Montana Outdoors September-October 2026

INSIDE: EXTRASENSORY ANIMAL PERCEPTIONS

MONTANA FISH, WILDLIFE & PARKS | $4.50

SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2 026

STAYIN’ ALIVE How ranchers protect livestock from wolves

IN THIS ISSUE:

FWP DOUBLES DOWN FOR DNA OUTWITTING GRASSES THAT CHEAT KEEPING THE FAITH IN A NEW BIRD DOG MONTANA OUTDOORS | JULY-AUGUST 2026 | C

CONTENTS

September-October 2026

FEATURES 12 Ranches with Wolves

Cattle and sheep producers are experimenting with ancient and futuristic methods to keep large carnivores away from livestock. By Tom Dickson

20 Bad Seeds

Invasive grasses pose a grave threat to native plants and wildlife in Montana. Fortunately, a counterattack is taking shape to help defend the Treasure State’s natural treasures. By Brianna Randall

24 The Point

The initiation of an unlikely bird dog. By Sage Marshall

28 Super Senses

Animals see, hear, smell, and feel entire worlds humans don’t even know exist. By Ben Long

34 Decoding Nature’s Fingerprints

FWP’s first full-time wildlife geneticist is helping forge a new path for the agency’s genetic wildlife research. By Katie Hill

MONTANA OUTDOORS VOLUME 57, NUMBER 5 STATE OF MONTANA Greg Gianforte, Governor MONTANA FISH, WILDLIFE & PARKS Christy Clark, Director FIRST PLACE MAGAZINE: 2005, 2006, 2008, 2011, 2017, 2018, 2022, 2026 Association for Conservation Information

MONTANA OUTDOORS STAFF Paul Queneau, Editor Amanda Reese, Art Director Heather Johnson, Circulation Manager

MONTANA FISH AND WILDLIFE COMMISSION Lesley Robinson, Chair Ian Wargo K.C. Walsh Jeff Burrows Vern Gagnon Susan Brooke William Lane MONTANA STATE PARKS AND RECREATION BOARD Liz Whiting, Chair Jody Loomis Russ Kipp Kathy McLane John Marancik

Montana Outdoors (ISSN 0027-0016) is published bimonthly by Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks in partnership with our subscribers. Subscription rates are $15 for one year, $25 for two years, and $30 for three years. (Please add $3 per year for Canadian subscriptions. All other foreign subscriptions, airmail only, are $50 for one year.) Individual copies and back issues cost $5.50 each (includes postage). Although Montana Outdoors is copyrighted, permission to reprint articles is available by writing our office or phoning us at 406-495-3257. All correspondence should be addressed to: Montana Outdoors, Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks, 930 West Custer Avenue, P.O. Box 200701, Helena, MT 59620-0701. Website: fwp.mt.gov/montana-outdoors. Email: montanaoutdoors@mt.gov. ©2026, Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks. All rights reserved. For address changes or subscription information call 800-678-6668. In Canada call +1 406-495-3257. Postmaster: Send address changes to Montana Outdoors, Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks, P.O. Box 200701, Helena, MT 59620-0701. Preferred periodicals postage paid at Helena, MT 59601, and additional mailing offices.

SCRATCH AND SNIFF During mating season, bull elk often strip young trees bare with their antlers. Research has found that rubs and scrapes glow in the dark under ultraviolet light, helping them to appear like highway reflectors marking a bull’s territory. Read more on page 28. Photo by Donald M. Jones. COVER Ranchers in Montana are experimenting with an array of creative tactics to help protect their livestock from packs of wolves. Read more on page 12. Photo by Ami Vitale.

DEPARTMENTS 2 LETTERS

6 SNAPSHOT

2 PAST PERSPECTIVES

8 OUTDOORS REPORT

3 TASTING MONTANA

10 FIELD WORK

4 OUR POINT OF VIEW

40 SKETCHBOOK

5 FWP AT WORK

41 OUTDOORS PORTRAIT MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 | 1

LETTERS

Missed Highlights “Born of Necessity” (July-August 2026) was a great article filled with good examples of how Montana has been progressive with fish and wildlife management from early on. The efforts in fisheries management—no hatchery fish in streams—broke new ground. I believe [Fisheries Division chief] Art Whitney told the commission that “if no hatchery fish in the Madison doesn’t work, you can have my job!” You also could have mentioned more than highways regarding the stream-protection law. I tell friends going to Montana that all those bridges crossed after Lookout Pass prevented straightening of the St. Regis River channel. I also liked the brief review of DDT. People need to be reminded of the negative effects of that group of

long-lasting pesticides. I spent much of the summer of 1962 counting dead fish and aquatic insects in the Boulder River after the forest was sprayed with DDT to control spruce budworm—and the Boulder was not the first. An article by Rachel Carson appeared in the New York Times that same summer. You could have also mentioned Jim Posewitz and others, and the proposed diversions from the Yellowstone River. But overall, it was excellent! Gene Welch Sammamish, WA

“Born of Necessity” was an interesting read, but for me the included timeline fell far short of highlighting the significant history of and programs managed by the Parks and Recreation Division. In the late 1930s, the tenacity and hard

work of state forester Rutledge Parker resulted in the legislation to establish the state park system and commission. The Commission was abolished in 1953, but then in 2014 the legislature established the separate parks and recreation board. Other significant legislative milestones such as the Smith River Act in 1989 could have been included. The division’s award-winning management of snowmobile, OHV, and non-motorized trails programs over time along with its important role in distributing Land and Water Conservation Fund grants to communities all across Montana could have been mentioned. The division’s addition of professional staff to manage and monitor the vast historic and cultural heritage resources found on most all FWP managed properties could have also helped the

public understand the full breadth and significance of the Parks and Recreation Division to the agency. While the timeline does direct readers to the special issue “A Century of Conservation” (NovemberDecember 2000) for more information, that too is heavily focused on the “F” and “W” [fish and wildlife] side of the agency and did not adequately offer the reader an appreciation of the many ways the Parks Division contributes to providing outdoor recreational opportunities and the preservation and interpretation of Montana’s historic and cultural resources. Ken Soderberg East Helena

Write to us at Montana Outdoors, P.O. Box 200701, Helena, MT 59620-0701 or paul.queneau@mt.gov.

When license sales spiked in the 1940s and ’50s

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n 1951, Sporting Montana (then the official publication of the Montana Fish and Game Department, FWP’s predecessor) included an article entitled “The Big Sale” tracking a 10-year surge in purchased fishing and hunting licenses. One in four Montanans at the time bought hunting and fishing licenses, part of a 78 percent increase in license sales over the previous decade. It attributed the rise in part to improved roads and a surplus of free time and spending money. “Greater leisure time of the people due to modern methods of production, greater earning power, and shorter working hours, is perhaps one of the main reasons why more people have more time to devote to hunting and fishing for outdoor recreation,” wrote author Walter Everin, chief deputy of the department. “It is doubtful that it can continue to rise...much longer, unless there is a 2 | MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026

proportional upswing in the state’s [wildlife] population, or that non-resident license sales should account for any future rise.” Seventy-five years later, Everin’s predictions have proven largely accurate. Resident and nonresident license sales have been a hot topic of late at the Montana Legislature and Montana Fish and Wildlife Commission. A 2023 House bill directed FWP to publish license sales reports on its website, which now include a spreadsheet tracking the past 10 years of sales. Over the past decade, sales of resident conservation licenses (required to purchase hunting and fishing licenses) rose 34 percent while nonresident licenses have climbed 60 percent. Last year’s sales were almost evenly split: 313,618 resident conservation licenses (roughly 27 percent of Montanans) versus 301,022 nonresident conservation licenses. Fortunately, as Everin hoped, many wildlife populations have also increased. “In the many years to come, an ever-increasing number of hunters and fishermen will exert an increased hunting and fishing pressure on the wildlife resources of the state,” Everin wrote. “It may be optimistic to believe that sportsmen many, many years from now will enjoy a greater abundance of wildlife than we know today.” n

TASTING MONTANA

Mourning Dove Poppers By Tom Dickson I Preparation time: 30 minutes I Cooking time: 5 minutes I Serves: 2-3

Hank’s Dove Poppers INGREDIENTS 24 boneless breasts from 12 doves 1 lb. thin bacon or thinly cut prosciutto ham 6–8 poblano or jalapeño peppers Juice of 4 limes Salt 4 heads garlic 24 toothpicks

PHOTO BY JODY HORTON

DIRECTIONS Step 1: Blacken peppers on a hot grill until charred. Place in a bag to steam. Scrape off the blackened skins, seeds, and stems then soak the chiles in the lime juice for 1–24 hours. Cut into 1-inch-wide strips.

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ontana’s mourning dove season opens each year on September 1 to a collective shrug. For some reason, the nation’s most popular game bird doesn’t hold much appeal here. While Texas tops the nation with a yearly harvest of 5 million doves, hunters in Montana take only 10,000 to 20,000 annually, or about 10 to 15 birds each. In many states, the dove opener is a much-awaited annual tradition shared by friends and family members. Unlike other game bird hunting, where you walk up the birds and generally need a dog, with doves you just wait in a spot where the birds fly to watering areas in the morning and late afternoon and shoot them as they zip past. That’s harder done than said. Doves are extraordinarily fast and will dart and corkscrew in flight once the shooting starts. Even a good wingshot may go through a box or two of shells to harvest the daily limit of 15. Shell manufacturers love dove season. But don’t mourn the dove population. Even with an annual nationwide harvest of 15 million to 20 million—the most of any game bird (pheasants are second at around 3 million)—dove numbers continue to hold steady. These bunnies of the bird world raise two to six broods each year. Because several hunters can hunt doves at the same time in the same area, the shoots make for social occasions complete with tailgate dining afterward. The classic dove delicacy is the popper—a skinless breast combined with a slice of jalapeño pepper and a blob of cream cheese then wrapped in bacon and grilled. The name comes from how people pop them into their mouth to eat in one big bite. I’ve included two versions here: a garlicky, cheese-less version by food writer Hank Shaw from his incomparable upland game cookbook Pheasant, Quail, Cottontail, and a classic version I found years ago in an issue of Fins & Feathers magazine. Note that doves don’t like chilly temperatures and will fly south when the first cold front arrives. In Montana, that used to be right around Labor Day weekend, giving hunters only a few days of dove hunting after the opener before the birds headed to Mexico. But one silver lining of global warming is that it stays hotter later in September than it used to, providing a good two weeks or more of dove hunting. n To learn more about doves and dove hunting, check out this article from the SeptemberOctober 2021 issue of Montana Outdoors: https://qr1.be/KM2TR6

Step 2: Roast the garlic by cutting ½ inch off the top of a bulb. Drizzle a little oil on the cut surface. Wrap in aluminum foil and cook in an oven at 400 degrees for 30 minutes. Remove, let cool, and squeeze the softened garlic into a bowl. Season with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkling of salt. Stir to blend. Step 3: Build poppers by laying down a halfslice of bacon or prosciutto then adding a strip of the pepper, some garlic smeared on the pepper, and finally a dove breast sprinkled with salt. Roll up the bacon and seal the package with a toothpick. Step 4: Grill poppers over medium heat, turning several times. They are done when the bacon or ham is crispy. Serve hot.

