, the winter of 1913 began to catch up to him, and he caught a cold he couldn't shake. In one last journey, he ventured north to visit Brown, who mentioned Reynolds in his own journal for the first and final time.

Andrew:

4 February, 1913. Mr. Reynolds here. 32 below zero. Rode and snowshoed west side of park to pass. Miles: 20. Reynolds very sick. Up all night with him.

Michael:

Four days later, Reynolds died.

Andrew:

And three years after that, Brown passed away as well.

Michael:

Over the course of the next 20 years the parks remained under separate management. A new Waterton superintendent was appointed to replace Brown, as was a backcountry ranger to replace Reynolds. Visitors came, people enjoyed the parks and life continued, but Reynolds and Browns' idea of an international park lived on. Because in July of 1931, the local Canadian Rotary Club called a get-together of Montana and Alberta Rotarians to discuss for the first time the creation of an international peace park.

Andrew:

And while Reynolds and Brown had entertained the notion, it had never before gained traction. In fact, this would be the first International Peace Park in the whole world.

Michael:

Yeah. And this new idea was drafted in a resolution by the newly inaugurated president of the local rotary club, Samuel H. Middleton.

Andrew:

Who just so happens to be the same guy we quoted earlier, who had interviewed Reynolds and Brown about their thoughts on the border.

Michael:

The very same. Now, it's worth noting that Middleton first came to Waterton in search of a summer camp for St. Paul's Indian school, of which he was the principal, one of many schools of its kind that sought to suppress native culture, taking kids from reservations away from their families to boarding schools, where they were taught more or less how to be white.

Andrew:

This policy was called at the time, kill the Indian, save the man.

Michael:

Yeah. But, acknowledging his racist efforts towards indigenous people, he was an important advocate for the establishment of the peace park.

Andrew:

A bill establishing the peace park passed the U.S. Congress in December. And it was echoed by the Canadian government the following year.

Michael:

The details of this new designation were not clear cut, leaving park managers to decide how they would jointly oversee the two parks, parks that have evolved a great deal in the years since. In his day as a backcountry ranger, Reynolds hardly ever saw anyone, but Tracy, the modern backcountry ranger working along the border, says her main job is to work with people.

Tracy Weisse:

Well, I really see the main part of our job as educating people in the backcountry.

Michael:

Today, more people visit Waterton-Glacier on an average summer day than the parks used to see in a whole year during Brown and Reynolds' time, but that doesn't change why they're protected or why they're important.

Tracy Weisse:

People that do come here, and there are more all the time, they're looking for something real - to go backpacking, to reconnect with nature. That's what these parks are all about. And I think every day that goes by, they're more important than than in the past.

Andrew:

Throughout the last century, with all the changes it's brought, the two parks have strived to work together.

Michael:

So, whenever our two parks share wildland firefighting resources, whenever we lead cross-boundary hikes, boat trips, you know who to thank. A couple of tough old curmudgeons with an idea.

Bob Adams:

Sunday, December 29, 1912, Oh, heavens, how it does snow and blow. A person can't see 200 feet and it is coming harder and harder. I wish I was back in Helena.

DUCKS

Andrew:

So Michael, we've been talking about the international peace park today. What is Waterton glacier international peace park mean to you?

Michael:

Selfishly it makes for a pretty awesome place to work. You know, I got to hang out with a lot more Canadians than I ever did. And the coolest visitor center around here is the Alberta visitor center. I feel like, uh, like Wilson from home improvement, like peering over the fence at my neighbors. Cause from a lot of trails in the park, you could actually see Canada. So I think it's, it's pretty unique to be part of that symbol of cooperation, uh, as an employee and as a visitor.

Andrew:

I totally agree. It's it's pretty cool. When you think about, you know, the ecosystem here, the plants, the animals, you know, even the rivers and lakes, they don't know where the border is. They don't care where the border is. They're just interacting with each other in the way they always have. And to think that we can overcome the challenges of the border to manage this place jointly, to take care of this ecosystem as a whole, instead of as two separate parts that are divided, you know, just by a line on a map is a pretty special thing. I think.

