During
an interminably long session on the four ecosystem blocks I noted
that no life exists on our planet without the water cycle, the
mineral cycle, community dynamics and energy flow.
At the end of each segment an animated Kirk Gadzia, an instructor,
would shout, "Where do we look?" After the third time
we got the gist and responded, "The soil surface."
The soil surface tells us if we are catching and holding water
in the soil mantle, if the manure and dead plant material are
breaking down to build soil, if we have diverse plant species,
and if we are capturing and converting sunlight.
I was surprised to learn that grazing was only one of six tools,
the other five tools being rest, animal impact, fire, living organisms
and technology.
I realized that my only tool was grazing and it seemed that environmentalists'
only tool was rest. We also learned that none of the tools could
be implemented without human creativity, labor or money. This
means the locals hold the key to implementing the tools.
We
finally got to grazing management and stocking rates. I was pulling
against the bit to build fences and run more cattle. Then Allan
Savory warned us not to build fences and start rotational grazing
but to plan the use of all the tools to achieve our Holistic Goal.
His warning caused me to pause. I needed a goal.
Developing the Holistic Goal requires input from all of the decision-makers.
In my case, the first layer of decision-makers consisted of three
ranch partners. Their response ranged from laughter to ignoring
me.
To be a Holistic Manager in the real world required a means other
than a touchy-feely session. I worked to incorporate my partners'
values and those of my BLM range conservationist, NRCS conservationist,
and banker.
While struggling with the idea, I walked and kneeled to see the
land for the first time, as Kirk Gadzia taught. For three years,
I watched cattle grazing, observed plants growing, and rolled
up fences that no longer made sense.
I also walked around the landscape pacing transects as John Likins,
a BLM range conservationist, taught me to do. I noted 50 percent
bare ground.
Animals grazing the same plants and walking in the same place
for too long, or not being gone from that place for long enough,
cause bare ground. It can also result from total rest or the absence
of any disturbance, which is necessary to create germination sites.
In an arid environment, the first happens over weeks and the second
over decades. Plants need time to recover from grazing and animal
impact.
I didn't get the Quality of Life deal. Our culture endures. We
are tough. To plan for quality of life, well, that was a new one.
I tried, forcing myself to take time off and even recreate. Suddenly,
the daily tasks blurring into seasons and years stopped and I
could hear those little unexpected requests for change; bunch
your cattle, build a fence, move the cattle. It's scary to doing
something different from all the neighbors.
Finally, with a goal in mind, I acted. The first grazing plan
reduced the time our cattle were in one place and increased the
time they were gone by bunching them in larger herds, like the
migrating buffalo.
I took the plan to Roy Packer, my BLM range conservationist of
10 years. I didn't show him the grazing plan right off. It seems
the academic world spawning agency personnel has strong opinions
about Holistic Management and Allan Savory, so I eased into it.
"Roy," I ventured, "what do you think of Holistic
Management?"
"Any management is better than none at all," he stated
flatly.
By reducing time and increasing recovery periods, our stocking
rate sprinted ahead by 20 percent in 1991, 22 percent in '92,
and 16 percent in '93, and the sky seemed the limit.
The larger herds of cattle forced utilization of areas and plants
stagnant for years. After a dry 1994 dropped our yield back 10
percent, Tom Ryder, a state Game and Fish wildlife biologist,
said our ranch looked like a game refuge, with elk all over the
place. They had moved onto areas we grazed early, which provided
succulent regrowth.
A wet 1995 picked up the stocking rate by 17 percent, and different
plant species began appearing. An investigation confirmed bluebunch
wheatgrass, Indian ricegrass, leafy green needle, and needle-and-thread
where I had seen none before.
Probing the soil surface proved the appearance of these bunch
grasses to be originating from old, dormant plants hunkering below
overgrazing pressure of years past. They were not new seedlings.
The inherent diversity of riparian areas showed up even more quickly.
In the early 1980s, I began experimenting with beavers. Holistic
Management gave me an awareness and an understanding of tools
to build beaver habitat. By grazing the herbaceous undergrowth
early, sunlight could draw the willow seedlings above the dark
undergrowth. Rest by mid-June and through the summer established
diverse woody species.
In 1995 the University of Wyoming documented a 50 percent increase
in numbers and a 70 percent increase in species of migratory songbirds.
The resulting willows have enticed moose to become residents.
The higher water table from beaver activity increased grass production
for livestock grazing, water filtration and soil building.
As success built upon success I couldn't help being downright
cocky and even evangelistic. My neighbors looked for mistakes
and problems. They didn't have to look far. In 1996, my invincibility
ignored a basic Holistic Management principle: "Assume you
are wrong."
