Crown of the Continent Magazine, Issue 9 by UM Crown of the Continent and Greater Yellowstone Initiative

CROWN CONTINENT Of

THE UNIVERSITY OF MONTANA

the

MAGAZINE

Autumn 2012 Issue 9

THE UNIVERSITY OF MONTANA CROWN OF THE CONTINENT INITIATIVE

UNIVERSITY OF MONTANA Royce C. Engstrom President Perry Brown Provost & Vice President for Academic Affairs David Forbes Interim Vice President Research and Creative Scholarship Christopher Comer Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences Rick Graetz Initiative Co-Director Geography Department Faculty Jerry Fetz Initiative Co-Director Professor and Dean Emeritus College of Arts and Sciences Jessica Neary Designer William Klaczynski Researcher/Photographer Susie Graetz Managing Editor Badger Creek Cover Photo John Lambing

TABLE OF CONTENTS

4 14 18 26 30 40 46 48 54

Climb to the Ice

By Richard Vaughan

Restoring the Wild

By Germaine White

Exotic Invasions

By Ray Callaway

Do those things really work?

By the Miistaki Institute of Calgary

Crowning Moments

Photos by John Lambing

A Visit to the Missions

By Kim Briggeman of the Missoulian

The Wilderness Treck

By Bob Cooney

Settling the Bob Marshall

Excerpt by Rick & Suzie Graetz

A Crown Review

By Jerry Fetz

As we continue this work, we do ask for your help. We bring this E-Magazine $10, $20, $50, or whatever amount you find you can and other publications afford will be put to good to you free of charge. Yet, we certainly won’t reject any donations as large or as small as you might consider sending our way to support this important initiative.

use as we seek to expand our collaborative efforts. You may send donations to: University of Montana Foundation Brantley Hall, Missoula, MT 59812 With a notion of “Crown of the Continent” on your checks

C EDITORS NOTE

We welcome our readers to this Fall 2012 Issue (#9) of The University of Montana Crown of the Continent E Magazine. We have collected in this issue a wonderful array of informative, fascinating, and even inspiring articles, information pieces, and photographs about and from the Crown. We hope that you will agree. As we announced in the Editors’ Note of the Summer 2012 issue of this E-Magazine, we will soon be combining our Crown of the Continent Initiative, of which the nine issues to date have been a significant and perhaps the most public component, with our new Greater Yellowstone Initiative, and merging them into what will from here on be called the “UM Crown of the Continent and Greater Yellowstone Initiative.” Consequently, this will most likely be the last issue that will focus exclusively on the Crown. Rest assured, however, that even while we incorporate a second focus on the Greater Yellowstone ecosystem and all that goes with it when one takes the broad view, we have every intention of continuing to grow our coverage of and activities in the Crown. In a variety of ways, we will expand our publications both by adding additional ones and increasing their frequency and size in order to do justice to our enlarged and very exciting opportunity and mandate. As part of this transition and in order to take advantage of the number of marvelous science articles, photographs and other images, historical pieces, and informational contributions that we have received and now have in hand that focus on Greater Yellowstone, within the next few weeks you will receive the link to the only E-Magazine issue we plan that will focus exclusively on Greater Yellowstone. Thereafter, starting with the Winter/ Spring issue, we will send your way the combined “UM Crown of the Continent and Greater Yellowstone E-Magazine.” Please be on the lookout in the early New Year for the UM Greater Yellowstone Initiative E-Magazine. It will be a cooperative effort with several of our new partners who are long-time explorers and supporters of that unique and inspirational ecosystem. In this Fall 2012 “Crown of the Continent” issue which this Editors Note leads off, you will find articles, shorter pieces, information, and images that reflect the range of our interests (and, we hope, yours): scientific pieces about research

that explain things most of us only wonder about but don’t fully understand (the piece on the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribe’s Bull Trout research project and Ray Callaway’s article on Invasive Plant Species); historical articles that tell fascinating stories about individuals who explored and then wrote fundamental pieces about the area now encompassed by Glacier National Park and the rest of the Crown (Richard Vaughan’s article on George Bird Grinnel’s climb to the glacier now bearing his name, and Kim Briggeman’s recent piece from The Missoulian called “An Investor’s Visit to the Mission Valley September 1883, for example); short information pieces on specific conservation projects being conducted in the Crown (the Infographic and related text by the Miistakis Institute, our partner in Calgary, on the highway animal crossing projects in the region); excerpts from existing publications on aspects of the Crown that we hope will lead you to seek them out and read further; and the Book Review and Recommendation that might just provide you with an idea for a seasonal gift for someone you know who is already captivated by the Crown or should be. As always, we are pleased to point out that this issue, like the others before it, would not be possible without the generous contributions from many partner organizations and individuals whose work (and much of their play) is focused on the Crown. The Missoulian, the Miistakis Institute in Calgary, and the several talented individuals whose articles and photos appear here deserve our special thanks. Without them there would never have been a UM Crown of the Continent E-Magazine! We want to wish all of our readers a wonderful holiday season and the exciting start of winter in our spectacular outdoor landscapes! Our gift wish for you is that you get to be out in it often—on skis, snowshoes, in hiking boots, perhaps—, and, if that isn’t possible, to spend lots of time with good books, films, and lively conversations with like-minded friends that remind you of your attachments to and abiding interest in the Crown of the Continent and the other awe-inspiring and mysterious parts of our Northern Rockies wonderland. Jerry Fetz and Rick Graetz, Editors

Climb By Richard Vaughan

One hundred and twenty-seven years ago

this fall, in September 1885, George Bird Grinnell got his first glimpse of the glacier that is today one of the jewels of Glacier National Park …Grinnell Glacier. Dwindling supplies and bad weather kept Grinnell from reaching the glacier in 1885, but his appetite had been whetted and in his trip diary he vowed he would return “to the ice.” Although new to this pocket of Montana, Grinnell was no stranger to the American West. His western travel experiences had begun fifteen years earlier when he served as a member of O.C. Marsh’s first Yale Paleontology Expeditions. A few years later he was spending summers hunting buffalo and elk on the plains of Nebraska and Kansas with the leaders of the famed Pawnee Scouts, Frank and Luther North. In 1874 he served as a scientist on Custer’s Black Hills Expedition, and a year later found himself doing the same on the Ludlow Yellowstone Reconnaissance. Grinnell was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1849 and raised in Manhattan

to the

on the former estate of American natural As the son of a merchant, and later stock Audubon’s widow, then at a private board traveling to the American West, Grinnell unsuccessful attempt to run the family sto first articles in a young sportsman’s newsp working as an assistant to Professor Mars he took on the additional responsibilities History Editor. Over the next few years, ing stock in the Forest and Stream Publis majority stock holders. Soon after, Georg company president and editor of the new As editor, Grinnell worked closely wit who were spread across the country. One Schultz, captured his interest through his known area in northwest Montana referr eled by Schultz’s accounts, Grinnell asked

Ice George B. Grinnell circa 1885, Notman Portrait, Library of Congress

list and painter John James Audubon. k broker, Grinnell was educated first by ding school, and finally at Yale. Besides ll’s post-college years were filled with an tock brokerage, the publication of his paper known as Forest & Stream, and sh at Yale. While working for Marsh, s of serving as Forest & Stream’s Natural Grinnell and his father began purchasshing Company and were, by 1880, the ge returned to New York City to become wspaper. th the paper’s freelance correspondents e writer in particular, James Willard s writing and his knowledge of a little red to as “the Saint Mary’s region.” Fud Schultz to serve as his first Montana

guide. Schultz agreed and the two met in Fort Benton in late August 1885 and began a month long excursion by wagon, horse, and foot into the mountains that were then part of the Blackfeet Reservation. Recalling his first impression of Grinnell many years later, Schultz wrote “…the moment he got down from the stage and we shook hands, I knew. ‘Here,’ said I to myself, ‘is no tenderfoot’.” Over the next few weeks Grinnell proved him right. Together they explored the Saint Mary’s Lakes; traversed mountains, valleys, and streams; met and hunted with the region’s indigenous peoples; named several geographic features; and saw evidence of glacial activity, particularly as they travelled up the Swift Current Valley. Besides glimpsing the future Grinnell Glacier they spotted another glacier, to the north, which would become known as Swiftcurrent Glacier. As he would for the rest of his life, Grinnell recorded each day’s events in a small trip diary that he would later use as the basis for his articles. Disappointed at not reaching the glacier in 1885, Grinnell returned to New York and quickly slipped back into the busy world of publishing and the causes important to him. In addition to turning his diary into a 15-part Forest & Stream serial, Grinnell immersed himself in the creation of a new society dedi-

Photograph: Grinnell Glacier, Nov. 1, 1887, Beacom Photograph, Glacier National Park Archives