Michael:

Yeah. Two countries, two parks kind of choosing to work around or to work through a political boundary for the joint management of a, of a place like this. This is neat.

Andrew:

Yeah. And on that note, I think we should move into our next story about how scientists from two different countries came together across the border to study some important animals that spend time on both sides of the international boundary.

Lisa:

Always look back in there. Yeah. And you're good at recognizing ducks.

Andrew:

It's 7:00 AM and Lisa bait is thinking about ducks.

Lisa:

I would every year, the weather channelizes things differently, but usually this is really deep on me, like that, to like go through,

Michael:

Are they talking about walking through that water?

Andrew:

Yeah. Duck science, as it turns out, involves a lot of water.

Lisa:

So I don't think you're going to be able to do that for safety reasons. So then you just exit and come out

Andrew:

Today, we're doing a brood survey where we'll review the river to see if any of the female harlequin ducks there, have new chicks with them.

Lisa:

Since you're going to have to wait for awhile. What you could do is just walk up the boardwalk and look for ducks on Avalanche Creek. And then when you're finished, come back down.

Andrew:

Lisa Bate is a wildlife biologist here in Glacier National Park. And one of her projects is to study the parks, Harlequin ducks, observing these birds takes a lot of eyes. So Lisa enlists a ton of volunteers to help her collect that data. It's a pretty fun project to be involved with. And as it so happened, all of us in the podcast, somewhat independently got involved with it this year. Michael and I and producers, Daniel and Alex have all gone out with Lisa to study the ducks. Michael even ended up pretty wet from his experience.

Michael:

Yeah. If you want to hear that story, you got to go to the Many Glacier episode.

Andrew:

Before we get into the study. I did that morning. There's a few things you need to know about Harlequin ducks.

Michael:

First, the name 'harlequin ducks' are named for the males' breeding plumage, which resembles the makeup of a harlequin, a jester-like character popular in early modern European theater.

Andrew:

And harlequin ducks are migratory birds, but unlike most migratory birds...

Lisa:

They don't migrate North-South when their the breeding season arrives instead because they're sea ducks, they actually migrate East-West.

Andrew:

But just because these birds migrate East-West doesn't mean they're not international.

Michael:

How so? I know a bird that migrates North-South, like a robin will spend time in Canada, the U.S. And Mexico. But if you migrate straight West of here, you'll just hit ocean. Not Canada.

Andrew:

Yeah. It turns out the migration path isn't quite straight West, but check out this map of one duck Lisa tracked.

Michael:

Oh wow! It spent part of the year in Washington part in British Columbia part in glacier and part in Waterton Lakes National Park. The next thing you need to know is that these birds love whitewater. They feel right at home in crashing surf and fast running creeks. And that's part of the reason why they're so hard to study.

Andrew:

And the last thing you need to know is that harlequin ducks are very loyal.

Lisa:

Extremely loyal. Um, as far as we know, the females only nest on the streams where they were born, their natal streams though, we've banded nearly 300 harlequins in Montana thus far, we have yet to document a breeding female dispersing to a stream other than her natal stream to reproduce.

Michael:

Well, what if something happens to the natal stream?

Andrew:

Yeah. That's kind of what makes them such a sensitive species. They seem to not be able to just find a new home.

Lisa:

I think this is one of the leading reasons that harlequins are a species of concern. Their range has shrunk. We used to have Harlequins in Colorado, many streams in Idaho and Montana and we no longer have for a variety of reasons. And right now I think it's highly unlikely that those streams would ever be repopulated. Unless we can document that females will disperse to other streams.

Andrew:

It's not just streams that they are loyal to. I asked Lisa if the ducks are loyal to a particular mate as well.

