Bob Jantzen: An Arizonan Serves as 'Our National Noah'

Bighorn Sheep

Against the rock walls, phantoms with huge brown eyes gazing at human beings and still not fleeing.

Art Fuller briefs the crew one last time. "Make sure the necks are not bent or twisted," he cautions, "there's going to be a bunch of sheep in the middle who are a jumbled mess."

At 6:57 Mendoza spreads out the mash under the net. A large ram studies the situation from the top of a peak above Sidewinder Cove. Dozens of sheep now stand in the wash; the big ram refuses to come down. He becomes a silhouette in the dawn. Fuller signals at 7:02, the dynamite caps explode. The trap springs.

He aimed to kill the lions. Theodore Roosevelt loved the hunt, and he came to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon to pursue the cats. In 1906, as President, he signed into being the Grand Canyon National Game Preserve. The Kaibab Plateau formed the heart of the tract. This tableland (running 60 miles by 45) became famous for two things: the biggest muledeer herd in Arizona and the biggest deer die-off. When Roosevelt made his hunting ground a preserve, perhaps 4000 deer browsed the Kaibab. By 1924, 100,000 dined on the same forest. Efforts were made to move the deer out. They failed. The deer remained. And they ate. Aspen and juniper trees were devoured; sagebrush was pushed out of areas and some valleys were browsed down to dirt. Little dust bowls studded the Kaibab. In 1926, about 30,000 deer remained from the peak population of 1924. The dying continued for years. The Kaibab became the nightmare of game management. How can deer numbers be controlled? How can the range be saved from the beasts who eat it?

Theories floated across the plateau for decades as people tried to find a way to make the rhythms of deer population explosions and die-offs conform to predictions, policies, science. The Kaibab taught man the hunter there was more to managing the wilds than game laws, predator control, preserves, and game wardens. Here the mysterious beat of life pulsed toward winters of ruin and into springs of renewal.

The sound claps against the canyon walls, the men stampede toward the net. Twenty-four sheep writhe on the ground. The bighorns are pinned, hobbled, blindfolded. Men shout for clippers to cut the net. Sheep watch from the nearby hillside.

In Washington several years ago a Senate committee closely questioned the President's nominee for a key federal post. "Do you fish?" a senator asked. "Yes, senator, I do." "Do you fish for trout?" "Yes." "With dry flies?" "Yes, sir!" "Okay. You'll do."

There were other questions, to be sure, but soon afterward Robert A. Jantzen was confirmed as director of the Fish and Wildlife Service of the U.S. Department of the Interior. Although not yet an Arizona name of national fame-such as Geronimo or Goldwater, Justice O'Connor or Padre Kino, Wyatt Earp or Carl Hayden, Mo Udall or Frank Borman, Reggie Jackson or Ted De Grazia-Bob Jantzen serves as skipper of the world's largest conservation ark, as chief caretaker of America's wild creatures.

Noah himself would be impressed by Jantzen's task.

He is responsible for the health and safety of a national wildlife refuge system encompassing 87 million acres in 417 units. They reach from Maine to Hawaii, from Key West to the Upper Klamath, from the Aleutian Islands to the Virgin Islands.

Ranging from vast tracts to tiny pot-holes, some land leased from private own-ers and some water borrowed from mili-tary services, still other areas selected from BLM public domain lands, Indian reserva-tions, reclamation impoundments, the federal refuge system maintains breeding and feeding grounds for animals of land, sky, and water. Many species, in early days decimated by excessive commercial harvests and habitat destruction, today are on the rebound. Consider:

pupped on the Farallon Islands outside San Francisco Bay, and flocks of seabirds waned. During the 1982 breeding season 325 elephant seals pups were born on the Farallones, and in 1983 there were 400 to 450. Each year 300,000 adult birds nest there.

-Wood ducks? Once thought to be in real danger, wood ducks are second only to mallards in hunter harvests along the Atlantic and Mississippi flyways. Turkeys? In desperate straits 50 years ago, wild turkeys proliferate on public lands. Beavers? Trapped mercilessly by pioneers, today they flourish. Deer and elk? Eliminated from some regions in early times, elk now number a million, and deer, 12.5 million, more than at any time in recorded history.

Other species have not fared so well. Protection of rare and endangered creatures draws leadership from the federal fish and wildlife service. To these ends and for maintenance of healthy populations, the Service staffs research centers, controls hunting and fishing, cooperates in transplanting species, guards against diseases, and keeps data on thousands of kinds of wildlife and sea animals.

"A new breed" of bright, well educated, and devoted wildlife biologist is credited with America's modern approach to nature management. Bob Jantzen clearly is of that breed. Inspired by the writings of the trail-blazing ecologist Aldo Leopold, Jantzen spent his boyhood largely in the Arizona out-of-doors, and took a degree in wildlife management at the University of Arizona. He rose through the ranks-district biologist, species biologist, scientific writer-to become director of this state's game and fish department for 13 years. From a recent interview, here are some thumbnail responses of America's foremost custodian of living resources: On professionalism-"The first in a series of laws enacted during my lifetime was the Pittman-Robertson Act of 1937, in which the federal government collected excise taxes on firearms and ammunition, and made funds available to the states to further modern wildlife management. At first, trained wildlife professionals were held in suspicion by some of the old-time, field-trained game warden types, but in the end, scientific management was accepted."

