ASAND COUNTY

ALMANACWith Essays on Conservation from Round River

ALDO LEOPOLD

Illustrated by Charles W. Schwartz

A SIERRA CLUB/BALLANTINE BOOKAn Inte~t Publisher

GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT is made tothe editors of the following magazines and journalswho have kindly allowed to be reprin~d in bookform portions or·· all of individual articles: AmericanForests, 'Marshland Elegy,' 'The Green Lagoons,' and'Flambeau'; Audubon Magazine, 'Odyssey'; BirdLore, 'Conservation Esthetic'; The Condor, 'TheThick Billed Parrot of Chihuahua'; Journal ofForestry, 'The Conservation Ethic'; Journal of Wild­life Management, 'Wildlife in American Culture' and'Song of the Gavilan'; The Land, 'Cheat Takes Over';Outdoor America, 'The Alder Fork'; Silent Wings,'On a Monument to the Pigeon'; Wisconsin Agricul­turist and Farmer, 'Bur Oak' and 'Sky Dance'; Wis­consin Conservation Bulletin, 'A Mighty Fortress,''Home Range,' and 'Pines above the Snow.' Thanksare also due to The Macmillan Company for per­mission to quote from 'Tristram,' copyright 1927 byEdward Arlington Robinson, on page 239.

Copyright© 1966 by Oxford University Press, Inc.A Sand County Almanac, Copyright 1949 by OxfordUniversity Press, Inc.Round River, Copyright 1953 by Oxford UniversityPress, Inc.Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 66-28871

SBN 345-02007-3-095This edition published by arrangement withThe Oxford University Press.

First Printing: September, 1970Cover photograph by Ray AtkesonPrinted in the United States of America

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Wildlife in American C'll1.twe 211

Wildlife III American Culture

THE CULTURE of primitIve peoples is oftenbased on wildlife. Thus the plains Indian not onlyate buffalo, but buffalo largely determined his archi­tecture, dress, language, arts, and religion.

In civilized peoples the cultural base shifts else­where, but the culture nevertheless retains part of itswild roots. I here discuss the value of this wild rootage.

.No one can weigh or measure culture, hence I shallwaste no time trying to do so. Suffice it to say that bycommon consent of thinking people, there are cul­tural values in the sports, customs, and experiencesthat renew contacts with wild things. I venture theopinion that these values are of three kinds.

First there is value in any experience that remindsus of our distinctive national origins and evolution,i.e. that stimulates awareness of history. Such aware­ness is 'nationalism' in its best sense. For lack of anyother short name, I shall call this, in our case, the'split·rail value: For example: a boy scout has tanneda coonskin cap, and goes Daniel-Booneing in thewillow thicket below the tracks. He is reenactingAmerican history. He is, to that extent, culturallyprepared to face the dark and bloody realities of thepresent. Again: a farmer boy arrives in the school­room reeking of muskrat; he has tended his traps

1.11. A Taste for Country

before breakfast. He is reenacting the romance of thefur tra<le. Ontogeny repeats phylogeny in society aswell as in the individual.

Second, there is value in any experience that re­minds us of our dependency on the soil-plant-animal­man food chain, and of the fundamental organiza­tion of the biota. Civilization has so cluttered thiselemental man-earth relation with gadgets and mid­dlemen that awareness of it is growing dim. Wefancy that industry supports us, forgetting what sup­ports industry. Time was when education movedtoward soil, not away from it. The nursery jingleabout bringing home a· rabbit skin to wrap the babybunting in is one of many reminders in folk-lore thatman once hunted to feed and clothe his family.

Third, there is value in any experience that exer­cises those ethical restraints collectively called 'sports­manship.' Our tools for the pursuit of wildlife im­prove faster than we do, and sportsmanship is avoluntary limitation in the use of these armaments.It is aimed to augment the role of skill and shrinkthe role of gadgets in the pursuit of wild things.

A peculiar virtue in wildlife ethics is that thehunter ordinarily has no gallery to applaud or dis­approve of his conduct. Whatever his acts, they aredictated by his own conscience, rather than bya mobof onlookers. It is difficult to exaggerate the impor­tance of this fact.

Voluntary adherence to an ethical code elevates theself-respect of the sportsman, but it should not beforgotten that voluntary disregard of the code de­generates aQd depraves him. For example, a commondenominator of all sporting codes is not to waste

Wildlife in American.Culture 213

good meat. Yet it is now a demonstrable fact thatWisconsin deer-hunters, in their pursuit of a legalbuck, kill and abandon in the woods at least onedoe, fawn, or spike buck for every two legal buckstaken out. In other words, approximately half thehunters shoot any deer until a legal deer is killed.The illegal carcasses are left where they fall. Suchdeer-hunting is not only without social value, butconstitutes actual training for ethical depravity else­where.