Lisa:

If you asked me that question at the beginning of this study, I would say very loyal. Um, we, the first three years of this study, we just saw incredible, I think a hundred percent mate fidelity since then we have seen some so-called divorces, but I'm working on a paper with some Canadian biologists and they just documented a female, um, with a certain mate one year, the next two years with a different mate. And then in the fourth year, she returned to that original mate. So we know that sometimes things happen. We don't know why.

Andrew:

And if a duck's mate dies...

Lisa:

Documented times when the female died and the males have already migrated back to the coast, but the following those single males will come back here looking for those females. And we've seen three, possibly four males return looking for their females. I assume that's what they're doing. And we have one male who I know now has returned three years in a row, always single, never with another female and never with the original female. And we just assume that that female has died.

Michael:

I can picture the Hallmark movie now, lonely duck wintering on the coast and spending the summer searching the Rocky Mountains for his missing mate, looking for a love he'll never find.

Andrew:

And Lisa told me that there's about 33% more males than females on the wintering grounds. So he's single males are pretty unlikely to find a new mate.

Michael:

At the beginning of her research. Lisa didn't really know how many ducks there were here.

Lisa:

When I first started this project, I thought maybe there were 40 pairs of harlequins throughout the whole park. Because you can't tell because they look identical. It wasn't until we started putting colored bands on them that we realized that we had more ducks just on upper McDonald Creek drainage alone, than we realized.

Michael:

So to tell individuals apart, you've got to catch them and put a unique band on their leg.

Andrew:

Biologists have developed lots of ways to safely catch birds, but none of them could really account for the challenges of dealing with a bird whose preferred habitat is whitewater.

Michael:

In the spring when both males and females are in glacier, the water on the creeks here is dangerously high and fast. Wading out into a raging creek to try to catch a duck was potentially deadly. So for a long time, we knew very little about these birds.

Andrew:

But it's not just raging waters that Lisa has to deal with.

Lisa:

There are some years that we're walking over like 40 foot deep avalanche drifts still.

Michael:

So there were lots of challenges, but there was a lot of pressure to understand these birds better because they seemed to be disappearing.

Lisa:

Biologists throughout the western half of their range have all documented a decline or a shift in distribution.

Andrew:

But today when I joined with Lisa, we weren't catching any ducks. We were just counting them. We broke into teams to come every foot of the Creek and observe if any of the hens had chicks. If we found any chicks, then later in the summer, they could be caught and get a band before they migrated back West. But this wasn't just walking down a trail... To stay along the stream was a lot of bushwhacking.

Lisa:

Yeah., and it gets really bushwhacky when the water's high... That and at some point we're going to just start walking in the creek because there'll be a lot easier than bushwhacking because the bushwhack is like through Hawthorne and real fun stuff like that.

Andrew:

And eventually we just went right into the water. We walked in the creek through water that was above my knees.

Michael:

Well, did you find any ducks?

Andrew:

We did! Lisa and I saw seven harlequin ducks that day. And we were able to collect data on other birds as well. We saw some American dippers and spotted sandpipers. The sandpipers had just had little babies and they were about the size of a piece of popcorn. They were so tiny and fuzzy–.

Michael:

Popped popcorn? Yeah?

Andrew:

Popped popcorn, Yeah. So we actually ended up seeing a lot more pipers and dippers than harlequins.

Background:

[A bird singing and water rushing.]

Speaker 2:

A dipper is just flew downstream, singing. Hear it? Yeah. That sound. Yeah, it is unusual to hear them this time of year, there are more like February, March and April when they're really singing up a storm. Flying and singing. Andrew just saw a spotted sandpiper.

Andrew:

As far as Harlequin ducks, we had seen five single females so far. Is that a lot?

Lisa:

I don't know. Sort of depends on what they get down low. Yeah. Like I said, like a high count norm would be 12, so we still have a long ways to go.

Michael:

So how did this research get started in the first place?

Andrew:

At first, Lisa just wanted to figure out if the ducks were even successfully breeding here.