G cated to preserving the wild birds of America, an organization he appropriately named, the Audubon Society. It soon became clear that finding the time to return to Montana in 1886 was just not going to happen. “You cannot conceive, what a disappointment it is for me,” Grinnell wrote Schultz, “to give up all hope of seeing you this autumn, and in making another trip with you. It is something I had thought about for almost a year, and I had always hoped that something would turn up to make it possible for me to go with you deep into the mountains whose outskirts we explored last year. I shall never be satisfied until I find out what lies behind the frowning peaks that surround St. Mary’s, and get close to some of the glaciers that furrow those mountains. Let us think of the trip as only postponed a year.” Over the next year, Grinnell planned the trip in the little free time he had. He hoped that two close friends, Luther North and George Huntington Gould, could join him on the 1887 trip. As it turned out, only Gould made the trip. After months of planning and correspondence, the two agreed to meet in Lethbridge, Alberta on October 1st, 1887; Grinnell coming from the east coast, Gould from the west. From Lethbridge, Grinnell and Gould headed to a camp on the Belly River where they met Schultz. They then traveled southwest by wagon and horseback, arriving at the northern end of Lower Saint Mary’s Lake several days later. The plan, upon arriving, was to locate a boat Schultz had hidden nearby and then to transport all the gear to the isthmus between the two lakes. There they would make a base camp to fan out on short hunting excursions. Upon reaching the lake, however, Schultz determined that they needed more

manpower to get the gear and horses up the lake. Schultz knew that his friend Jack Monroe was hunting in the Pike Lake area, a few miles to the north, so he sent Grinnell off to find him. The two returned the next day, and the four travelers began their trek. The diary Grinnell kept of the 1887 trip allows us to follow the group on their wilderness excursion. Over the next few weeks Grinnell, Gould, Schultz and Monroe hunted and fished in the general area of the Saint Mary’s Lakes. As it turned out, they had much better success hunting than in 1885, largely due to arriving later in the fall when game had moved down the mountain sides foraging for food. Given Grinnell’s desire to get back to the glaciers he had seen two years before, it seems odd that he did not immediately head up the Swift Current Valley. Gould, however, had informed him that he had to return to his Santa Barbara law practice by the end of the month. So, serving as host, perhaps Grinnell felt his friend’s time would be most enjoyed if they stayed in the Lakes area hunting and fishing. On October 25th Gould, led by Monroe, headed back to Lethbridge and returned California. A few days later, while waiting for Monroe’s return, Grinnell was relaxing in camp when he saw a man and some horses “coming up the trail on the opposite side of the lake.” Grinnell thought that it was Joseph Kipp, the legendary trader who often employed Schultz, but a quick view through his eyeglass revealed it was “a military outfit.” The next morning the leader of the group rode into camp and introduced himself as Lieutenant John Beacom of the United States Army. Beacom was stationed at Fort Shaw but spent much of his time patrolling the border region for horse thieves and

whisky traders. Beacom and Grinnell hit it off right away, and soon the young officer was invited on the next leg of the trip. Beacom agreed to meet them the next morning, where Swift Current Creek enters Lower Saint Mary’s Lake. Grinnell, Schultz and Monroe (back from escorting Gould) packed up their camp and left for the Swift Current that evening by moonlight. The next day, joined by Beacom, the foursome started up the Swift Current Valley, camping about one-anda-half miles below the fifth lake. (In both his 1885 and 1887 trip diaries, Grinnell refers to the Swift Current lakes by the numbers one through six, and always spelled “Swift Current” as two words. The first four of these lakes, moving up the valley, no longer exists, having been submerged into the manmade Lake Sherburne in the 1920s.) On October 31 the group was up before dawn and headed toward the southern most of the two glaciers Grinnell had seen two years before. The path they chose was around the northern end of the fifth lake, today’s Swiftcurrent Lake, and then down its western shore. Continuing on horseback they crossed the land mass that separated the fifth and sixth lakes. Hugging a steep mountain along the western shore, they continued on until reaching a small stream at the end of the lake where, Grinnell’s diary notes, “Beacom took a picture.” The foursome explored a snow slide above the lake, but realized it was too late to go farther. At about 2:00 P.M. they started back toward camp, Grinnell and Beacom retracing their steps along the western shore of the lake, while Schultz and Monroe swung around on the eastern side. The next day Grinnell, Schultz and Monroe packed extra gear on the mules and started for “Grinnell’s lake”

never be satisfied until “ II shall find out what lies behind the

frowning peaks that surround St. Mary’s, and get close to some of the glaciers that furrow

”

those mountains. - George Bird Grinnell

George Bird Grinnell on Grinnell Glacier, 1926, Photograph by Morton J. Elrod, Archives & Special Collections, Mansfield Library, The University of Montana- Missoula

1910-12

Looking up toward Grinnell Glacier, 19101912, photograph by Fred Kiser, Glacier National Park Archives

as they were now calling the sixth lake (today’s Lake Josephine). Beacom, unable to climb because of an old injury, headed back to meet the rest of his outfit on the Lower Saint Mary’s Lake, but not before proposing that the glacier they were attempting to reach be called “Grinnell’s Glacier.” In the years to come, Schultz would often take credit for naming the glacier, but the diary clearly indicates it was Beacom. Years later, after his death, Beacom’s brother sent Grinnell a quote from Beacom’s own 1887 diary in which he describes the trip and confirms it was the Army Lieutenant who gave the glacier its name. The group camped at the head of the lake, with a plan to “make the glacier” the next day. Grinnell’s first sentence in the diary entry for November 2nd leaves no doubt as to their success – “A most important day, for we reached the glacier, discovered a new lake, a most beautiful falls, true moraines at the foot of glacier and killed a superb ram.” He follows that brief summary with more details: “We breakfasted by moonlight and started in the gray

Loo Grin Pho Klac

breakfasted by moonlight “ We and started in the gray dawn, on foot, for the glacier.

”

George Bird Grinnell dawn, on foot, for the glacier. Crossed the snowslide, about ¼ mile from camp, and kept up the valley on the East side, keeping well away from the creek. Less than a mile from camp we crossed another little creek, which runs down from a cañon in the southeast, and soon found ourselves at the edge of the timber. Beyond was a grass opening, dotted here and there with low spruces. Passing through this, we

2011

oking up toward nnell Glacier, 2011, otograph by Will czynski

stood on the border of a beautiful lake. It is perhaps a mile long and not quite as wide. Its water is of a clear green, not quite clear, but much less muddy than I supposed would be the case. To the left of it, or South, stands the solid wall of a peak which we named Monroe’s Peak. At the head of the lake there is a narrow fringe of willow and lodge pines. Then rises a thousand feet of precipice over which plunges the water fall from the glacier. On the north, Grinnell’s Mountain rises abruptly in a series of rocky ledges to a great height. Over all, is the tremendous amount of ice of the glacier, and about that, the snow patched vertical walls of the knife edged mountains. Here we stopped for a while and gazed in wonder and admiration.” After taking some pictures, the explorers proceeded along the lake, eventually reaching the foot of the falls where they began their ascent. The spray from the falls kept the rocks slippery, and the need to constantly renegotiate finger and toe placements made the going hard and slow. About two thirds of the way up, they reached a shelf that held debris

that had been pushed down from the glacier. “Here,” the diary continues, “were enormous peaks of drift—from boulders the size of a small house to pebbles the size of a pin head. Some as sharply angular as where they fell from the cliff above onto the ice, others worn and wounded by attrition against the subjacent rock. Most of this drift was larger; the finer gravel having been carried on and over the falls into the valley below where it was spread out in a great mass covering many acres.” As they ascended, they kept an eye on the falls that served as their map upward. Great masses of ice jetted outward from the falls, while in other places the water dropped down a sharp incline for a hundred feet or more. Keeping to the right of a great mass of “morainal drift,” they continued working their way up until they reached a point just below the lowest edge of the glacier. From this vantage, Grinnell could begin to get a sense of the Glacier’s size. “The glacier,” the diary records, “lies in a basin two miles wide by one and one-half deep, and consists of two principal masses; one

below which covers far more ground than the one above, and another on a ledge above which is very thick and is constantly falling over onto the mass below. It is difficult to estimate the thickness of the ice, but from the lower edge of the lower mass where, by melting, it thins off to the comb of the glacier, I should judge the vertical distance to be 600 feet. The thickness of the upper mass cannot be much less than 300, although from immediately below it seems less than that.” Although he had called the ice mass a glacier when he had first seen it in 1885, Grinnell was now compiling observational evidence to help solidify that declaration. In addition to noting the thickness of the ice and the debris found on the surface, he also noted the milky water he had seen in the sixth lake in 1885 was not present in 1887. He

explained this as being due to the colder temperatures found in November. As a result, the ice was no longer moving down the mountain pushing glacial dust into the stream and then into the lakes – or as he described it in the diary, “the glacier is frozen up and will not move again until spring.” Unable to reach the upper section of the glacier, the trio ate lunch on the lower section and took in the sights. Soon the temperature began to drop and they decided they had better keep moving or begin their descent. Just then they spotted a bighorn sheep. Grinnell loaded his rifle, dropped to his knee, and fired. Sure that he had hit the ram but unwilling to give up his quickly dwindling time on the ice to find out, Grinnell sent Jack Monroe off to retrieve the ram while he and Schultz continued exploring. Finally, realizing that they

“The roof seemed

that eight inches o and admitted the It was beautiful s

needed to head back to camp, the trio headed down the mountain. The diary reveals no detail about their route down. Grinnell’s published account suggests they hung to

Grinnell’s Map from the 1887 Trip Diary, Southwest Museum, Autry Center

d not to be more or a foot thick light quite freely. sky blue ice.”

