Bridging the Gap between Private Landowners and Conservationists

It was a May afternoon and I was completing a survey of my study site, a wet meadow owned by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) in the Klamath Basin of Oregon. In the distance, I could see the figure of a man lingering at a cattle gate. It was the owner of the adjacent property and I could tell he was waiting to talk with me. I walked toward him until I was forced to stop at the canal separating the two properties. Ten feet wide and at least half as deep, I could not cross, and neither could he. So we talked from our divided territories, separated not just by space, but by history, culture, and values. The conversation was awkward, at least for me, perhaps also for him. He wanted to know what I was looking for. Yellow Rails (Coturnicops noveboracensis), I answered. He thought the BLM property's grass was too thick, that it needed a burn. Were there any plans to allow grazing this year? If so, his were the cattle that would graze it. I didn't know; maybe at the end of the summer, once the birds were done nesting. Little more was said before we went our separate ways, and I regretted terribly my inability to speak comfortably and honestly. I wanted to discuss why I consider it so critical to restrict cattle from this valuable remnant of rail habitat. But I couldn't be-