Fins & Feathers Dove Poppers Same ingredients as above but use jalapeño peppers, remove seeds and white parts, and cut lengthwise into 24 slices. And instead of roast garlic, use 1 lb. Monterey or pepper jack cheese, cut into 24 slices, or cream cheese. Same directions as above except: 1. No need to blacken peppers or soak in lime juice. 2. Substitute a slice of cheese or gob of cream cheese for the roast garlic. n

Find more recipes online at bit.ly/TastingMontana MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 | 3

OUR POINT OF VIEW

favorite saying I often apply in my job is: “This is just a chapter, not the whole book.” That seems especially fitting as I write this in mid-July. I’ve just returned from a gathering at the Gallatin Wildlife Management Area south of Bozeman to mark the start of a new chapter in grizzly bear management and conservation. I joined Governor Greg Gianforte, Interior Secretary Doug Burgum, the governors of Wyoming and Idaho, and others to announce a proposed rule change that would give Montana and other states more flexibility for managing grizzly bears. This draft rule was published by the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service in the Federal Register three days later on July 17, with 30 days of public comment. It revises Section 4(d) of the Endangered Species Act (ESA) Grizzly bears in the Lower 48 were first listed as threatened under the Endangered Species for grizzly bears to provide additional flexAct in 1975, when only a small fraction of the historic population remained. ibility for wildlife managers dealing with problem bears in parts of the Northern Continental Divide Ecosystem (NCDE) and the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem (GYE) where the species I also know what if feels like to wonder whether the people making has exceeded federal recovery benchmarks since the early 2000s. grizzly management decisions truly understand what life is like on In some cases, this rule could increase FWP’s options to use lethal the ground where bears are a constant presence. Those experiences shaped me—but so has this job. Since joining control without needing federal approval. It is not full delisting, but a step in that direction as we gradu- FWP, I’ve had the privilege of working alongside some extraordially move toward state management of grizzly bears, something nary biologists whose passion for wildlife inspires me every day. FWP has been prepared to take on for more than a decade. Grizzly I’ve met conservationists who have devoted their lives to recoverpopulations in the Lower 48 have grown from just a few hundred ing grizzly bears. I’ve listened to hunters, tribal leaders, outfitters, bears when the species gained ESA protections in 1975 to roughly ranchers, and families who all care deeply about the future of this remarkable animal. And I do as well. 2,000 today. All these experiences make me more confident than ever about FWP played a key role every step of the way through its management and research efforts, as did Montana’s residents, whose the next chapter. Conservation isn’t about choosing wildlife over patience was vital to the success of the ESA restrictions. In 2022, people, and it isn’t about choosing people over wildlife. It’s about we released a Statewide Grizzly Bear Management Plan, which, caring enough to find a balance that meets the needs of both wildalong with laws passed by the Montana Legislature, will ensure life and people. The recovery of the grizzly bear is one of America’s greatest bear populations remain healthy and stable across the state and provide greater flexibility for dealing with bears killing livestock or achievements in wildlife conservation, and it didn’t happen by accident. It happened because generations of people have listened getting too close to human settlements. Before I came to FWP, I was a rancher. Our ranch on the Rocky both to those whose lives are directly affected by grizzlies and the Mountain Front near Choteau has been in our family for five gen- biologists who are entrusted with the species’ long-term survival. erations. Every cow and sheep matters as you try to make things Montana is ready to move forward with that same diligence and pencil out, and I remember how awful it felt to drive into the pas- respect for our state’s most iconic wildlife species. ture and find livestock killed or injured by grizzly bears. I know the frustration, the financial loss, and the toll it takes on families. —Christy Clark, Director, Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks 4 | MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026

PHOTO BY LEA FRYE

Starting the next chapter for Montana’s grizzly bears

PHOTO BY NICHOLAS DANIELSON/FWP

FWP AT WORK

BRIDGE BUILDER

Vanna Boccadori Butte-area wildlife biologist

I’ve always been a biologist at heart—I just came to it later than most. My grandfather helped introduce me to the outdoors at a young age, taking me to the creek behind our house in Pennsylvania and teaching me the names of the plants as we hunted for crawdads and snakes. That ignited an interest that led me to be a pre-veterinary major in college, the only career I knew of at the time that worked with animals. While there, I spent a semester in Kenya studying wildlife management, which opened up a whole new world. My outlook expanded further after I moved out West in my mid-20s. I had the great fortune of finding work in Yellowstone National Park helping to trap and collar grizzly bears, sealing my love for Montana and all things wild, and setting me on the path I knew I wanted to follow. In 1998, I joined the graduate program in wildlife management at Mon­tana State University in Bozeman. After earning my master’s, I did seasonal work for the U.S. Forest Service, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Ser­vice, and National Park Service, but it was Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks I most wanted to work for. FWP had a great way of immersing its biologists into

the communities where they lived and empowering them to manage the local fish and wildlife populations in collaboration with the people who lived there, not apart from them. In 2005, I heard that the Butte-area wildlife biologist position had opened up, so I applied and landed the job. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect of “Butte, America,” and was quickly blown away by the level of engagement. Skyline Sportsmen’s Association, Anaconda Sportsman’s Club, Jefferson Valley Sportsmen’s Association, traditional ranchers— no one here is shy about expressing opinions or calling B.S. They don’t tolerate anything less than full transparency, and I know I need to show up every day prepared to explain my actions and stances. But I also know if I am clear and honest, everybody in the room will roll up their sleeves and help me, because they value fish and wildlife just as much as I do. This is more than a job. It’s who I am. No two days are ever the same, and I never want to live or work anywhere else. If there is one thing I’ve learned through the years, it’s that you can’t do right by wildlife without doing right by the community. And that’s what I’ve always tried to do. MONTANA OUTDOORS || SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 || 5

SNAPSHOT

6 | MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 2026

Kalispell photographer Erin Braaten was staying with her family at Granite Park Chalet in Glacier National Park when she noticed a pair of dusky (blue) grouse foraging through the autumn foliage nearby. “In the dappled morning light it was amazing how well their buff brown and slate gray feathers blended in with the lichen-covered rocks. They emerged and submerged into their surroundings as they moved across the field of view. I waited for a clear angle, then everything just came together,” Braaten says. The telephoto lens she had packed for miles to the chalet proved to be the perfect tool for the moment. “Without any grass blocking its head from my view, the grouse paused still as stone, matching the exact tone and texture of its mountain habitat, so well adapted to this place and the essence of the landscape.” n

MONTANA OUTDOORS OUTDOORS || SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 2026 || 7 MONTANA

OUTDOORS REPORT

1,000 TroutCast delivers fish and FISHERIES MANAGEMENT

Age, in years, of “Gus,” the world’s oldest and largest living western larch tree, which grows near Seeley Lake.

stream condition forecasts for Montana rivers

Taller than the Statue of Liberty (minus the pedestal) at 153 feet in height, it’s more than 7 feet in diameter at its base and has survived at least 40 wildfires.

Expired or partially used bear spray canisters aren’t safe to simply toss in the trash, and over time many Montanans end up with a box full of old cans gathering dust. To lend a hand, Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks regional offices will take old bear spray cans throughout September—the state’s “Bear Aware” month. Swing by one of FWP’s offices to take advantage of this short-term opportunity while it’s available and help free up space in your basement or closet in the process. Then buy a new canister and have it ready for hunting season this fall. n 8 | MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026

ishing is woven into Montana’s culture—and is an economic force, reeling in $1.5 billion for the state’s economy every year. Trout are a critical part of that equation, but hot summers and low streamflows put a strain on fish and can depress populations. Enter TroutCast. This new online tool provides a way to predict both river conditions and shifts in local trout populations. These features are broken down into two categories: management forecasts and population forecasts. Management forecasts use data from the United States Geological Survey (USGS) and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) to help anticipate when rivers might hit low flow or high temperature thresholds. “It allows people to see the actual data behind the stream flows and the stream temperatures,” says Michelle McGree, Habitat Bureau chief of FWP’s Fisheries Division. “You not only get a sense of what’s happening in the rivers where you are angling, but also why certain changes are happening

and why ‘hoot owl’ restrictions might be needed.” A hoot owl restriction is when FWP closes fishing on a river or stream during the heat of the day to help protect trout from the stress of being caught. This occurs when flows drop below critical levels or water temperatures increase to dangerous highs. Management forecasts are only predictions and conditions often change unexpectedly, so McGree recommends visiting FWP’s website for the latest restrictions. TroutCast also tracks changes in the populations of two of Montana’s most sought-after recreational fish: rainbow trout and brown trout. Its models use data collected through FWP’s annual electrofishing surveys to estimate fish density, and combines that with USGS streamflow data to project future fish abundance. Predictions for rainbow and brown trout densities on each river are displayed on a map in one-year, five-year, and 10-year forecasts. View this free tool at www.usgs.gov/apps/troutcast/. n

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: ILLUSTRATION BY MIKE MORAN; SCREENSHOT FROM U.S. GEOLOGICAL SURVEY/TROUTCAST

Expel old bear spray this September

OUTDOORS REPORT HUNTING ETHICS

Prizes add punch to Protect the Hunt campaign his year, Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks is expanding its Protect the Hunt campaign to include an opt-in raffle for anyone 18 or older who passes the Hunter-Landowner Stewardship Test with an 85 percent or better score. Launched in 2021, the Protect the Hunt campaign promotes ethical hunting, with a focus on good etiquette while accessing private lands such as the state’s cherished Block Management areas. The HunterLandowner Stewardship Test, which is open to all ages, is a key part of the program. Short videos demonstrate proper behavior and landowner perspectives with the goal that every hunter comes away with a greater appreciation for safety, respect, and responsibility when afield. This year, FWP is taking things up a notch by including a raffle with a variety of prizes available for anyone 18 or older who completes the test before the official drawing in spring 2027. The raffle has a variety of sponsors including onX, Maven Optics, and Montana Knife Company, and more than a dozen prizes including donated hunts,

Vortex Viper binoculars, and a Capital Sports Package featuring a Christensen Ridgeline rifle with a carbon fiber barrel. Last fall, thousands of hunters completed the Hunter-Landowner Stewardship Test, and FWP hopes the raffle will help the department to reach even more people. “Protect the Hunt is our effort to highlight the importance of safe, ethical hunting

and the role it plays in ensuring positive relationships with private landowners who are critical to our hunting heritage,” says Greg Lemon, head of the FWP Communication and Education Division. FWP aims to reinforce hunter-landowner partnerships so that Montana can uphold its proud tradition of ethical and respectful hunting well into the future, Lemon says. n

Montana Outdoors takes top honors at national competition Montana Outdoors won first place for best magazine in the national Association for Conservation Information (ACI) 2026 awards competition, held in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, on July 23, as well as: First place in the Magazine: General Interest category for “Absorbing the Blows at Flathead Lake,” highlighting a Montana-born method to protect Flathead Lake’s fragile shorelines. (November-December 2025)

First place in the Graphics: Layout category for “Interconnected,” which explored the challenges of emerging wildlife diseases in Montana and FWP’s approach to contending with them. (September-October 2025)

First place in the Magazine: Wildlife category for “Get Smart,” about how Missoula became America’s largest Bear Smart Community, inspiring other towns to follow suit. (September-October 2025)

Third place in the Magazine: Fisheries category for “Stream Savers,” which celebrated Montana’s stream access law as it marked its 50th year. (July-August 2025)

Formed in 1938, the ACI is a nonprofit organization of communicators working for state, federal, and private conservation agencies and organizations throughout the United States. n MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 | 9

FIELD WORK

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TALLYING TROUT ON FISH CREEK With fall foliage just beginning to color the forest, FWP’s recently retired fisheries biologist Ladd Knotek, technician Reuben Frey, and University of Montana professor Andrew Whiteley hiked 6 miles up a cold, clear tributary of Fish Creek northwest of Missoula to sample the DNA of bull trout. Knotek used an electrofisher to temporarily stun the fish, which Frey and Whiteley scooped into a bucket. After collecting several dozen bull trout, they took a tiny fin clipping from each fish before returning them safely to the stream. Those samples were later sent to FWP geneticist Ryan Kovach at FWP’s Conservation Genetics Lab on the UM campus, which processes thousands of fish DNA samples for the department every year. “Just by analyzing that DNA, Ryan can tell me with 99 percent certainty which tributary of which river it came from without me needing to tell him,” Knotek says. “Bull trout spawn in specific tributaries, so after we collect samples, we can see if there is enough genetic diversity to sustain a healthy population.” To read more about the recent expansion of FWP’s genetics lab, turn to page 34. n PHOTO BY PAUL QUENEAU/MONTANA FWP

MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 | 11

Cattle and sheep producers are experimenting with ancient and futuristic methods to keep large carnivores away from livestock.

