Of Lice
FRIF
And, Coyotes
By Stephen L. Wilmeth
We are
making repairs to what remains of the territorial house at the ranch. It is
only part of the original house. The rest, and the most historically
significant part, burned the night the purchase contract was signed years ago.
The fire marshal concluded a combination of propane leakage and old wiring was
the cause of the fire, but the fact remains. The absence of that dwelling
continues to be a void.
It was a
huge loss.
Only the
west wing remains. It was built as early as 1876. On Friday, we discussed what
we will to do with the front door. In keeping with the material used in the
renovation (barn wood that was salvaged from a nearby barn that was about to
collapse), planking with heavy livestock use is probably going to be selected.
We want a
door. Leave the other chaos outside!
The desire is to have a door
befitting the surroundings. When it closes it needs to sound like a door
shutting. It will be the official sally port and symbolic of old ranch houses
of long ago that may not meet the criteria of being uptown outside, but as
bright and cheery as possible inside.
Further
symbolism will reflect the livestock use facing outward and the more original
and less blemished surface facing inward. We look forward to completion. If
only we could find an effective barrier to keep the chaos of the rest of the
world away from our lives.
That would be the stuff of real
magic.
FRIF
With the
Taylor Grazing Act of 1934 that put a degree of order into the chaos of the
checkerboard land ownership across the West, a promise of funds referred to as
Farm and Ranch Improvement Funds (FRIF) was thrown in the deal. The source of
those funds came from grazing fees paid by ranchers for the right to graze the
lands. To the extent it was a bone to reduce the fallout over the reneging of
the disposal of lands promised to the original states, it was intended to
capitalize certain practices that support endeavors of primary producers.
In fact,
the New Mexico law addressing the federal remittance directs those funds toward
measures that directly affect the livestock industry. There are six approved
uses of the funds. These include soil and water conservation measures, control
of rodents and predatory animals, extermination of poisonous and noxious weeds,
construction of dipping vats, the acquisition of spray equipment and other
structures to control parasites in livestock, and the maintenance of secondary
roads.
The funds
come to the state from the feds, get funneled through New Mexico State
University under the direction of its president or designated FRIF coordinators
and are distributed back to the counties based on prorated grazing fee collections.
Although the county commissions have the authority to direct the uses of the
funds based on the six approved criteria, they “shall” seek the advice of
officials with knowledge and experience in matters reflecting the allowable
uses of the money.
In predator
control, that official has normally been the animal control arm of the
Department of Agriculture, APHIS. In fact, counties normally have a contract
with APHIS where the money received is leveraged with other funds to cover the
expense of an animal control official. That is the way it has been done for
years, and, generally, it works as it was intended. That is until Dona Ana
County’s commissioners decided the next enemy of their environmental state was
that group and unilaterally declared coyote control would not be allowed with
FRIF funds.
Of Lice
Coyotes
can’t be controlled with FRIF funds?
The
document, the resolution, approved by the commission is extremely poorly
written, but the testimony of the proceeding is very explicit. APHIS is a collective
of coyote murderers whose sole intent in life is to fully decimate the ranks of
the wily coyote in southern New Mexico and thus in the universe. The reality is
just the opposite. APHIS is the only arm of predator control that is objective
and trained for the selective removal of problem predators. They respond to
coyote issues on the basis of landowner requests when actual problems arise.
They come in, they target the specific area of issue, and they act.
Predator
control isn’t a first act of some fairy tale stage production.
It is
obvious those commissioners have never witnessed or fathom the consequences of
predator damage. It is also obvious they have no connection to a cornerstone of
their constituency that know full well their best interests have long been
ignored, misunderstood, and woefully underrepresented.
They are
playing with fire.
In the
matter of predator control, it isn’t just empathy of coyotes that needs to be
considered. It isn’t just the tax base they jeopardize with their green agenda,
either. It is parvo, it is rabies, and it is the documented and growing reality
of tapeworm that crosses the threshold from canine to humans that comes into
play when the little wolves eat the family cats and canaries in urban
backyards.
Who is
going to be the agent of importance when those consequences of predator damage
are witnessed?
Of Coyotes
Lifting
coyotes from a predator control mission is akin to the singular withdrawal of
killing of lice in a dipping vat. It leaves everything upended and uncertainty prevails
in all directions. If the official can’t kill a problem coyote, he can’t take
care of the skunks, the pigeons, or the rattlesnakes he is called for because
his contract with the county is centered upon predation control and coyotes are
the center piece of that predation.
What a mess
this has become.
Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New
Mexico. “Tyranny!”
No comments:
Post a Comment