- George Bird Grinnell

the side of the newly named Grinnell’s Mountain, rather than climbing over the precipice at the foot of the glacier. Regardless of the route, they were in store for one more

amazing sight. “We had gone but a short distance,” the diary records, “when we passed on the lower side of a great snow drift in a gully. The snow had melted from above and the water had tunneled under it, so that a heavy roof stretched across the ravine. Jack went into it, and then called to me to come and see. I entered and was astonished at its beauty. It was eight to ten feet from floor to roof and perhaps thirty feet wide and sixty to seventy feet long. The roof seemed not to be more than eight inches or a foot thick and admitted the light quite freely. It was beautiful sky blue ice and had melted from the bottom so as to form a curious pattern of squares. It was lovely.” Continuing on down to the camp, the day’s diary entry concludes with a satisfied, “Feasted on sheep meat.” After the excitement and exer-

tion of the climb, the next few days were spent relaxing in camp, writing up notes, and packing for the trip back down the valley. By November 5th they were back on Lower Saint Mary’s Lake. Carrying a quarter of the sheep on his horse, Grinnell rode over to see Beacom and present the meat to the soldiers. Additionally, he told Beacom about the ice “in G’s Basin,” and presented him with a sketch of the valley and “his ideas as to the glacier.” The last two weeks of the trip were spent working their way back to Lethbridge, with occasional side trips to see the sights, hunt, and visit with friends of Schultz and Monroe. Monroe departed at an undisclosed date, but Schultz stayed with Grinnell all the way to Lethbridge. Grinnell’s diary entry for November 20th simply notes, “Parted rather tearfully from Schultz, who returns to Agency

Looking East Over Grinnell Lake, Photograph by Rick and Susie Graetz

George B. Grinnell in Glacier National Park, 1916, Pearson Photograph, Collection of the Author

at once.” A day later Grinnell was eastbound on the Canadian Pacific Railroad. Arriving back in New York City, Grinnell immediately began converting his diary into a massive 18-part serial account for Forest & Stream. Gould contributed three parts to the series, including a 1500 word poem. Part one of the serial, entitled “The Rock Climbers,” appeared on December 29, 1887. As winter settled in, Grinnell managed what were to be the final days of the Audubon Society (although other organizations of similar name and purpose would soon continue its work), while taking on a new cause as a cofounder (with his friend Theodore Roosevelt) of the Boone and Crockett Club. He also began work on the first of what became more than twenty books he would write over the next forty years. Grinnell continued to travel back to the Saint Mary’s region, whenever time permitted, well into the 1920s. His relationship with Forest & Stream lasted until 1921, ten years after he sold the publication. When not writing books or Forest & Stream articles and editorials, Grinnell published dozens of articles in scholarly journals, as well as more general pieces in the day’s most widely read

periodicals—often offering his paternalistic views on the conditions and treatment of the Native Americans of the day. Although always wary of getting officially involved in the relationship between the government and Native Americans, Grinnell did accept an appointment to serve as a Commissioner to negotiate the sale of much of the Saint Mary’s region from the Blackfeet in 1895. The “ceded strip” sale, as it became known, ultimately opened the region to becoming a National Park, but contemporary historians have questioned not only Grinnell’s reasons for serving as a Commissioner but also his fairness toward the Blackfeet. One of the popular-press pieces Grinnell wrote, entitled “Crown of the Continent,” appeared in The Century Magazine in 1901. The article took Grinnell’s descriptions of the region’s beauty to a new and larger audience. The call for turning the region into a national park quickly followed and for the next ten years Grinnell The Toe of Grinnell Glacier, Photograph by worked the halls of Congress while his pen urged the public to let their voices be heard as well. Finally, in 1910, the Saint Mary’s region, and the larger area surrounding it, officially became Glacier National Park. Grinnell remained a New Yorker all his life, ultimately dying there in 1938. His last trip to the glacier that he first climbed in 1887 was in 1926 at the age of 76. His diary for the trip is brief and his tone seems a little more possessive about the region, referring to the features named after him as “my mountain” and “my lake.” Even at an advanced age though, Grinnell observed the world with a scientific eye, noting in his 1926 diary that “the glacier is melting very fast and the amount of water coming from it is great. All these glaciers,” he noted, “are receding rapidly and after a time will disappear.” Grinnell managed one more trip back to the Park a year later but did not return to the glacier. Besides the firsthand account of Grinnell’s ascent of the glacier, the 1887 diary contains one other treasure—a

drawing of the valley—probably created at the same time as the one he gave Beacom on November 5th. The drawing is a bird’s eye view of the basin looking down upon the valley. In the center of the page are two unidentified lakes, one small round one to the left (the newly discovered lake, or today’s Grinnell Lake), and a longer one to the right (the sixth lake, or today’s Lake Josephine). Above the lakes sit two mountains labeled “Grinnell Mountain” and Appekunnys Mountain” (Appekunny being Schultz’s Blackfoot name – today the two mountains are considered the single Mount Grinnell). To the left of the round lake are the words “Ice Glacier,” “Ice,” “Ice,” with two thin ovals to the left of the words. The ovals might represent ice masses or the rock peaks of today’s Garden Wall. Below the glacier is “Gould Mountain,” with the triangular “Monroe Peak” sitting between it and the round lake. While Gould Mountain, a tribute to his 1887 traveling companion remains on today’s maps as Mount Gould, “Monroe y Rick Graetz Peak,” named in honor of the man who became Grinnell’s favorite guide, is today known as “Angel Wing.” To the right of these two mountains is a line coming in from the bottom left, labeled “Creek in woods - canon” – today’s Cataract Creek. Further to the right is an unnamed mountain (today’s Mount Allen). Two other marks, a squiggly line running down from the glacier into the round lake and a small “x” on the southwestern shore of the longer lake, represent Grinnell Falls and the campsite the trio used on those cold November nights. In a letter to Gould, written some months after the trip, Grinnell explained that Beacom indicated he would use his copy of the sketch to produce an official army map. If Beacom ever did that, the map has not been identified. Grinnell produced at least three more formal maps of the region over the next few years. The nomenclature of the valley evolved as each map was produced; named features appeared, changed or disappeared altogether as each map

became more detailed than the one before—but all can be traced back to this 1887 sketch. In 1919 Grinnell’s friend, Madison Grant, published a history of Glacier National Park for the National Park Service. In a footnote he suggests that a more suitable name for today’s Swiftcurrent Lake, the fifth lake, would have been Lake Grinnell. Doubtless Grant thought it fitting because that lake rests in the center of the Swiftcurrent valley, catching the waters of both the glaciers Grinnell spotted in 1885. Today the Many Glacier Hotel sits on the shore of that lake, and it does seem an appropriate feature to name after Grinnell. Perhaps, however, George Bird Grinnell would have thought it more appropriate that those interested in seeing the geologic features that bear his name should have to do a little more hiking of their own and, perhaps, even climb “to the ice.” Rick Vaughan joined the Indiana University Law Library staff in 1990, bringing his broad experience to the technical services department. As the acquisitions and serials control librarian, he oversees both the financial and procedural aspects of the area. Active in university and national committees, he has served on the Bloomington Library Faculty Council and has chaired the American Association of Law Libraries (AALL) Committee on Relations with Information Vendors (CRIV) as well as the AALL Price Index for Legal Publications Advisory Committee. Long active in the relationship between law libraries and legal publishers/vendors, he has twice served as editor of The CRIV Sheet newsletter. Although he has written numerous articles on issues within law librarianship, his research centers on the life of George Bird Grinnell (1849-1938), American ethnologist, naturalist, writer, and newspaper editor. He is currently working on a biography of Grinnell. His most recent Grinnell related publication, «To the Ice: George Bird Grinnell’s 1887 Ascent of Grinnell Glacier,» can be found in the Journal of the West (v. 49 no.1).

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This piece was solicited by us fro Recreation and Conservation of Tribes up the road from us on th heard about the Bull Trout Rest long-time friend, Germaine Wh and Education for the Division, the photos. We are very pleased information about this importan the CSK Tribes have undertaken project that is both valuable in i for other fish and wildlife restor to Germaine and her colleagues very much look forward to furth

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n 1998, the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes finalized a Consent Decree with the Atlantic Richfield Company (ARCO) to pay for the restoration, replacement, and/or acquisition of injured natural resources in the Upper Clark Fork River Basin (UCFRB), as compensation for natural resource damages basin-wide. Following an extensive natural resources inventory and restoration suitability analysis, the Jocko River watershed was selected as the target restoration watershed.

The Jocko Watershed is located in the southeastern part of the Flathead Indian Reservation

om the Division of Fish, Wildlife, f the Confederated Salish and Kootenai he Flathead Reservation after we had toration Project in the Jocko Valley. A hite, who is in charge of Information , generously submitted this piece and to be able to provide our readers with nt restoration project, one of several that n over the past several years. This is a its own right and a model in many ways ration projects in the Crown. Our thanks s for sharing this information with us. We her collaborations with them.

The Jocko was chosen because it is most similar in size, streamflow, hydrology, and species composition to Silver Bow Creek, the primary areas of injury in the UCFRB. In addition, the Jocko River drainage is a “core area” for bull trout, which are listed as threatened pursuant to the Endangered Species Act. The Jocko River watershed also sup—ports a relatively healthy population of westslope cutthroat trout, a Tribal Species of Special Consideration and a State of Montana Species of Special Concern.

Plan). Part I of the Restoration Plan provides background information, while Part II explains our approach to watershed restoration. It states: “The basic goal of watershed restoration is to reestablish the natural processes that existed before the watershed was disturbed. Because we believe a comprehensive approach has a greater chance of succeeding, the goal includes reestablishing natural linkages between the terrestrial, riparian, and aquatic parts of the ecosystem. Our focus, however, will be on the protection and restoration of

The Jocko watershed was also selected for restoration because it is threatened with further resource injury due to the high rate of development in the watershed. The lower reaches of the Jocko River ecosystem have suffered significant disturbance from land use such as agriculture, irrigation, livestock grazing, transportation, and residential and commercial development. These and other cumulative water quality impacts have destabilized a substantial portion of the Jocko River and substantially modified bull trout and westslope cutthroat trout habitat in the Jocko River, particularly downstream of the town of Arlee. These habitat modifications have exacerbated the problems of competition for existing habitat by brown and brook trout, and hybridization of westslope cutthroat trout with rainbow and Yellowstone cutthroat trout.