It seems, then, that split-rail and man-earth experi­ences have zero or plus values, but that ethical ex­periences may have minus values as well.

This, then, defines roughly three kinds of culturalnutriment available to our outdoor roots. It doesnot follow that culture is fed. The extraction of valueis never automatic; only a healthy culture can feedand grow. Is culture fed by our present fOllll6 of out­door recreation?

The pioneer period gave birth to two ideas that arethe essence of split-rail value in outdoor sports. Oneis the 'go-light' idea, the other the 'one-'bullet-one­buck' idea. The pioneer went light of necessity. Heshot with economy and precision because he lackedthe transport, the cash, and the weapons requisitefor machine-gun tactics. Let it be clear, then, that intheir inception, both of these ideas were forced onus; we made a virtue of necessity.

In their later evolution, however, they became acode of sportsmanship, a self-imposed limitation onsport. On them is based a distinctively Americantradition of self-reliance, hardihood, woodcraft, andmarksmanship. These are intangibles, but they are

A Taste for· Country

not abstractions. Theodore Roosevelt was a greatsportsman, not because he hung up many trophies,but becau~ he expressed this intangible Americantradition in words any schoolboy could understand.A more subtle and accurate expression is -found inthe early writings of Stewart Edward White. It is notfar amiss to say that such men created cultural valueby being aware of it, and by creating a pattern for itsgrowth.

Then came the gadgeteer, otherwise known as thesporting-goods dealer. He has draped the Americanoutdoorsman with an infinity of contraptions, all of­fered as aids to self-reliance, hardihood, woodcraft,or marksmanship, but too often functioning as substitutes for them. Gadgets fill the pockets, they dangltfrom neck and belt. The overHow fills the auto-trunk,and also the trailer. Each item of outdoor equipmentgrows lighter and often hetter, but the aggregatepoundage becomes tonnage. The traffic in gadgetsadds up to astronomical sums, which are soberly pub­lished as representing 'the economic value of wild­life: But what of cultural values?

As an end-ease consider the duck-hunter, sitting ina steel boat behind composition decoys. A put-putmotor has brought him to the blind without exercise.Canned heat stands by to warm him in case of achilling wind. He talks to the passing Hocks on a fac­tory caller, in what he hopes are seductive tones;home lessons from a phonograph record have taughthim how. The decoys work, despite the caller; a Hockcircles in. It must be shot at before it circles twice,for the marsh bristles with other sportsmen, similarlyaccoutred, who might shoot first. He opens up at 70

Wildlife in American Culture 2.1;

yards, for his polychoke is set for infinity, and theadvertisements have told him that Super-Z shells, andplenty of them, have a long reach. The 8ockOares. Acouple of cripples scale off to die elsewhere. Is thissportsman absorbing cultural value? Or is he just feed­ing minks? The next blind opens up at 75 yards; howelse is a fellow to get some shooting? This is duckshooting, current model. It is typical of all publicgrounds, and of many clubs. Where is the go-lightidea, the one-bullet tradition?

The answer is· not a simple one. Roosevelt did notdisdain the modern rifle; White used freely thealuminum pot, the silk tent, dehydrated foods. Some­how they used mechanical aids, in moderation, with­out being used by them.

I do not pretend to know what is moderation, orwhere the line is between legitimate and illegitimate

216 A Taste for Country

gadgets. It seems clear, though, that the origin of gad­gets has much to do with their cultural effects. Home­made aids to sport or outdoor life often enhance,rather than destroy, the man-earth drama; he whokills a trout with his own fly has scored two coups,not one. I use many factory-made gadgets myself. Yetthere must be some limit beyond which money­bought aids to sport destroy the cultu~al value ofsport.

Not all sports have degenerated to the same ex­tent as duck-hunting. Defenders of the Americantradition still exists. Perhaps the bow-and-arrowmovement and the revival of falconry mark the be­ginnings of a reaction. The net trend, however, isclearly toward more and more mechanization, with acorresponding shrinkage in cultural values, especiallysplit-rail values and ethical restraints.

I have the impression that the American sportsmanis puzzled; he doesn't understand what is happeningto him. Bigger and better gadgets are good for in­dustry, so why not for outdoor recreation? It has notdawned on him that outdoor recreations are essentiallyprimitive, atavistic; that their value is a contrast-value;that excessive mechanization destroys contrasts bymoving the factory to the woods or to the marsh.