Lisa:

I was like, okay, well, to do that, we need to find the nest and monitor them. And so we started like looking for nests and we never found one, I think in 20 or 30 years of surveys here in the park, only one had accidentally been found when someone almost stepped on one, they were walking along the shoreline. So I'm like, well, how are you going to monitor nests? If you can't find them?

Andrew:

Luckily for all of us, we're not just in Glacier National Park. We're in Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park.

Lisa:

Waterton Lakes National Park and Glacier National Park: Every year we have a "Science and History Day..."

Andrew:

...A full day science conference, where experts from both sides of the border present, what they've been working on.

Lisa:

...In my first year as a biologist here, I met Cindy Smith. She is the retired conservation biologist in Waterton Lakes. And I knew that she had done research on harlequin ducks in Banff National Park. So I was lucky enough to meet her and introduce myself. And I was like, Hey, I'm thinking of doing some research on Harlequin ducks and trying to find their nests. I said, we just aren't having any luck. I was like, how did you do it? And she's like, telemetry, you have to put radios on them! And she was totally right, because when we first started trying to find their nest, even with radios on, I mean, I think it'd be a one in a billion chance trying to find those nests because they're so cryptic, they're so hidden. And some of them literally were like 2.5 miles up off of another drainage and on a cliff and a burn habitat. I mean...

Andrew:

But to put radios on them first, you have to catch them. So Lisa and Cindy, an American and a Canadian biologist, working together developed a mist net method of capturing harlequin ducks.

Michael:

That must've been what I saw.

Andrew:

Yeah. Do you remember how it works?

Michael:

Well, Gerard Byrd, who joined us on the Grinnell Glacier hike in the Many Glacier episode, and a friend of his paddled, an inflatable kayak full of a couple people and a pole across the creek. The pole had a rope attached. Uh, so there was the near end and the far end one that stayed on shore and the one that went across the creek in the boat. And when the crew on the far side of the creek got out, they pulled the net taut.

Andrew:

Oh, that makes sense. So no one had to be in the water.

Michael:

No, that you floated across, but you stood on either side and pull it tight. And because harlequin ducks, unlike mallards, that fly way up in the air, harlequin ducks fly down low, right over the water. So they go straight into the net.

Andrew:

Okay. So what would you do if you caught one in the net?

Michael:

So the net is suspended on a cable that runs from one end to the other. And if they catch a duck in the net, the crew on the far side will twist their pole to close it disconnected from their side. And then the near side crew will pull the net all the way along the cable until the duck is in their hands.

Andrew:

And then they can handle it on shore without having to get into the water.

Michael:

Yeah. Precisely.

Andrew:

So what was your job then?

Michael:

Oh, I had a really critical, a very important duck catching job.

Andrew:

Yeah. What was that?

Michael:

I, uh, was I sat, uh, probably a half mile up the road, just looking at the creek with binoculars to see if ducks were coming.

Andrew:

Okay. That sounds pretty important. How many ducks did you see?

Michael:

None. Well, okay. No, I saw mallards and I saw some mergansers. I saw mergansers. But no, no harlequins. They didn't, they didn't come down the creek that day.

Andrew:

Well, hopefully you still felt useful.

Michael:

I did for, you know, for all the lofty ambitions I had of catching a duck that day, uh, Lisa valued, you know, all the effort we put in.

Andrew:

Lisa reminded me that even if you don't find any ducks, knowing that they're not there is useful data for her too.

Lisa:

Yeah, people get disappointed when we don't see many debts or zero ducks. And I always remind people that zero is a real number too. It's a sad number, but it's an important number.

Andrew:

And even though you didn't see any ducks that day, this method has been incredibly successful here.

Lisa:

We have not had any serious injuries to any people. And we have non had any injuries or mortalities than any of the birds. And we have probably captured 250 birds now.

Michael:

Do Lisa and Cindy still work together?

Andrew:

Yeah, they do. In fact, Lisa spoke really glowingly of their collaboration.