RANCHES WITH

WOLVES BY TOM DICKSON

DOGGED SURVIVORS Wolves have reestablished packs across much of western Montana over the past three decades, and over time, most (but not all) have learned that livestock aren’t worth the trouble. PHOTO BY DAVID HOFFMANN/SHUTTERSTOCK 12 | MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026

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ooing and snorting, the cattle come over a rise like an infantry battalion. A dozen cowboys ride behind the 100 or so lowing black Angus, shouting to keep the cows and calves moving and whistling to border collies nipping at the animals’ heels. The cowhands are relocating this herd from one hay pasture to another via a county road bisecting the broad Big Hole Valley.

Tom Dickson was the Montana Outdoors editor from 2001 to 2024. He lives in Helena.

HOWLING BACK Montana’s wolf population has grown steadily from fewer than 10 in the early 1980s to between 700 and 1,100 today.

After the large carnivores were reintroduced into Yellowstone National Park and Idaho by the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service in the mid-1990s, Montana’s wolf population rapidly increased to more than 1,000. Hunter and trapper harvests have helped to trim that number over the past 15 years, coinciding with a dramatic decline in confirmed livestock losses statewide. Yet some packs (though not most) continue to create problems for cattle and sheep

14 | MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026

operations, mostly west of the Continental Divide. In response, a handful of ranchers have been experimenting with different ways of deterring wolves. “Wolves are just a part of the ecosystem, just like I am, but they can be hard to have around,” says Dean Peterson, a fourth-generation Big Hole Valley rancher and a director on the Big Hole Watershed Committee’s governing board. “We’ve had to find ways to live with them if we want to run a successful cattle operation.”

FROM TOP: AMI VITALE; GEORGE SANKER/AKM IMAGES

Most of the livestock trot ahead obediently, but some try to sneak off. One calf is chased down by a rider, who, after several attempts, lassos the renegade. He leads the bawling youngster to a horse trailer hitched to a pickup and helps Heidi Hirschy, a rancher supervising the controlled chaos, load the animal. “Just another day in the cattle business,” Hirschy says, before driving off to join the herd, which is disappearing down the road in a dusty cloud. Moving cattle or sheep is a constant headache for livestock operators. Just as challenging is protecting the animals from diseases, parasites, severe weather—and, in parts of western Montana over the past 30 years, wolves.

GOING WITH THE FLOW Range riders stay with the herd to keep a watchful eye for predators—a classic technique dating back centuries that is effective but labor intensive.

WATCHFUL EYE Hilary Zaranek, a rancher in southwestern Montana’s Paradise and Centennial valleys, contends with a high density of large carnivores. She says she’s managed the challenges by building a ranch that is resilient to both predators and economic pressures. “An operation that is healthy, whole, and diverse can withstand the test of time. If the ranch is not adaptable and complex, it’s not going to hold up under the pressure from wolves, or anything else that comes along.”

LOUISE JOHNS

Wolves are just a part of the ecosystem, just like I am, but they can be hard to have around.” TOOTH FOR TOOTH Wolves generally prefer to prey on wild ungulates—deer and elk—but will opportunistically kill livestock. “It’s learned behavior,” says Nathan Lance, one of five Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks wolf specialists who monitor packs and help ranchers reduce livestock loss. Lance, a nationally recognized wolf management expert who has also advised stockgrowers and wildlife agencies in other states, notes that “generally most wolves pay no attention to cattle or sheep.” But, unfortunately, some do. Known as depredation, attacks on cattle and sheep are violent, traumatizing, and often lethal. After repeatedly biting the hind legs, “wolves begin to feed when the prey is knocked over or falls from weakness,” explains a Montana State University Extension Service fact

sheet advising ranchers on wolf depredation. “Cattle severely injured by wolves appear dazed and exhibit a characteristic spreadeagle stance. They are reluctant to move because of the deep pain.” Hirschy says her grandfather dealt with wolves when he was a young rancher. “I remember one day he said to my dad, ‘The worst part was having to go out and kill your own calves after the wolves tore them up.’ And now we’ve had to do that a few times ourselves, something I didn’t like one bit,” she says. Landowners report killed or injured livestock to Wildlife Services, a U.S. Department of Agriculture program. Wildlife Services agents are experts at identifying whether a wolf, bear, lion, or other animal was responsible for the attack, and based on an agent’s investigation, the owner may be reimbursed

by the Livestock Loss Board, part of the Montana Department of Livestock. In 2025, livestock operators received a total of $92,917 from the board for 61 livestock losses due to wolves. On average over the past decade, there have been roughly 50 confirmed cattle and 19 sheep kills each year from wolves. But ranchers like Peterson say the payments don’t cover related losses. “A few years ago, we had three confirmed wolf kills on one herd, but then I also saw cows with missing tails, torn udders, bite marks on their legs, and limping calves,” he says. “We got no compensation for that.” A University of Montana study found that after wolves attack cattle herds, frightened calves struggle to gain weight. “This leads to an economic loss at sale several times higher than the direct reimbursement ranchers receive for a cow killed by wolves,” the study authors wrote. Cattle die for many reasons—most of which lack sharp teeth. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, nearly 100,000 of Montana’s roughly 2.14 million cows and calves perish each year from disease, severe weather,

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1990

0

Confirmed number of cattle and sheep killed by wolves, and number of wolves removed through agency control and legal depredation-related take by private citizens, 1990–2025. SOURCE: USDA WILDLIFE SERVICES

Wolf depredations in Montana have dropped substantially over the past 15 years—from 309 in 2009 to 68 in 2025.

Legislature has tried to reduce the state’s overall wolf population to relieve pressure on deer and elk populations and livestock operations. Lawmakers have directed the Montana Fish and Wildlife Commission to liberalize harvest seasons, limits, and techniques to trim the population. In some regions last year, an individual hunter or trapper could harvest up to 30 wolves per season with a combination of hunting and trapping, though very few reached that limit. The total regulated harvest runs about 300 wolves each year. Lethal control has a mixed record of success. Shooting just one or two wolves not guilty of livestock depredation doesn’t help, but strategically focused removals can prevent

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BUNCHING UP, WAVING FLAGS, AND PLAYING HEAVY METAL In addition to occasional lethal control, some ranchers in wolf country are trying to make their operations more resilient to wolf presence. One option is to use gentle herding,

PHOTO BY KATE & ADAM RICE

calving complications, and noxious weed poisoning. Determining why a cow or calf is missing can be difficult. In much of Montana and the West, livestock graze hundreds of square miles of rangeland and forest. Animals that disappear often go unnoticed for weeks, much less get recovered. Carcasses are quickly consumed and scattered by scavengers. If enough evidence exists for Wildlife Services to determine that wolves were responsible for killing or wounding livestock, the program may opt for lethal control. On average, Wildlife Services agents and landowners protecting livestock or dogs have killed roughly 37 wolves each year over the past five years. In addition, the Montana

additional attacks. “FWP studies show that targeting offending wolves, reducing pack size, and curbing the spread of learned behavior to prey on livestock can definitely reduce depredation,” says Molly Parks, FWP Carnivore Program coordinator. Parks adds that wolf presence doesn’t necessarily mean depredation will soon follow. “We have lots of examples of packs living in and among livestock for many summers with no conflicts. But if a pack begins to prey on livestock, depredations are likely to continue. “In those cases,” she adds, “we request that Wildlife Services respond quickly to target offending wolves, which has helped reduce the likelihood of chronic depredations.”

FROM TOP: MATT MOYER; MATT MOYER; BIG HOLE WATERSHED COMMITTEE

TENDING THE FLOCK Sheep are more vulnerable to predators than other forms of livestock. Many ranchers use great Pyrenees and akbash livestock guardian dogs to help protect their flocks, breeds that have proven themselves as an effective deterrent for centuries.

known as low-stress stockmanship, which engages cattle’s innate herding tendencies to keep them more tightly contained and prevent vulnerable strays. “The first time we tried that, we noticed that wolves went right past those grouped cows with mothers and their babies all together,” says Hilary Zaranek, a rancher in southwestern Montana’s Paradise and Centennial valleys. “We even saw cows chasing wolves.” Some ranchers avoid unintentionally attracting wolves by removing livestock carcasses. “That helps reduce encounters between wolves and livestock that could result in conflicts,” Parks says. Traditionally when sheep and cows die, livestock operators stack carcasses in nearby “dead pits” to decompose. But the scent can attract wolves and other large carnivores, which then may turn their attention to nearby livestock. In the Ruby, Madison, Blackfoot, and Big Hole valleys, ranchers can request to have carcasses carted to composting sites. Elsewhere, some ranchers put carcasses in pits surrounded by electric fence to ward off bears, wolves, mountain lions, and other carnivores. “Carcass management is a relatively easy way to lower depredation risk. It’s fairly inexpensive and has a high rate of return,” says Lance. Another tool is “turbo-fladry”—electric wire, powered by portable solar chargers, festooned with 2-foot-long flags that flap in the wind and scare off wolves.

ZONE DEFENSE Ranchers have experimented with bright fluttering flags known as fladry (above) strung on a fence around a pasture to help deter wolves. Since dead livestock are a big lure to predators, ranchers in the Ruby, Madison, Blackfoot, and Big Hole valleys can request to have carcasses hauled away to composting sites (below).

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Ranchers collaborating with FWP and other agencies have also tried scaring wolves with strobe lights, erratic siren blasts, even inflatable “tube men”—those tall stick figures most often seen dancing and flailing in used car lots. A Wildlife Services crew in southwestern Oregon used drones fitted with infrared cameras to detect wolves in and around livestock and chase the carnivores away (in Montana, it’s illegal to use drones to harass wildlife, including wolves in most cases). In one study, livestock depredations declined 95 percent with the aerial hazing. In another, researchers on the Oregon-California border successfully drove off wolves using drones equipped with loudspeakers blasting fireworks explosions and heavy metal rock music. This range of deterrents can also help repel

bears and mountain lions—until the large carnivores catch on to the tricks. RIDING THE RANGE The biggest problem with most deterrents is that wolves quickly figure out that flags, lights, and heavy metal aren’t in fact dangerous. Often more effective, though also more expensive and labor intensive, is to guard cattle and sheep herds employing methods dating back thousands of years. One technique is for range riders to accompany grazing livestock. Several conservation groups and private ranches deploy riders in western Montana to patrol cattle and sheep in U.S. Forest Service summer “grazing allotments”—areas in national forest high country where operators run livestock for a fee.

