Prairie dog fans few in number Sept. 17, 2006 By MIKE CORN Hays Daily News RUSSELL SPRINGS ó When Larry Haverfield stood up earlier this year at a public meeting and announced that he likes prairie dogs, his fate was sealed.
He doesn't have a problem with it. After all, Haverfield does, indeed, like prairie dogs, arguing that they are a benefit to the pastures that he nutures and draws his living from. He's also quite fond of the swift foxes that run free on the nearly 6,000 acres of land that he operates. He even likes the rattlesnakes and the ferruginous hawks that float on the streams of air above the Logan County valley where he lives. He's just as happy watching the burrowing owls bobbing their heads on the barren mounds that mark the prairie dog burrows on his land. His desire to co-exist with the prairie dog has made his land a prime candidate for a project that could return what is the nation's most endangered mammal ó the black-footed ferret ó back to the region Haverfield isn't alone in his love of the animals that inhabit the Kansas prairies. But he's got plenty of people who are diametrically opposed to his viewpoint. Many simply think the only good prairie dog is a dead one. Haverfield and neighbor Gene Bertrand aren't among them, and likely are prime candidates for any black-footed ferret reintroduction program that might come down the pike by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Bertrand, however, has since decided that he's not going to fight the prairie dog opponents and will be setting out poison across his ranch. He simply doesn't want to be the driving force behind a court battle that could cost the county thousands, considering it's the county commission that is poised to force landowners to poison prairie dogs. At an August county commission meeting, Bertrand said that he would start controlling dogs on his land. "It will be a control thing over the next five or six years," he said. That decision pains him because he would like his land to be part of a reintroduction project involving the ferrets. "I've got to make a decision whether to hold 300 to 400 acres back," he said of not poisoning the prairie dogs. Generally, Bertrand said he plans to push for an 80 percent to 90 percent reduction in the number of praire dogs on his 10,000 acre ranch. He's going to do the poisoning himself, using zinc phosphide. He's planning to hire several people to help "I'll do it myself. I'll start at the outer perimeter," he said. "There are neighbors who need to control a lot if I'm going to control." Even though both like having prairie dogs on their land, it's for different reasons. Neither one favors the control efforts being proposed by the Logan County Commission ó one of widespread poisoning that both Haverfield and Bertrand fear could cause multiple secondary deaths. Haverfield thinks prairie dogs are a benefit to the environment and the land that he farms. Bertrand sees the animals as a money-making opportunity that benefits him and Logan County. Bertrand offers the opportunity for prairie dog shooting, for people willing to pay the price. He sets them up in a remodeled ranch house and has even converted a stock trailer into a mobile shooting stand. Haverfield also controls prairie dogs by gunfire, but refers any inquiries concerning fee shooting over to Bertrand. Haverfield reserves the shooting on his ranch for friends and family. They both contend it's perhaps as effective in depleting the population as any other method, including poisoning that costs as much as $20 an acre. Bertrand said just this year he talked with the people who shoot on his land. On windy days, he was told, the kill ratio is anywhere from 30 percent to 35 percent. On still days, that climbs to 80 percent to 85 percent. "The guys coming, a lot of them are match shooters," Bertrand said. "They live these guns." And the total kill, he said, conservatively numbers almost 5,000 prairie dogs on his land alone. "The way I look at it is we're minus predators, and we're taking up the slack," Bertrand said. In fact, Bertrand said wildlife damage specialist Charles Lee, based at Kansas State University, noted the sheer number of "dead holes" on his land. Those dead holes represent burrows that are no longer in use because the prairie dogs either died or moved elsewhere. Together, Bertrand and Haverfield estimate that as many as 10,000 prairie dogs are killed each year on the land they own.
