A life-long rancher and writer, Linda Hasselstrom is the award winning author of several books of non-fiction and poetry including, Between Grass and Sky: Where I Live and Work, Feels Like Far, Land Circle: Writings Collected From the Land, Windbreak, Bison: Monarch of the Plains, Dakota Bones, and the Wrangler Award winning Bitter Creek Junction, among others. Linda was also the co-editor with Gaydel Collier and Nancy Curtis of the Wind Anthologies, a three-book collection of writing by Western women. From the intimate perspective of one who has spent most of her life working outdoors on her family ranch in South Dakota, Linda’s writing reveals a deep knowledge of what it means to make a life from the land and to be part of a third and forth generation ranching community on the High Plains. In describing her work as a writer she says, “I began studying and writing about rural and ecological problems from my own experiences in the Great Plains…. As my knowledge expanded, I encouraged ranchers and farmers to adopt better practices to help keep more rural people employed in agriculture. I wanted to help inform the American public about the ruinous costs to all of us of the kind of development we've seen in agriculture over the last fifty years.”
The Grass-fed Party Platform states a strong support for artists and storytellers “who reflect agrarian life, the history of the land, and the people who have dwelled on it,” believing that this storytelling is, in itself, an important and effective form of landscape preservation. So after reading one of Linda’s essays in Ranching West of the 100th Meridian, I contacted her for an interview, feeling that her rare wisdom would offer great insight to issues we discuss here, while her work demonstrates a form of preservation that we advocate for here. She writes: “I consider my primary responsibility to be working to preserve the territory I love, including not only the land but its inhabitants, human and otherwise, and their stories."
In this interview, Linda was able to share her thoughts with us on the changing landscapes of High Plains ranching communities, language in the ethics of ranching, and the work she is doing both as a rancher and writer to aid in the preservation of the prairie.
What is lost in a rural community when a family ranch is sold into
development?
1. Intimate and long-term knowledge of the ecology of the area.
2. Knowledge of the human strengths and weaknesses that supported and
enhanced the community cooperation and allowed neighbors to work together
for mutual survival.
3. To put this another way, I'll refer to a note from a friend, Hobie
Morris, whose column "The Musings of a Simple Country Man" in the West
Winfield (N.Y.) Star of Nov. 19, 2008, concerned "How Rural People Survive
in Tough Times." Hobie lists some of the recent news in his neighborhood:
the chicken-n-biscuit bake sale benefit for Ken and Kate, the Whitaker
Benefit for FOOD King, the Annual Firemen's Dinner. Hobie says that when
tough times strike his neighbors and friends, the built-in community support
system responds immediately and generously. "Helping others is a fundamental
belief in rural New York-and America," says Hobie, adding that "It's a
historical fact that rural Americans far better survived the horrible
conditions of the Great Depression in the 1930's." In some rural areas, he
suggests, recessions are not only nothing new, they are a permanent way of
life, so rural people learn by trial and error to live within their means.
Rural people, he says, survive better because they are multi-talented,
without a college degree; they can fix a car, cut wood for heat, grow
gardens, fix broken pipes or lawn mowers. If they don't know how to do a
job, they ask a buddy, and barter for his expertise.
My observations of subdivision and ranchette clusters indicate that little
of this kind of cooperation happens there- at least so far. Perhaps a
deepening depression will remind people that clusters of homes in the
country used to be villages where everyone worked together to survive.
What positive changes have you seen in your ranching community in your
lifetime?
More women are being acknowledged as making important contributions to all
phases of the ranching life, especially our interactions with the public.
Women have always been essential, of course. The minister at my father's
funeral was a woman, which would have horrified him. She said ranching began
when God established a garden "over east in Eden," but ranching really began
when God created woman to help man.
More ranchers are speaking out in public about their work, trying to educate
urban dwellers. More ranchers are banding together in groups to work for the
political change they need. Perhaps the media is paying more attention, or
perhaps there are simply more media outlets that are connected in some way
with rural life, and part of this can be attributed to some of the changes
we deplore: people moving into the country who don't know its history. They
ask questions, and many of them are just as interested in adapting and
learning as their ancestors- like my cobbler grandfather, who became as good
a rancher as it's possible to be.
How is your work as an artist/rancher essential to the preservation of
ranching itself?
In my writing, I try to explain and show how important the prairie is, not
just to a few ranchers who make a living here, but to the country. I was
horrified to learn recently that some of my friends, faithful readers of my
books, still think grass-fed beef is "tough." I've distributed a dozen copies
of Jo Robinson's book Pasture Perfect, and will be distributing more, as
well as quoting her more often in my own writing, and referring people to
her web site and others that discuss the perfection of grass-fed meat.
Do you think the custom of "western silence" is a barrier to sustainable change in the cattle industry?
Yes. Ranchers are bundles of contradictions. We'll leap to help strangers
in trouble, but we don't share information enough. Many of my neighbors are
automatically suspicious of anything connected with the government-despite
being willing to sign up for various benefits. We insist that we believe
what we can see, but while we'll go to a Stockgrowers meeting, we won't go
near the Sierra Club. But I hear stories of exceptions to all these comments, and I know that ranchers who want their ranches to continue being part of the landscape are working hard to broaden their perspectives and learn from others. Sometimes it’s hard to find the time, and know who to trust.
What measures are you currently taking to improve or manage the ecosystems
of your land?
1. My land is leased to neighbors, and the leases impose certain
restrictions:
--limit the number of cow units that can be placed on each pasture,
depending on the condition of the grass;
--prohibit shooting coyotes or poisoning prairie dogs or other animals, and
require that hunters walk to hunt only legal game. I make sure neighbors
know it is illegal to shoot predatory birds and the herons which have a
rookery along Battle Creek.
--require weeds be controlled by cutting rather than spraying chemicals.
2. With the help of the Rocky Mountain Bird Observatory, I have fenced a
riparian area along the only flowing creek on my property, Battle Creek near
Hermosa, South Dakota. Cattle are kept out of the area to protect wildlife
habitat and the creek banks.
3. I am encouraging and paying for the replacement of invasive alfalfa with
native grasses on my hayfields.
4. I encourage grazing hayfields for pasture rather than harvesting hay
where feasible, saving fuel and damage to ground.
5. In each writing retreat I conduct at Homestead House, I furnish reference
materials about the shortgrass prairie and its flora and fauna, and talk
about how a well-conducted ranching operation can enhance and protect
wildlife habitat. I allow and encourage resident writers to hike alone or
with me through the pastures to observe conditions for themselves.
As a rancher, do you feel an intrinsic moral obligation to the well-being of
your land and animals?
Yes, but I'd never put it that way in talking with my neighbors. Sadly, I
think most of them would be embarrassed and deny "an intrinsic moral
obligation" even while they felt it. So much in our relationships regarding
the land depends on language, and of course I don't expect well-educated
people whose language includes those terms to try to adopt another language
to speak to ranchers- that would be interpreted as "talking down to them"
anyway. But some of the ranchers I know would think they were being pompous
if they used those terms.
My dad never went to church, though he made me go with my mother, and
occasionally he'd talk to us about what we got out of the experience. He
said he hoped that God understood that while we were in church, he was out
taking care of God's land and cows, and that God would count those labors
just the way He supposedly added up hours spent in prayer and other
Christian works.
Photo of Linda on her Land in South Dakota by Tamara Rodgers
