FEATURE
Dodging Cow Pies Where rangeland and mountain recreation overlap
words :: Sylvia Dekker
T
he contradiction wasn’t lost on me. Moments ago, I had tapped my brakes and paused to admire the fluid team of horse, rider and dogs pushing a cluster of bawling bovine off the road and up a grassy slope. Now on the trail, dodging thick, wet cow pies, I grumbled about the very tradition the cowboy was keeping alive as I squelched up the path, pitted with cloven footprints. I was beyond the “Welcome to Kananaskis Country” sign, in a sprawling 4,000-square-kilometre puzzle of parks, ecological reserves and wildland areas bejeweled with sundry ecosystems, verdant valleys, shimmering lakes, crumbly peaks and bubbling creeks. More than four million folks flock to this area every year for the endless recreational opportunities and stunning natural beauty. Back on the highway, other signs jut out along the side of the roads snaking into this worldclass chunk of eastern Rockies: “Kananaskis conservation pass required. Keep your pets on leash. Cattle at large next 22 kms.”
The latter sentence surprises newcomers and annoys regulars. “Why are there cows here anyway?” I overheard a fellow hiker mutter at a muck-splattered trailhead. My toddler is thrilled when moos reverberate down the trail, but for many hikers, hints of farm devalue the wild surroundings. Kananaskis is not simply a playground for fresh-air lovers, though. In 1978, “K-Country” was born as a multi-use area and notable source of income for both government and private businesses. Timber leases, oil and gas development, recreation, tourism and grazing were expected to share one chunky, complicated zone. For the most part, recreation and grazing parties coexist well. Hikers rattle over cattle guards, brake for panicking calves and leave gates as they were found. But there are undercurrents of conflict and concern. Standing on the edges of trampled brooks and sounding off on online forums, recreationists question if cows truly fit in amongst the mountains. Fences, manure and moos are at odds with the vision of a pristine natural area—beef in the backcountry, say some respondents on an online survey, should be phased out. Many recreationists believe the path to ensuring a diverse, healthy environment for plants and animals cannot include grazing, and are not convinced there is benefit seen beyond the rancher’s beefy paycheck. •••
R
angelands in Kananaskis are managed under agricultural dispositions, aka grazing permits, or licenses issued and renewed annually by the government and managed through the Kananaskis Country Public Land Use Zone. The disposition holder pays a fee to use the land and, according to the province’s Rangeland Grazing Framework, they collaborate with the government “to ensure that agricultural land use sustains environmental, economic and social benefits for the people of Alberta.” The economic benefits are clear. Crown rangelands like those grazed in Kananaskis support about 14 per cent of Alberta’s beef herd, an industry that contributes more than $4 billion to the province’s GDP and employs tens of thousands of Albertans.
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