No matter where it occurs, in state government or on tourism websites, an anthropocentric, utilitarian approach to nonhuman nature does not bode well for any wildlife, least of all wolves, mountain lions, and other predators that, despite being the scapegoats for human ineptitude, deserve to live free of human interference.
In the new context of climate instability and environmental upheaval, chaos reigns. The old management techniques, including blunt-force predator removal, do not work beyond the short term and only worsen problems they are intended to solve.
Photo: Jeffrey St. Clair.
Together, the states of Utah, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming rake in
billions of dollars in tourism revenue, much of it coming from
outdoor—as opposed to cultural—attractions. “If Utah don’t got it,
you don’t need it,” Utah. Com’s website assures. “Open your mind and
invigorate your senses. Because some things can’t be explained, only
experienced,” travelwyoming.com says. Idaho’s marketers skip the
metaphysics and say only that “there’s an adventure for you in
Idaho.” For insight into what these experiences and adventures
entail, look at the photo galleries on these states’ various tourism
websites, which typically feature images of individuals and families
engaged in wholesome, low-intensity activities—walking, canoeing,
fly-fishing, and horseback riding—as well as images of tranquil
landscapes and wildlife, with distant mountains, rivers, trout, elk,
and bison as the clear favorites.
Effective advertising (which is just hyper-abbreviated,
dopamine-triggering story telling) depends on the manipulation of
human emotions and desires, so depicting smiling people surrounded
by clear skies, open landscapes, and non-predatory wildlife makes
sense. Humans (especially humans with young children) want to feel
safe when they are in nature, even when they are not. “There’s a
dark and a troubled side of life,” one song goes. “But there’s a
bright and a sunny side, too.” Tourists usually (and understandably)
desire the latter; images that signal danger of any kind (and thus
inspire fear or unease) are therefore verboten from a marketing
perspective.
But as we know from numerous examples of humans acting badly in
nature, a healthy dose of fear may be exactly what many people need
before entering the primal scene. Romanticized depictions of nature
are contrary to this goal, first, because like any fantasy they are
unrealistic and undermine people’s understanding of and ability to
engage nature on its own terms. Second, the depictions belie the
reality that western states continue to be places of mortal danger,
terror, and violence to wildlife, especially predators, not because
they are necessarily more dangerous to humans than other wildlife
(bison injure far more people at Yellowstone National Park than any
other animal), but because humans are more dangerous to them.
Mountain lions, black and grizzly bears, bobcats, fox, and coyotes
each suffer their own forms of human insult (some are trapped,
others are hunted with hounds, coyotes are poisoned), but no other
animal on the western landscape has experienced more sustained
brutality and ignorance at the hands of humans than the wolf. And
it’s only getting worse, particularly in those states where, from
the perspective of state leaders at least, wolves have recovered and
therefore no longer need the protection of the Endangered Species
Act (ESA). Looking at these states’ marketing campaigns, however,
with their shiny people, sun and star-soaked skies, medium-rare
steaks, and fireside sing-alongs, prospective visitors would likely
not suspect, nor imagine, the lengths to which their legislators and
state agencies have gone to subjugate the wild for human benefit.
2.
By some estimates, Utah hasn’t hosted a wolf pack for over a
century. But with the 1995 reintroduction of wolves into Yellowstone
National Park and, shortly after, into Idaho and Montana, many
western states appeared on track to modify their forebears’
the-only-good-wolf-is-a-dead-wolf mentality in favor of a common
sense, science-driven, ecologically informed perspective. Indeed, up
until May of 2010, which is when the Utah state legislature passed
the Wolf Management Act (SB 36) and henceforth prohibited wolves
from establishing in the state, it also appeared there was at least
a chance that Utah would emulate its neighbors to the north and
accommodate wolves.
The state legislature had even gone so far as to direct the Division
of Wildlife Resources (DWR) to draft a Wolf Management Plan, a
charge that was ultimately completed by the DWR-appointed Wolf
Working Group (WWG). After meeting 13 times over 17 months, the
group produced an 81-page plan that allowed for up to two breeding
pairs of wolves and their young to establish here, provided of
course they didn’t get sideways with members of the agricultural and
hunting communities by killing livestock or interfering with
ungulate management objectives. Apparently, the state got cold feet
and decided it was not prepared to take that chance and passed SB 36
a few years later. Maybe it’s just as well.
Wolves are magnificent animals. Unlike us, they live within the
limits set by nature and at the same time improve the health of
their environments. We could learn a lot from them. Thus, if the
choice is to have wolves or not have them, I’d say it’s better to
have them. But I wonder how much better. Sadly, part of me (the
selfish part or the humane part, I do not know which) would probably
rather not have wolves than to see them settle here only to be
destroyed for no other reason than they were being wolves. Given the
state’s historic and recent hostility toward its resident predators
(lions, black bears, coyotes), my reluctance appears justified.