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PAUL QUENEAU/FWP

COLLARS THAT BITE BACK Dating back to the ancient Greeks, wolf collars come studded with spikes to help stop wolves from biting dogs on the neck. Ranchers Ken Holland (opposite page) and his wife Mandy use this medieval tool to help shield their Anatolian-boz shepherd mix (above) and akbash wolf-protection dogs.

Zaranek spends weeks at a time with a few other riders herding and monitoring cattle on allotments above the Centennial Valley and Tom Miner Basin. Peterson says the Big Hole Watershed Committee has hired a longtime local resident to patrol cattle from several area operations. The rider reports sick and injured livestock that may then be treated or removed to reduce depredation risk, and carcasses that can be protected from scavengers long enough to determine the cause of death—before being removed from the landscape or buried. “The ranchers trust him, and that makes a big difference in how successful this has been,” Peterson says. Some Montana ranchers have also begun deploying an ancient wolf deterrent: large dogs. Based on archaeological records, people began using dogs in Mesopotamia to protect livestock thousands of years ago. One Roman essay on farm management published in 37 BCE describes dogs in southern Europe as “the guardian of the flock” necessary to defend against wolves. Their use in North America in more recent times comes in response to growing and spreading gray wolf populations. Unlike border collies and other herding breeds trained to move sheep and cattle, livestock guardian dogs bond with livestock and travel with herds and flocks. Often named for regions of origin, the main breeds used in Montana sheep and cattle operations are the great Pyrenees, Anatolian shepherd, akbash, and Turkish boz shepherd. Depending on the breed, the dogs weigh 100 to 200 pounds, compared to an average wolf’s 80 to 110 pounds. Some, like the Turkish Kangal, have been bred to attack wolves that approach livestock. Yet even the biggest, baddest dog is no match for several wolves. Though the dogs can be partially protected with spiked collars, several are reported killed by wolf packs each year. Fatalities are most common when cattle are grazed on Forest Service allotments near denning or pup-rearing sites, where wolves attack guard dogs to protect their territory and young. Ken Holland, whose cattle operation sits west of Dillon near Bannack State Park, has been using livestock guardian dogs since

PAUL QUENEAU/FWP

2022. He currently owns three male Anatolian-boz shepherd mixes and two female Akbash puppies learning the guardian trade. The five dogs consume roughly two tons of dog food each year, Holland says. “For the longest time, wolves never bothered us,” Holland says. “Then, six years ago, we lost 40 to 50 calves from 500 cow-calf pairs. That was a big blow, and we figured we had to try something.” Each June, Holland now hauls his dogs up into the nearby Pioneer Mountains and releases them to mingle with cattle on a grazing allotment. “When they mark their territory, the wolves smell that and move on,” he says. The ranch also employs a range rider to accompany the herd and feed the dogs each morning from a bear-proof bin chained to a tree in the forest. SMARTPHONES AND SATELLITES Recently, Holland has been combining his ancient wolf-deterrent techniques with futuristic technology. For the past several years he has used “virtual fencing” to keep his cattle bunched up on his ranch. The animals are fitted with solar-powered collars containing GPS transceivers that, via satellites, allow him and his wife, Mandy, to track each animal on their smartphones. The collars also generate sound cues, vibrations, and mild electrical impulses when cattle come near virtual boundaries. The high-tech fencing, visible only on a computer or smartphone screen, can be moved anytime with a few taps. “Not only are they far less vulnerable to wolves, but you don’t get nearly as many strays that need to be herded up at the end of the season,” Holland says. The technology also reduces costs by eliminating the need to build and repair actual fences, he adds. Confirmed wolf depredations in Montana have dropped substantially over the past 15 years—from 309 in 2009 to 68 in 2025. How much of that is from deterrents, wolf harvest, or targeted lethal removal is tough to pinpoint. “More-aggressive depredation control seems to be the biggest factor,” Lance says, “but that along with the different deterrent options are all tools. And the more tools we can use to reduce depredation, the better.” Except for one relatively brief period in the

FUTURE SHOCK With a couple of clicks on his smartphone, Ken Holland (above) herds his cattle tightly to help protect them from wolves. This “virtual fence” system uses GPS collars that allow him to track and herd his cattle via satellite using sound cues, vibrations, and mild electric impulses. He says the technology has revolutionized how he ranches.

As a rancher, if you don’t at least try out some new things, you’ll be left in the dust.” second half of the 20th century, wolves have lived in the northern Rockies for tens of thousands of years. But many of today’s ranchers took over the family operation during that gap when wolves had been temporarily eliminated. With the combination of federal

protection and reintroduction, the carnivores then returned to the region. Holland says he could gripe about what he considers to be an unfair imposition, “but I know wolves aren’t going away.” Instead, just as he does with cattle disease and other ranching challenges, he keeps trying different prevention and management techniques to find ones that work best. “What option do I have?” he says, echoing the sentiment of many livestock operators now experimenting with wolf deterrents. “As a rancher, if you don’t at least try out some new things, you’ll be left in the dust.” Editor’s note: Landowners interested in learning about cost-sharing, materials, and other assistance for reducing wolf depredation can call their regional FWP office and talk to a wolf management specialist.

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FIRE WALKER Sagebrush can take up to a century to fully recover after a fire, a delay that cheatgrass (below) and other frightfully flammable invasive grasses exploit to blitz across the landscape. Fire intervals suddenly shrink to just a few years or less, a cycle that only serves to further the invading grasses that provide wretched habitat for wildlife, transforming more than 50 million acres of the West so far—an area the size of Idaho.

Bad Seeds Invasive grasses pose a grave threat to native plants and wildlife in Montana. Fortunately, a counterattack is taking shape to help defend the Treasure State’s natural treasures. BY BRIANNA R A NDA LL

Sometimes, a plant’s name just nails it. Take cheatgrass. The moment snow melts in early spring, cheatgrass erupts from the cold soil while native plants are still slumbering, one of the first to green up. Forming dense mats, cheatgrass steals soil moisture from other vegetation and sprouts millions of seeds—the ones that coat your socks and burrow into your dog’s coat. Then, well before the July 4th fireworks begin, it cures to a tinder-dry, rusty brown while other plants are still green, ready to burn like it’s soaked in gasoline. Many native plants evolved with periodic Brianna Randall is a freelance writer in Missoula.

wildfire. But once cheatgrass gains a foothold, it feeds fires that help expand its range. Native plants can’t recover quickly enough to survive the yearly blazes and begin to die out. Meanwhile, cheatgrass specializes in blitzkrieging newly burned areas, creating a burn cycle that has helped spread it across more than 50 million acres of the West so far, an area the size of Idaho. Unfortunately, it’s got company. Montana’s beautiful hills, valleys, and plains are under assault from a quartet of grassy invaders that starve native plants of water and nutrients, edging out wildflowers and bunchgrasses. This is bad news for the migratory big game, grassland birds, pollinators, and other animals that depend on perennial plants for food and habitat. As these invasive grasses spread, it’s also bad news for people

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and property in Montana. All four invasive species dry out early in the summer, igniting easily and spreading wildfires in a flash. Over the past 25 years, the cover of invasive annual grasses in Montana has increased more than 5 percent per decade across nearly 5 million acres, according to Joe Smith, a researcher at the University of Montana and team member of Working Lands for Wildlife, led by the Natural Resources Conservation Service (NRCS). Smith uses satellite imagery paired with on-the-ground vegetation data to track how plant communities have changed over time. “Annual grasses have made some big moves in Montana in the last decade,” Smith says. “But they haven’t completely replaced our native perennial grasses and shrubs like they have elsewhere in the West. That means we

FROM TOP: ROCKY MOUNTAIN RESEARCH STATION; ILLUSTRATION BY LIZ BRADFORD

Cheatgrass

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: ILLUSTRATION BY LIZ BRADFORD; KELLIANN FELLINGHAM/MONTANA WEED CONTROL ASSOCIATION; NORTHERN AG NETWORK; OKLAHOMA STATE UNIVERSITY; BIRGIT WICHELMANN-WERTH; MATT LAVIN; SHUTTERSTOCK

SEEDS THAT SUCK The pernicious seeds of cheatgrass, ventenata (left and above), and other invasive grasses latch all-too readily onto socks, shoelaces, and pets. Ventenata Grass

perennial plants do. “Annuals’ main goal in life is to reproduce,” he adds. “On acres those grasses infest, they put out millions of viable seeds in a good water year.” Montana’s native prairie plants can’t keep up.

Nature hates a vacuum. After a fire, invasives rush to fill the empty spaces. still have a chance to defend the best remaining wildlife habitat.” DARLINGS OF DISRUPTION More than 300 species of grasses grow in Montana, most of them native and beneficial. The state also now hosts more than 80 nonnative grasses, including four Eurasian imports that are particularly concerning. Cheatgrass and Japanese brome have been muscling out native vegetation since the 1800s, and can be found in most of the state. Ventenata and medusahead are newcomers, found in Montana in 1995 and 2013 respectively, and are less widespread. Invasive annual grasses germinate in the fall and start building their root structure over the winter. Come spring, they sprout and begin to photosynthesize much sooner than perennial plants, giving these invasives first dibs on water and soil nutrients. While perennials sequester carbon and nitrogen deep in our soils, annuals aggressively consume existing soil nitrogen, leading to long-term declines in soil fertility and making it difficult for natives to regenerate post-disturbance. “Systems with a lot of invasive annual grasses have soils that are leaking all the good stuff,” says FWP vegetation ecologist Jarrett Payne. Luckily, invasive plants don’t typically infiltrate healthy, undisturbed habitat. They

take hold in disturbed areas where native plants are stressed or degraded. For instance, ventenata has followed the Interstate 90 road corridor all the way into Wyoming. Fire is another common inroad. “Nature hates a vacuum. After a fire, invasives rush to fill the empty spaces,” Payne says. Once they get a toehold, annual grasses produce exponentially more seeds each year than

MULE DEER: KEEP OUT In his 1941 book A Sand County Almanac, the founding father of wildlife ecology, Aldo Leopold, warned of the dangers of annual grasses in his essay “Cheat Takes Over.” He saw that when invasives take hold, wildlife often move out or die out—especially after annual grasses dry up in early summer. Livestock, deer, and elk can graze cheatgrass and Japanese brome seedlings early in the spring, but they avoid

Cheatgrass

Japanese Brome

Medusahead

Ventenata

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As invasives take over, wildlife begins to move out. eating the stalks once the plants mature and dry out. Ventenata and medusahead, on the other hand, have almost zero forage value at any time of year because they have higher amounts of silica. “For an ungulate, that’s like sand in your mouth. It’d be like biting wire,” Payne says. Researchers tracked more than 100 mule deer wearing GPS collars in northeastern Wyoming. Once invasive annual grasses covered more than 13 percent of the sagebrush landscape, mule deer began to steer clear of the area. When invasive grass cover reached more than 20 percent, mule deer strongly avoided infested lands. Mule deer and other migratory big game need to browse on plants with plenty of protein—like willow, serviceberry, buffaloberry, or bluebunch wheatgrass—so they can put on enough fat to survive Montana’s harsh winters. Invasive annual grasses, meanwhile, provide poor nutrition and digestibility from early summer through fall. As invasive grasses reduce the nutritional diver­sity offered by native plants, it puts a strain on lactating does as well as male bucks’ potential to grow larger antlers, Payne says. It

also shifts grazing pressure to where native plants are healthy. Invasive Grass HITTING Expansion by Decade THE HOTSPOTS The good news is that Montana has plenty of healthy habitat left, especially compared to parts of Idaho, Nevada, Oregon, Utah, California, and Washington where cheatgrass has begun to dominate. In regions with cooler winters and more moisture, perennials are still thriving and able to resist invasion, such as along the Hi-Line and in north-central Montana. Hotspots of annual grass invasion can be found in western and southeastern Montana. Parts of Flathead, Missoula, and Ravalli counties have been hit hard, especially where the land has been heavily logged or developed. Plus, invasive plants tend to originate in the western half of the state, due to prevailing winds and the higher volume of interstate vehicle traffic. In southeastern Montana, grasslands are increasingly infiltrated by Japanese brome

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and cheatgrass, especially south of Miles City where intense grazing or strip-mining has disturbed the landscape. “The best thing we can do is monitor landscapes and treat patches as soon as we see them,” Payne says. “It gets excruciatingly expensive when you get to a level where invasive annual grasses have already taken over, versus spending just 100 bucks per acre if you catch it early.” TREATMENTS THAT WORK Landowners and managers are deploying a suite of tools to fight back against these invaders. Herbicides such as Rejuvra are showing particular promise. In 2024, FWP treated an infestation of cheatgrass and Japanese brome in the Spotted Dog Wildlife Management Area (WMA) near Helena with Rejuvra. One year later the amount of invasive

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: OHANA GOATS LLC; MONTANA WEED CONTROL ASSOCIATION; MONTANA TECHNOLOGICAL UNIVERSITY/DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES; MEGAN HOYER; MAP COURTESY OF UNIVERSITY OF MONTANA

COUNTERPUNCHES Defense tactics for fighting invasive grasses come in many forms, from intense grazing by goats (top left), herbicide treatments (top right) to hand-pulling (above, bottom left), sometimes followed by the replanting of native vegetation (above, bottom right).

