Copyright © 2000 NLThomas
All Rights Reserved

WEST YELLOWSTONE, MT - When I first joined the campaign, more than two years ago, I fell in love at once with the Fir Ridge ski shift. Sunrise at Fir Ridge, overlooking Duck Creek drainage, reminds me how the continent might have looked a few hundred years ago, before our European ancestors arrived. Almost every morning I've been there, the valley has teemed with wildlife. Herds of elk 200 strong, surrounding more than 80 bison, are a common sight from Fir Ridge. Some mornings coyotes and wolves circle the great herds.

The Montana Department of Livestock (DOL) keeps a capture facility on private land owned by Dale Koelzer, who doesn't like bison. His property abuts the park and straddles Duck Creek, the migration corridor for the majority of the herd. Koelzer shot and killed a bull in September because "it was bothering [his] truck."

Our main job on these early mornings is to survey Kolezer's land and make certain no buffalo have wandered onto it during the night. We communicate via radio with a car patrol parked across the creek, at a place we call "the perch," which offers a view of Koelzer's yard and the trap that we don't get from the park.

The memory of helping save 16 buffalo, just four days after my arrival, remains fresh in my mind. Peaches had noticed two DOL trucks at Koelzer's the night before. We knew they were here to capture buffalo because one of the them was towing a livestock trailer, which the DOL uses to haul the animals to slaughter.

We parked at the roadside, put on our skis, and headed toward the park, reaching the top of the ridge before sunrise. Taking four sweeping strides and shooting off the ridge, I flew down the hill with my stomach in my throat and coasted halfway across the valley floor. I skied onto a small bluff overlooking the buffalo trap and waited for my friends.

Derick arrived beside me, fumbling through his pack for the walkie-talkie. He turned it on and said, "Backcountry to perch, do you copy?"

A voice responded, "This is the perch. See anything yet? Over."

Kristen, meanwhile, was skiing further along the bluff. She came back and told us she'd found buffalo beside Koelzer's house. At the same moment, the perch patrol spotted them: "We have 16 friends practically sitting on Koelzer's porch. DOL is up and about. Looks like this is it. Over."

"We better move," Kristen said. "It's almost light." Derick agreed to wait on the hill, providing lookout and radio support, while Kristen and I skied in.

We moved beside the trap and into a grove of trees, the only cover on the property, and surveyed the scene. The buffalo were bedded down on a small rise behind a fence, 15 feet from Koelzer's front door. A mound of hay lay beside the porch.

"That's why they like it here so much," Kristen said. "They're baiting them."

Shadows shifted in the house. "We'd better move or we'll be caught in daylight," I whispered. Adrenaline flowing, I gave the buffalo plenty of room and skied to within five feet of the house. Covering my face with my ski-mask, I passed before the sliding glass door.

"Hayyaa!" I shouted, clacking my poles together. The buffalo reacted quickly, rising to their feet. Several bulls jumped a small fence and headed toward the park. Most walked around it and slowly followed the others. I skied behind them, making sure they didn't drop down to the creek or double back around us. Human voices sounded somewhere behind us, but we didn't linger to hear what they said.

The buffalo walked around the trap and into the park. We trailed them and rested, safe. I've never seen a DOL agent on skis, and since snowmobiles are not allowed in the park's backcountry, we knew they wouldn't chase us.

We followed the animals up the creek, hanging back at least a hundred yards. They lumbered through the heavy snow in single file, the leader breaking trail for the ones behind. When the one in front grew tired, he'd step aside and let another take the lead. The buffalo splashed through the creek and into a sheltered meadow with tufts of grass poking from the snow.

This scene unfolded over two years ago, yet it remains etched in my mind. Duck Creek has been quiet this winter, with just a few buffalo in the great meadow just inside the park. This morning's patrol reported one bull dangerously close to the boundary and the trap at Koelzer's.

Koelzer goes to trial next Wednesday for poaching a bull. Our volunteers discovered the carcass on his land, its head, hide, and genitals missing. Koelzer initially denied any involvement. He changed his story after the head and hide were recovered from his barn. Because of his cozy relationship with the state (the DOL lives in his basement and keeps their equipment in his barn), it is unlikely he will be found guilty for this crime.

I encourage you to keep informed and share your knowledge with as many people as possible. If you'd like to stay up to date on the fate of the bull and the rest of the herd, please sign on to our listserve. We send out regular updates from the field. If you want copies of our newsletter or Buffalo Bull, our award winning documentary, contact me.

Dan Brister has been working with the Buffalo Field Campaign since December of 1997. He alternates winters on the Yellowstone boundary with falls in Missoula, Montana where he is earning an MS in environmental studies. Send email to: dan@wildrockies.org