Russian knapweed has rhizomes and 

 ^spreads by its roots, making tilling a 

 Pbad way to try to control it. Grant 

 noticed very quickly that what he was 

 doing wasn't working. By correctly 

 identifying the plant, he kept the 

 knapweed from getting ahead of him 

 and stopped the costly misuse of a 

 control. 



"The land will tell you what you 

 need to know, if you let it," Grant 

 affirms. One of his best examples is a 

 seven-acre field located northeast of the 

 FWP farm buildings. In the early '90" s 

 the field was solid whitetop plants, says 

 Grant. He began by tilling the land and 

 planting grains like winter wheat and 

 then letting the crop stand for the birds. 

 In addition to "farming it up" each 

 year, he did spot spraying. Repeated 

 tilling during alternate summers helped 

 to smooth the seedbed and keep weeds 

 down while preparing for the next 

 year's crop. Spraying continued within 

 the crops to control the weeds, even as 

 I the grains were left standing for the 

 birds. 



Finally, after six years, the weed 

 infestation was under enough control 

 that Grant felt he could plant grass with 

 some hope of getting it established. But 

 grasses require spring and summer 

 moisture. "This time the weather was 

 with me and it worked. The grasses 

 began to take hold," he says. I asked 



Musk thistle, a noxious 



weed introduced from 



Europe, spreads rapidly 



through wind-borne seeds. 



what he would have done if the season 

 had been dry. favoring the weeds. "Oh. 

 start over somewhere back in the ' 

 process — maybe another year of 

 spraying and planting and then try it 

 again." 



His good-humored patience amazes 

 me — especially in light of the fact that 

 new noxious weeds are entering the 

 state every year. "If you want it to be 

 like it was before noxious weeds — 

 forget it," he says. "But I've seen 

 significant, real progress. Noxious 

 weeds are just little life forms. We can 

 work with them. The important thing is 

 to avoid becoming so distracted by the 

 weeds that you forget why you're 

 managing the land." The big picture 

 again. This is how Ninepipe mo\ed 

 from weed crisis to a living history of 

 how land can be renewed. 



Grant defines success as an environ- 

 ment of diverse plant life that fully 

 serves the waterfowl and pheasants that 

 flock there. "I keep my eye on the 

 weeds, but my mind on the quality of 

 habitat I want to see thriving around 

 here," he says simply. 



This warm-eyed man who so loves 

 every detail of this place must be a 

 Montanan. I've made my notes and 

 Grant is anxious to get outside on the 



land where he can show rather than tell. 

 But, I can't resist one last question, the 

 one asked more often in this state than 

 any other. "So, where are you from?" 



His answer — New Jersey. 



We laugh together at the irony. I 

 tuck this knowledge away, and spend 

 the next three or four hours touring 

 glacial plains where a diverse array of 

 plants grow, including noxious weeds, 

 but in most cases grow side-by-side in 

 a hard-won. fragile balance. 



Later, as I drive down the dirt road 

 alone, my mind returns to the thought 

 that somehow this land that drew my 

 great-grandparents here when it was 

 only a territory continues to draw 

 people who love it — people who see its 

 treasures and are willing to do the pick 

 and shovel work necessary to keep it 

 that way. 



Pulling and spraying weeds can be a 

 dull, lonely business — I know this 

 firsthand. But. Ninepipe and John 

 Grant left me with a new awareness. 

 Though often unknow n to each other, 

 many are working as one to hold the 

 line on noxious weeds, piecing together 

 a quilt of lands restored in some cases, 

 protected in others, but all thriving in 

 this place we love — this land of the 

 shining mountains. ■ 



> 



MONTANA OUTDOORS september/october 2000 1 1 



