Faith in the Land

Article Tools

Print

E-mail

Comments

RSS

I don't mean to belittle the devotion that comes with loving a wild place. Without the fruits of that love, our country would be spiritually handicapped (not to mention paved from one end to the other). But I do mean to say that people know a place differently when they depend on it for a livelihood. In needing something from the land, you learn how much it will share, when to take that, and what to give in return. Rather than view the land as a delicate giant, you respect it as a partner full of power and energy. It is a relationship of reverence and gratitude, but also one of exchange.

Our best farmers, the people we must count on if American agriculture is to be saved, are those who recognize that. They defer to the land's natural structure and seek its wisdom. But they also believe in its strength.

Ask Mark Gordon about the haggard pastures of the Childress and he'll say there's nothing wrong with the land itself. He'll tell you that even the prairie dogs aren't inherently bad. They aerate the soil, and their grazing makes the grass -- what's left of it -- more nutritious. The problem is that right now there is nothing but prairie dogs. If the system were more diverse, he contends, the land would balance itself.

And yet his solution is not to rest the land completely, but to work it more intensely. The idea is to replicate the conditions under which the pasture evolved originally, which means making his cows act like wild bison, the most influential animal force in the shaping of the Plains. To do this, he packs herds in 10 times more densely than most ranchers would -- 400 cows on 800 acres -- to mimic the way bison naturally clustered to protect themselves from predators. The cattle switch pastures as the wild grazing animals would, every 10 to 30 days, depending on how fast the grass is growing. They return only when the grass shows no sign of their last visit. Mark monitors the land daily, and if the system appears to be stressed -- say, there is no water or the grass is all gone -- he moves them early.

In these tight groups the animals' impact turns positive: The heavy hoof traffic breaks up soil, giving it a roughness that helps to absorb precipitation. The hooves leave hardened depressions that collect water and plant litter and act as protective pots in which new seeds germinate. The cattle eat not just the tender plants but all of them, including dry, old grass and weeds. This pruning inspires vigorous regrowth, and the leveled playing field allows slower-growing perennials to compete. The animals trample their manure, returning its nutrients to the soil.

RSS | Comments | E-mail | Print