On the meaning of management-"It means maintaining and restoring habitat. That's where life begins. It means keeping good data on populations. It means keep-ing watch for disease and other threats. It means identification and control of pollu-tants. It means removal of certain species when necessary, and restocking as required. It means listening to the constructive advice of all user groups."

On economic uses of refuges-"Economic uses of refuges are appropriate. They're occurring right now. I think the opportunity for expansion is there, but limited. It's just good business to take a look around and see what you've got; when you want to use it. Compatibility is always the test. You've got to do these things very carefully. Regarding oil and gas development on refuges, that's definitely curtailed this year because of recent actions by Congress, and may be for some time. But it's already occurring on some refuges."

On wildlife's greatest threat-"Habitat degradation is the biggest problem we face. There are some other social issues regarding wildlife, but loss of wildlife habitat is the most serious.

"How can the public help? The wetlands issue is the best example. Wetlands are one of the most sensitive ecological areas. They support a variety of wildlife. A lot of times the public doesn't have a good understanding for the values of wetlands. Better public education and public involvement is needed.

"One of the best ways to support habitat and wetlands is by buying a 'Duck Stamp' from the Post Office. It's an inexpensive way for the public to invest in conservation, and it's especially timely since 1984 is the 50th anniversary of the entire Duck Stamp program. The money it raises doesn't go into the general treasury, but directly into the special Migratory Bird Conservation Fund, of which about 92 percent is spent to acquire land."

On outdoor ethics-"Rich or poor, every American can contribute sound citizenship. In several states recently programs to curtail poaching have gained wide citizen support. Peer pressure encourages people to obey the game and fish laws.... I'll bet the hunting and fishing regulations are better obeyed than traffic laws in this country."

On the conservation movement"We'd probably not succeed without dozens of conservation groups. Privately financed, Ducks Unlimited invests 80 percent of its donations annually in breeding grounds in Canada. Not just waterfowl but 300 species of birds and mammals benefit. The Nature Conservancy owns and protects more than 700 sanctuaries in 47 states. Other groups, companies, and industries make important contributions.... It's my view that when developers realize there is potential for harm, most are willing to modify plans to avoid it. It's their world, too."

On America's environmental record"We're the world leaders in responsible concern for nature. We can list The Migratory Bird Treaty Act, the Wilderness Act, the Clean Water Act, the Endangered Species Act, The Pittman-Robertson and Dingell-Johnson acts, the world's largest national park and wildlife refuge system, the Land and Water Conservation Fund that's assisted thousands of outdoor projects, the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, the lands set aside under the Alaska Native Claims Act, and many others..... Our environmental performance as a nation is the standard of the world. No king passed down these edicts. They flowed up from the people."

On state responsibility-"The states should lead in care of resident species. We seek a stronger partnership between the federal service and the state agencies, built on trust and respect."

On the decades ahead-"Unquestionably, there will be accelerated demands upon the basics: the wild lands and the sea. And how we control these demands will be crucial in their effect upon shellfish, finfish, sea mammals, birds, and land animals. Frankly, I'm optimistic. We add to our knowledge every day.... I know some of my fellow biologists believe in doomsday, and they refer to a familiar data base called history. I suppose in hindsight we might have done better, but we've changed our ways, too, and in the next couple of decades, if we ensure that we combine our love for nature with pragmatic science, these forecasts need not come to pass."

The animals calm down quickly, their huge brown eyes roll and take in the scene. A low rumble of talk floats over the trap. One by one the sheep are freed from the net and carried a short way down the wash. They lie on the gravel like sacks of laundry. At first the bodies tremble with apprehension; then as the blindfolds shut out the world of men, they go limp and calm. Voices shout, "Somebody got blindfolds?" or "Is there a cutter around?" The sheep no longer struggle. They have accepted whatever they have fallen into. Veterinarians move quietly from sheep to sheep putting on ear tags, taking blood samples. The animals seem free of parasites; the herd is healthy. Some of the workers are members of the Arizona Bighorn Society, an 800-member group headquartered in Phoenix. For 15 years, they have built water tanks for sheep so that sheep country might multiply. Why? In Arizona, a hunter is allowed one bighorn per lifetime, and many of the volunteers struggling with the animals in the wash have already taken their ram. Still they come.

Don Johnson works computers on weekdays; this Saturday he wrestles sheep in Sidewinder Cove. He got his ram years ago. Last winter he helped a friend with his hunt. He remembers sighting five rams just below a sunlit peak "lying there like dogs in front of a fire." That is why he is here now, he explains. Sheep, he says, are something special. One by one the captive ewes and rams are taken to the boats. Some ride on stretchers, some are cradled in the arms of men. A ewe panics and starts to writhe. A hand reaches down and strokes her flank. She relaxes. Thirty minutes after the net fell, the sheep are taking a boat ride to the marina and a waiting truck.