FROM LEFT: HANNAH LETINICH; ILLUSTRATION BY NANCY SEILER

THE UGLY COUSIN Cheatgrass (at left in photo), also known as downy brome, droops once its seeds mature, waiting patiently to sink its hooks into unsuspecting passersby. Native grasses are far more pleasant to walk through and create far better habitat for wildlife.

annual grass cover dropped by 74 percent, while native perennial grass cover shot up by 47 percent, and the diversity of native forbs increased from 18 to 24 species. At the Blackfoot-Clearwater WMA near Seeley Lake, Rejuvra has also helped knock down infestations of ventenata. Near Fort Keogh and Miles City, habitat managers are combating cheatgrass and Japanese brome by timing prescribed fires around summer rains that allow native prairie plants to flourish post-burn. Landowners in southwestern Montana are also using fire to manage unwanted annual grasses, alongside targeted herbicide applications, native plant seeding, and livestock grazing in the spring. The Southwest Montana Sagebrush Partnership is leading a region-wide inventory of cheatgrass infestations, then joining with other organizations and agencies to focus on treating areas where native plants are healthy. “It’s not just a single landowner’s problem. To be truly effective, we need to be coordinating across ownerships and jurisdictions,” says Jane Mangold, a plant ecologist at Montana State University and the statewide extension specialist for invasive and noxious weed management. She points to landscape-level treatments that are working to reduce ventenata on both sides of the fence in Carbon and Stillwater counties in south-central Montana, where the NRCS is helping to treat infestations on private agricultural lands. Statewide, the NRCS has collaborated with local farmers, ranchers, and foresters to tackle invasive annual grasses on nearly 100,000 acres with $7.3 million in financial assistance. Getting rid of invasives and proactively

A Knockout Native

defending intact grasslands from invasion maintains healthy rangelands, “supports producers, and strengthens their long-term productivity and profitability,” says Gayle Barry, NRCS state conservationist for Montana. It’s also important to have seed banks of native plants available to help reclaim lost ground. “Once you get rid of invasives, you need to make sure that something beneficial is in that space, otherwise you get something just as bad or potentially even worse,” says Bryce Christiaens, director of Missoula County Ecology and Extension. He says one reason cheatgrass poses such a problem around Missoula is because it rushed in to fill the blank spaces created when land managers sprayed invasive spotted knapweed and leafy spurge without replanting native species. This past spring, Missoula County worked with experts from the University of Wyoming’s Institute for Managing Annual Grasses Invading Natural Ecosystems (IMAGINE) to help create a new action plan for city and county open space lands. “With high levels of recreation in this area, invasive grasses are a big issue,” says Claire Visconti, outreach program coordinator for IMAGINE, who led a similar workshop in Dillon in 2023. She recommends using free online mapping apps, like the Rangeland Analysis Platform or the Invasion Severity Index, to help assess the extent of the problem. She stresses that the most important strategy for treating invasive grasses in Montana is to never give up. “We’re still learning as we go. A treatment may be successful in one area but it might not be in another—but that doesn’t mean you stop trying.”

Montana still retains an abundance of important native grasses, including our state’s official grass, bluebunch wheatgrass. This widespread species helps to anchor many ecosystems, from eastern prairies to mountain valleys. It’s also aptly named, growing in thick, blue-green clumps. Its roots can run 6 feet underground, stabilizing the soil and allowing it to reach deeper for water during times of drought. Bluebunch wheatgrass roots also have the ability to detect nearby plants. When it encounters its own species, it slows root elongation to reduce self-competition. But when it encounters an aggressive invasive, it extends its roots deeper into the soil to grab moisture before the invasive annual grasses can deplete it. This grass evolved with frequent fires and resprouts quickly after a burn—a boon to pronghorn, sagegrouse, grasshopper sparrows, and other species that depend on it as forage. Montana’s classic rolling rangelands would not exist as we know them if not for bluebunch wheatgrass. In recognition of its importance, ranchers in the Havre area pushed in the early 1970s to get the plant officially recognized for its lead role, culminating in its designation as Montana’s official state grass in 1973. —Braden Collard

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The Point

The initiation of an unlikely bird dog. By Sage Marshall. Illustrations by Gary Palmer

T

he hunter follows the dog, though the dog is inexperienced, still unsure of itself. You can tell by the way the animal meanders through knee-high prairie grass, bouncing, all floppy ears, not zig-zagging methodically or ranging far ahead, and by the way he catches scent, stops, half points, but doesn’t hold steady, as a pointing breed should. The dog does not appear to be quite sure what he’s hunting, here in the foothills of the Bear Paw Mountains of central Montana. It’s mid-September, and the birds are everywhere, though it’s a wet, windy morning. Many sharp-tailed grouse flush wild from a distance. The ones that do sit tight, the dog spooks. And so, the man does not fire. The dog eventually does get a beat on a covey of gray partridges, which erupt and spiral away from the man’s feet. He fires twice but hits only horizon with the shotgun pellets. The hunter follows the dog all morning like this to no avail. At noon, they return to the truck. The hunter slumps his shoulders. It is their first time afield together, and he worries the dog will not figure out how to hunt. The dog laps water from the bowl, then sprawls out in the shade of the truck.

~

〜 A friend once told me that there is nothing like hunting with your own dog. I believed him, though vaguely, in the same way you believe someone who tells you about a far-off locale. When someone tells you how much better street tacos are in Mexico, for instance, you nod and smile, and while you can understand the concept of the thing, it’s something else entirely to taste it. My partner Bela and I adopted Gunney, a four-year-old wirehaired pointing griffon, in late November 2023. I’d been hoping to get a hunting dog for several years, since learning to bird hunt, and I’d looked seriously at putting down a deposit for a puppy from a breeder. But Bela grew up with rescue dogs, so she suggested we instead look for a hunting breed to adopt. We soon connected with Gina Deem, founder of Paws to Peaks Rescue in Helena, which specializes in bird dogs. A week later we picked up Gunney. His former owner, an elderly man, had recently passed away. Gunney was a purebred griff from a hunting line, but his owner had started having serious health issues before he could train the dog to hunt—or even basic obedience. When we picked him up, Gunney was nearly 15 pounds overweight and didn’t even

Sage Marshall is a freelance writer, editor, and poet based in Missoula. He is a contributing writer and former news editor at Field & Stream. His first book of poetry, Echolocation, was published by Middle Creek Press in April 2025.

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I’ve learned that getting a bird dog of any kind, at any stage of their life, is always an act of faith. understand “sit.” But he had chocolate eyes that drew us in, he liked playing fetch in the yard, and his former owner had told the agency he would point when around the neighborhood’s feral valley (California) quail. That was good enough for us. I’ve learned that getting a bird dog of any kind, at any stage of their life, is always an act of faith. No matter how much research you do, it’s impossible to know if they will take to hunting—or even stay healthy enough to hunt. And as a first-time trainer myself, getting a four-year-old dog that had never hunted felt like an especially big risk. Could Gunney really learn how to hunt—and hunt well—at this stage in his life? And could he do it quickly enough that we could do so for years together? I worried about the adage that old dogs can’t learn new tricks. And I worried that Gunney didn’t have the drive needed to be a bird dog and that I didn’t have the knowledge to guide him. That winter, we took him on many hikes, and he got into better shape, but he didn’t range out far enough. Instead, he liked to walk the trail near us. He started to figure out basic commands but always had a goofy, puppy-like demeanor. He didn’t show the focus or intensity I figured a good bird dog needed. That changed in the spring after we joined the Big Sky chapter of NAVHDA, the North American Versatile Hunting Dog Association. Like German wirehaired pointers, vizslas, spinone Italianos, pudelpointers, and similar “versatile” breeds, griffs are bred to point and retrieve. With help from other chapter members, I started training Gunney using pen-raised pigeons and chukars. When he pointed those birds, his whole body went electric with energy. As his confidence grew, he started searching the field more thoroughly, ranging out a little farther each time.

Gunney still struggled, though. Often he wouldn’t hold a point and would chase after the birds, flushing them out of range. And instead of retrieving a downed bird to me, he’d often drop it halfway back. Being a pessimist by nature, I continued doubting our ability to solve these problems. But eventually the good days outnumbered the bad, and Gunney became steadier at pointing as I shot more pen-raised birds over him. In time, he was delivering most of the retrieves right to my hand. Watching his natural instincts start to kick in was deeply satisfying. Yet I knew success in scripted training sessions was one thing; replicating it on wild birds on Montana’s heavily pressured public lands was another.

~

Later that afternoon, the hunter and his dog cross a coulee to hunt a gentle ridgeline. They’re just minutes from returning to the truck when the dog slams to a stop and cranes his head to the right. His upper body drops into a crouch, shoulder blades jutting from his torso, face scrunched in concentration. His chocolate-brown eyes swivel to meet the hunter’s as if to say, “The bird is right here!” while his head remains locked on target. The hunter takes a deep breath then slowly exhales as he walks toward the spot of the dog’s focus. A lone sharptail bursts up and beelines away. The hunter raises his 20-gauge, and in that instant, he feels the full weight of how badly he wants to make that shot count. And he does. The bird drops and the dog bounds after it, trotting back with the limp form in his mouth, his stubby tail wagging hard. The hunter crouches to pet and praise the dog before finally taking the bird into his hands, laughing as he admires the mottled gray-and-white feathers and outsized fuzzy feet. After receiving a drink of water, the dog bounds off and zigzags with newfound purpose. There, in the cradle of the prairie, the rest of their lives together stretch out before them. That night at camp, the man feels sure the day will never fade from his memory, and that even if it were their last hunt together, it would still all be worth it. But it’s not. It’s just the start.

