For Wildlife Forever?

Celebrating 50 years of success, Minnesota's wildlife management area system faces pressure to change with the times.

By Tom Dickson

Rob Buffler loves to fish and hunt, but on a late spring evening as he walked down the old logging road leading into the wooded valley cradling the South Branch of the Whitewater River, he wasn't looking for brown trout or whitetails. Accompanied by his wife, Sarah Vest, and their friend Hannah Dunevitz, a Department of Natural Resources plant ecologist, Buffler looked instead at the majestic forest canopy that arched overhead and the green carpet of wild leeks, trout-lilies, and trilliums that stretched out toward the river.

Strolling among the stately trees, Dunevitz explained that this portion of the 27,000-acre Whitewater Wildlife Management Area held the largest remaining intact maple-basswood forest in Winona County and a concentration of rare woodland plants, such as the twinleaf. As they gazed down from a hillside at the magnificent woods, a pair of scarlet tanagers flew from the treetops and landed on a nearby branch.

"We stood there for the longest time," says Buffler, "watching the late evening sunlight stream through the trees as those bright red tanagers sang and the river whispered in the distance. It was enchanting."

Whether they come to hunt, watch wildlife, or just marvel at the scenery, people have been attracted to WMAs for decades. Encompassing more than 1 million acres, Minnesota's 1,330 WMAs are public lands owned by the DNR and managed for wildlife and wildlife-based recreation. Most are in the state's southern and western regions, though they can be found statewide (see map pullout). Part of the state's outdoor recreation system, WMAs have fewer restrictions than scientific and natural areas but more restrictions than state forests. For example, hunting is allowed on WMAs, but most of the units ban snowmobiles, horses, and all-terrain vehicles.

That suits Mike LaFleur just fine. A White Bear Lake attorney and vice president of conservation issues for the Izaak Walton League of America, Minnesota Division, LaFleur often uses WMAs for a quiet escape from the rigors of urban life.

"For example, if I have to go to court in St. Cloud, I'll take along jeans and tennis shoes so afterward I can walk around Sand Prairie WMA for half an hour," LaFleur says. "WMAs are just great for escaping, unwinding. In much of the state, they're the only wildlands remaining."

And they're becoming more so each year, as growing numbers of people move to semirural areas and convert woods, fields, and wetlands into housing developments and outlet malls. Maps produced by George Orning, a research fellow at the University of Minnesota Center for Urban and Regional Affairs, confirm what many hunters and other countryside fans have known for years: Minnesota's wildlife habitats and hunting lands are becoming scarcer.

"We're seeing increasing overlaps of urbanization on habitat," says Orning. "People are building houses across the street from wetlands because it's pretty there, and then griping about the hunters."

Created in 1951 to protect wetlands, Minnesota's WMA system has grown over the past half-century to also encompass uplands, prairies, and woodlands. The lands provide habitat for all game species and the many more not hunted--as well as significant parcels of intact natural plant communities. As they've grown in number, WMAs have attracted strong public support, from farm families who donate land to hunting clubs that hold raffles to raise money to buy land.

Despite all the benefits WMAs have provided and goodwill they've generated, the system's future is uncertain. Rising land prices, habitat loss from development, and pressure from hunters and other users present WMA advocates with a dilemma: Can they broaden the base of support and funding for land acquisition and management without harming the wildlife and habitat these lands protect?

Gracie Gets Her Bird

It's mid-November, and I'm driving to Lac qui Parle County with my golden retriever in the back seat. It's her first pheasant hunt, and it's my first look at some of the 41 WMAs that dot the county map. At our first stop, Caerulean WMA, we wade into a field of Indian grass and switch-grass. Gracie bounds ahead, not entirely sure what she's supposed to do but ecstatic nonetheless. Over the next hour, she flushes bobolinks, sparrows, and a meadowlark. But no roosters.

It's the same story at other nearby units. These parcels of rolling prairie, deep-water marsh, and dogwood thickets hold pheasants, but Gracie hasn't found one yet. On our fourth stop, 530-acre Kibler WMA, she trots ahead of me along a row of cattails for several hundred yards, aimlessly sniffing the dry vegetation. Then it happens. Gracie spins around, dives into the cattails, and a big rooster erupts from its hiding place. When the bird folds to my shot, the dog plunges ahead and pins it. I let Gracie enjoy her first retrieve for a moment before slipping the pheasant's warm, limp body into my vest game pouch.