The sportsman has no leaders to tell him what iswrong. The sporting press no longer represents sport;it has turned billboard for the gadgeteer. Wildlifeadministrators are too busy producing something toshoot at to worry much about the cultural value ofthe shooting. Because everybody from Xenophon toTeddy Roosevelt said sport has value, it is assumedthat this value must be indestructible.

Wildlife in American Culture 217

Among non-gunpowder sports, the impact of me­chanization has had diverse effects. The modern Geldglass, camera, and the aluminum bird-band havecertainly not deteriorated the cultural value of orni­thology. Fishing, but for outboard motors and alumi­num canoes, seems less severely mechanized thanhunting. On the other hand, motorized transport hasnearly destroyed the sport of wilderness travel by leav­ing only fly-specks of wilderness to travel in.

Fox-hunting with hounds, backwoods style, presentsa dramatic instance of partial and perhaps harmlessmechanized invasion. This is one of the purest ofsports; it has real split-rail flavor; it has man-earthdrama of the Grst water. The fox is deliberately leftunshot, hence ethical restraint is also present. Butwe now follow the chase in Fords! The voice ofBugle Ann mingles with the honk of the flivver! How­ever, no one IS likely to invent a mechanical fox­hound, or to screw a polychoke on the hound's nose.No one is likely to teach dog-training by phonograph,or by other painless shortcuts. I think the gadgeteerhas reached the end of his tether in dogdom.

It is not quite accurate to ascribe all the ills of sportto the inventor of physical aids-to-sport. The.advertiserinvents ideas, and ideas are seldom as honest asphysical objects, even though they may be equallyuseless. One such deserves special mention: the'where-to-go' department. Knowledge of the where­abouts of good hunting or Gshing is a very personalform of property. It is like rod, dog, or gun: a thingto be loaned or given as a personal courtesy. But tohawk it jn the marketplace of the sports column as anaid to circulation seems to me another matter. To

218 A Taste for Country

hand it to all and sundry as free public 'service' seemsto me distinctly another matter. Even 'conservation'departments now tell Tom, Dick, and Harry wherethe fish are biting, and where. a Bock of ducks hasventured to alight for a meal.

All of these organized promiscuities tend to de­personalize· one of the essentially personal elementsin outdoor sports. I do not know where the line liesbetween legitimate and illegitimate practice; I am con­vinced, though, that 'where-to-go' service has brokenall bounds of reason.

If the hunting or fishing is good, the 'where-to-go'service suffices to attract the desired excess of sports­men. But if it is no good, the advertiser must resortto more forcible means. One such is the fishing lot­tery, in which a few hatchery fish are tagged, and aprize is offered for the fisherman catching the win­ning number. This curious hybrid between the tech­niques of science and of the pool hall insures theoverfishing of many an already exhausted lake, andbrings a glow of civic pride to many a village Chamberof Commerce.

It is idle for the professional wildlife managers toconsider themselves aloof from these affairs. Theproductio~ engineer and the salesman belong to thesame company; both are tarred with the same stick.

Wildlife managers are trying to raise game in thewild by manipulating}ts environment, and thus toconvert hunting from exploitation to cropping. If theconversion takes place, how will it affect culturalvalues? It must be admitted that split-rail Bavor andfree-for-all exploitation are historically associated.Daniel Boone had scant patience with agricultural

Wildlife in American Culture 219

cropping, let alone wildlife cropping. Perhaps thestubborn reluctance of the 'one-gallus' sportsman tobe converted to the cropping idea is an expressionof his split-rail inheritance. Probably cropping is re­sisted because it is incompatible with one componentof the split-rail tradition: free hunting.

Mechanization offers no cultural substitute for thesplit-rail values it destroys; at least none visible tome. Cropping or management does offer a substitute,which to me has at least equal value: wild husbandry.The experience of managing land for wildlife cropshas the same value as any other form of farming; itis a reminder of the man-earth relation. Moreoverethical restraints are involved; thus managing gamewithout resorting to predator-control calls for ethicalrestraint of a high order. It may be concluded, then,that game cropping shrinks one value (split-rail) butenhances both of the others.

If we regard outdoor sports as a field of conflictbetween an immensely vigorous process of mechani­zation and a wholly static tradition, then the out­look for cultural values is indeed dark. But why can­not our concept of sport grow with the same vigor asour list of gadgets? Perhaps the salvation of culturalvalue lies in seizing the offensive. I, for one, believethat the time. is ripe. Sportsmen can determine forthemselves the shape of things to come. _

The last decade, for example, has disclosed a totallynew form of sport, which does not destroy wildlife,which uses gadgets without being used by them,which outflanks the problem of posted land, and whichgreatly increases the human carrying capacity of aunit area. This sport knows no bag limit, no closed

220 A Taste for Country

season. It needs teachers, but not wardens. It calls fora new woodcraft of the highest cultural value; Thesport I refer to is wildlife research.

