On October 30, 2009, a small cohort of 13 bison were released on the Tallgrass Prairie National Reserve in Kansas. Taken from a larger herd of 500 residing in South Dakota, these are probably the first bison to walk on Kansas soil in 140 years. Park managers hope the herd will someday grow to include 100 of these magnificent animals.
Just 500 years ago, an estimated 30 million to 70 million bison roamed the Great Plains of North America. Then as now, they played a critical role in prairie ecosystems. In a prairie without bison, a handful of grass species come to dominate all the others, crowding out rival plants and reducing diversity in the process. By grazing and trampling taller grasses, bison mediate plant competition in such a way as to allow a larger variety of species to prosper.
By the beginning of the 20th century, the bison that once dominated the Midwest were on the brink of extinction. The culprits: white settlers who plowed under their habitat and hunted them for tongues, humps, hides and sport. The extermination of the bison undermined the way of life of the Plains Indians, and transformed the face of a vast landscape. The thirteen individuals reintroduced to Kansas last week owe their existence to a handful of animals once kept at the Bronx Zoo in New York.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I had the privilege of visiting the Tallgrass Prairie National Reserve. Only a couple hours’ drive from Kansas City, the 10,000 acre reserve is located in the heart of the Flint Hills. On site, one can visit historical buildings (including a one-room prairie school), opt for a bus tour, or hike a variety of trails. We spent about five hours wandering the rolling landscape of the back country, grateful for the clouds that kept the sun off our faces, delighted by the sense of wide open space the tall grass prairie inspires. It was a little late in the season for viewing wildlife – and the bison hadn’t arrived yet – but we saw plenty of tracks, including coyote and cats, and we flushed a couple flocks of prairie chickens. After all my years working in the dense forests of the tropics, I was amazed by how well creatures of the prairie can hide themselves behind little more than a few tufts of grass.
As a child growing up in the Midwest, I read the entire Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder – multiple times. In grade school I had my own sun bonnet and prairie dress, and I watched the TV series faithfully even if I did think it an unsatisfying imitation of Wilder’s enchanting autobiography. I imagined the long wagon rides through endless plains of waving grasses, and I wished I could know something of her world. Prairie reserves did not exist back then. Conservation was something that happened in other places, with forests and mountains and hotsprings and geysers. The complete absence of something called ‘prairie conservation’ or ‘prairie restoration’ did not even strike me as odd until years later when I became a student of ecology.
In April of 2007, while I still resided in Costa Rica, National Geographic ran a story on the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, recently established in my home state. That was the first time I heard the prairies were returning to Kansas, and reclaiming their place in the hearts and imagination of my people. I’ve since learned of many other prairie reserves and restoration sites in the region, and each one of them provides a symbol of hope in what has all too often been a world of mindless destruction. The bison now living at the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve carry our sins and aspirations on their shoulders. I wish them a long and happy life, many offspring, and a renewed planet in which to thrive.
For photos of the bison released, please visit
http://www.kansascity.com/934/gallery/1540390-a1540317-t3.html
For more information about the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, please visit
http://www.nps.gov/archive/tapr/home.htm
Just 500 years ago, an estimated 30 million to 70 million bison roamed the Great Plains of North America. Then as now, they played a critical role in prairie ecosystems. In a prairie without bison, a handful of grass species come to dominate all the others, crowding out rival plants and reducing diversity in the process. By grazing and trampling taller grasses, bison mediate plant competition in such a way as to allow a larger variety of species to prosper.
By the beginning of the 20th century, the bison that once dominated the Midwest were on the brink of extinction. The culprits: white settlers who plowed under their habitat and hunted them for tongues, humps, hides and sport. The extermination of the bison undermined the way of life of the Plains Indians, and transformed the face of a vast landscape. The thirteen individuals reintroduced to Kansas last week owe their existence to a handful of animals once kept at the Bronx Zoo in New York.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I had the privilege of visiting the Tallgrass Prairie National Reserve. Only a couple hours’ drive from Kansas City, the 10,000 acre reserve is located in the heart of the Flint Hills. On site, one can visit historical buildings (including a one-room prairie school), opt for a bus tour, or hike a variety of trails. We spent about five hours wandering the rolling landscape of the back country, grateful for the clouds that kept the sun off our faces, delighted by the sense of wide open space the tall grass prairie inspires. It was a little late in the season for viewing wildlife – and the bison hadn’t arrived yet – but we saw plenty of tracks, including coyote and cats, and we flushed a couple flocks of prairie chickens. After all my years working in the dense forests of the tropics, I was amazed by how well creatures of the prairie can hide themselves behind little more than a few tufts of grass.
As a child growing up in the Midwest, I read the entire Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder – multiple times. In grade school I had my own sun bonnet and prairie dress, and I watched the TV series faithfully even if I did think it an unsatisfying imitation of Wilder’s enchanting autobiography. I imagined the long wagon rides through endless plains of waving grasses, and I wished I could know something of her world. Prairie reserves did not exist back then. Conservation was something that happened in other places, with forests and mountains and hotsprings and geysers. The complete absence of something called ‘prairie conservation’ or ‘prairie restoration’ did not even strike me as odd until years later when I became a student of ecology.
In April of 2007, while I still resided in Costa Rica, National Geographic ran a story on the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, recently established in my home state. That was the first time I heard the prairies were returning to Kansas, and reclaiming their place in the hearts and imagination of my people. I’ve since learned of many other prairie reserves and restoration sites in the region, and each one of them provides a symbol of hope in what has all too often been a world of mindless destruction. The bison now living at the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve carry our sins and aspirations on their shoulders. I wish them a long and happy life, many offspring, and a renewed planet in which to thrive.
For photos of the bison released, please visit
http://www.kansascity.com/934/gallery/1540390-a1540317-t3.html
For more information about the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, please visit
http://www.nps.gov/archive/tapr/home.htm
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