WMAs hold every game species, from sharp-tailed grouse in the northwest, to wild turkeys in the south. Pheasants and ducks in particular rely on the areas, which in heavily farmed counties often provide the best grassland or wetland habitat. Not surprisingly, upland hunters and waterfowlers pack many WMAs each fall.

During weekends," says Perry Loegering, DNR area wildlife manager at Slayton, "my WMAs gets hammered. I'll bet a group of pheasant hunters goes through them every two hours."

Those new to hunting, or hunters new to Minnesota, rely heavily on WMAs. "They are very important for anyone with no land to hunt," says DNR conservation officer Vuthy Pril, who came here from Cambodia. Most Twin Cities Southeast Asian hunters go to nearby Carlos Avery WMA or to Whitewater WMA, where, Pril says, the hilly terrain "reminds them of their homeland."

Hunters aren't the only WMA users. The lands attract hikers in summer and snowshoers and skiers in winter. Birders flock there in spring and fall to witness migration spectacles and glimpse rare species. "If WMAs suddenly disappeared," says Bob Janssen, past president of the Minnesota Ornithologists' Union and author of Birds in Minnesota, "birdwatchers would have a tough time finding birds in Minnesota."

Preaching Wetland Salvation

Harvey Nelson recalls clearly how one of the state's legendary conservation leaders devised Minnesota's WMA program as a solution to a seemingly irresolvable problem. In 1949, as a graduate student working

Biologists had estimated that each year Minnesota was losing 3 to 5 percent of its wetlands, drained by thousands of miles of open ditches and underground drainage tile. Though the state had a long history of wetland loss, new drainage programs following World War II had created a sense of urgency among conservationists.

"People were finally starting to pay attention," says Nelson, retired regional director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. "They were starting to understand that wetlands were important to waterfowl and other wildlife, that they recharged aquifers and reduced flooding."

Those public values notwithstanding, few landowners would spare wetlands voluntarily. So Dorer proposed that Minnesota do something no other state had tried before: Protect wetlands by buying them outright from willing landowners and designating them as state wildlife management areas.

To sell such an ambitious program, Dorer had to convince hunters and other potential supporters that wetlands were worth buying. With young Nelson at the wheel, Dorer toured the state, speaking to Minnesota Conservation Federation member groups, Izaak Walton League chapters, and anyone else who'd listen.

"Dick Dorer was a tremendous orator," recalls Nelson. "When he'd get up in front of a group and talk about saving wetlands, he could make tears run down his cheeks."

Number One: Kvernmo WMA

Dorer's road trips paid off. In 1951 the Legislature responded to his "Save the Wetlands" message by funding a new state program that bought and protected marshes and surrounding uplands. During the 1920s and '30s, the state had acquired land that eventully became a few of the larger WMAs, such as Roseau and Whitewater. But the first one bought as part of the new Save the Wetlands Program was an 83-acre marsh in Lincoln County. It was purchased in 1953 and named Kvernmo WMA for the former landowners.

By 1955 Save the Wetlands had acquired 20,000 acres, and by 1972 it had met its initial goal of 200,000 acres. Though wetlands were the main focus of acquisitions, the DNR also bought important tracts of nearby prairie and woods threatened by development.

"The state was losing those lands in the same way it was losing wetlands," says Dave Vesall, a colleague of Dorer's and retired director of the DNR's former Division of Fish and Wildlife.

As the program expanded in scope, so did its funding sources. The first WMA purchases through the Save the Wetlands Program came from hunting license fees and a federal tax on sporting firearms and ammunition, called the Wildlife Restoration Program, or Pittman-Robertson, after its congressional sponsors.

Soon, however, state officials realized that more money was needed to buy wetlands, which "were being drained much faster than we could buy them," says Vesall. In 1957 Minnesota hunters agreed to pay a $1 surcharge on their small-game hunting license to speed up WMA acquisitions. The Legislature increased the surcharge in 1971 to $2, and in 1981 to $4, where it has remained.

Though hunters initially footed the entire bill, other citizens also began contributing to WMAs through public funding sources. The most important of these has been the Reinvest in Minnesota Critical Habitat Match Program. Since being launched in 1986, this DNR-administered program has matched more than $26 million in donations of land or money with an equal amount from a state fund to buy or improve WMAs and other ecologically important land parcels.

