Under a sleepy gray morning, 300 bison rumbled through a gap in a dark orange fence and thundered onto the open prairie.
Nothing stood before them but the horizon – no people, no fences and no slowing down.
After almost a century of separation, the American bison officially was reintroduced to the tallgrass prairie. For the Nature Conservancy, it was a project that took four years. But for two of the heartland’s most enduring symbols, it was a reunion a long time in coming.
“Today we’re celebrating the twin resurgence of the bison and the tallgrass prairie,” said John Sawhill, president of the conservancy. “Together they’re a living piece of the American heritage.”
Two hundred years ago, an estimated 40 million to 60 million bison roamed the Midwest, grazing largely on the 142-million-acre tallgrass prairie that stretched from Mexico to Canada and included much of Kansas and Missouri.
The bison were slaughtered, sometimes for food but often for sport or just as pests, until about 500 were left. Early this century, to stock an Oklahoma preserve for the massive creatures, President Theodore Roosevelt had to send for bison from the Bronx Zoo. At the same time, the tallgrass prairie was plowed under to create the breadbasket of the world.
So those keeping score note that 300 bison hardly shake the ground for miles around and kick up a dust that blackens the sky, as did the legendary herds of the 1800s. Still, as the beasts fled their pen and disappeared into the haunch-high grasses of six square miles of open land, their tromping drowned out the chatter of birds.
Nature Conservancy officials plan to increase the herd, which was donated by the Ken-Ada ranch near the preserve, to 1,800 head by 2003. They also hope to expand their patch of land on the southern edge of the Flint Hills from 36,000 acres to 50,000 acres.
Those who are involved concede that existence on the preserve is not totally natural. The herd will be worked by cowboys on four-wheel-drive off-road vehicles. In the ear of each bison is embedded a computer chip that can be read with a hand-held scanner, allowing handlers to keep track of growth and reproduction.
Bob Hamilton, science director, said large natural predators such as wolves and bears would not be taken into the area.
“As managers, we’ll act as predators,” he said. “When the herd gets too large, we’ll sell the excess bison.”
The prairie itself has 500 species of plants.
The Tallgrass Prairie Preserve is about 15 miles north of Pawhuska and 230 miles southwest of Kansas City. It is open to the public. The cost for its creation, including buying the land and setting up a stewardship endowment, was $15 million.
“Restoring an ecosystem to its former health and grandeur is no small task,” said retired Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf, who is a board member of the conservancy.
Before the release, Schwarzkopf was made an honorary chief of the Osage Indian tribe. During the dawn ceremony, Schwarzkopf wore traditional Osage clothing as Ed Red Eagle Sr. touched him with an eagle feather.
At the end of the ceremony, which was conducted in the Osage language, Schwarzkopf was named Eagle Chief.
“Think what this prairie will be like a few years from now,” he said. “You’ll be able to come here and see an original tallgrass prairie and 1,800 bison roaming free. That’s exactly what our ancestors saw when they came out here.”
Several members of the Osage tribe, however, said they weren’t sure they shared the general’s enthusiasm. The preserve is on what used to be tribal land. The conservancy bought most of it from white ranchers, who bought it from Osage tribe members during the first half of this century.
“I wish this land had never been sold. It should have stayed inside with the tribe,” said Frances Labadie, one of the few remaining Allottee Osage. “I’m pleased to see the bison return. But I remember this land from when I was a girl.
“It saddens me to see this land not in our hands. But if the land must be used in another way, this is probably the best alternative.”
