Small towns, big dreams
By Sheri Monk
It’s hard to believe it’s coming on 20 years since I first fell in love with the West, but in two more years that’s exactly what it will be. I came out for the very first time in 2006 in a bid to find and photograph some prairie rattlesnakes. The rest, as they say, is history.
I moved from Winnipeg in 2007, settling first in Maple Creek, then Leader, Pincher Creek and finally, Medicine Hat. In many ways, it was the “Empire Strikes Back” chapter of my life and only now am I really feeling the “Return of the Jedi” vibes. (To non-Star Wars fans I apologize, but essentially things were darker, but now they’re much brighter.)
After moving to Alberta, I always deeply and viscerally missed Saskatchewan. While “Friendly Manitoba” was inscribed on every license plate in my home province I found Saskatchewan to be more like a family than a friend. In the years since, I have returned to those memories many times as a source of comfort, strength and inspiration.
In Saskatchewan I could drive for a couple of hours looking for snakes and other critters and not see another human or vehicle. But once I did, that human and vehicle would stop and ask if I needed help. I’d always say something like, “I’m ok. I’m just looking at this snake or toad,” and without fail, the person who stopped would get out of their truck and soon we would both be looking at a snake or toad. It was amazing. Then they’d tell me about some other spot I should check out, and I’d usually come away with a name and phone number for land access and a friend for life. I absolutely loved it, every time. (Although there was that one time a very scary landowner was encountered, while on a public grid road near Val Marie, but that’s a story for a beer parlour, not a newspaper.)
I’ve never been able to properly explain how Saskatchewan feels to people who have never been there because truly, it’s a feeling more than anything else. But there is one story I can tell that helps paint a very vivid picture of why I moved. During my first trip to find rattlesnakes I was exuberantly exploring the Leader area and of course, Checkerboard Hill is famous as far as these things go. Inadvertently and out of city stupidity I made the error of entering someone’s yard. The landowner asked why I was there and I explained, apologizing profusely for my rookie mistake. Once he realized I was looking for rattlesnakes in his gravelly voice he commanded, “Wait right here.”
I waited. And then I saw him walk to a truck and grab a bucket out of the back of it. I knew with certainty there was going to be a snake at the bottom of the bucket. What I didn’t know was whether it was going to be alive or dead.
Then I heard the rattle and in that moment, and in that sound, I fell in love with Saskatchewan, with its people and with its landscapes. This rancher had caught it in his yard and was releasing it safely nearby. That was a beautiful first lesson in land stewardship and the value of native prairie for me. I’ve never forgotten it, and it would turn out to be an incredibly formative moment that would go on to change the course of my life.
It wasn’t long after that I gave up my media job in the city, sold my house in Winnipeg and moved to southwest Saskatchewan. I went on to specialize in beef and agriculture journalism, and then natural history and biology. This paved the road for me to begin my official work with rattlesnakes through my company Snakes on a Plain. This year I am pleased to announce I am introducing a stewardship award for landowners or land managers who promote coexistence with rattlesnakes through understanding, habitat conservation and tolerance. Nominations will open over the summer and the winner will be announced in the fall. It may not be a large cash award, but a rattlesnake trophy is some pretty cool hardware to hang on the wall or display on the mantle.
We need to do more to incentivize keeping what remains of the deeded native prairie in grass. Currently, there is no widespread, universally available mechanism to pre-emptively safeguard these incredibly important lands with tax breaks or even direct compensation. And while the cow-calf sector is lucrative right now we know that’s not going to last. And when that bubble bursts we are destined to lose more ground. That’s how it always goes because folks still have to make a living and if they can’t make it from grass, they’ll make it from crops.
Apparently, the Canadian Cattlemen’s Association is working on programming in this arena, but they never answered my inquiry for more information. Before the Alberta Livestock and Meat Agency was dissolved in Alberta, they were looking at and measuring the value of ecological goods and services so they could build the justification for future funding. At the time I did quite a bit of contract work for them and I was gutted when they were shut down before they could act on that vision.
Easements are not enough. Whatever programming exists now is not enough. There is an inherent public interest in retaining native prairie in the same way conserving our forests is a public issue. The tragic part here is that most Canadians have no idea what native prairie is, much less why it needs to be conserved. I don’t think we can ever count on public pressure to help with this cause. “Save the Grass!” just doesn’t have the same ring to it. And what would the protestors tie themselves naked to? The barbed wire fences?
We need to pressure our legislators, (federal and provincial) as well as our producer groups to take action. And this isn’t just a cattle industry issue – this affects all of us. Native prairie helps stabilize the Earth’s surface reducing the risk of disastrous flooding. The carbon sequestration the prairie provides is incredible. And without a doubt, native prairie provides habitat for the pollinators and invertebrate checks and balances that benefit crop producers. The diversity comparison between cultivated and native land tells a compelling story and provides a stark warning.
Organizations like the Saskatchewan Prairie Conservation Action Plan (pcap-sk.org) and the Alberta Prairie Conservation Forum (albertapcf.org) both do incredible work – but they can’t do it alone and they can’t do it all.
For my part, and because it makes my own little dream come true, I am working to purchase a very, very small piece of Saskatchewan prairie which I will enhance for insects and bats, to begin with. Our parts may vary in importance, size and scope, but make no mistake – we all have a role to play.
To all of you involved in agriculture, thank you for what you do through all the ups and the downs. Thank you for not giving up or selling out. Thank you for keeping all our small towns, arenas and schools alive because although small, they’re filled with big dreams. Thank you.