Prairies and Butterflies

One reason the Legislature provides funds for WMAs is their value as natural landscapes. "WMAs preserve some of the best and largest tracts of prairie and grassland in the state," says Gabe Horner, director of government relations for The Nature Conservancy of Minnesota, a major land contributor to the WMA system. Caribou WMA in Kittson County, for example, contains the country's largest tracts of high-quality aspen parkland.

What's more, WMAs provide habitat for rare species. The last federally endangered Karner blue butterflies west of the Mississippi River are those fluttering among the wild lupine of Whitewater WMA.

As home to many of Minnesota's remaining wetlands, WMAs help filter runoff, purify groundwater, and provide habitat for shorebirds, herons, and other water birds.

Such biologically diverse lands can serve as outdoor classrooms. One fine example is Sand Prairie WMA--700 acres of marsh, prairie, and woodland on the outskirts of St. Cloud. Each spring and fall, students at nearby high schools, elementary schools, and St. Cloud State University visit the area to learn firsthand about biology, botany, and ecology.

Perhaps most significant, says DNR Wildlife Division director Tim Bremicker, is the permanence of WMAs. "Not only have they been providing habitat and wildlife-based recreation for half a century," he says, "but they will continue doing so for another 50 years, 100 years, and in perpetuity."

Raffles for Roosters

On a warm spring evening, members of the Nobles County chapter of Pheasants Forever pack into the old Worthington Coliseum on the outskirts of town for their annual fund-raiser. Beneath festive lights and crepe paper streamers, the hunters and their families line up for a buffet supper. Chapter president Bruce Amundson says 480 people have come to eat roast beef, gamble on raffle tickets, and bid on wildlife prints.

"We're hoping," says Amundson, trying to be heard over the crowd, "to net about $25,000 tonight." Almost all of the money will go to buy land, which will be donated to the local DNR office.

"These groups are critical," says Loegering, DNR area wildlife manager. "If it weren't for Pheasants Forever, we wouldn't have as many WMAs as we have in this area."

Other groups do the same elsewhere in Minnesota. While thumbing through a WMA donor list, DNR Wildlife land acquisition coordinator Kim Hennings recites the names of other recent contributors: "Ducks Unlimited, Minnesota Deer Hunters Association, Minnesota Waterfowl Association, Ruffed Grouse Society, Izaak Walton League . . . every major conservation group in the state has helped us buy WMAs." Total donations in cash or land each year: $1.5 million.

Some of the biggest single donations come from families and individuals, such as Donald Ney of Henderson. The retired farmer was honored on a Saturday morning this past March by a group of state officials and conservation group leaders who met along a rain-soaked, wind-lashed country road overlooking the Minnesota River. There they dedicated the Ney WMA, a 160-acre tract of hardwoods, pasture, and cropland. Though developers had for years pestered the bachelor bird lover, hoping to snatch up parcels for river bluff homes, Ney instead sold the property to the DNR--for half its estimated $400,000 value.

"We've always wanted to see this land preserved for wildlife," says Ney. "And we wanted to make sure people could always hunt here and watch birds."

ATVs not A-OK

Not everyone wants more WMAs--or at least not with the use restrictions currently in place. In northwestern Minnesota, DNR efforts to designate Consolidated Conservation lands as WMAs have not sat well with some local officials and lawmakers. The so-called Con Con lands are tax-forfeited tracts that the state received in exchange for paying off ditch bonds in seven counties primarily during the 1920s and '30s. Since that time the DNR has been able to designate as WMAs roughly 196,000 acres of these wetlands, brushlands, and other habitats. But some local officials and residents are fighting agency attempts to designate as WMAs the last 102,000 acres. Hoping to maintain unrestricted ATV access, they want the land to be state forest or another designation with fewer restrictions on motorized vehicles.

Meanwhile, towns and development agencies in the southwest have been eyeing WMAs for other recreational uses beyond hunting, hiking, and wildlife watching. The city of Appleton, for example, has been pushing to put an 8-mile paved trail through Lac qui Parle WMA. "Our main task is to get people to move here, to stay here, to relocate here," says Dawn Hegland, an official with the Upper Minnesota Valley Regional Development Commission. "And to attract people, we need recreational amenities such as trails."

Paved pathways aren't the only proposals aimed at changing WMA use. Throughout the state, groups representing snowmobilers, horseback riders, and hunting-dog trainers argue for new, less-restrictive WMA regulations. The U.S. Army Reserve has even asked to use the lands for combat maneuvers.

