When European colonists came to America they found an abundance of game and proceeded to slaughter it. They wiped out, over much of their original ranges, the elk, the bison, the muskox, the bighorn, and the grizzly bear.
Of birds now extinct or all but extinct; the great trumpeter, largest of swans; and the largest of woodpeckers, the ivory billed, offer lamented examples; so also the passenger pigeons which flew in clouds that darkened the sky. They were slaughtered by the millions for hogs to eat, perhaps, or just "for sport," and the last of these wild pigeons died in 1914.
The California condor, a vulture, and the largest of all American birds, with a wing-spread up to nine feet, although innocent of all habits contrary to man's interests, has been almost exterminated through wanton shooting by "sportsmen," by poisoners, and by the change to farm cultivation in some areas. There are now perhaps no more than fifty or sixty of these great birds in the West.
Why, some may ask, be so solicitous about preserving or restoring wildlife? We have fared very well, say such as these, without the passenger pigeon and the Eskimo curlew. Could we not live well enough without the trumpeter swan, the whooping crane, and the wolverine?
To "practical" people of this sort it is generally useless to speak of the beauty and wonder of birds on the wing, or the need of preserving all but vanished species of a living link in biological reason. Better it is, then, to say truthfully, when seeking support for preservation and renewal along these lines, that many birds have an immediate value in keeping down the number of insect pests that threaten farm production.
All national parks today—except a corner of Grand Teton—are wildlife sanctuaries: where no hunting is allowed, and often special care is taken to preserve species threatened with extinction. This problem of maintaining balance in "outdoor zoos," so popular with the public, is one which has plagued park administrators for many years. Even in the 'teens of the century, the Buffalo Ranch in the Lamar Valley of the Yellowstone, feeding protected herds was both costly and troublesome. Demoralized buffalo were hanging around the haystacks too much and foraging too little. The bulls devoted too much energy to fighting, and twice nearly killed the buffalo keeper. A hundred of these idle surplus bulls had to be disposed of by 1915.
Measures to put down predators likewise led to an overstocking elk in the Yellowstone and elsewhere. Animal diseases among protected animals increased, often in related patterns. In places bears grown thin and of angry temper were found to be infected with tapeworm, which they got from infected fish.
Park and fish and wildlife veterinarians have plenty of trouble, once a preservation policy gets out of hand. Greater trouble, sometimes approaching disaster, came of animal overpopulation destroying the range. Removal of animals to areas less overladen presents grave difficulties. Bears are particularly dangerous to handle during trucked transfer. They will sometimes break their teeth and claws trying to tear their way out of traps and cages. When all such measures fail, the Park Service as a last resort has been obliged to delegate rangers as hunters, and give the carcasses to Indian agencies or other federal agencies. We have as yet no acceptable solution to this dilemma. The Malthusian doctrine, often pooh-poohed by cheerful sentimentalists, applies with relentless severity to wildlife.
Excerpted from Our National Park Policy, by John Ise, to be published soon by The Johns Hopkins Press. Mr. Ise's research was supported by an RFF grant to the University of Kansas.
A version of this article appeared in print in the February 1961 issue of Resources magazine.