They both have been forced to take other measures in an effort to halt the spread of the animals onto neighbors' property. Bertrand has poisoned some animals and Haverfield has established grass barriers in hopes keeping the dogs on his land. The barriers are 30 yards wide, a strip of grass that is cordoned off with electric fence to keep cattle from grazing it. The idea is to let the grass grow and discourage the prairie dogs from spreading into either the barriers or the adjoining land. The biggest problem with the barriers has been the lack of rainfall. Recent rains, however, helped encourage grass growth, and Haverfield is hopeful that the barriers might do the trick; he also hopes weeds growing in the fences might help stop the migration. To help ensure that prairie dogs don't spread across fence lines, he is working with Audubon of Kansas for an enhanced effort that will entail poisoning 220 yards in from the property line. Already, Haverfield has constructed 8 miles of fence to create the barriers. "And I've got another 41/2 miles of fence that I'll have before I put cattle in," he said. Bertrand is adamant in his viewpoint that fee shooting is having a decided effect on the population of prairie dogs on his land. "In four years of shooting, we now have a considerable drop in shots," he said. "This year is the first year that my hunters are saying ëyou must have less dogs.' " In May, there were a lot of days where shooters were able to take about 300 shots each. "Now we're looking at 50 to 75 less shots per day," he said. For Bertrand, that's money in his pocket. He charges $150 a day per person. Shooters come May through June and in September. Most of the hunters come from Missouri, but the last group was from Florida. "And they drove here," he said. "I did it on a lark four years ago. And I had people right away." *** Haverfield poisoned some animals on his land, a decision he voluntarily made after "they were threatening to come in and indiscriminately poison." Haverfield paid $3,200 for the poisoning effort. It was the Logan County Commission that has talked about coming onto private lands and poisoning prairie dogs. Specifically, both Haverfield and Bertrand have been targeted by the county. "That's our point," Bertrand said, "forcible entry. To come in and indiscriminately poison, that's not the answer. "That's where Larry and I agree. We're not going to sit back and play dead." Indeed they haven't. They both contacted Wichita attorney Randy Rathbun, a former U.S. Attorney for Kansas and a lawyer with experience in natural resource areas. "His main thrust was to go against Rozol," Haverfield said. "Since then, we've all used Rozol." Bertrand contends the use of Rozol also has decimated the number of hawks that have frequented the area. "The point is we had them," he said of the hawks. "And now they're disappearing. And we're using Rozol." Both have made efforts to control prairie dogs. And both say the population isn't running rampant. "You didn't develop more dogs during that time," Bertrand said of the winter of 2004 when the public attitude tide turned hard against the animals. "You developed more holes." And those holes, Bertrand said help perpetuate many of the myths that follow prairie dogs ó a threat to cattle, for example. Bertrand said he has operated an 800-cow herd for years. "To me, it was never an issue," he said. Haverfield contends prairie dogs have little to do with the stocking rates on the pastures he grazes. "Prairie dogs have improved this," he said as he surveyed one of his pastures. "They carry the old grass off there." For Bertrand, the stocking rate this year was determined by the drought. "It was so bad this spring we figured they'd lose weight on the grass," he said. "My problem up on the ranch is this is our sixth year of drought." The drought has exacerbated the situation, not only helping to spread the prairie dogs but make them more visible to people who drive by and see bare spots in the pastures. That has prompted area ranchers to complain and insist the county enforce the state law on controlling prairie dogs. *** For many, the fear on the poisoning goes beyond prairie dogs and includes black-footed ferrets. "I think it comes down to how many ferrets they want to risk," Bertrand said. "Could we have an accidental kill? Yes we could. "I know they're still looking at me." "We're hopeful they can bring them," Haverfield of the ferrets. "We know there's going to be a lot of traffic." And that means tourism in a county that has suffered from population losses over the years. "The prairie dogs here aren't bothering anybody," Haverfield said as they looked over Bertrand's land. "Yes, but they do migrate," Bertrand said. "I think this reduced activity is showing us we're doing more control than what we thought," Bertrand said of the empty holes in his pasture. And, they contend, it flies in the face of the county saying it's not a suitable form of control. "That's where we disagree," Bertrand said. "I'd say you're on the decline," Haverfield said as he surveyed his neighbor's land. "Yeah, I think so too, Larry," Bertrand said. |