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SENSATIONAL AWARENESS The drive to find food, evade predators, and otherwise survive has led certain animals to develop supercharged eyes, ears, and noses—as well as some unique senses that almost defy description. PHOTOS BY DONALD M. JONES

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Animals see, hear, smell, and feel entire worlds we humans don’t even know exist. BY BE N LONG

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he Bitterroot Range high country was a feast for the senses, with a vivid patchwork of fall colors setting the hillsides aglow and a light breeze stirring the lush aroma of subalpine fir and hellebore, cooling the warmth of the early autumn sun. My friend Andy and I watched a black bear across the mountain. The animal was barely visible, even with binoculars and telephoto lenses, but looked plump in its rich coat. We decided to approach for a closer look and maybe a photograph from a safe distance. We ducked behind the ridge and plotted a roundabout path. We had not gone far when Andy took another look. “There he goes!” The bear was now just a black dot, cannonballing across the slope as fast as a bear can run. We had been betrayed by the swirling mountain breeze. A mile away, the bear had evidently smelled something suspicious. Decades have since passed, but the lessons of that day left an impression. When we step into the natural world, we are surrounded by a kind of genius. Superhuman abilities are all around us in the senses of animals with whom we share the world. Every animal has developed a unique and often mysterious set of systems to gather information from its surroundings. In many cases we barely have the vocabulary to describe the ways they take in information, and we lack the scientific tools to fully understand it. As science writer Ed Yong wrote, “Thinking about the senses of other animals transforms this mundane world with which we are all familiar into something fresh, magical, and newly extraordinary.”

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Well, maybe. Canines also live by their noses. Bozeman-based Working Dogs for Conservation trains dogs to sniff for endangered species in the wild, just as other handlers train dogs to sniff for bombs or contraband at airports. Their dogs can smell a black-footed ferret in a prairie dog tunnel or find rare cacti scattered across a vast desert.

Ben Long is a writer in Kalispell and a longtime contributor to Montana Outdoors. 30 | MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026

Three of their trainees—one Belgian Malinois, and two German shepherds—are such champion smellers that they can tell a handler when a creek has fish in it or not. The most highly trained dogs can even distinguish whether a creek has either brook trout or cutthroat trout, simply by smelling and tasting the water, says the group’s director and ecologist Pete Coppolillo. As impressed as he is with the noses of wolves and bears, Coppolillo suspects that noses of elk and deer may be even more acute. “When a predator’s nose fails it, it goes hungry for a while,” he says. “But when a prey animal’s nose fails it, it dies.” Animals’ hearing is also superhuman. My hearing is lousy not only because I am human but because I subjected my ears to years of abuse from gunfire, chainsaws, and rock music (listen up: protect your ears!). My family dog, Maggie, however, can hear my wife’s car driving home from several blocks away. I’m convinced Maggie recognizes the difference between the crunch of her car’s tires against gravel and the tires of other cars. Again, the mental software interprets what the hardware collects. Jackrabbits and mule deer have famously large ears to pick up vibrations across open country. Moose antlers serve as weapons and displays for their social hierarchy, but they also function as enormous sound funnels that make a moose’s giant ears even more effective.

A red fox can sense the faint rustle of a mouse or vole beneath up to 3 feet of snow. After pinpointing its prey, it launches in headfirst with astonishing accuracy.

FROM TOP: WORKING DOGS FOR CONSERVATION; SHUTTERSTOCK; WORKING DOGS FOR CONSERVATION; DONALD M. JONES

EXTRASENSORY PERCEPTIONS Many creatures share our senses of sight, smell, sound, touch, and taste. But they use them differently. Humans are a visual species, depending first and foremost on our eyes to interpret the world around us. Whether it’s the showy yellows or pinks of spring wildflowers on a mountainside or the subtle twitch of a trout’s tail among river rocks, we react to color, shape, and movement. We depend less on our hearing, and smell is a distant third. Some animals, like elk and deer, deploy their senses in the opposite order. They trust their noses first and foremost, taking in the world in a stream of invisible data gathered from the air, molecules shed by everything around them. After smell, these animals trust their ears, reacting to subtle vibrations in the air. Only after that do they trust what they see. To a bear, smelling is believing. Bears use their nose not only to perceive danger but to find food and mates across vast territories. A bear may smell a ripening berry patch from mountains away and perhaps even the ants in a rotten log. It has not only hardware but software suited just for the task. The hardware is obvious: that big, moist, blunt nose coated in scent receptors, and a long muzzle that allows the nose to soak up information as the animal breathes in and out. But the software—the neurological capacity to translate that raw data into useful information—is hidden. The snouts of grizzlies and black bears contain thousands of scent receptors. In addition, their brains have two lobes that look like small thumbs projecting toward the snout. These specialized features are dedicated solely to translating olfactory data. “Bears smell their way through life,” said the late brain surgeon George Stevenson, who studied grizzly bear brains in his retirement. “I believe they have the most impressive olfactory system of any animal on the planet. Their nose is the very best.”

FERRET FINDERS Bozeman-based Working Dogs for Conservation trains dogs (top) to sniff out endangered species such as a black-footed ferret (middle). The dogs are able to differentiate the scent of the ferrets from that of prairie dogs and other species when scrutinizing burrows (bottom). By pinpointing occupied burrows, researchers can map habitats, monitor populations, and place traps.

FROM TOP: YELLOWSTONE TRADERS; DUANE HUIE

PEERLESS PEEPERS As a human’s most useful sense, our vision is pretty sharp for details and color. Yet, what we see through our puny eyes is nothing like what some animals take in. Hold a pronghorn skull in your hand and it’s clear that this animal is built to see. Each eye socket takes up about as much space in the skull as the entire brain. They are located high on the head for a 300-degree view— nearly a full circle. By comparison, you and I have about 200 degrees of view and are best at focusing at about 120 degrees. The pupils of grazing animals like pronghorn are horizontal slits, not circles like ours. That way, the surrounding landscape can stay in focus when the animals are feeding or drinking—exactly the time when they are most vulnerable to attack. People have attempted to quantify a pronghorn’s quality of vision. Long ago, a naturalist saw a pronghorn through his 10x binoculars only to notice it was already staring him down. That author hypothesized that the pronghorn has eyesight at least equal to a person with 10x binoculars. While their wide-angle eyesight isn’t in fact zoomed in, it can pick up incredibly tiny details, spotting movement 3 miles away with ease.

A pronghorn’s eye sockets are nearly as large as its brain. Positioned high on the side of the skull, its eyes provide a 300-degree field of view, allowing the animal to detect predators from nearly every direction.

work in two planes of focus simultaneously to aid these lethal aerobatics.

They call them “eagle eyes” for a reason.

But even that pales compared to a golden eagle, soaring hundreds of feet above a sprawling prairie. Their eyes are densely packed with rods and cones that interpret light with amazing acuity. Eagles routinely spot ground squirrels and cottontail rabbits from more than a mile away, then descend toward their meal at more than 150 miles per hour while keeping their target locked in focus and calculating the trajectory and lead necessary to snatch running prey. Eagle eyes

DEER WITH X-RAY GOGGLES Though human eyes see color better than the eyes of most mammals, our eyes miss a whole world of light, especially after the sun goes down. Deer and elk hunters learn to recognize rub trees—saplings where bucks and bulls rub their antlers during mating season, stripping the bark to make a visual signpost. Hunters and biologists have long understood that rub trees serve multiple purposes, including removing velvet from antlers and visually marking a buck’s home turf. Bucks also leave their own scent on these trees from special glands on their foreheads. But recent research has revealed something more startling: Rub trees glow in the dark to the creatures that create them. Deer eyes evolved to see well in the dim light of evening and morning, when deer are

GLOW STICKS To human eyes, a rub tree looks like a simple scrape mark. But to deer and elk, the exposed cambium reflects ultraviolet light, causing fresh rubs to glow blue in dim light. Urine on leaves also stands out brightly under UV light. IMAGES COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL DEER ASSOCIATION

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most active. The tradeoff is that they perceive a limited range of color. Deer see blues very well, but not orange. (Which is why wearing blaze orange that is hyper-visual to a human is no disadvantage when hunting big game, but blue jeans might be.) Deer vision is also sensitive to ultraviolet light—which is invisible to people—that glows under an electric “black light.” The cambium layer under the bark of a tree often reflects UV. Scientists have demonstrated that, to a deer, rub trees and even puddles of urine glow blue in low-light conditions. To deer and elk, rubbed trees may form a string of glow-in-the-dark signposts threading through the woods. But the traditional five senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch—are just the start of the mystery. Nature has developed dozens of other senses that humans do not share. We are just beginning to understand these methods of perception—and the alternative realities they reveal. BUCKLE UP—THIS GETS WEIRD If you’re like me, you enjoy spending summer evenings on a lakeshore or riverbank watching bats flit around, snatching up mosquitoes by the thousands. Sometimes you can hear the bats make a faint click, but they seem to be mostly silent. In fact, bats are shouting into the night sky to hunt by sonar, listening for the echo of their voices bouncing off the tiniest gnats and flies. They use this auditory information to pick off flying insects. Bats seem to be flying helter-skelter but in fact are maneuvering with pinpoint precision. For most bat species, this echolocation happens at supersonic frequencies that humans cannot distinguish. Unlike me in my

younger years, bats take special measures to protect their own hearing, screaming in bursts and closing their ears during the loud parts. Dolphins and orcas also use echolocation to identify prey and to communicate in their pods and navigate the vast ocean. Some whales have songs that can travel underwater for 1,000 miles. Fish, as far as we know, don’t echolocate. But they have their own wonders. When I first moved to Montana, I rented an old farmhouse with a trout stream running through the surrounding pastures. From the old bridge over the creek, I could watch rising browns. The bridge was too rickety to safely fish from, but every time I tried to approach the bank to cast a lure to those trout, the fish disappeared. No matter how quietly I approached or how good my timing, the fish knew I was coming. “They feel you coming,” FWP fisheries biologist Tom Weaver told me. He held his hand out vertically and wiggled it like a fish. “They can feel the vibrations of your footsteps coming from the mud.”’ Trout and other fish have a specialized sensory organ called a lateral line (see sidebar on page 33) that runs along both flanks from head to tail. That stripe of nervoussystem sensors picks up vibrations as well as changes in water flow and pressure to help fish evade predators, swim in schools, sense changing weather, and even find food in cloudy water. Carp, northern pikeminnows, and other members of the minnow family take this a step further with a “Weberian apparatus”— vertebrae, ear bones, and swim bladders with highly sensitive sound conductors to help navigate murky water.

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Bats might seem silent, but they actually shout into the night to hunt by sonar, listening for the echo of their voices bouncing off insects.

Geese have keen eyesight and can see ultraviolet light, control each eye independently, and even sleep with one eye open to stay alert for predators, shutting down half their brain.

WORLDS OF MYSTERY Some animal senses are so bizarre they are challenging to understand, let alone describe. Scientists know that migratory birds such as geese and ducks navigate in part by somehow sensing Earth’s magnetic field. Recent research suggests that the light-sensitive proteins contained within the fluids in birds’ eyes essentially act as compasses for navigation. The process is called magnetoreception. Exactly how the birds perceive this information (do they “see” magnetic energy?) remains mysterious. A flock of 30,000 snow geese navigating from southern California to the Arctic by way of Freezout Lake seems impressive enough.

FROM TOP: JOE MCDONALD; KEN ARCHER

Nature has developed dozens of senses that humans do not share.