Wildlife research started as a professional priest­craft. The more difficult and laborious research prob­lems must doubtless remain in professional hands, butthere are plenty of problems suitable for all gradesof amateurs. In the field of mechanical invention re­search has long since spread to amateurs. In the bio­logical field the sport-value of amateur research isjust beginning to be realized.

Thus Margaret Morse Nice, an amateur omitholo­gist, studied song sparrows in her back yard. Shehas become a world-authority on bird behavior, andhas out-thought and outworked many a professionalstudent of social organization in birds. Charles L.Broley, a banker, banded eagles for fun. He dis­covered a hitherto unknown fact: that some eaglesnest in the South in winter, and then go vacationingto the north woods. Norman and Stuart Criddle,wheat ranchers on the Manitoba prairies, studied thefauna and Bora of their farm,. and became recognizedauthorities on everything from local botany to wild­life cycles. Elliott S. Barker, a cowman in the NewMexico mountains, has written one of the two bestbooks on that elusive cat: the mountain lion. Do notlet anyone tell you that these people made work outof play. They simply realized that the most fun liesin seeing and studying the unknown.

Omithology,mammalogy, and botany, as nowknown to most amateurs, are but kindergarten gamescompared with what is possible for (and open to)amateurs in these fields. One reason for this is that

Wildlife in American Culture 221

the whole structure of biological education (includ­ing education in wildlife) is aimed to perpetuate theprofessional monopoly on research. To the amateurare allotted only make-believe voyages of discovery,to verify what professional authority already knows.What the youth needs to be told is that a ship is a­building in his own mental dry dock, a ship withfreedom of the seas.

In my opinion, the promotion of wildlife researchsports is the most important job confronting the pro­fession of wildlife management. Wildlife has stillanother value, now visible only to a few ecologists,but of potential importance to the whole human en­terprise.

We now know that animal populations have be­havior patterns of which the individual animal is un­aware, but which he nevertheless helps to excute.Thus the rabbit is unaware of cycles, but he is thevehicle for cycles.

We cannot discern these behavior patterns in theindividual, or in short periods of time. The most in­tense scrutiny of an individual rabbit tells us nothingofeycles. The cycle concept springs from a scrutinythe mass through decades.This raises the disquieting question: do human pop­ulations have behavior patterns of which we are una­ware, but which we help to excute? Are mobs andwars, unrests and revolutions, cut of such cloth?

Many historians and philosophers persist in inter­preting our mass behaviors as the collective result ofindividual acts of volition. The whole subject matter ofdiplomacy assumes that the political group has theproperties of an honorable person. On the other hand,

222 A Taste for Country

some economists see the whole of society as a play­thing for processes, our knowledge of which is largelyex post facto.

It is reasonable to suppose that our social processeshave a higher volitional content that those of the rab­bit, but it is also reasonable to suppose that we, as aspecies, contain population behavior patterns of whichnothing is known because circumstance has neverevoked them. We may have others the meaning ofwhich we have misread.

This state of doubt about the fundamentals ofhuman population behavior lends exceptional interest,and exceptional value, to the only available analogue:the higher animals. Errington, among others, haspointed out the cultural value of these animal annal­ogues. For centuries this rich library of knowledgehas been inaccessible to us because we did not knowwhere or how to look for it. Ecology is now teachingus to search in animal populations for analogies toour own problems. By learning how some small partof the biota ticks, we can guess how the whole me­chanism ticks. The ability to perceive these deepermeanings, and to appraise them critically, is the wood­craft of the future.

To sum up, wildlife once fed us and shaped ourculture. It still yields us pleasure for leisure hours,but we try to reap that pleasure by modem machi­nery and thus destroy part of its value. Reaping itby modern mentality would yield not only pleasure,but wisdom as well.

ALDO LEOPOLD was born in Burlington, Iowa, in1887. Educated at the Lawrenceville School and YaleUniversity, he joined the United States Forest Serv­ice in 1909 as a Forest Assistant in New Mexico andArizona. One of the founders of the WildernessSociety, he initiated, in 1924, the first Forest Wilder­ness Area in the United States which is now the GilaNational Forest. Moving to Madison, Wisconsin, hewas Associate Director of the Forest Products Labo­ratory, as well as consulting forester to several states.Mr. Leopold founded the profession of game man­agement and wrote the first important book on thissubject. In 1933, the University of Wisconsin createda chair of game management for him. He died in1948, while fighting a brush fire on a neighbor's farm.His death cut short an assignment as an adviser onconservation to the United Nations, and left thisbook as the last statement of his uncompromisingphilosophy.