On the Kaibab nothing seemed able to save the land from the deer. After the great population collapse of the '20s, the herd staggered on for decades punishing the terrain and puzzling the experts. Trees were devoured and seedlings perished. Aldo Leopold, after the Kaibab and a similar disaster in the Gila Wilderness area, just over the state line in New Mexico, summed up his experience: "I have seen every edible tree defoliated to the height of a saddlehorn. Such a mountain looks as if someone had given God a new pruning shears and forbidden Him all other exercise. In the end the starved bones of the hoped for deer herd, dead of its own too-much, bleach with the

Bighorn Sheep

bones of the dead sage or molder under the highlined juniper." Leopold thought more hunting was called for. Later, he wondered if more wolves were called for. All kinds of answers were sought for the Kaibab itself. They tried killing the deer off to bring the herd in balance with the food supply. In December, 1926, federal hunters shot 1124 before George W. P. Hunt, governor of Arizona, put a stop to the hunt with a court order. They tried trapping the deer. One hundred and twenty-five were captured in 1926; 40 died in transit.

An elaborate scheme for catching fawns, feeding them, and then shipping them out floundered in the late '20s. Four dairy herds provided the milk; men on horseback stalked the fawning grounds with dogs. More than half the fawns died within a month of capture, and in 1928 the program was abandoned. Hunting was encouraged with multiple kills allowed. But the area was remote and the herd grew, by 1932 reaching 14,000. The extermination of coyotes and lions continued and some questioned removing such natural predators. But even today no one is sure if such killers ever significantly culled the Kaibab herd.

By the late '40s, the Game and Fish Department was immersed in studying the competition between cattle and deer for food. J. T. Wright found that in some types of vegetation cattle consumed six or seven times as much as deer. During the winter of 1954-55, the studies and theories ceased to matter; 18,000 deer died during the snows. The Kaibab taught how complex natural systems could be. Nothing seemed simpler than managing the forest for deer and hunters. Nothing proved more difficult. From such places, man learned that the wolf was part of the deer and the mountain was part of both. Questions gave grudging answers. The dynamics of deer population swings sketched intricate equations across the green maze of the forest.

Today, hard lessons are learned. The state's lands are increasingly managed for all species, and a revision of the tax law in 1982 directs new revenue toward Game and Fish management of non-game animals. The link between the predators and their prey is now appreciated.

All these forces gather today in Sidewinder Cove where the bighorn eye the trap and walk under the net into the future. The men from Game and Fish spread out hay and apple mash at the mouth of Squaw Canyon under the Grand Wash Cliffs. This will be home for the sheep from Sidewinder Cove. The ride has taken a couple of hours and now the ewes and rams wait in a flatbed truck on the Shivwits Plateau north of the Grand Canyon. The ground runs to creosote, Joshua tree, red brome.

The tailgate falls, the sheep pause, and stare at the strange land. Then the bodies arc toward freedom, hit the ground running, and are gone. Within minutes the band moves high up on a slope, a series of white patches drifting toward the ridge line. This new home lies 60 miles from a highway.

Once the desert bighorn fled this place under pressure from domestic sheep and new diseases. Now they are back. Storm clouds drift across the tableland. Overhead an airliner makes a small roar as the ship knifes toward the horizon. These are distant events.

The bighorn are back. Making tracks.

Charles Bowden, a newspaper reporter in Tucson, is the author of two books; one on groundwater in the Southwest, and another on Chicago.

Additional Reading

Man and Wildlife in Arizona, by Goode P. Davis, Arizona Game and Fish Department, Phoenix, Arizona, 1982. Sand County Almanac, by Aldo Leopold, Oxford University Press, New York, revised 1966. The Desert Bighorn, by Gale Monson and Lowell Summer, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, Arizona, 1980.

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ARIZONA HIGHWAYS

MARCH 1984 VOL. 60, NO. 3 Publisher-Hugh Harelson Editor-Don Dedera Managing Editor-Richard G. Stahl Art Director-Gary Bennett Picture Editor-J. Peter Mortimer Associate Art Director-Lorna Holmes Associate Editor-Robert J. Farrell Contributing Editors-Bill Ahrendt, Jo Baéza, Joe Beeler, Bob Bradshaw, Duane Bryers, Ed Cooper, Paul Dean, Dick Dietrich, Carlos Elmer, Bernard Fontana, Barry Goldwater, Pam Hait, Jerry Jacka, Gill Kenny, Peter Kresan, Herband Dorothy McLaughlin, Ray Manley, Josef Muench, David Muench, Charles Niehuis, Earl Petroff, Lawrence Clark Powell, Allen C. Reed, Jerry Sieve, Joe Stocker, Jim Tallon, Larry Toschik, Marshall Trimble, Lee Wells, Maggie Wilson.

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