The Tribes have developed an innovative, 4-part, multimedia education package available through the Tribes and the University of Nebraska Press

The tribes’ approach to watershed restoration in the Jocko River drainage is comprehensive, and includes land acquisition, fish management, information and education, and active and passive restoration components. The Jocko River Master Plan is the road map for the restoration component of watershed restoration effort. This document describes the watershed history, present condition, and gives a vision for the future, and also outlines restoration strategies and techniques. It tiers off of the Riparian/Wetland Habitat and Bull Trout Restoration Plan; Parts I & II (Restoration

riparian and wetland areas because they have the greatest influence over the health of the watershed.” An important aspect of the tribes’ restoration effort is to educate others on how to protect and enhance these important resources. To this end, we have developed an educational and outreach program, the centerpiece of which is a multimedia information and education package that describes the ecology and importance of bull trout and the relationship between bull trout and the Salish and Pend d’Oreille people. The package is composed of an integrated set of educational materials that include an interactive DVD entitled “Explore The River: Bull Trout, Tribal People and the Jocko River”, a storybook, Bull Trout’s Gift, a field journal, and a curriculum.

The Tribes’ long-term and deep cultural connection with the Jocko River has informed their restoration activities as well as their development of the multimedia educational package.

The restoration science and data in the Jocko River Master Plan and the information about the Tribes’ long-term relationship with the species gathered from the Salish and Pend d’Oreille elders are linked through this project. The interactive DVD combines extensive text, video, multilayered maps showing change over time, interviews, animations, audio, and access to a large number of websites of relevance to

and students with a more traditional, hands-on way of approaching the topic of stream restoration. To encourage students and their teachers to take what they have learned from the DVD out of the classroom and into the field, we developed an attractive field journal. In addition to a variety of other activities, the curriculum includes lessons that require students to make entries into their field journals. Through the curriculum, the DVD, storybook, and The interactive DVD includes over two and a half hours of elder interviews discussing bull field journal are supported by a trout, water, and the Jocko River. comprehensive set of lesson plans. The lesson plans will provide the project. We structured the Explore The River DVD so it teachers, who have a limited amount of time, with a wellcan reach children at multiple grade levels. We believe that designed, organized, and thoughtful way to approach and an education program such as this is most effective when use the materials, which otherwise might seem daunting. it exposes children to the material at the primary grade The books and DVDs are available through the University levels, then re-exposes them at the middle and high school of Nebraska Press. The curriculum is available through levels, and then again as adults. In this way the message is though the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes or more likely to be remembered and become part of each check the website : www.exploretheriver.org for more individual’s worldview. information. This multifaceted, multi-age approach will help ensure long-term support for the Tribes’ restoration program. Accompanying the DVD is a storybook that targets K-8 students. The story, Bull Trout’s Gift, teaches that bull trout need cold, clean, complex, and connected habitats. Through a traditional story it shows the importance of taking care of our streams and the fish and other creatures they support. Reciprocity— giving something back in exchange for all the gifts that streams have given us is the theme of the story. The book is also part of the DVD, but the book Arlee 5th graders visit a Jocko River restoration site itself provides teachers

Exotic Invasions By Ray Callaway

Editorsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Note:

The author of this very informa Ecology in the UM Division o whose work has focused on issu numerous places around the wo post-docs, and visiting scientis present, are named in the articl teams have been published in l pun intended, well, sort of ) sci His lab is also the hub for a far somewhat whimsically called â&#x20AC;&#x153;A this great piece to this issue an about the whats, whys, and how habitats, and healthy ecosystem about Ray and his lab, click on

ative piece on invasive plant, Ray Callaway, is Professor of Botany and of Biological Sciences. A widely published and distinguished scientist ues like invasive species both close to home here in Montana and in ork, Ray directs a vibrant and exceptionally productive lab of students, sts from around the country and the world, some of whom, past and le itself. The important results of his work and that of his research leading scientific journals, and his reputation as a ground-breaking (no ientist in his fields is well established nationally and internationally. r-flung group of like-minded scientists from around the world, “Alpine Pals.” We want to express our gratitude to Ray for contributing nd expect that it will answer many questions that our readers have ws of this significant and vexing problem for our environment, ms, including the Crown of the Continent. For additional information n his website at http://plantecology.dbs.umt.edu.

ost of us who live in the Northern Rocky Mountains of the United States and Canada actually live in prairie, or otherwise known as the “intermountain grassland” that carpets the valley floors of the Rockies and forms interlaced mosaics of prairie throughout our mountain forests. Intermountain grassland is not precisely defined by either geography or the plant species that form it, but roughly 15% of Montana is intermountain prairie, and it is this small percentage that sustains the agriculture of the Northern Rockies and provides productive habitat for much of the region’s wildlife. Intermountain grassland is slightly different than its much larger grassland neighbors that border it to the east and west, the Great Plains and the Palouse grasslands, perhaps because of different impacts during the last Ice Ages, different collections of animals that live off the grassland, and more complex microclimates. For example, the intermountain grassland of the Bitterroot, Missoula, and Flathead valleys covers terrain that spent much of the last 50,000 years underwater, at the bottom of Glacial Lake Missoula. And for reasons that are not entirely known most intermountain grassland did not appear to come into contact as often with the massive bison herds that shaped the grasslands of the Great Plains. Also, much of the intermountain grassland is not subjected to the consistent bone-chilling winter cold and scorching summer heat of the Great Plains grasslands.

ost of the plants that make up the Intermountain grassland are also found in the Palouse and the Great Plains, but species such as rough fescue, Idaho fescue, bluebunch wheatgrass, arrowleaf balsamroot, and silky lupine are often more abundant and characterize the prairies within the Northern Rockies. More recently, intermountain grassland has become characterized by a new group of species, exotic invaders such as spotted knapweed, leafy spurge, cheatgrass, and sulfur cinquefoil. These invaders, and many others, originate from Europe and Asia where they were shaped by very different climates, geological histories, and interactions with other organisms. These invaders have been intentionally or unintentionally brought to North America by humans who

also originated, for the most part, in Europe. These invasions are peculiar in the context of what ecologists call “local adaptation,” the advantage gained by a species that lives in a place long enough to adapt to the local ecological conditions. Local adaptation is one of the most important processes in nature, yet most of the exotic invaders of intermountain grassland have become far more abundant and dominant in their new ranges where almost everything of importance ecologically is different than in their native lands. Local adaptation does not seem to matter very much to these invaders. For reasons that remain mysterious, intermountain grasslands appear to be unusually susceptible to exotic plant invasions, and large areas have been converted from systems rich in diverse native species to almost exotic monocultures within decades. One important factor is human disturbance, which promotes all of these invaders in unknown ways, but ways that put natives at a great disadvantage. However, many invaders also appear to get a leg up on natives through subtle yet powerful changes in the networks of biological interactions among species that make up what we call “communities”.

he most obvious change that exotics experience outside of their native ranges is that they escape attack from the many “specialist” organisms,

those that have learned or evolved to eat a single species or a suite of closely related species. These specialists are almost always insects and fungi, and these singleminded consumers appear to respond overwhelmingly to plant chemistry. Plants are spectacularly diverse chemical factories, with virtually every species producing a unique cocktail of different chemicals in their leaves and roots. Specialists have evolved to either sequester highly species-specific toxic chemicals away from their vital organs or detoxify them. Oddly, this specialist adaptation comes at the cost of being able to eat other plant species which makes the specialist totally dependent on its target species. In an effort to control exotic invaders in intermountain grasslands, and in other systems around the world, scientists have collected many specialist insects from the original native ranges of the invaders and released them in the new ranges of the invasive plants. The intention is to use specialist insects as “biological controls”, and some, like the flea beetle released to attack leafy spurge, have wreaked havoc on the invader in some places. However, the responses of native intermountain species have not been as dramatic. In one case, Peter Lesica at The University of Montana showed that flea beetles reduced the abundance of leafy spurge by almost 40%, but this damage to the invaders did not increase native diversity. Specialist insects can

Ray in Intermountain grassland

“

Specialist insects have recieved a lot of attention. They can easily be seen with the naked eye, found, gathered, and released, and they rarely attack other species.