That year Miller Spring failed to provide water for 1,000 cow-calf
pairs. The spring surfaces along the county road where everyone
would see the cows muddy-black-mouthed bawling. They noticed and
noted "poor animal performance." We planned to develop
better water storage.
Cow pies scattered across the pasture suggested a dead mineral
cycle. We struggled with our decision to ban insecticide ear tags
for fear of losing pasture customers. We explained our plan to
move the cattle every 10 days to stay ahead of the fly hatch --
by the time the flies hatched the cattle would be gone and the
larvae had no hosts available to complete their life cycle.
Some customers bought it and some didn't, but the decision was
right for the land. Fly larvae drilled holes through the cow pies,
making them more breakable. Beatles rolled up dung and carried
it below ground. Spider webs spanning every hole on the landscape
glistened from early morning dew. Wyoming's largest environmental
organization, The Wyoming Outdoor Council, toured our ranch, with
the most common comment being, "Where is the manure?"
A healthy insect population cycled the manure rapidly. Once again,
time and movement of livestock delivered the key.
A problem took root in 1996 when I began modifying the definition
of "recovery" to justify grazing pastures twice in one
season. Holistic Management guidelines suggest that a plant has
recovered when it looks like an ungrazed plant. I told myself
that a plant was recovered after regrowing 6 inches, or setting
a seedhead, even though they obviously did not look like ungrazed
plants. Roy Packer warned me against the practice. I did it anyway.
That year our yield was 181 percent of when we started, but from
here on it was like spurring a horse up a steep talus slope, the
harder you spurred the more you slide backward. I spurred harder.
We began losing litter cover, and in an arid environment the absence
of mulch is like adding another bullet to the chamber in a game
of Russian roulette.
Without the soil surface covered I was highly susceptible to drought.
To top it off, the bunchgrasses hunkered down again.
Jim Howell, a Holistic Manager from Colorado, explained how plant
recovery differs between high-production and low-production arid
environments. Jim suspected I was not planning for adequate recovery
periods. The loaded cylinder rolled into the chamber as the worst
drought in 108 years of records began in 2000.
We cut stocking rates 11 percent but were still behind the curve.
We shipped yearlings early and weaned our calves ahead of schedule
to compensate for being overstocked.
We chopped 35 percent more from our planned grazing in 2001. Tom
Ryder stopped by the ranch in September saying, "Your riparian
areas really look good. Thanks."
After 30 of the last 31 months of less-than-average precipitation,
we are planning a 46 percent reduction from our 10-year average
in 2002. Even with the foul-up, our latest monitoring showed 40
percent bare ground vs. 50 percent before we started planning
grazing.
While allowing us to increase livestock numbers, Holistic Management
caused me to value land health and not just production. I learned
that Holistic Management is not a grazing system but a way of
responding to the dynamic conditions of the land.
Intensive grazing, rotational grazing and grazing systems dictate
use and rest according to a calendar, oblivious to recent plant
growth or lack of use. We plan the grazing so we get animals to
the right place at the right time and for the right reasons. Those
right reasons revolve around our holistic goal.
Holistic Management gave me respect for life that overcame the
irrational war against "bad" plants. Spending money
on herbicides or technology to kill the symptom of unwanted plants
does not address the underlying problem of bare ground, overgrazing
or too much rest.
What we see on the land is merely a reflection of the habitat
our management has provided. In Hamlet, Shakespeare said, "Nothing
is good or bad but thinking makes it so." Certain plants
aren't bad; they are just there. We can cover the soil surface
and plan for adequate recovery periods to create habitat for a
diverse and complex perennial grass community, just as bare ground
creates habitat for cheat grass, spotted knapweed, leafy spurge
and Canada thistle.
As biodiversity on the land increased, I began interacting more
comfortably with community members of diverse interests. Knowing
that each tool has a role in achieving a functional ecosystem,
I no longer felt pressured to defend the tool of grazing.
The absence of defensiveness allowed for trust. I realized that
the environmentalists and I value the same things -- a safe community,
a healthy landscape and a stable economy. With this understanding,
I no longer needed to convert the other side to my way of thinking.
I began learning from them.
Holistic Management is being aware of how decisions affect life:
plant life, animal life, human life and economic life. Sure, scars
on the landscape remind me of a time before my new awareness demanded
response to mistakes. But now I have the decision-making ability
to select a tool, on any given day, to move toward our goal of
a diverse and complex perennial plant community.
What could be better for our landscape, our community and our
economy than developing generations of managers equipped to make
decisions that support life?
Tony Malmberg is a Lander,
Wyo.-area rancher who says it's taken him a dozen years to learn
and apply the principles of holistic management.
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