In defense of new WMA acquisitions and expansions, the DNR points out that wildlife lands rarely require costly local services such as law enforcement, firefighting, schools, or utilities. Moreover, the 2000 Legislature substantially increased payments to counties in compensation for lost property-tax revenue. This year counties will receive a total payment of $2.3 million for WMA land.

In addition, the DNR has been willing to compromise on WMA rules. "We now allow hunters on ATVs to retrieve dead deer in northwestern WMAs," says Bremicker, "and we've also agreed to develop trail corridors through some Con Con WMAs." Moreover, the DNR has modified its rules to allow hunting-dog competitions on the newly acquired 2,900-acre Four Brooks WMA near Milaca. Dog trials are banned on most WMAs to protect ground-nesting birds and prevent erosion from the horses ridden by many dog trialers.

The DNR, however, can bend only so far. According to Bremicker, the agency can't relax WMA restrictions that protect wildlife and hunting opportunities without risking the loss of federal Pittman-Robertson dollars. "If we allow horses, ATVs, or paved trails that interfere with the primary purposes [of WMAs], we risk losing millions of dollars in federal aid each year," he says.

Another challenge to Minnesota's WMA system is lack of staff and funds to maintain habitat and access. The DNR has only 36 area wildlife field offices--many staffed with a single wildlife manager and one or two other staff members--to manage its 1,330 WMAs. Some area managers, such as Kevin Kotts at Glenwood, are responsible for more than 100 WMAs.

"Just replacing vandalized signs is a constant job," says Kotts. "Plus we have to continually repair parking areas, fill road potholes, fix fences, and do other maintenance that most people don't know we do." (To learn how WMAs are managed, see map pullout.)

Wildlife officials also feel pressure to secure critical habitat otherwise destined to become executive estates or shopping malls. And the price tag for such lands continues to grow. Recently Hennings handed one landowner a check for nearly $1.5 million as partial payment for the new 360-acre Mule Lake WMA in Cass County. "I felt like Regis Philbin," he says.

Twice Wisconsin's Acreage

"As far as I know," says Nelson, the retired U.S. Fish and Wildlife official, "no state has as much state land managed for wildlife as Minnesota." Wisconsin, for example, has less than half the WMA acreage (470,000 acres); South Dakota has about one-eighth (130,000 acres). Now at 1.1 million acres, Minnesota's WMA system continues to grow at roughly 5,000 acquired or donated acres per year.

How will the DNR know when it has enough WMAs? According to Ed Boggess, DNR Wildlife Division assistant director, the agency recently began a strategic planning process to evaluate WMA management and acquisition. "We're taking a close look at our WMA system," says Boggess, "figuring out where it needs to go over the next 50 years and deciding how much acquisition is enough." Boggess adds that WMA acquisition will likely continue as long as habitat continues to decline and use continues to increase. "There's still strong public demand and support for WMAs," he says.

But the bigger the WMA system grows, the more it costs the DNR to manage those lands. That means WMAs must drum up even more public funding and support. One promising sign is a growing grassroots movement for a constitutional amendment dedicating ³/16 of 1 percent of the state's sales tax to natural resources management. Permanent funding would boost WMA acquisition and management.

Such funds, says Orning of the University of Minnesota Center for Urban and Regional Affairs, could also help buy additional recreational land where sprawling development from fast-growing towns, such as Willmar and St. Cloud, is "cutting to ribbons" existing open lands. "To take pressure off WMAs," Orning says, "there has to be money to buy parks and recreation areas in rural Minnesota. But right now the state doesn't have those avenues of funding."

Yet another option would be for hunters and other recreationists to pool their political capital and lobby for new lands where people could hunt and also cycle, rollerblade, snowmobile, and ride ATVs at various times of the year.

That, however, may be as far as many hunters and other conservationists are willing to budge. If Michael Furtman is any indication, those who have spent decades building Minnesota's WMA system may be open to new partnerships, but not to putting wildlife habitat in established WMAs at risk.

"I could see having some new multi-purpose areas similar to state forests, like public grasslands, that would be open to multiple uses," says Furtman, outdoors writer and Izaak Walton League member in Duluth. "But as for trails going though existing WMAs originally established for wildlife and hunters, I'd fight tooth and nail to prevent that from happening."

Tom Dickson is a DNR staff writer and a frequent contributor to the Volunteer.