Lisa:

Cindy Smith has been a mentor of mine for years. She's amazing. Even though she's retired, as she told me, she's retired from bureaucracy, not biology. So she's, I've worked with her on a number of publications and she still mentors me on several projects.

Michael:

That's a real Peace Park success story.

Andrew:

And the success isn't just with the science they've done.

Lisa:

We're not just colleagues. She's become a very close friend.

Andrew:

A friendship that's been able to thrive across the international border.

GLACIER NATIONAL PARK CONSERVANCY AD

Andrew:

Each episode, we seem to cover at least one thing that like this podcast wouldn't be possible without the support of the Glacier National Park Conservancy.

Doug Mitchell:

With the help of some friends over there, we got the number of executive director, Doug Mitchell, and decided to call him up out of the blue to ask about these projects.

Andrew:

For this episode, we wanted to ask him about a very special bird.

Doug Mitchell:

Glacier Conservancy, Doug Mitchell speaking.

Doug Mitchell:

Hey Doug, it's Michael and Andrew.

Doug Mitchell:

Hey fellas. How are we doing today?

Michael:

We're doing great, but we have a question for you. Are you much of a birder?

Doug Mitchell:

Uh, I am not much of a birder, but I am anxious to learn.

Michael:

We've got a great little bit of audio trivia for you. We're going to play a bird call and want to see if you can guess who that call might belong to.

Doug Mitchell:

Okay. I'm up for I'm ready.

Michael:

All right, here we go.

Andrew:

Does that ring any bells for you?

Doug Mitchell:

I'm going to default to one of my very favorite projects in the park, and I'm going to say Harlequin duck.

Andrew:

You got it.

Michael:

You nailed it. How do you know about Harlequin ducks?

Doug Mitchell:

You know I, I have come to know Harlequin ducks, to be honest through my work here at the Conservancy.

Andrew:

We actually got to see a few of them with Lisa Bate.

Doug Mitchell:

Count me jealous. I have not to my knowledge seen one, my wife has watched a mom Harlequin duck kind of teach her young to navigate the rapids there on McDonald Creek. It was, she said, a really neat experience. Yeah, they're a very, very special, beautiful animal.

Michael:

So are you involved with Lisa's research at all?

Doug Mitchell:

We've, we've been very fortunate here at the Conservancy to be able to support Lisa's research in a number of areas, including with these Harlequin duck studies and also trying to do some work, repairing some of the trails. There are some social trails that can be disruptive on the McDonald Creek area. So we've been very, very fortunate to be able to be part of that process as it's been ongoing.

Andrew:

That's pretty cool. It's a, it sounds like it might allow some more people to have an experience like your wife did when they visit the park.

Doug Mitchell:

Yeah, I think that would be, that would be great. Right. That's what we're all about at the Conservancy--preserving the park for future generations to enjoy and to be able to think about being able to protect this species and have people later on be able to enjoy that is really, really a special thing to be able to think about. Right. That's work worth doing.

Michael:

Absolutely. Awesome. Well thank you for taking some time out of your day, Doug. We'll talk to you later.

Doug Mitchell:

All right. Thanks guys. Take care.

ROMANCE

Michael:

So Andrew, neither of us grew up in Montana, right?

Andrew:

That's correct. I actually grew up in Washington state.

Michael:

Yeah. And I grew up in Ohio. So, the fact that we not only met, but became friends, is something that just flat out never would have happened if it weren't for Glacier.

Andrew:

Absolutely. Over the course of a year, this place serves as an intersection of people from all over the world. A couple of years ago, I was working as a ranger up at Logan Pass. And a guy asked me if I was the same Andrew who had refereed his kids’ soccer game like six years ago. And I was.

Michael:

No way! So, the Peace Park provides a unique opportunity to meet other people and experience cultures on both sides of the U.S.- Canada border.