HOW FISH

FEEL THE VIBE

Look closely at the flanks of a trout or other fish and you’ll see a thin horizontal stripe running the length of its body. This stripe is the visible component of a far more complex sensory system known as the “lateral line” just underneath the skin. Fluid-filled canals stretch the length of the fish, filled with receptors known as neuromasts, which are made up of small hair cells attuned to water movement and vibration. This lateral line serves various functions, providing fish with spatial awareness as they swim through streams, lakes, and reservoirs. Predatory fish use it to locate prey, while prey do the opposite, detecting vibrations to evade those trying to eat them. One study found it helps predators find prey in the murkiest of water while fish with less-developed lateral lines are too blinded to hunt.

ANIMAL MAGNETISM (From top) Some monarch butterflies, hummingbirds, and dragonflies migrate 2,000 miles or more annually. Along these epic journeys, all appear to navigate at least in part by sensing Earth’s magnetic field. Dragonflies and butterflies can take multiple generations to complete a round-trip migration, following paths begun by their parents.

In schools, the lateral line allows each fish to be acutely aware of the movement of its neighbor and helps the school move in unison. Schooling also creates a complex pressure gradient in the water around a group of fish, which researchers think likely evolved in part to confuse predators’ lateral line senses, making it more difficult for them to pick out a single individual within the school. Fish brains are also trained to ignore the vibrations their own bodies create to better detect those made by other animals and objects. Fish aren’t the only animals with lateral lines—they can also be found on all juvenile and many adult amphibians. It’s only the tetrapods—mammals, reptiles, and birds—that eons ago dispensed of this organ, since a lateral line doesn’t do much good out of water.

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: ENGBRETSON UNDERWATER PHOTOGRAPHY; DIANE WOODCHEKE; ALAN G. NELSON; SHUTTERSTOCK

But think of a tiny rufous hummingbird that can find an individual bush in a backyard in Great Falls after flying there from southern Mexico. With a brain as tiny as a BB, it navigates by some internal GPS. Then consider that some insects such as monarch butterflies and certain dragonflies also migrate up to a thousand miles back and forth to specific swamps and forests. How? Do they have their own magnetoreception? We may get hints, but we may never understand the process. Bridging these worlds to ours will likely always require some measure

—Braden Collard

of imagination and guesswork. So, next time your dog wants to sniff around instead of following you politely on a walk, recall this advice from Ed Yong: “The more joyful and wondrous way of reacting to having animals among us is expanding our own imagination and understanding. It’s humbling. We like to think that we have a complete picture of the world, but that is an illusion.” Perhaps that is the essence of life. It’s a feast for the senses. And a treasure box of wonders we are just beginning to open. MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 | 33

DECODING NATURE’S FINGERPRINTS

FWP’s first full-time wildlife geneticist is helping forge a new path for the agency’s genetic wildlife research. BY KATI E H I L L

In

2004, a Great Falls man stopped by the offices of the Cut Bank Pioneer Press to show off the head of a large bull elk he’d killed. An employee snapped a photo for the newspaper, which at least one reader later recognized by its antler configuration as an elk that had been roaming the Sun River Wildlife Management Area. A gut pile had just been discovered there in an area closed to hunting. A few weeks later, investigators linked the publicity-seeking poacher to the crime using DNA from the elk’s remains that matched meat the investigators had seized from his home while exercising a search warrant. Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks’ new wildlife geneticist Donovan Bell was barely 16 years old and growing up 2,000 miles away in Juneau, Alaska, at that time. But earlier this year, Bell began his first-ofits-kind job helping FWP process wildlife DNA in-house to save the agency money and time while unraveling genetic mysteries like the one his enforcement colleagues solved in 2004. Even more than before, FWP will be using DNA as an integral part of the study, management, and protection of Montana’s fish and wildlife. GUILTLESS GRIZZLIES AND HIDDEN HARLEQUINS Stories about wildlife genetics began surfacing in Montana Outdoors as far back as the November-December 1990 issue, which featured a short article about the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service opening its first wildlife forensics lab in Ashland, Oregon. At the time, the concept of using DNA analysis to investigate poaching was “in its infancy,” according to the article. Thirty-six years later, genetic testing has become an ever-growing pillar of the wildlife conservation world, from mapping the

Katie Hill is a freelance journalist and outdoor writer based in Missoula.

GRIZZLY DETAILS FWP bear biologists Jamie Jonkel, Eli Hampson, and Rory Trimbo (now with the USFWS) take blood samples from a sedated grizzly bear caught in a culvert trap in the Blackfoot Valley. DNA from bear blood samples is then sequenced in a laboratory to be cataloged into FWP’s database. PHOTO BY ROB G. GREEN

genomes of endangered species, to breaking up international wildlife crime syndicates, to exonerating suspect grizzly bears. Wildlife Division administrator Ken McDonald tells of one potentially tragic series of events that occurred a few years ago outside Glacier National Park near Kalispell. “A grizzly bear broke a window and got into a cabin, and in doing so, cut itself on the glass and left blood behind,” McDonald says. “Our investigators took blood samples and sent them to the lab, then also set traps, since our policy is that we go after the offending bear. They ended up catching three bears.” FWP contracted with an external lab to compare DNA in the blood collected from the broken window to a database full of genetic

information from previously documented grizzly bears. “The blood was a match to a bear that had gotten in trouble several years before. But it wasn’t any of the three bears caught in the traps,” McDonald says. “Without the genetics, we could have put down the wrong bear. I call that CSI Wildlife—using genetics to key in on who the culprit is.” Another surprising discovery arose in the agency’s nongame division, minus the breaking-and-entering. For years, researchers relied on visual surveys to monitor harlequin ducks in creeks in and around Glacier National Park. Then it occurred to a researcher that ducks, like fish, might shed trace amounts of DNA into their home waters. After sampling for

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LOST AND FOUND While researching harlequin ducks in Glacier National Park, University of Montana graduate student Holli Holmes (left) proposed testing creeks for environmental DNA shed by ducks into the water. The findings showed that many more ducks were present than visual surveys had tallied, changing how this rare waterfowl species gets counted in streams.

harlequin duck “environmental DNA” (aka eDNA), biologists found that their visual surveys were under-detecting these rare ducks by 50 percent. Combining both techniques, meanwhile, delivered 95 percent confidence. “You hope you’re better than [50 percent], but you also know that all it takes is missing a few little brown ducks tucked under vegetation,” says Kristina Smucker, nongame bureau chief of the Wildlife Division. “With this combined method [of visual surveys and eDNA analysis], you have really high certainty that if a duck is there, you’re going to detect it.”

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FROM TOP: JEREMY WEBER/DAILY INTER LAKE; JEREMY WEBER/DAILY INTERLAKE; THOM BRIDGE; TONY BYNUM

TEMPTATION STATIONS Using hindquarter from roadkilled deer and a putrid mix of fermented beef blood, skunk glands, and urine, FWP field staff including Daniel Madel (right) attempted to coax wolverines into survey sites across central and western Montana as part of a project launched one decade ago this year. These 51 bait stations deep in the woods lured wolverines to climb trees and trip the shutter of a hidden camera to take their photo (far right), and also rub past wire brushes drilled into the tree to catch hairs used for DNA analysis.

SPLITTING HAIRS Barbed wire hair snares and a scented lure allow biologists to unobtrusively survey for grizzly and black bears and identify individual animals.

WESTERN STATES WOLVERINE CONSERVATION PROJECT

QUIET INQUIRIES One of the more attractive aspects of DNA testing is how little it disturbs the animal in many cases. Starting in the 1990s, FWP and other agency partners began deploying hair snares— often barbed wire fencing—at baited areas to gather information on bears, wolverines, and other sensitive species. Then they’d set up the snares a second time to compare how many of the same animals came back versus how many previously unmarked ones showed up. The discrepancy between these two numbers offers

The Trout DNA Pioneer

FROM TOP: ENGBRETSON UNDERWATER PHOTOGRAPHY; UNIVERSITY OF MISSOULA

DNA doesn’t answer questions on its own. Someone has to tease out the information.

a reliable glimpse into population size—a method known as “mark-recapture.” Stealthy mountain lions, though, don’t tend to rub themselves on hair traps. Instead, biologists use experienced houndsmen and their dogs to track and tree the cats so that a biologist can fire a hollow-tipped dart to quickly get a DNA sample. This avoids the added stress and potential injury of tranquilizing a lion out of a tree for data collection. “It’s basically a needle that sticks the critter, gets a little bit of tissue sample, then drops off,” McDonald explains. “That’s our ‘mark.’ Then, we take samples from all the hunterharvested lions as the ‘recapture,’ determining how many were previously marked, and using that to get a population estimate.” DNA doesn’t answer questions on its own. Someone has to process the sample, tease out various bits of information, and analyze that data into useful takeaways to share with the public and help wildlife commissioners and legislators make educated decisions about management directives. “Until recently, we were sending those samples all over the place,” says research unit administrator Justin Gude. “The black bear work was contracted with Michigan Tech, the mountain lion work was contracted with the University of Idaho…whichever lab had the expertise and the most reasonable cost.” This is no longer the case for FWP with Donovan Bell’s new role in addition to a new genetics lab tech, Jess Powell. “Now, we gain a lot of

Though FWP just hired its first wildlife geneticist this year, it has devoted agency staff to fish DNA work for nearly two decades in partnership with the University of Montana. Those roots trace back even further, though, to the hiring of Fred Allendorf a halfcentury ago this year. His trailblazing research at UM helped reveal the power of genetic analysis now used by fisheries scientists across the world. Fred Allendorf Growing up in Philadelphia, Allendorf had little interest in fishing. His journey toward that branch of biology began as an undergraduate at Penn State University in the 1960s when one of his professors invited him to work in a lab focused on brook trout and lake trout research. After college, he served in the U.S. Army for three years, including one tour in the Vietnam War. He then headed west to the University of Washington, where he did his PhD dissertation on what was then a new field of study— steelhead genetics. After grad school, Allendorf landed a job at the University of Montana in 1976. “I love the mountains,” says Allendorf, now retired, “so Montana looked like a great place to live, and [UM] is a good university.” Soon after his arrival, he began collaborating with Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks, thanks in part to George Holton, then chief fisheries biologist and assistant administrator of FWP’s Fisheries Division. They began testing cutthroat trout across the state for rainbow trout genes, an indicator of hybridization between the two species. Another project used genetics to determine the origin of the redband trout in the Kootenai River. Allendorf and his fellow researchers also analyzed the genetics of the westslope cutthroat trout being raised in the Jocko River Trout Hatchery, near Arlee. “[The trout] basically had no genetic variation,” says Allendorf. This was concerning, because genetic variation is what allows animal populations to weather environmental challenges like diseases. “So we convinced FWP to start over again, and that’s when they started with the current broodstock.” Today’s cutthroat broodstock—the adult fish kept in FWP hatcheries to produce eggs—have higher levels of genetic variation, meaning that their progeny will be more adaptable to change. The addition of an FWP employee to Allendorf’s lab group improved communication and strengthened projects like the hatchery cutthroat genetics. Allendorf’s research is one reason Montana hosts healthy trout populations today. His legacy shines through in his research papers and FWP’s management changes, as well as through the people he mentored. As a professor, Allendorf advised scores of undergraduates, graduate students, and postdoctoral researchers, many of whom went on to work for and with FWP. Throughout his career, Allendorf says the department’s staff consistently impressed him. “I’ve worked with FWP for almost 50 years, and the quality of the people is second to none.” —Braden Collard, Montana Outdoors intern MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026 | 37

DNA DECODING DUO This year FWP welcomed two new staff to help run its wildlife genetics program based at the University of Montana: wildlife conservation geneticist Donovan Bell (right) and genetics lab tech Jess Powell (below). Together they’ll process wildlife DNA in-house, saving FWP money and expanding the use of genetics in wildlife management.

