First the elk became scrawny. They were listless at times, nervous and hyper at others. They drooled, paced and ground their teeth.
Then they fell down and died. No one knew the elk were sick until tests showed they had died of chronic wasting disease.
An incurable sickness that’s baffled veterinarians and biologists since its discovery in Colorado in the 1960s, chronic wasting disease has led to the slaughter of thousands of deer and elk in 13 states. It’s hurt wild herds and scarred the hunting industries everywhere it’s hit.
To date, Idaho’s wildlife has been spared, but most agree it’s just a matter of time before chronic wasting disease infiltrates the Gem State, as it has in Wyoming, Montana, Utah and, a couple of months ago, Kansas.
What’s even more problematic for Idaho is that most outbreaks can be traced to elk farms and hunting preserves, which Idaho allows — unlike its neighbors.
Records obtained by the Post Register show neither the state nor the penned hunt owners have been successful in keeping wild and domestic elk apart, which is key to prevent the disease from spreading once it arrives.
“The biggest problem I see is the fences are not very secure,” said Roger Penske, a conservation officer with the Idaho Department of Fish and Game for 331/2 years until he retired in November. “They have wild animals inside them all the time.”
There are 74 elk farms and 14 penned elk hunting camps in the state. Eastern Idaho is home to nine of the hunting preserves. These outfits import more animals from out of state, potentially increasing the risk of bringing the disease here.
In eastern Idaho, that’s thousands of miles of fences to monitor for holes made by animals and hunters and bridges created by snowdrifts and downed trees.
The state Department of Agriculture, which regulates the industry, has assigned three inspectors to the task in eastern Idaho. Elk ranchers are responsible for keeping their animals inside the fences and the wild animals out, but it’s a constant battle.
More often than not, Penske’s former co-workers are summoned to handle the problems, and the owners face no repercussions.
Since it took over in 1994, the Department of Agriculture has cited four elk ranchers for violations. The most serious offender has been Rex Rammell, who owns a 2,000-acre preserve in Fremont County. He’s been cited again and again for failing to maintain his fences, refusing to allow state regulators to inspect his outfit and neglecting to put tags in the ears of his bull elk.
Rammell was facing more than $750,000 in fines, but he convinced the Legislature in 2004 to wipe out most of his debt. He persuaded lawmakers to pass legislation to cap fines for continuing violations at $5,000 rather than a $5,000 penalty per day the violation continues, in effect repealing the law they’d passed the year before.
Even though only a few ranchers have been cited, they are not the only ones who’ve had problems.
There are dozens of cases where Fish and Game officers spent hours driving wild beasts from hunting preserves in eastern Idaho, tracking down fugitive domestic elk and dealing with other problems that crop up in and around these outfits.
In one case, on Oct. 9, 2004, Fish and Game officers shared an e-mail about Mike Ferguson’s preserve near Yellowstone National Park. It said several homeowners in the Meadow Creek area had reported an increase in the number of raven and grizzly sightings. The lure, the e-mail said, was dozens of piles of elk guts found outside the fence. It’s not clear whether the guts had been buried or dumped, which is illegal on public land. Fish and Game officers found the guts on Ferguson’s land.
Another e-mail indicates Fish and Game workers were worried about the safety of those Meadow Creek neighbors, youngsters attending a nearby camp and the bears.
“I mentioned to Ferguson that the gut piles were attracting bears, and he did not seem too concerned with the issue or willing to make any effort to fix the problem,” an e-mail from a conservation officer said.
Ferguson refused to comment for this story, but Rammell defended the industry, which has faced criticism on a number of issues — from the potential disease risk to the ethics of hunting a caged animal to habitat loss created by the preserves, one of which is more than 5,000 acres.
The way Rammell sees it, he and his fellow elk ranchers make a nice living by providing a service. They’re a responsible bunch, he said, and their outfits will not likely be the source of an outbreak here.
“No industry is more regulated for disease than the elk industry in Idaho,” Rammell said. “And I’m fine with that. We want to make sure we don’t have diseases, and we don’t want to spread disease. The fact is, these people are tested and tested and tested.”
There’s a reason for all the testing: If chronic wasting disease hits here, it could scar wild herds of elk, deer and moose, and dent Idaho’s hunting industry, a $536 million-a-year business.
Trying to ward off trouble, in 2001, Idaho’s Fish and Game banned the importation of domestic mule deer and white-tailed deer, but not elk.
Fish and Game oversees wild elk, not domestic ones. The Department of Agriculture handles those.
The idea when the Legislature switched oversight in 1994 was that Ag Department veterinarians were better-equipped to handle a disease outbreak than Fish and Game officers.
But the decision has its critics — state Sen. David Langhorst, for one. Elk are not cattle, the Boise Democrat says.
They are not easy to count or tag since they won’t run through a chute to be counted. (In fact, Rammell’s run-ins with state inspectors stemmed from a 2003 incident in which a trophy bull ripped out an antler while being worked through a chute.)
Langhorst introduced a bill this year that would have banned the importation of elk into Idaho. The Senate Agricultural Affairs Committee shot it down.