Andrew:

Just by virtue of having the Alberta Visitor Center near the West entrance here, we've had the chance to meet and befriend a lot of Canadians over the years

Michael:

From the little things like celebrating Canada day on July 1st, to having them go out of their way to get me Canadian candy, ketchup chips, or Frutopia that you can't find down here. The International Peace Park is like a confluence of two countries coming together into one unique thing. I mean, it's a lot of fun.

Andrew:

And just in this episode, we've heard a few examples of employees befriending their counterparts from across the border.

Michael:

But I want to close us out today by meeting some folks that took the whole cross-border friendship thing to the next level.

Justin McKeown:

You know, I would say we got the full story, from the Peace Park perspective.

Michael:

Meet Justin and Kim.

Justin McKeown:

Yeah. I'm Justin McKeown.

Kim McKeown:

And I'm Kim McKeown.

Justin McKeown:

We're currently at our home in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

Andrew:

Some Canadians?

Michael:

Well, yes and no.

Kim McKeown:

I'm from Ohio.

Justin McKeown:

And I grew up in the prairies of Canada in Saskatchewan.

Andrew:

Oh, I see where this is going.

Michael:

Justin and Kim both worked in Waterton-Glacier in the early 2000s. Justin, how did you wind up working here?

Justin McKeown:

My uncle was Park Superintendent down in Waterton Lakes, National Park. So I had some exposure of going out there and visiting him and my aunt. It was a job and lifestyle that appealed to me at sort of a younger age.

Michael:

Then, around the time he went to college, or university, as they call it up there, he got a job with Parks Canada.

Justin McKeown:

Started at Elk Island National Park, and then moved down to Waterton Lake

Andrew:

What did he do at Waterton?

Michael:

He was an interpretive ranger, just like we were, leading guided hikes and campground programs.

Justin McKeown:

You know, I can probably look back on it and say, it was like the best job I ever had.

Michael:

Kim, how did you wind up working here?

Kim McKeown:

Um, so my dad decided to come out and play park ranger from Ohio. I missed him and I came out to work for the boat company in 2003, the year before Justin and I met.

Michael:

What was the name of the boat that you captained?

Kim McKeown:

What was the name of the boat...Morning Eagle was on Lake Josephine, and on Swiftcurrent was Chief Two Guns.

Andrew:

Oh, so she worked at Many Glacier.

Michael:

What is memorable specifically about the job of being a boat captain?

Kim McKeown:

If I think back now, like it seems it should have been a more difficult job than it was. It didn't feel difficult to drive these boats. And I really enjoy like giving the talk on the boat and I liked making people laugh. You're getting sometimes to show people bears for the first time and the hotel there employed a lot of young people. And so you're just around a lot of other, basically university-aged people. It's like summer camp for adults.

Justin McKeown:

I think they call it college down in the United States, dear.

Kim McKeown:

[Laughs] I’m Canadianized.

Michael:

And they actually met at work.

Kim McKeown:

We actually met on the boat dock at Many Glacier. It was one of the other boat captains that was like, he's cute. You should go for a hike.

Michael:

Justin, a Park Canada interpreter, was milling about in Many Glacier in the first place for his job.

Justin McKeown:

Yeah, so this would be part of a longstanding exchange within the Peace Park, whereby a Parks Canada interpreter would go down to Glacier National Park and deliver a program every Friday evening. And then a counterpart, an interpretive ranger from Glacier National Park, would come up to Waterton to the Falls Theatre, to provide exposure to each other's parks within the International Peace Park.

Michael:

But work wasn't the only reason he wanted to go to Glacier.

Kim McKeown:

Pretty soon after, I think I invited myself to come for a hike with Justin in Waterton and yeah, after that first hike, it was basically like, it was a thing. It was the start of a relationship.

Andrew:

Well, that's adorable. And not your typical workplace romance. The two parks brought them together, but they're from two different countries. Long distance is hard enough without a border in between you. How did that even work?

Michael:

Well, as you can imagine, it did make it tough, but they were able to find a way. [To the McKeowns]: So, how long did you do the distance thing?