”

effectively attack and kill spotted knapweed, but other biological controls can stimulate greater reproduction by the invader. Also, Yvette Ortega and Dean Pearson, of the Rocky Mountain Research Station and UM, found that increased seedling survival of spotted knapweed after adults were killed by a biological control weevil (that can be highly effective in some cases) compensated to the point where their knapweed stands were not affected. Regardless, specialist insects are a crucial component of complex networks of interacting species in communities, have had strong effects on some invaders around the world, and also have a great deal of potential to contribute to the suppression of other invaders.

pecialist insects have received a lot of attention. They can easily be seen with the naked eye, found, gathered, and released, and they rarely attack other species. But invaders also escape attack from microscopic specialists that can either kill or weaken them. In native communities, plants interact with hundreds or thousands of species of bacteria and fungi, often at the same time and most of which live in the soil. These soil organisms function in such complex ways that most biologists treat them as a group - the “soil biota”. Sometimes, we can find a single soil organism that suppresses an invader, but generally we see and measure the effects of the biota as a whole. Regardless, escape from the soil biota in their native ranges appears to be a major factor in many exotic invasions. When grown in soil from their native ranges for a long time, many plant species accumulate pathogens that suppress their growth, but these soils do not affect the growth of other unrelated native species. This is due to some degree of specialism by soil micro-organisms on certain plant species. These long term effects of the plant on the soil biota and reciprocal effects of the soil biota on plants are called “plant-soil feedbacks”. In intact and healthy native ecosystems plant-soil feedbacks are almost always negative, and this means that dominance by a single species is dampened by the accumulation of microorganisms with a dietary preference. But many invaders escape this accumulation of these microbial specialists when they are brought to a new place and grow in new soil. For example, spotted knapweed is suppressed by

Sea of spurge

negative feedbacks when grown in soil from its native Europe, but in soil from intermountain grassland in Montana the negative feedbacks either do not occur or can actually be positive. In other words, spotted knapweed in Montana suffers far less from accumulating inhibitory soil micro-organisms than our native species, and at times may even benefit from growing in the same soil for multiple generations. Intermountain grassland natives don’t.

cientists who study invasions are similar to scientists everywhere in that they are trained to reduce or eliminate the effects of every process but one, so that we can evaluate the effect of the single leftover process. This is good science, but it sometimes leads to incomplete ecology. We know now that plants, animals, bacteria, and fungi interact in ways that depend on their simultaneous presence. Thus, the scientific elimination of one factor actually affects the performance of the other factors, leading to a bit of a conundrum. So to understand what makes invaders tick we may have to learn at least a little bit about

“

Exotic invasions worldwide increase the amount of biomass produced by plants by about 80%, an astonishing effect.

”

complex networks of other species all interacting at the same time. For example, Tony Caesar, a scientist with the USDA in Sidney, Montana, found that the suppression of leafy spurge by flea beetles and a leaf pathogen working together was far greater than could be predicted by the effects of either working alone. Also, pathogens were much more abundant on leafy spurge in the field when they were being attacked by the flea beetle than when there were no flea beetles. These kinds of synergistic effects are very hard to measure, but may be invaluable for understanding why invaders are such lightweights in their native ranges but punch far above their weight when they are away from home.

he chemicals that attract specialist enemies can be very effective at deterring generalist enemies. Generalists are herbivores that are much less choosy about their diets than specialists. Generalists do not have the extremely specific physiological adaptations necessary to sequester or detoxify single chemicals, but instead are good at tolerating small amounts of many different chemicals. In fact, some generalists may benefit from a mixed diet. However, generalist enemies have largely been ignored, at least explicitly, in the context of invasions because generalist enemies are everywhere and, of course, they occur in both the native and non-native ranges of all invaders. So how can they be escaped? The answer to this may lie in developing a better understanding of what generalists actually prefer to eat. No generalist eats everything, and it stands to reason that generalists might show some degree of local adaptation, learning or adapting to eat local plant species and their species-specific chemicals. Spotted knapweed and many related knapweeds are defended by a bitter tasting chemical called cnicin, and this chemical has not been found in other species. When generalist insects native to Montana grasslands were fed spotted knapweed, they either did not grow at all or grew much more slowly than on a diet of lettuce and bean leaves. In contrast, when generalist insects native to European grasslands were fed the same knapweed diet they grew just as fast on knapweed as on the lettuce and bean salad. This suggests that the European generalists may have adapted or acclimated to cnicin or other defense

chemicals produced by knapweed because they have had a very long time to do so; whereas Montana generalists have not adapted to the chemistry of knapweed in the very short time the invaders have been here.

ertebrates, and especially mammals, are far more likely to be generalists than insects, although mammal herbivores have their preferences. Montana’s big native grazers, like elk, deer and bison will certainly consume knapweed and other invaders, but they do not seem to prefer them over native grasses. Montana’s non-native big grazers also seem to prefer food other than invaders as well. Matt Rinella of the USDA Livestock and Range Research Laboratory in Miles City estimates that leafy spurge invasion has reduced the cattle-carrying capacity of grasslands by 50-217 thousand animals a year, due in part to the avoidance of spurge by cattle and by the poor fodder it provides. In the Great Plains grasslands of North Dakota, researchers studied the densities of fecal pellets from bison, elk and deer to estimate consumption of leafy spurge and other invaders relative to that of native species. Bison used leafy spurge-infested grassland 83% less than native grasslands and deer use was reduced by 70%. Similar avoidance has been found in other systems with other large generalist herbivores. Our small mammal herbivores may also affect invasions through their dietary preferences. Dean Pearson and John Maron, scientists at The University of Montana, found that deer mice, when given a choice, would eat the seeds of almost any native in the same family as knapweed (Asteraceae) rather than knapweed seeds. When they excluded deer mice from patches of intermountain grassland native asters increased in abundance, but not knapweed, indicating that deer mice controlled the natives they so preferred, but not knapweed. Similarly, Jacob Lucero, now a graduate student at UM, has shown that entire communities of native seed-eating rodents avoid the seeds of the invasive cheatgrass while devouring the seeds of native species. It is not entirely clear why some invaders are so avoided by native generalist herbivores, but this avoidance may give some invaders a strong advantage over natives.

n fact, avoidance by generalists and the absence of specialist herbivores may lead to one of the more bewildering effects that invasive plants have on native ecosystems increasing ecosystem productivity and nutrient availability while annihilating native diversity. Exotic invasions worldwide increase the amount of biomass produced by plants by about 80%, an astonishing effect. One might think that this increase in productivity must come with a reduction in soil resources as the invaders use them up to produce all this biomass. However, this is not generally the case. In fact, invaders are associated with increases in some soil resources. For example, plant-available soil nitrogen increases worldwide by about 20% with exotic plant invasions, and spotted knapweed appears to increase plant-available phosphorus in soils. Here in our Montana grasslands, University of Montana graduate student Morgan Luce has shown that leafy spurge, spotted knapweed, and cheatgrass invasions drive native species out of communities, but all three of these invaders roughly double the productivity of grassland in the Missoula and Bitterroot valleys. Also, in a bizarre twist these invaders also roughly double plant-available

nitrogen. We do not know how this works; perhaps fastliving and fast-dying invaders simply ramp up nutrient cycling rates over a few years and thus increase soil fertility. On the other hand, perhaps these same native grazers avoid invasive plants and allow them to reach the same productive potential as native plants growing in the absence of their native generalist grazers. When large native herbivores are excluded from native grassland in the Blackfoot valley, productivity roughly doubles, about as much as invaders increase productivity.

he effects of native and non-native grazers on invasions may act in concert with pathogenic soil biota, and their synergistic effects may be powerful. But we also know now that competition among native plant species differs to some degree from competition among native and invasive species, even in the absence of natural soil biota and herbivores. In its native Europe, spotted knapweed is highly suppressed by other European native plants, and experimental removal of these plants results in knapweeds that are almost ten times larger and ten times more reproductive than other knapweeds still growing with

Solidago gigantea, native to Montana but here invasive in Hungary

their neighbors. In identical experiments in Montana the removal of competing Montana natives had no effect. This far greater ability of species from knapweed’s native range to suppress knapweed can also be seen where European grasses have been planted or allowed to grow on rangelands in intermountain grassland where knapweed is often much less abundant. The greater resistance of these European natives to spotted knapweed and other invaders may also have a chemical basis. In controlled conditions spotted knapweed and other invaders can suppress plants native to Montana

“

intermountain grassland by way of chemicals released from their roots, leaves, or litter in a process called allelopathy. Some experiments have shown that plant species native to Europe are much less susceptible to the allelopathic effects of invaders from Europe than species native to North America. In a fascinating twist similar things seem to happen when plants native to our Montana grasslands invade Europe. Giant goldenrod is a Montana native that has become highly invasive in central Europe. Robert Pal, a scientist from the University of Pécs in Hungary currently working at UM,

These new findings and others like them are gradually shedding light on the many different causes of exotic plant invasion.

”

found that giant goldenrod has far greater effects in the field on the native biodiversity of Hungarian grasslands than it does in its native range in North America, and that the allelopathic effects of giant goldenrod roots are much stronger on European natives than on Montana natives. Such biogeographic differences in the allelopathic effects raise the possibility that plants are adapting to each other’s chemicals in ways that are similar to ways that generalist herbivores and plants adapt to each other.

n native grasslands of the southern United States, invasion by Johnson grass can reduce native diversity by many times over while dramatically increasing productivity and nutrient availability; as noted this a common pattern for many invaders. However, in this case the weird combination of effects is due to something exceptional. Marnie Rout, while a graduate student at The University of Montana, discovered that the underground stems, called rhizomes, of Johnson grass were packed with bacteria, known as endosymbionts, most of which had the capacity to “fix” unavailable nitrogen from the atmosphere into plantavailable nitrogen. When she treated Johnson grass with antibiotics the invader lost its super powers and was no longer a good competitor, its roots no longer produced a well-known allelopathic chemical, and its leaves no longer produced highly effective defensive chemicals. Such effects of endosymbionts may be highly unique, we do not know, but some invaders of our intermountain grasslands also use symbiotic micro-organisms to their advantage. Spotted knapweed is host to many genetic forms of a fungus in the genus Alternaria. While a graduate student at UM, Erik Aschehoug found that knapweed infected with one genetic form of the fungal endosymbiont (comprising a plant-fungus symbiosis) grew much larger than uninfected knapweed plants. Another knapweed-symbiont combination did not produce larger plants but resulted in far more competitive knapweeds…against North American native grass species but not against European native grasses. Later he found that this fungal endosymbiont made knapweed more allelopathic. Very recently, scientists at the University of Idaho have found that cheatgrass also harbors a fungal endosymbiont, the same fungus that produces the morel mushroom in order to reproduce sexually after fires. When cheatgrass was infected with this endophytic fungal symbiont, the invader grew larger and produced more seeds, and these seeds were more heat resistant than seeds from uninfected plants.