Another critic of the Legislature’s 1994 decision is Kent Marlor, president of the Idaho Wildlife Federation, a group that pushes for wildlife conservation.
“The people who own (hunting preserves) found that they had some conflict with Fish and Game, for obvious reasons,” Marlor said. “They felt they could develop the industry the way they wanted if they went through the Department of Agriculture. And they had the clout to do it. It isn’t a large group, but they are very powerful.”
Members of the Idaho Elk Breeders Association include former Montana Gov. Judy Marz; Jeff Siddoway, a former Idaho Fish and Game commissioner; and Ferguson, who also owns Yellowstone Bear World.
Siddoway, Rammell and Ferguson own hunting preserves in eastern Idaho.
Marz owns an elk ranch in Meridian.
Siddoway and Rammell shrug off criticism of their outfits, which are skewered by those who believe hunting in pens is unethical.
Both said they had little choice but to get into the business. Rammell would be willing to sell venison and antler velvet if that paid the bills. It doesn’t, but hunting does.
Siddoway opened his 5,400-acre preserve near St. Anthony after losing money raising sheep for five straight years.
“We had to do something else,” he said.
Critics, Siddoway said, ignore the positive aspects — mainly the economic impact, but also the donations of venison to charities and the opportunities for the elderly and disabled.
Most of his customers are not Idahoans. They stay in Siddoway’s lodge, where employees cook food from Broulim’s, and they use local butchers and taxidermists, one of whom has a two-year backlog.
“This brings in millions of dollars to the state, money that wouldn’t be brought into this state,” said Gary Queen, president of the Idaho Elk Breeders Association.
Game farms provide a safe way to kill a healthy animal, he said, and it allows more people to take up the sport. But, he said, most who flock to these outfits are “overweight millionaires.”
“The majority of the people who come in are corporate people who don’t want to go out into the wild. They want fine facilities,” Queen said. “And frankly, the majority of those people I’ve seen, I wouldn’t want them in the wild.”
Langhorst doesn’t want them in Idaho. He acknowledges these hunters bring money into the state, but said the risks associated with hunting preserves aren’t worth it.
“The average hunter contributes a lot more to the economy than someone who comes in to hunt on a game farm,” he said. “So why are they all of a sudden more important than the average hunter? Why put all the wild deer and elk at risk for them?”
Langhorst’s bill aimed at outlawing the importation of elk turned some heads. Soon after its introduction, members of the elk breeders’ association unveiled a bill that would have expanded their outfits. It failed.
“Obviously, we had to go in there and try to protect our operation,” Siddoway said.
That’s what a couple of elk ranchers in Montana have been trying to do for years.
Bruce Buhmann, who owns Circle Eagle Game Farm, and Charles Taylor, owner of Taylor’s Big Sky Elk Ranch, have battled a state ban on game farms since late 2000, when Montana voters narrowly approved Initiative 43.
Taylor said the ban amounts to stealing his land.
“It’s against the Montana Constitution and the federal Constitution, but they found some loopholes they could get around,” he said. “They said you could own the elk but you couldn’t sell them. That’s like saying you can own a shoe store, but you can’t sell the shoes.”
Doing something similar in Idaho would be a “gargantuan task,” Langhorst said.
The bill he introduced in January has rallied some sportsmen, however.
“I don’t know that people in sufficient numbers understand yet what the problem is, but I think this is the beginning of an awakening,” Marlor said.
Rammell said Langhorst’s bill would’ve run him out of business within two years. He also believes it’s unconstitutional.
“We’ve really been a responsible industry,” Rammell said. “I’m proud of the elk breeders.”
Rammell said he’ll probably have to go back to “spaying cats and dogs” if CWD shows up at any of the state’s elk ranches; the backlash would be that strong.
Maybe it won’t make it here, though.
A lot of people are spending a lot of time battling the disease. Researchers are trying to find answers to its cause so they can come up with better, cheaper testing and, eventually, a vaccine.
“There is tons of research being done,” said Dr. Phil Mamer, a wildlife veterinarian with Fish and Game. “Unfortunately, nobody’s got any answers yet.”
Oversight of the industry
Departments of agriculture oversee the elk industry in nine states. Departments of fish and game regulate it in seven states, and the farms are jointly managed in 34 states.
In Idaho, the state ag department is in charge, but it is working with Fish and Game on a plan to handle animals that escape and wild animals that wander into preserves.
Big money
According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s 2001 study on the economic impact of hunting, out-of-state hunters spend $57 million in Idaho annually.
That’s the most recent study available. Idaho’s hunters, meanwhile, contributed almost $167 million to the economy in 2001, up from $127 million in 1991.
Cost
At Rex Rammell’s Chief Joseph Idaho preserve, the cost for a trophy bull elk ranges from $5,000 to $15,000.
Revenue
Elk farm operators pay an annual $5 fee for each elk. In 2005, the state made $26,650 from those fees. That’s up from $17,185 in 2000, and $0 in 1995.
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