FIRST OF HIS KIND Bell’s connection to his work was shaped by his childhood. “In Juneau, I grew up around a ton of fish and wildlife,” recalls Bell, now 38. His interest in the natural world eventually led him to a bachelor’s degree in biology at the University of Alaska Southeast in 2014. After working for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration for a couple of years, he went back to school to earn a PhD in wildlife biology with a focus on conservation genetics from the University of Montana in Missoula, completing his doctorate in 2022. “I realized a lot of the important wildlife questions were best answered using genetics or quantitative ecology and statistics,” Bell says. “That put me on this trajectory.” The concept of quantitative ecology, at eight syllables, sounds dense. But it’s just a phrase for the practice of combining mathematics and science to study the natural world. In 2023, Bell went to work as FWP’s first fisheries biometrician, using his math skills to help answer questions and inform decisionmaking for fisheries management. Half a century ago, Montana became home to one of the 38 | MONTANA OUTDOORS | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2026

PHOTOS BY PAUL QUENEAU/FWP

efficiency and cost savings by having our own lab,” Gude continues. “When we pay per-sample costs at another lab, we also have to pay their employees and cover their facilities. So this is quite a bit cheaper for us.”

MONTANA FWP; JESSIANNE CASTLE; JESSIANNE CASTLE; JESSIANNE CASTLE NORTHERN ANGLERS TAXIDERMY

HAIR PLUGS FOR CATS (Clockwise, from far left) Former FWP wildlife technician Ben Jimenez waits for a clear shot with a dart gun at a mountain lion treed by a hound. This biopsy dart fired at a lion’s flank extracts a small chunk of tissue for DNA analysis, leaving the lion unharmed but for a sore hip.

world’s great pioneers of fisheries genetics research when Fred Allendorf started working at the University of Montana (see “The Trout DNA Pioneer,” page 37). At the time, fisheries biologists at FWP were just starting to explore the potential uses that DNA might have for managing Montana’s native fish populations. Allendorf helped show that genetics could help answer a wide array of tough questions about trout and other species. An informal partnership between UM and FWP was born. Then in 2007, FWP hired Robb Leary—a UM professor and former PhD student of Allendorf ’s—as its first fish geneticist. This further solidified the cooperative effort between FWP and the University of Montana Fish and Wildlife Genomics Lab (UMFWGL), in Missoula. Ryan Kovach later took over from Leary, and with wildlife now added to the mix, he became FWP’s genetics program manager, helping run the lab alongside UM professor Andrew Whiteley. “Historically, that lab has been focused on fisheries,” Bell says. “But we are now bringing wildlife genetics in-house as well. My position is part of this expansion funded by the 2025 Montana Legislature, so it’s brand-new, but I’m joining a large collaborative team that has a long history of working with genetics in Montana. Having me and the new laboratory

We’re not just doing this out of academic interest. These monitoring programs feed directly into management decisions.” tech, Jess Powell, will serve to further boost what’s possible.” KNOWLEDGE IS POWER Gude, who oversees the expanded research unit, set a short-term goal to bring at least a quarter of the agency’s contracted genotyping (DNA analysis) work in-house by July. Bell and others in the genetics lab achieved most

of that goal by June, performing all wolf genotyping and processing of mountain lion tissue samples. They are currently expanding their lab capacity to also process hair and scat samples from black bears and other species. “We’re not just doing this out of academic interest,” Gude says. “These monitoring programs feed directly into management decisions, including for species at risk of Endangered Species Act listing.” Gude adds that FWP aims to manage Montana’s wildlife in a responsible way that helps avoid the need for such federal interventions. “Almost every ESA listing decision has something to do with genetics. Having this capacity in-house allows us to gain an understanding of genetics ahead of those decisions so we can try to prevent the need for ESA listing in the first place.” The agency has come a long way since the early days of using DNA to catch elk poachers—though that is still being done—and each year biologists find creative new ways to tackle what was previously thought impossible. With Bell at the helm of the new effort and the UM’s five-decade legacy anchoring it, FWP’s wildlife conservation capabilities keep expanding with every skin tag, blood spatter, and hair follicle collected. “It’s going to be so much easier now with a geneticist on staff,” Gude says.

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SKETCHBOOK

Go ahead FWP, butt in

I

don’t like anyone telling me what to do, especially the government. But sometimes I’ll make exceptions. Like when government messages are for my own good. Much of what a state agency like Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks does is to explain what is legal and not. You need to have a Conservation License to use a fishing access site. You must wear 400 square inches of blaze orange when big-game hunting. It’s not legal to shoot at waterfowl after sunset. That type of thing. But what about ethics? For the most part, thankfully, FWP keeps its nose out of your business, despite being urged by individuals and groups to promote their pet concerns. That’s smart. Some anglers want everyone to release every trout they catch, even when it’s legal to keep a few. Some hunters denounce shooting ducks on the water, even though someone like me might want to take the sure shot and not risking missing or, even worse, wounding the bird. The list goes on and on. What I think is unethical or unsportsmanlike, like shooting at an elk beyond 400 yards, may be just fine with you, and vice versa. FWP’s role in such matters, generally, is to make clear what is legal and not, enforce those laws, and then butt out of the rest. The exceptions come when certain behaviors—even though legal—can endanger people’s own lives, or the lives, property, or recreational experience of others. One example is FWP’s yearly Bear Aware campaign. Each September, the department goes into overdrive promoting things

people can do— like carrying accessible bear spray and securing food attractants— to reduce the odds they will be harmed by a bear or that a bear will need to be killed for doing something that could have been prevented, like raiding campsites scattered with accessible food. Another area where I’m okay with FWP cautioning me and others is when it comes to water and hypothermia safety: Don’t boat in high water. Stay off thin ice. Always wear a well-fitting life jacket (PFD) when boating— especially in fall, winter, and spring when water is dangerously cold. Or when the department warns against crowding others at boat ramps or while floating down a river. Again, none of these messages focuses on illegal activity, only behaviors that can put someone’s life at risk or ruin others’ recreational experience. It’s in this light that FWP has in recent years been promoting ethical hunter behavior on private property. “We’ve been focusing on the five main things landowners have told us some hunters do that they really find annoying—leaving closed gates open, littering, driving across fields, shooting near livestock, and knocking on doors before dawn to ask permission,” says Greg Lemon, head of the department’s Communication and Education Division. Lemon explains that the landowner focus is critical because so many of FWP wildlife habitat and hunting access

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programs are on private property. “Without the cooperation of landowners, a huge amount of habitat improvement and hunter access just wouldn’t exist,” he says. The FWP campaign is “Protect the Hunt. Respect Access.” (See page 9.) “The idea is that hunting on private land is a privilege, and we all need to respect that and act accordingly,” Lemon says. “Otherwise, we could lose millions of acres of access, which would threaten hunting in Montana as we know it today.” In addition to the behaviors Lemon lists above, hunters also need to patrol their own ranks. “It’s not just doing the right thing yourself but making sure others do, too,” he says. “When you see someone messing up a Block Management Area, say something to that person, or take down their license number and call the local game warden.” That’s because they are also messing with your and my opportunities to hunt there and other private lands in the future. Protecting public access by improving landowner relations? That’s one private affair I’m happy to see government stick its nose into. Tom Dickson is the previous editor of Montana Outdoors.

ILLUSTRATION BY GARY PALMER

By Tom Dickson

OUTDOORS PORTRAIT

Barred Tiger Salamander Ambystoma mavortium by Braden Collard

KRIS KENDELL/ALBERTA CONSERVATION ASSOCIATION

s lightning splits the sky above the Montana prairie, rain begins to fall on a parched landscape. The setting sun turns the dark clouds pink and orange for a few brief minutes, and many animals take cover for the wet night ahead. Not all, though. Pounding rain is a signal to some species that it’s time to wake up. And if you’re out on the prairie during a downpour, you might just spot a barred tiger salamander near a prairie dog mound, emerging from its subterranean home to hunt for its prey—which, depending on the shape of its head, may include its own species. Tiger salamanders’ proficiency at adapting their body configurations to accommodate different environments and prey makes them one of nature’s most sophisticated shapeshifters. APPEARANCE In the tadpole stage, barred tiger salamanders are as small as 0.2 inches to as large as 4 inches, and olive-green or brown with feathery gills and dorsal fins. Their legs do not develop until metamorphosis, during which the salamanders change to accommodate life on land. The tan, green, or yellow stripes adorning adult tiger salamanders give the species its name. Adults generally grow to be 6 to 9 inches long, though rare individuals reach 11 inches. Unique among mole family salamanders (so named for their habit of burrowing and spending most of their time underground), barred tiger salamanders have tubercules, or hardened pads, on their feet, an adaptation likely helpful for digging. Braden Collard is an intern for Montana Outdoors.

HABITAT AND DISTRIBUTION The most widespread salamander in North America, barred tiger salamanders range across parts of Montana east of the Continental Divide, up to around 9,000 feet. A small population also occurs in the Tobacco Valley of northwestern Montana, not far from another population in eastern Washington. These amphibians can make a living in a wide variety of places as long as they can find their two major habitat requirements—a body of water for summer breeding and soil suitable for burrowing to hibernate for the remainder of the year. As the first European-American settlers made their way across Montana and the Great Plains in the 1800s, the stock ponds they dug created habitat for tiger salamanders to expand their range, according to Bryce Maxell, coordinator for the Montana Natural Heritage Program. DIET Tiger salamanders prowl fishless ponds, filling the niche of apex aquatic predator. Both on land and in water, they are opportunistic feeders, eating a variety of insects and even small mammals like mice and voles. In places where tiger salamander tadpoles abound, some individuals will even turn to cannibalism, developing broader heads and larger teeth for the job. This makes them the only vertebrate known to develop physical attributes that are specifically associated with cannibalism. Cannibalistic salamanders also metamorphose earlier than non-cannibals and selectively avoid feeding on their own brothers and sisters.

METAMORPHOSIS In a few permanent bodies of water, like the Axolotl Lakes of southwestern Montana, tiger salamanders don’t metamorphose (transform into air-breathing adults by absorbing their fins and gills, developing lungs, and growing eyelids). Instead, they reach sexual maturity while retaining their gills and aquatic body parts, a process known as neoteny. “Raised stress hormones cause metamorphosis,” says Maxell, “So the presence of predators, like fish, or the drying up of a pond would trigger larvae to change into their terrestrial forms.” That’s why in some large lakes with little pressure from predators, salamanders retain their aquatic (axolotl) forms. COMMENSALISM Barred tiger salamanders spend much of their life underground, burrowing to escape hot, dry summers and cold, harsh winters. They don’t do all their digging themselves, however. Salamanders have been found in a variety of mammal burrows, including those of prairie dogs, pocket gophers, deer mice, and ground squirrels. The mammals don’t seem to mind their amphibian roommates, while the tiger salamanders gain an ideal hideaway to survive. This relationship, where one party benefits and the other receives neutral effect, is called commensalism. Even salamanders’ habit of occasionally preying on small mammals doesn’t seem to sully the relationship. The amphibians must know better than to eat their landlords.

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THE OUTSIDE IS IN US ALL.

Whether you’re camping, hiking, mountain biking, boating, hunting, wildlife watching, or fly fishing on the Yellowstone River, Montana is a place where everyone can find their own way to connect with the natural world. Around here, the outside is in us all. PHOTO BY NICOLAS JAMES MONTANA OUTDOORS

Online: fwp.mt.gov/montana-outdoors Subscriptions: 800-678-6668

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