hese new findings and others like them are gradually shedding light on the many different causes of exotic plant invasions in our intermountain grasslands, which range from the physical disturbance of ecosystems to the presence or absence of micro-organisms with different dietary preferences. Furthermore, these processes appear to act in concerted networks with each other and affect each other in very complicated ways. More importantly, the function of these networks appears to be determined by whether their components have evolved together or not, and we are beginning to see invasions as the undesirable consequence of mixing different components of communities without common evolutionary histories. Advancing spurge

Do Those Things Really Work Editors’ Note:

This article and the accompanying Infographic are provided by the Miistakis Institute of Calgary. This Institute, affiliated with the University of Calgary, has the mission of supporting and undertaking both pure and applied research focusing on the ecosystems of the Rocky Mountains and surrounding regions. We carried an earlier and related article to this one in the Autumn 2011 issue of the UM Crown of the Continent E-Magazine which can be accessed on our website at http:// crown.umt.edu and clicking on “E-Publications.” The Miistakis Institute has been a very important partner of our UM initiative since the beginning, and we want to thank them immensely for all of their wonderful, exciting, and important work as well as for their continuous collaborations. The Institute’s website is found at www.rockies.ca.

Over 220,000 large animals have used the crossing structures in Banff National Park “Do those things really work?” Without fail, this is always the first question posed when I share that some of my work is focused on a wildlife crossing structure research and monitoring project. Many people are now familiar with the iconic wildlife overpasses and underpasses that were first built in Banff National Park, yet there seems to be lingering doubt as to their effectiveness. The very first thing I say in response to this query is yes, these crossing structures absolutely work ―over 220,000 large animals have used the structures in Banff National Park since monitoring began more than 15 years ago. Everything from salamanders to grizzly bears now use wildlife overpasses and underpasses to safely cross the bustling Trans-Canada Highway which snakes its way through Canada’s first national park. The second thing I mention is that I am pleased to report that wildlife crossing structures are not reserved for parks and protected areas. Within the Crown of the Continent region wildlife crossing structures, including overpasses, underpasses, wildlife fencing, jumpouts, and wildlife crossing guards, have now been built on US 93 North in Montana, and many are now advocating for wildlife crossing structures to be constructed at key sites along Highway 3 in southern Alberta. Finally, a recent report co-authored by the Western Transportation Institute at Montana State University and the Miistakis Institute has demonstrated that wildlife crossing structures make financial sense. The report focused on a wildlife crossing structure in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta. Using very conservative estimates the report authors demonstrate that following the construction of the wildlife underpass, the overall annual cost to society was reduced from $129,000 to $18,000 per year because there were fewer damaged vehicles, injuries and deaths. The cost also accounts for lost hunting revenues. Most people love wildlife and saving money, so wildlife crossing structures are public infrastructure that people can readily support!

In an effort to elevate the conversation on building or expanding highways with both wildlife and people in mind, the Miistakis Institute has been working with its partners to develop several tools. Miistakis created a “Highways & Wildlife” infographic to clearly convey why wildlife crossing structures are important, how they work, and their cost effectiveness. The infographic strives to debunk some of the myths surrounding wildlife crossing structures.

Miistakis has also partnered with award-winning film maker Leanne Allison (Being Caribou, Finding Farley, Bear 71) to create a documentary film called Highway Wilding. Build them and they will live― that is the simple message in this documentary that looks at the issue of highways, and some of the pioneering solutions that exist to prevent road kill and reconnect landscapes across highways. In the Crown of the Continent we have one of the last best chances in the world to maintain a fully functioning ecosystem with all the native large carnivores, but roads are a major problem. Everything from grizzly bears to wolverines and ducks to salamanders need to get across roads safely for breeding, to find food, adapt to climate change, or to migrate. After seeing this film you’ll never drive down a highway in the same way again. Highway Wilding is one of the films selected for the 2012/2013 Banff Mountain Film Festival World Tour. To view a trailer for the film, please click here. Miistakis would like to acknowledge its road ecology partners and funders: Western Transportation Institute at Montana State University, Parks Canada Agency, Yellowstone to Yukon Conservation Initiative, Road Watch in the Pass, Anatum Consulting, Alberta Ecotrust Foundation, the Galvin Family Fund, Wilburforce Foundation and Woodcock Foundation. *See next spread for infographic

Crowning Rocky Mountain Prairie

Photos b 30

Medicine Grizzly

g Moments

Old Man of the Hills

by John Lambing 31

Condon Creek

Ear Mountain

Flathead Lake Balsomroot

Holland Lake

St. Mary Lake

Avalanche Falls

Split Rock

Cracker Peaks

Wheat on the Front

Cenntennial Valley

John Lambing For the second time we are featuring the work of photographer John Lambing of Helena, Montana. He was first highlighted in our Winter 2009-2010 issue. John conducted water quality studies as a U.S. Geological survey hydrologist until his retirement in 2009. Since moving to Montana in 1981, he has photographed almost every corner of the state. In 1990, he began using a Hasselblad medium-format film camera that he continues to use to this day. To keep up with publishersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; demands, he is now digitizing all of his photography. Lambingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work has appeared in several magazines and conservationoriented publications. His images also are showcased in several Montana photography books published by Far Country Press of Helena. To request prints of the photos appearing in this E-magazine or for special requests and projects, e-mail John at jlambing@bresnan.net.

Garden Wall Glacier

An Investorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s visit to By Kim Briggeman of the Missoulian

o the Mission Valley September 1883

The Mission Mts and Mission valley south of Ronan - Will Klaczynski photo

Once you top Ravalli Hill on U.S. Highway 93 and break into the Mission Valley, you know exactly what Henry Villard was thinking in 1883.

before his son Duncan was born there to his Nez Perce wife, Catherine.

One day after the Northern Pacific’s extravagant Golden Spike ceremony west of Garrison, the president of the just-completed railroad was showing off the West to investors from the East and Europe. A motley caravan of wagons and buggies set out for McDonald Lake on Post Creek the Sunday morning of Sept. 9 from the new train station at Ravalli. They carried between 200 and 300 moneyed and powerful men.

“I had to stay for the old ones, the fat ones and the English lords to get ready,” McDonald recounted to Stone.

Villard “possessed all the talents of a successful showman,” Missoulian editor Arthur L. Stone wrote years later. The railroad president had arranged this side excursion to provide his guests with an eye-popping experience. “Nowhere in the world is there a sight so dramatically impressive and so impellingly beautiful as the first glimpse which the traveler gets of the Mission Range and of the valley at its base, as he drives slowly up that little coulee back of Ravalli and breasts the crest of the hill and looks over upon the magnificent picture which is spread before him,” Stone wrote in his Dec. 3, 1911, “Following Old Trails” column.

The tourists were headed to McDonald Lake, below the peak named for Angus McDonald. The Shakespearequoting Hudson’s Bay Co. fur trader had finished building Fort Connah north of St. Ignatius in 1847, two years

The railroad enlisted Duncan McDonald and his teenage brother, Angus Colville McDonald, as guides. Angus left earlier with some of the more fit greenhorns for a drive and hike to McDonald Peak, on a road Villard had constructed up the steep slopes just for the occasion.

They all were due back by 4 p.m., when Villard, his wife and four children, and others, including former President Ulysses S. Grant, would be waiting to resume the train trip West. They made it, a feat that’s hard to fathom these days. “I would think it was at least a three-hour wagon ride, say an hour at the lake, and then three hours back,” Joe McDonald said last week. “That’s seven hours.

“Then again, we think of buggies being so slow, but when you read the history of the (St. Ignatius) Mission, priests are running back and forth to Missoula in buggies in a day all the time.” Joe McDonald, who retired in 2010 as president of the Salish Kootenai College he helped found 1976, will turn 80 next spring. He was a small boy when Duncan McDonald died in 1937, a passing marked in the Daily Missoulian by a front-page story that hailed him as the state’s oldest pioneer. Joe remembers his great-uncle as “a tall, slim, fairly frail guy” who lived at Dixon in his later years.

John McDonald helped build an irrigation dam in 1920 on the lake the party had traveled to – Lake McDonald is in the background - Kurt Wilson, Missoulian photo

To Stone, Duncan McDonald was a treasure trove of information and a man railroad surveyors relied upon to show them the best way through the Flathead Reservation. “They had learned to depend upon this man, more Scotch than Indian by breeding but much more Indian than

McDonald Peak, at 9,820’ is the highest summit in the Mission Mts. and rises above McDonald Lake – Rick and Susie Graetz photo

Scotch by inclination and sympathy,” Stone wrote. McDonald rode his horse ahead that day, the wagons stringing out behind him from the Ravalli station. “It was the greatest thing I ever saw. There was never anything like it, I guess,” he told Stone with a laugh. McDonald spoke with particular mirth of an accident that befell the lead wagon as the expedition dropped into the valley. The wagon carried three passengers. On the back seat were U.S. Sen. George Edmunds of Vermont (for whom Edmonds, Wash., was named) and a Lord Norwood of England. Up front was a “little, mean chap” from New York, who spent the trip up the hill lambasting McDonald for the dust his horse was kicking up. Cattle had been wallowing in some of the low, wet

places toward the mission, McDonald said, and at one point the team pulling the lead wagon gave a jump to get it through a particularly soft slough. “The sudden yank threw the back seat with its two occupants right over backward into that soft mud,” McDonald told Stone. “I heard a yell and turned back. It was the funniest sight I ever looked at.”