Kim McKeown:

We dated cross border for seven years.

Michael:

Kim worked as a teacher on the Blackfeet reservation, living in East Glacier, and Justin could find year-round off-and-on work in Waterton.

Andrew:

Okay. That's only a few hours apart.

Michael:

So, relatively close, but they still crossed the border a lot, to the point where Customs and Border Patrol got to know them by name. [Speaking to the McKeowns]: I'm wondering, when you started seeing each other, how normal in your brain was the idea of dating somebody from another country?

Kim McKeown:

It became quite normal. I mean, it definitely took a while. Like, figuring out the differences between the two countries in the early stages of dating. I remember at one point making Justin a little paper dictionary, translating Canada speak into America speak, and then Justin made me his edition. So I think I had put things on there like it's a beanie, but you call it a tocque, for a winter hat.

Justin McKeown:

I don't remember that to be honest, but I know it was mentioned before.

Kim McKeown:

Oh. well, there were lots of things like that. And eventually it just kind of melded into like, this is normal. Like, my Ohio accent kind of became a Canadian accent. Although, in Canada for a long time, they still thought I talked like an American. But my American family would make fun of me when I came home because I was speaking like a Canadian.

Michael:

So, they made it work for years. But as time wore on, crossing the border to see one another grew more and more cumbersome.

Justin McKeown:

We sort of recognized the fact that we dealing with an international border.

Kim McKeown:

And it was really cramping our relationship style.

Michael:

And one way to remedy that would be to put a ring on it.

Justin McKeown:

And plans were afoot, you know. I realized I wanted to ask this girl to marry me. Somebody was kind of getting impatient at some point in time. They're not thinking it was actually going to happen. So we went out on a hike some evening, sort of on the shoulder of Galway mountain in Waterton. So it's up the Red Rock Road, and sort of found this little off shoot that had a great view of the valley. You know, asked Kim to marry me, and obviously, she said yes.

Michael:

So they found a local Justice of the Peace that liked hiking, and they hiked up Avian Ridge in Waterton with a few friends and got married.

Justin McKeown:

We have that date, that's our proper wedding anniversary. And we have that date stamped on the inside of our rings. And, um, yeah!

Michael:

The following year, they had a full-blown ceremony in Waterton with family coming from all over, although it was September in Alberta, so the weather was a bit of an adjustment for some.

Kim McKeown:

My grandmother actually came from Florida and the wedding was in the fall, and she moved to Florida because she does not like the cold and my, my uncle as well. So he kind of had brought her, and I know that he had to go to the drugstore in Pincher Creek that morning and buy her longjohns that she could wear under her dress clothes because she was too cold in Canada.

Justin McKeown:

It was like 50 or 60 degrees. It was a nice day, as far as we're concerned.

Michael:

And I, for one learned a thing or two about Canadian weddings.

Andrew:

Yeah? Like what?

Michael:

So, they ask a family member or close friend to preside over the event instead of a DJ or MC and they have something called midnight lunch, essentially, a full-blown late night snack. People eat at the reception, then they get up for dancing and drinks. And then a little while later, bam. Poutine.

Andrew:

Okay. That sounds really good.

Michael:

Yeah. But what Kim and Justin did the best, I think, was the dessert.

Kim McKeown:

We didn't have cake at our wedding. We had pie. We had like a variety of pies, but our wedding pie that we cut into was apple-Saskatoon-huckleberry. And it was apples to signify Ohio, and Saskatoon berries to signify Saskatchewan, and huckleberries to signify the Peace Park. And so that was the kind of pie that we cut into as like our ceremonial cake cutting.

Michael:

[Responding to Kim]: Aw, that’s something else. [Break, and music comes in] Today, 16 years after they met at the boat dock in Many Glacier, Kim and Justin are raising a family together in Calgary.

Andrew:

So, not too far away.