In fact, as of this writing Utah’s DWR is recommending unlimited
year-round cougar hunting in 33 of its 54 cougar hunting units for
the 2021 season. I’m not a wildlife biologist, but I do know that
combining humans and unlimited anything—bread sticks, soda refills,
development—usually isn’t a good idea. I do not think I am wrong,
then, to question the wisdom, as well as the ethical and scientific
reasoning for this recommendation, assuming there is any.
Inasmuch as most predator management decisions are made in the
interest of propagating ungulates (wild and domestic) and appeasing
the people who most benefit from them (hunters and ranchers), the
DWR’s motivation for the recommendation—to lower predation rates on
mule deer and bighorn sheep populations—should surprise no one. What
is surprising, however, is that the DWR seriously thinks that
ridding the landscape of predators (702 mountain lions, 1100
bobcats, over 24,000 coyotes—all in 2020—and over 1000 black bears
in 2019) is going to have a sustained, net positive effect on deer,
that is, despite the much more serious, ongoing threat of climate
change.
Like its neighbors to the north, south, east, and west, Utah has
been in a perpetual state of drought for decades. But over the
course of the last 10 years, drought conditions have intensified.
Although the effects we are now seeing have also been decades in the
making, they are more dire and visible than ever. Deer are
struggling, but here in Utah they still number well over 300,000 at
last count. Other species—fish, mammal, plant—have not been so
lucky. Human caused climate change has pushed many of them beyond
the brink. And with each loss, the system—the whole—is further
weakened, which in turn weakens each of the parts.
The DWR is of course aware of the overarching impacts of climate
change and has been for a while. “We’ve had a few drought years in
Utah recently, which has a significant impact on the survival rates
of deer,” DWR Big Game Coordinator Covy Jones said in October of
2019. “In Utah, we have the longest range-trend study in the Western
U.S., and we’ve seen that having suitable habitat is crucial for
maintaining or growing wildlife populations. And drought conditions
can really negatively impact that habitat, which in turn affects our
wildlife species.” And yet here we are, not even two years later,
and the DWR is proposing, not to address the impact of climate
change, but to spill more blood.
Why the agency would, contrary to what its own research reveals
about the extent of the problem, still propose killing hundreds of
mountain lions and other predators (which are themselves the
unwitting victims of our environmental tampering) is nothing short
of baffling. Deer, mountain lions, humans, vegetation, water, soil:
everything is impacted by the totalizing disaster of climate change.
Singling out predators as the prima facie cause of deer population
decline ignores this fact. Not to mention that humans can survive
without killing deer. Mountain lions cannot. When are we going to
see wildlife management that accounts for this reality?
Here again we see the ugly consequences of an anthropocentric
worldview that treats wildlife as nothing more than a resource to be
consumed and manipulated for the enrichment of humans. If the goal
were merely to increase the deer population, the DWR would put a
moratorium on hunting deer until the desired herd size was reached.
That the DWR has ignored this obvious solution and instead
authorized killing more predators suggests that the agency does not
possess the vision, autonomy, and support needed to enact such a
commonsense solution. I am sure there are several reasons for these
deficiencies; I am also sure that none of them warrants killing
hundreds of lions for no other reason than they happen to kill a few
thousand deer each year.
Commodified wildlife is protected for the sake of those who profit
from it. The DWR sells chances to kill animals, and the more the DWR
can increase those chances (hence the emphasis on growing the herd),
the more hunters they will attract and licenses they will sell.
Maybe this bottomless business model and the mechanisms used for
implementing it worked prior to the onset of climate change, when
patterns of interaction between climate and the environment were
relatively stable and predictable, and when wildlife biologists
could focus solely on predator-prey relations and still provide an
accurate picture of what’s going on. But not anymore.
In the new context of climate instability and environmental
upheaval, chaos reigns. The old management techniques, including
blunt-force predator removal, do not work beyond the short term and
only worsen problems they are intended to solve. Thus, the wholesale
killing of predators is an unnecessary, ineffective, misguided, and
illusory solution to a long-term problem that we have not even begun
to understand. Under the circumstances, some restraint is in order.
3.
If it weren’t for the fact that a tiny minority of humans find value
in killing predators, Utah and other western states would likely
eradicate them, again, for the same selfish reasons. But what was
true during those earlier extermination campaigns may be even more
true now, which is that predators are not, nor have they ever been,
a significant threat to livestock nor the cause of prey species
collapse. That distinction belongs solely to us. In fact, according
to the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, “there is
virtually no known case where native predators have driven a prey
species to extinction in a setting where humans played little or no
role. Humans, by contrast, despite their regulatory tools, have
contributed to innumerable extinctions.”
