JEFF WELSCH

Perspective

"Ending feeding is a simple answer to a complex issue, and it's no longer a practical or humane option given current circumstances. Many animals will starve."

The National Elk Refuge, circa 2008?

No.

Yellowstone National Park, circa 1972.

At that time, storm clouds were building over the proposed ban on the artificial feeding of black and grizzly bears in Yellowstone National Park, an immensely popular -- if occasionally dangerous -- tourist pastime.

To objective observers, the notion of grizzlies foraging in open dumps and black bears feeding from the roadside hand of man clearly was healthy for neither man nor beast. Yet calls to close dumps and halt handouts elicited howls of disapproval from some corners.

Their argument: Bears will die if they no longer have access to discarded scraps of Twinkies, corndogs and French fries.

Fast-forward more than three decades, to the Elk Refuge. It's déjà vu all over again.

Thousands of elk gather every winter in Jackson Hole to feed at the public trough in what has become a disease-plagued ecological desert -- a spectacle that is certainly not healthy for beast, and at the very least should elicit an ethical pause from man.

The Greater Yellowstone Coalition has a better idea: Let's gradually phase out the artificial feeding, build a substantial roadside exclosure so beleaguered native plant life can regenerate, and then over time let Mother Nature restore this magnificent valley to a lush semblance of its normal self.

Imagine, Jackson, watching this natural miracle unfold before your very eyes.

With the return of willow, cottonwood and aspen, so too will come the beaver, moose, songbirds and other long-lost critters. Revitalized riparian habitat along Flat Creek would provide protection for increasing populations of native cutthroat trout and other fish.

And yes, there would still be prolific herds of elk, albeit more scattered among the flora, nibbling on the forage nature intended instead of the pellets distributed on a taxpayer-funded food line.

The Elk Refuge could become Jackson Hole's version of Yellowstone's Lamar Valley, a wondrous place where wildlife is naturally abundant and readily visible.

Tourist-toting sleighs that now carve dirty tracks in snow and muck amid sickly elk would meander amid thickets, providing an education for visitor and resident alike. Hunters would still have elk to pursue, and though it certainly would require a more sporting effort it is also certain that their quarry would be more robust.

As for ranchers and their very real concern about haystacks and mingling? This is where groups such as GYC step forward with the resources to construct fences safeguarding their livelihoods.

Disease, of course, is the wild card that makes this more than a quaint vision. Wyoming's feed grounds are notorious petrie dishes for scabies, hoof rot and brucellosis, and the deadly chronic wasting disease looms just over the hill to the east. Ranchers in Montana and Idaho are rightfully steamed at the practice, and can make a tenable case that Wyoming's feed grounds are at least partially to blame for the threats to their brucellosis-free status.

Artificial-feeding proponents have somehow convinced themselves that Wyoming is different than Montana and Idaho, that human development here has been more detrimental to winter range than in neighboring states. Obviously, they haven't been to Montana's Paradise Valley or Idaho's Teton Valley lately.

If it is true that the landscape is different here, then the question is begged: Why isn't Wyoming Game and Fish feeding bears, wolves, bison, wolverines, pronghorn, deer, trout and other wildlife whose winter ranges have been dramatically reduced by human encroachment?

Conservation groups and other advocates for the end of artificial feeding have been publicly chided for "speculating" about the potential impacts of CWD. But in the same breath, artificial-feeding proponents "speculate" about imminent elk mortality without the Refuge soup kitchen, and they further "speculate" that halting this winter rite would assure a harmful outcome for the ungulate.

Their speculation doesn't jibe with some of the key players in the Refuge's recent history - longtime manager Barry Reiswig and biologist Bruce Smith come to mind - who are adamant that elk numbers must be reduced to avoid just such a harmful outcome.

The Refuge is the ideal place to start managing this disease risk while giving a natural environment a chance to flourish again. If history is a barometer, it'll be a remarkable success story -- even more inspiring than the one told about Yellowstone bears over these past three decades.

There, we learned from the mistake of halting feeding instantly. Hundreds of grizzlies perished because scientists' call for a gradual feeding reduction went unheeded.

By carefully eliminating artificial feeding on the refuge, and having hunters cull the herd to levels scientists believe to be appropriate, we can dramatically improve the health of this iconic symbol of the West while increasing the natural habitat on which the elk and other Greater Yellowstone creatures depend.

Today, even as human development has squeezed their domain, Yellowstone National Park grizzlies have recovered to where they are near full capacity in the ecosystem. They have even been removed from protection under the Endangered Species Act.

And you'll never hear anyone argue with a straight face for the return of the days when Yellowstone bears dined at the public trough on Twinkies, corndogs and French fries.

Jeff Welsch is the communications director for the Greater Yellowstone Coalition, which has an office in Jackson. He is based in Bozeman, Mont.