Entanglement in Montana

I had never spent any time in the Great Plains region of the United States.

Well, now I can say I’ve been to Billings, Montana for 36 hours. I was in town to present at a work conference — I can’t even pretend I scratched the surface.

I didn’t plan this, but I read a memoir about growing up and living in the region, that mentioned the naming and history of the land that is now Little Big Horn National Park (which I missed the conference excursion to): “Birding While Indian” by Thomas C. Gannon.

I’ve been recommending this book to absolutely everyone—hiker and naturalist friends, folks concerned with environmental protections, and literally everyone who lives on the North American continent.

I’m a sucker for eco-lit and writing about place, forever. But this is so much more, opening with the philosophy that it is impossible to write about birds without “getting political.” What are the birds named, in your language? Why do you speak the language(s) you speak? What do you call the land you live in, and where did it get that name?

Are you excited to see some species of wild animal, while considering others “pests”? Where did you learn to evaluate wild creatures this way?

These simple questions tug on threads, until all I can see is entanglement: colonialism, racism, land theft, cultural and literal genocide. And NOT just in the “American West,” with all the cowboys-and-Indians connotations; I mean, not just the Great Plains. The land for East Coast cities was stolen, and the original people, animals, and land here were brutalized in the same ways.

These thoughts were always on mind mind while I was in Montana. I’ll be reflecting on this for a long time.

I didn’t even pair this book with my first trip to the region on purpose. Truly! I read the first line in an edition of Poets & Writers Magazine, and bought the book: “I jumped off an Iowa City bridge into the Iowa River my freshman year of college because I had been reading too much William Blake and Walt Whitman and William Butler Yeats.” I knew I’d be in for writing about the natural world, specifically birds, with healthy doses of literary references and lit crit sprinkled throughout.

The Yellowstone Art Museum was the PERFECT place for me to while away a few hours between landing and check-in time at my hotel, with all of the entanglements of history, political power, and culture on my mind.

A fabric/textiles exhibit greeted me first. “Intertwined” was the wavelength I was on!

Just a few highlights, though the entire museum is worth a long visit:

I’m not going to lie: I wanted a few good photos, of the mountains (Bear Tooth, Bighorn, Pryor) and the Yellowstone River. I’d never been to this area before and have no plans to return soon. It was such a short trip, it felt like a dream. I wanted to remember how beautiful and different and too-bright the land is.

I’m a tourist. And I wanted to take something home to show to my family and friends.

I try to treat every trip away from New Jersey as “a vacation from driving.” Google Maps wouldn’t help me understand the public bus system in Billings, so I took quite a few ride-shares in my day-and-a-half in Billings.

I asked my first driver for tips on what I should do, and I got burger and pizza recs.

I followed those recommendations, letting myself pretend I am a person who drinks beer and watches football. (I took one single sip then had heartburn for days!)

I also asked ride-share drivers about about good views. One told me: Pioneer Park. (That name!) So I went, constantly critiquing myself for what I was after.

It’s not un-problematic to count steps (does EVERYTHING I DO have to make data for Google?!). But a six-mile walk is good for my head. Walking soothes me and helps me think. So, I was after a nice walk.

There was a hill and a pretty creek. But no mountain or Yellowstone River views! A gorgeous walk, however, and I explored the neighborhood, too.

I thought about Gannon’s very fair and accurate critique of the writing of beloved Willa Cather! Seeing mission-style homes is brutal when I think about religious colonization for a minute. What did I expect this part of the country to be? Why is that my lens? AM I trying to force my experience into a mold?

I tried to just be present and pay attention in Billings.

But I did ask a bit more about views of mountains. And Zimmerman Park was exactly what I had been searching for:

I take approximately one selfie per decade. So here is my face, which I just don’t like looking at or snapping pics of:

And also, feet:

At the VERY LEAST I will say I followed the National Park Rule: I took only pictures, and left only footprints.