A Preserve of Splendid Grass

By MICHAEL D. LEMONICK.

"At first, when we were told of these treeless lands, I imagined that it was a country ravaged by fire, where the soil was so poor that it could produce nothing. But we have certainly observed the contrary; and no better soil can be found, either for corn, or for vines, or for any fruit whatever."

When Louis Jolliet wrote these prophetic words, after a 1673 voyage on the Illinois and Mississippi rivers, the great tallgrass prairie of central North America covered a quarter of a billion acres, a shimmering sea of grass stretching from what is now Indiana to Kansas, from Canada into Texas. But the soil was indeed ideal for corn, and in the three centuries since, that cultivated cousin of the tallgrasses has thrived. Only a few patches of the original tallgrass prairie are left, many of them scattered across the country in such small plots as old cemeteries and railroad rights-of-way. Seventeen prairie preserves in Iowa, for example, have a total of only 1,400 acres.

There are still, however, some places where the tallgrass prairie remains nearly as the pioneers saw it--vast, rolling expanses reaching beyond the horizon. U.S. environmentalists would like to keep it that way, and so would the National Park Service. Last month Park Service Director William Penn Mott toured the proposed site for the nation's first Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve: 50,000 acres near Pawhuska, in the Osage Hills of Oklahoma. "You have a jewel here," he told ranchers and conservationists at a barbecue on the Foraker Ranch, one of the properties that could make up the preserve, "and the jewel should fit into the crown of the National Park Service."

Scientists say that the American prairie was born of circumstances unique in the world. Unlike the pampas of Argentina or the South African veld, the North American prairie was molded in part by continental glaciers, which enriched the earth with a deep base of pulverized rock. "The original prairie soils are fluffy, loamy, aerated, and that contributes to amazing productivity," says John Madson, author of Where the Sky Began, a natural history of the prairie. The Rockies govern the climate, forcing the prevailing winds that blow off the Pacific to give up moisture and continue eastward too dry to nourish much other than the hardiest grasses--short in the dry shadow of the mountains, taller toward the Mississippi.

Then, 10,000 or more years ago, man joined forces with nature to maintain the prairie ecosystem. "A spark from an Indian campfire or a bolt of lightning, and the prairie was ablaze," says Northeastern Illinois University Biologist Robert Betz. The fires, Betz explains, were a natural part of the system, favoring the growth of deep-rooted species that could easily survive the repeated conflagrations. A startling variety of plants and flowers flourished under these conditions, their roots creating a dense, interlocking mass that reached as far as twelve feet underground. Between blazes, the prairies teemed with quarry for the Plains Indians: bison, elk, quail and deer.

The bison and elk are virtually gone, and preserving what remains of the prairie has long been a challenge for conservationists. An effort to establish a tallgrass park at a site in Kansas foundered seven years ago because of local opposition. Ranchers were reluctant to surrender commercially exploitable land.

The Park Service now faces similar obstacles in Oklahoma. The Osage Indians, who own the mineral rights in Osage County (where some 15,000 wells produce 22,000 bbl. of oil a day), oppose the establishment of a park. Says George Tallchief, principal chief of the tribe: "It will make it prohibitive for independent oil producers to come in and drill." Local ranching interests are also unhappy about losing valuable grazing land, which they insist is already in good hands. "This is my heritage here," says Rancher Mark Freeman Jr. "Who in the hell do you think has kept this prairie in the shape it's in today?"

But environmentalists warn that the prairie is already deteriorating. Range Management Expert Dick Whetsell can point out areas where cattle have wiped out prairie flowers, including wild indigo and blazing stars, leadplants and horsemint, prairie clover and many species of sunflowers. It is still possible to find big bluestem grass that reaches shoulder-high, but old-timers like former Osage Tribal Council Member Bill Martin remember when the prairie grew "higher than a man riding a horse."

In hopes of resolving the conflict between conservationists and local interests, the Park Service has endorsed the idea of creating a tallgrass "preserve" instead of a prairie park. That way, limited cattle grazing, hunting and oil drilling would still be permitted. The Government also plans to acquire land for the preserve only from willing sellers. Even so, the Indians remain wary. "Any act creating the preserve can later be amended," says Attorney Ralph Adkisson, a member of the Osage tribal council. "There will be pressures later for limiting any economic activity in the preserve."

Despite the opposition, the feisty Mott, 76, thinks he can persuade Congress to approve the plan as early as next year. "We are going to have a prairie preserve," he vows, "and it's going to look just like it looks now. We want to tell the whole story, not just the botanical story, not just the tallgrass story, but also the story of the Osage Indians, the raising of cattle and the exploration for oil. I think it's just a matter of sitting down with all the interests and working out the details." The preserve can be created, he believes, for about $20 million. Says Mott: "It isn't a question of dollars. What's the Grand Canyon worth? What's Yellowstone worth?"

With reporting by J. Madeleine Nash/Pawhuska