The seat’s back was in the mud, as were Edmunds and Norwood, on their backs with their feet in the air. They made no more effort to get out than a mired mule would make, said McDonald. “Their friend from the front seat was doing a dance around them, shouting that they would be drowned, calling for help and accusing me of having arranged that spill on purpose,” McDonald said. Maj. Peter Ronan, the Flathead agent, was driving the cart behind and barely avoided the scene of the accident. Other rigs followed, some of their passengers amused, some alarmed but none offering to help, said McDonald. He helped the two men to their feet as the New Yorker spewed venom at him. The victims themselves handled the accident just fine, McDonald said. By now he was behind the rest of the wagons. When

he reached the mission, McDonald saw to his dismay that the Easterners were scattered all over the place. “They were examining the beadwork on the Indians’ clothes; they were guessing as to whether certain Indians were men or women and making bets on it; they were chasing butterflies; some were chasing the naked Indian babies that

were toddling about the grounds; others were investigating the old church and some were looking at the schools,” McDonald said. He threatened to turn the expedition around right there if they didn’t get back on the road, and eventually they complied. Wyman and cousin Joe McDonald are grandsons of Duncan McDonald’s brother Joe, who was seven years younger, married another Salish tribal member, Lucy Deschamps, and who died in 1944. Now 74, Wyman grew up in St. Ignatius, the youngest

of John and Lydia McDonald’s 13 children. He joined the Marines at age 17 and spent much of his life away from the reservation. He worked for the Bureau of Indian Affairs in various Western states and the Office of Economic Opportunity in Washington, D.C. Wyman was Gov. Marc Racicot’s coordinator of Indian

affairs in Montana in the late 1990s, and returned to the reservation 10 years ago. He remembers hunting for

Christmas trees as a teenager on the road to McDonald Lake. But until he took a drive up there with a couple of newspapermen on a blustery day last week, it had been 40 or more years since he’d been to the lake. It’s a reservoir now, backed up by a dam completed in

1920. Wyman said his father, born in 1891, helped with the construction. “He said they had 16-horse teams to build it. Must’ve been quite a bit of fun trying to handle 16 horses up here,” McDonald said. Tucked between steep mountains to the north of McDonald Peak, the reservoir is still a fetching sight. The lake the tourists beheld in 1883 must’ve been spectacular. “The natural lake was much smaller than the reservoir, and there was a trail all the way around it,” Tom McDonald said. “In fact there were some old mining claims up above there, and a major cedar grove at the top of the lake.” Tom McDonald is Joe’s son and the Fish, Wildlife, Recreation and Conservation manager for the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes. Neither he nor the other McDonalds asked know where Villard

St. Ignatius below the Mission Mts’ southern end - Rick and Susie Graetz photo

built his wagon road up to McDonald Peak, though Tom speculated the road passed by the lake before starting its steep climb.

Brother Angus arrived with his group shortly after. Villard thanked the McDonalds and soon the Villard Gold Spike Excursion train headed west down the Jocko.

Even in 1911 it was obscured with brush and timber, Stone said. There are trails to the peak up a couple of drainages, and Joe McDonald said he knows a man who used to hike to the top and back in a day.

Stone pondered in 1911 how interesting it would be to take the same trip across the reservation with some of those who took part 28 years earlier. “They would find the grandeur of the mountains undimmed; they would see the same glory of sunset light on the immortal peaks of the Mission Range; they would discover the beauty of (McDonald) Lake unchanged; they would find the valley even more beautiful than it was when they saw it,” he wrote.

The men of what Stone called “the Villard invasion” in 1883 didn’t spend much time pondering such mysteries. “We got to the lake all right,” Duncan McDonald reported. “The visitors were well pleased with a small look at the scenery and then demanded lunch.” Out from the wagons came “an ocean of champagne” and fried chicken, cake and fruit – what McDonald called “the greatest lunch that was ever spread in the Mission Valley.” “It was a champagne crowd, all right,” he said, “and when they had taken one dip into the wine, the scenery looked better to them than it had before.” They returned to Ravalli just in time, tired but without incident, and proceeded to dig into the next meal. “When I saw the way those fat old fellows went for the fried chicken and champagne, I understood why it was that they didn’t feel equal to the longer trip up the mountain,” McDonald said. “The ride they had was all they could stand.”

Joe McDonald, retired Salish Kootenai College president, in St. Ignatius - Kurt Wilson, Missoulian photo

Stone clearly considered the reservation a thing of the past. It had been opened to homesteaders in 1910, an effort spearheaded by former U.S. Sen. Joseph Dixon, Stone’s boss as publisher of the Missoulian. Now, he wrote, visitors would “find the farmer where they saw the Indian,” and they would “marvel at the wonderful development which has followed the invasion which they started and which was made possible by the construction of the (railroad) which their money built.”

He failed to note if Duncan McDonald shared the same sentiments.

An Incredible Wilderness Trek

Editors’ note: Bob Cooney of Helena passed on in January 2007 at the age of 97. He was the first Chief of Big Game Management for Montana’s Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks and was responsible for initiating a massive wildlife restoration program targeting decimated populations of elk, mountain sheep and goats, antelope, deer and bear. For his work he spent a great deal of time on Montana’s Rocky Mountain Front and in the Bob Marshall Country and came to know many of the “old timers”, among them Paul Hazel.

by Bob Coon 46

The Chinese Wall in the heart of the Bob Marshall Wilderness – Paul Hazel walked atop the wall that carries the Continental D gained access up today’s “Trick Pass” at the head of Moose Creek and descended near Larch Hill Pass at the north end of the long Chinese Wall. Rick and Susie Graetz photo

aul Hazel, often referred to as ‘Pinnacle Paul,’ was well known by all who visited the North Fork Sun River country in today’s Bob Marshall Wilderness. Cooney told us that Paul hiked into the Sun River Mountains from his home north of Choteau in 1920 and stayed for nearly 60 years. During the summers he worked for the Forest Service constructing and maintaining trails, building field cabins, fighting fires and manning lookouts. His summer headquarters was the wilderness station at Gates Park on the North Fork of the Sun. His winters were spent as a caretaker of a remote dude ranch at the head of Gibson Lake on the edge of the Bob Marshall Wilderness, many miles from the nearest road; he lived by himself. The following is an excerpt from an article Bob Cooney wrote describing an amazing trip Paul made through parts of the wilderness in the early 1930s. Paul Hazel was 90 years old when he died in 1979. This excerpt appeared in the book Montana’s Bob Marshall Country by Rick and Susie Graetz.

s k

ney

Divide – he e 13mile

I am sure every mountain range has its stories of extraordinary hikes and I often think of one up along the Continental Divide in early December quite a while ago. L. J. Howard, a forest ranger, and I were on elk patrol in the Bob Marshall Wilderness. Paul Hazel, who had spent much of his life up there, was helping us. He was an exceptional hiker. We had spent the night at a little cabin on Cabin Creek on the North Fork of the Sun River. Our plan was to cover the winter elk range on the North Fork up to Gates Park that day. Snow was still fairly light along the river, so we weren’t using snowshoes. Each of us planned to cover a different area and meet that evening at Gates Park. We had no idea what sort of ordeal lay ahead for Paul as we parted that morning. He was to cross the river and go up Moose Creek several miles, check on any game, take snow-depth readings and head north through the timber to the Gates Park cabin. L. J. and I got in to camp around dusk. There was no Paul. We waited to eat supper and still no Paul. He was a superb woodsman and knew the area intimately. We couldn’t imagine what might have happened. Much as we wanted to get out of there, we believed it would be best to wait till daylight to start a search for him. It was well after midnight when the Forest phone jingled. The only line working at that time was one to the Spotted Bear Ranger Station way over on the South Fork of the Flathead River. It was Paul. He said he was calling from the old iron field phone up on the Continental Divide on Spotted Bear Pass.

He had found an unexpectedly large band of elk up Moose Creek. Tracks indicated they might have recently migrated across the Divide from the White River area. Paul thought it was essential to our work to verify this. So he headed on up Moose Creek. It was many miles to the Chinese Wall and the snow got deeper the higher he went. He found the snow so deep along the base of the Wall that he believed it would be better to get up on top to head north to the pass he wanted to check. He managed to work his way up through the steep little pass at the head of Moose Creek. It was getting dark up there on top. He found the wind had blown the crest fairly free of snow. There was no trail and he had no light, but he made his way several miles along the top of the Continental Divide to an elk migration trail just south of Larch Hill. To think about how he got down off that end of the Wall through the snow cornices makes me shudder. In the dim light of the stars he could make out by tracks that a large group of elk recently had crossed the pass from the west side of the Continental Divide. This was the information he had worked so hard to verify. He then made his way through deep snow around the shoulder of Larch Hill and on to the field phone at Spotted Bear Pass. There were still many miles to go to our camp down Rock Creek through heavy timber and snow. On the phone we had suggested he find a sheltered place, build a fire and wait till daylight. We said we would head up that way to give him a hand by breaking trail. We were just about to leave when we saw Paul come out of the timber across the meadow. The Gates Park cabin, in the first gray light of the morning with smoke drifting out of the chimney must have looked good to Paul. I know he looked mighty good to us. L. J. and I tried to figure how far he had hiked that day and night. He had traveled up Moose Creek much of the way in the snow without snowshoes. He had searched his way in the dark with no light along the crest of the Chinese Wall on the Continental Divide. There was no trail and a thousand-foot drop off to the east. Then there were all those miles down Rock Creek. He had hiked through deep timber where it was so dark that here and there he had to feel for blazes on the trees to make sure he was still on the snow covered trail. He must have hiked nearly 40 miles. Paul has always been a man of few words. His only reference to the difficulty of the trip was his comment after breakfast: “I guess maybe I’ll stay in today and wash some clothes.”