Innumerable indeed. Just look at early 19th century Utah, which was
and continues to be emblematic of the West. In stark contrast to
native peoples, who inhabited the region for over 7000 years without
plundering and destroying the natural world, within the span of 50
years settlers had managed to kill off many of the state’s apex
predators (grizzly bears, wolverines, wolves) and decimate
populations of white-tailed deer, elk, pronghorn, bighorn sheep, and
buffalo. One of the great ironies and absurdities is that the
descendants of those settlers are not only still trying to fix the
world their ancestors ravaged, but by killing off predators they are
making the same blunders that created this mess in the first place.
Is it any wonder why the stereotype of the western rube persists?
Granted, that was a long time ago and some things have changed for
the better since then. But if Utah and other western states continue
to ignore environmental health, including using ineffectual and
draconian methods for “managing” predators, the environment will
continue to degrade to the point that living here will become
infeasible. Meanwhile the rest of the world—including prospective
visitors to the state—will see how little we here in the American
West have learned in the 200-years since our forebears waged war on
the natural world; how we appear determined to ignore a hundred
years of scientific gains and continue using a 19th century mindset
to address 21st century challenges. Make no mistake: The Great
Humbling has begun. Let us be wary of legislation (like SB 36) that
makes the argument from tradition, which too often is used to
justify acting in brutal and obsolete ways.
If there is any hope of mitigating the effects of climate change and
preserving what’s left of the wild and natural world, we are going
to need more nuanced solutions, something other than terrorizing and
killing our wildlife. But we also need more responsive agencies with
the courage and support to implement them. Otherwise, given the
West’s prioritization of domestic and wild ungulates, the
persecution and scapegoating of predators is only going to worsen as
the impacts and uncertainties of climate become more dire.
As things stand now, instead of leading the West in wildlife
management, Utah is taking its cues from Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana
as each vies to become the most regressive state in the union so far
as predators are concerned. Thus, even if wolves had been permitted
to establish here, without the protection of the Endangered Species
Act and, as importantly, buy in from the people and the government
of Utah, it likely would not have been long before they ran afoul of
ranchers or hunters and were wiped from the face of the Earth.
4.
But as we have seen time and time again in western states and,
indeed, wherever wolves have managed to gain a foothold, even with
protections the wolf’s future is not assured. For reasons both
sacred (approximately 65% of Utah’s population is Mormon) and
profane (thousands of predators are destroyed in cruel, bloody, and
violent ways), the beehive state does not appear to have the
philosophic, moral, spiritual, or ethical wherewithal needed to make
room for wolves and other so-called beasts of the field. I struggle
to understand how such an ostensibly religious state could have such
low regard for the Creation, a deficiency that, while not unique to
Mormonism or to Utah, permeates every aspect of land and wildlife
management in the state.
Despite the promise of its name, the Wolf Working Group (WWG), which
authored the WMP and was touted as a collaborative feat, is a case
in point. “The majority of the WWG believes that this plan is fair,
sustainable and flexible,” noted the authors (2). But when only two
out of 13 members of the group represent the interests of the wolf
and its supporters, and everyone else represents a consumer or
utilitarian orientation to wildlife, how much confidence can we
really have in the majority? Not to belabor the obvious, but usually
a ratio of 13 to 2 is not a good indicator that diverse interests
have been served.
Skewed representation affects other advisory groups as well,
including the good-old-boy club otherwise known as the Utah Wildlife
Board (UWB), which is responsible for determining hunting rules and
regulations. According to DWR Wildlife Board Coordinator Staci
Coons, “to serve on the board, you need to have a strong interest in
wildlife and wildlife management in Utah. You also need to be
committed to serving and representing the people of Utah.” If only
it were that simple. No doubt the agricultural and hunting
communities appreciate the board’s work (they are the board), but I
don’t know anyone outside these constituencies who feels their
interests are represented by this group, which, in addition to being
unabashedly anti-predator, pro-hunter, and pro-rancher, has also
proven itself to be shamelessly nepotistic.
In early July of this year, for instance, two new members were
appointed to the board. Predictably, both men had worked with the
UWB for several years prior (an apparent condition for appointment)
and one had “served on the statewide leadership team for the Rocky
Mountain Elk Foundation,” an organization that spent thousands of
dollars in a failed attempt to derail Colorado’s recently approved
wolf reintroduction program. To make matters worse, board member
appointments last for six years, a time period that doesn’t exactly
promote the influx of fresh perspectives.
No matter where it occurs, in state government or on tourism
websites, an anthropocentric, utilitarian approach to nonhuman
nature does not bode well for any wildlife, least of all wolves,
mountain lions, and other predators that, despite being the
scapegoats for human ineptitude, deserve to live free of human
interference.
With Utah’s recent announcement that it will join the National Rifle Association, Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, American Farm Bureau, and the American Sheep Industry Association’s lawsuit to prevent gray wolves from being returned to the Endangered Species List—a chain of events that was triggered after Idaho and Montana passed bills that would effectively eradicate up to 90% of their wolf populations using methods that are barbaric by any standard—I am worried that the sterile world of advertisements may be prescient, and that it won’t be long before all that’s wild is gone.