Michael:

Right. Close enough to visit. Now, we have spent a lot of time talking today about how the International Peace Park recognizes that the landscape we share knows no boundaries, but as this story shows, neither does love, friendship, or camaraderie. Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park is an invitation to see ourselves in one another, a much-needed reminder to see not our differences, but the things that we share. Justin and Kim lived this firsthand in a way more dramatic than most of us ever will. [Speaking to Kim and Justin]: So, I was curious, what does the designation International Peace Park mean to both of you?

Justin McKeown:

I think, I think it is a place that you can sort of leave jurisdictions and politics behind to some degree or another and focus on this sort of contiguous landscape.

Kim McKeown:

To me it means family. You know, if it wasn't for the International Peace Park, we wouldn't be a family.

Michael:

To see what the International Peace Park means to you - well, you’ll just have to come find out.

CLOSING

Michael:

That’s our show—for more information on the International Peace Park, on Waterton or Harlequin Ducks, check out the links in our show notes.

Andrew:

Thanks for listening!

CREDITS

Renata:

Headwaters is a production of Glacier National Park with support from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The show was written and recorded on traditional native lands. Andrew Smith and Michael Faist produced, edited and hosted the show. Ben Cosgrove wrote and performed our music. Alex Stillson provided tech support Quinn Feller designed our art Renata Harrison researched the show, Lacy Kowalski was always there for us, and Daniel Lombardi and Bill Hayden were the executive directors. Support for the show comes from the Glacier National Park Conservancy. The Conservancy works to preserve and protect the park for future generations. We couldn't do it without them, and they couldn't do it without support from thousands of generous donors. If you want to learn more about how to support this podcast, or other awesome Conservancy projects, please go to their website at glacier.org. Of course you can always help support the show by sharing it with everyone you know— your friends, your family, your dog... And also leave us a review online. Special thanks this episode to Natalie Hodge and our friends at Waterton Lakes National Park, Tracy Weisse, Bob Adams, Lisa Bate, Diane Sine and Kim and Justin McKeown.

Confluence | Trailer

25 november 2020 | 2 min

00:00 -00:00

Headwaters

Headwaters is a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else.

Om podden

Avsnitt

Climate and Electrical Solutions with Katie Pfennigs

Bonus | How to Win at Glacier

Climate and Living with Fire with Jennifer Gibson

Bonus | Visiting Glacier in Style

Bonus | Answering Your Questions

Bonus | How to Level Up Your Trip Planning

Climate and Health with Dr. Danielle Buttke

Climate and History with Elizabeth Villano

Climate and the Future of Forests with Dr. Tyler Hoecker

Climate and the Cryosphere with Dr. Caitlyn Florentine

Climate and Community with Mike Durglo, Jr.

Climate Interpretation with Diane Sine

Glacier’s Bats: A Story of Grief and Hope

Does Hiking Impact Wildlife? Check the Camera

Chasing Waterfalls: The Search for Glacier’s Hidden Wildlife

Art, Science, and Alpine Potatoes

Surviving a Near-Death Fall in a National Park

Living Seasonally: Advice from a Lifelong Ranger

Can Ranger Traditions Survive into the Future?

A Growly Bear and the Invention of Bear Spray

Bonus | Vehicle Reservations

Becoming | (Re)colonized

Becoming | A Destination

Becoming | Landowners

Becoming | Forgotten Soldiers

Becoming | Empire Builders

Becoming | A Market Place

Becoming | Portraits of the West

Becoming | Unfrozen

Becoming | Stained by History

Becoming | Prologue

Becoming | Trailer

Whitebark Pine | Chapter Five

Whitebark Pine | Chapter Four

Whitebark Pine | Chapter Three

Whitebark Pine | Chapter Two

Whitebark Pine | Chapter One

Whitebark Pine | Trailer

Confluence | Two Medicine

Confluence | St. Mary

Confluence | North Fork

Confluence | Many Glacier

Confluence | Logan Pass

Confluence | Lake McDonald

Confluence | Goat Haunt

Confluence | Trailer