Settling the

BOB M

Editors’ Note: The following article appeared in the book Montana’s Bob Marshall Country by Rick and Susie Graetz and was excerpted from the U.S. Forest Service publication Early Days in the Forest Service – Region 1.

n 1899, H.B. Ayres, of the Division of Geography and Forestry of the Department of the Interior, made a survey of what was then the Lewis and Clark Reserve. While traveling in the North Fork of the Sun River, he mentioned that there was some grazing going on and a few cabins were visible. He also had the opportunity to travel in the Danaher Meadows area in the upper reaches of the South Fork of the Flathead. Tom Danaher and A.P. McCrea, most likely the first white men to settle on the South Fork, homesteaded 160 acres each in 1898. They built several structures, including houses and barns and put in hay and grazed cattle and horses. Climate, poor yields of hay for their stock, as well as accessibility to the outside world caused McCrea to abandon his homestead and, in 1907, Danaher sold his land to the Hunt Club of Missoula. The Hunt Club had planned to raise horses on the ranch, but were affected by the same conditions as the two homesteaders. Sam O. Acuff eventually took over ownership. Later, the Forest Service bought him out. The Ralston brothers at one time, tried to develop a coal mine somewhere along the Middle Fork of the Flathead River. The attempt was unsuccessful. There were other homesteads filed in what is now wilderness. In 1911, the Gates Park area was homesteaded and, in 1913, several other tracts in the Danaher were filed upon, but were not occupied. Climate conditions and perhaps the fires of 1910, which burned much of the present wilderness area, probably influenced the low interest.

In 1915, David H. Lewis, the District Ranger of the Big Prairie Ranger District compiled

The Danaher Meadows looking south into the Swan Range and the sou

an agriculture report on the Upper South Fork of the Flathead. In essence his report said that the combination of severe winters, a short growing season, a limited number of farming acres and the minimal chances of agricultural success should dictate that this land is not suitable for agricultural activities. He recommended that all lands south of Black Bear Creek be closed to entry under the Forest Homestead Act. He also pointed out that the area’s fish and wildlife

MARSHALL

uthern Bob Marshall Country. Homesteading attempts were made in the meadows.

values would be jeopardized by settlement. He felt that the area was of greater importance for attracting hunters and fishermen. Lewis also pointed out: â&#x20AC;&#x153;the present routes of travel are trails, where it is only possible to use saddle and pack horses. The distance from Corum, a Flag Station on the Great Northern Railway, to Black Bear is 70 miles, to White River 83 miles and to Big Prairie 91

miles. The distance from Ovando to the following localities is as follows: Danaher Creek 40 miles, Basin Creek 50 miles, White River 68 miles and Black Bear 81 miles. There are 15 miles of wagon road leading out from Ovando connecting with the trail to Danaher. The trails leading into this country from Corum and Ovando were constructed by the Forest Service and are very fair trails. They are the only routes of travel to the Upper South Fork.â&#x20AC;?

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A Crown Review By Jerry Fetz

here are many wonderful books about the Crown of the Continent, about individual aspects and pieces of the whole (see our bibliography on the UM Crown Initiative Website for titles), and about the whole Crown. Many of these books present a combination of informative texts and stunning photos, some leaning in the direction of text (with accompanying photos), others in the direction of photos (with accompanying text). Among those few books that do both offer their readers spectacular and evocative images and informative and inspiring text equally and equally well, the book at hand by Ralph Waldt, with the help of numerous, outstanding photographers, has become one of my two favorites among the more recently published works. The other is C.W. Guthrie’s Glacier National Park. The First 100 Years. Helena, MT: Farcountry Press, 2008 (see the advertisement on p. 50). Yet, even these two books that share many features are quite different. Guthrie’s book offers a wider sweep of this now over 100-year-old National Park, including information, photos, and other images that are both historical and contemporary, and images and discussion about what casual tourists and visitors might see and do there, as well as about the geological and natural aspects that draw tourists (and hikers, skiers, campers, and naturelovers) to this spectacular national park.

W 54

seasons that are not generally accessible to motorized travel or to those who don’t put on a backpack and head off to experience and observe. Yet, as the great Montana writer Ivan Doig points out in his Foreward, this “Waldtian work of prose and photo takes us, in the company of a guide honed by the country itself, to unsurpassed viewpoints of an eco-kingdom that most people have only seen bits and pieces of.” Having grown up near Glacier National Park, hiking and exploring in a variety of ways already as a young teenager, and then living and working for many years in and just outside the park, yet still in the Crown, Waldt’s knowledge and understanding of what he has seen and experienced is intimate, based on keen observations over many years as well as a solid grounding in biology as a science. And he’s a great story teller and a great photographer.

hat the reader (and lucky we are!) finds in this book are reports and stories from a gifted naturalist, writer, and photographer who sees both the barely visible details of plants and flowers and trees, and also understands just why they are all important in the larger ecosystem, but these reports and stories also from a wildlife biologist who is especially interested in the lives, habits, and interactions among the larger (and smaller) animals that are the icons of this special ecosystem. A marvelous photographer himself, whose pictures constitute a large and important part of the book, Waldt has also selected photos from numerous other photographers Doug Cox, Douglass Dye, Chuck Haney, Donald Jones, John Lambing, Michael Sample, and others to augment his own. And what a special collection of photographers and photos of the things, beings, and places that constitute the geological and natural essence of Glacier National Park and its close environs this book contains!

aldt’s book, Crown of the Continent, also offers a broad sweep of the park in all of its seasons, its forests and valleys, its wealth of flowers and fauna, its spectacular mountainous peaks, and those features of the Rocky Mountain Front as well. Its focus is that of the naturalist, of a person whose attention is directed to the intricacies of the animal and plant life found in the park, on their behaviors through the various seasons, on their interactions with one another, and on their places and roles within the complex rranged in five chapters, plus the excellent ecosystem where they live. As such, the naturalist Ralph Foreward, Preface, and Afterword by three Waldt is not especially interested in what tourists or casual individuals whose own work in various genres visitors do or experience in Glacier National Park and have informed and inspired many of us who nearby, but rather in what he and others like him have seen, done, and experienced over many years of walking, hiking, are interested in Montana and the Crown, Waldt opens and snowshoeing in the wilder parts of the park and in the his journals and photo albums from over thirty years of

intimate interactions with the Park and the nearby Front and invites us to tag along on a number of hikes and snowshoe outings into the backcountry, in all seasons, to glimpse and hear about the many wonderful things he has seen and experienced there. In the process we learn about reading “signs:” animal’s cat, claw marks on trees, paw marks in the snow or mud and experience the exciting sights of huge grizzlies and elk, of sneaky and rarely seen wolverines, fisher, and mountain lions, of beavers and snowshoe hares. His prose is straight-forward, yet poetic, invitingly descriptive and evocative of those (less frequent for most of us) times that we have had the privilege of observing or just imagining those iconic animals in their incredible habitats. I was especially captivated by his description of a deadly battle between a large elk and a mountain lion, a battle that concluded with the deaths of both of them; or his several sightings and musings about the “Giefer Bear,” a legendary Grizzly Bear who roamed the Rocky Mountain Front for several years. He teaches us, through his texts and photos, to “see,” to “smell,” and to “listen” to all that inhabits the wonderland that we call the “Crown of the Continent.” It is clear that Waldt has a bias for the large animals (he dedicates one of the five chapters to the Grizzly) and to winter (a better time of year to track animals and to listen attentively without extraneous noise? and about which he exclaims: “the dominant season in the Crown”), but over the course of the five chapters he doesn’t slight the smaller creatures (squirrels, pikas, song birds, and even salamanders) or flora of all kinds (bitteroots, white blossoms, limber pine, quaking aspen, and even lichen). And he helps us learn to see and appreciate all of this.

Lake and the Mission and Swan Ranges), a more apt title would have indicated his somewhat narrower focus. This is a minor criticism and should not detract from both the beauty and importance of this very special book, a book that, as Douglas Chadwick asserts in his Afterword, “shows us a corner of the globe that doesn’t embody the 21st century’s problems nearly so much as it holds a cure.” All of us who love, are fascinated by and in awe of the complex ecosystem that is the Crown, with Glacier and Waterton National Parks at its very center, owe Ralph Waldt a lot for sharing his photos, stories, and naturalist insights in such a compelling way. And further thanks go to the numerous outstanding photographers whose work enhances an already spectacular book. My recommendation: go out and buy it in whatever bookstore you can find it and give it generously to all of your friends in this holiday season, to those who know the Crown well and to those who might be on the verge of making its acquaintance. Jerry Fetz

y only criticism of the book has nothing to do with what one finds in the book, but has to do with the title: since the book deals almost exclusively with Glacier National Park and the contiguous Rocky Mountain Front and hardly mentions or shows images from other parts of the Crown (Waterton Lakes, the Canadian Crown areas outside of Waterton in both British Columbia and Alberta, the “Bob,” Flathead