00:00:01 Speaker 1: The famous geographic dictum space plus culture equals place is nowhere more vivid than on the high plains of the West, where a succession of human cultures have repeatedly inhabited a setting already changed by previous inhabitants. I'm dan Flor's and this is the American West, thinking about big history in one Western place. On a blessery gray day in March twenty years ago, Stephen Ranella and I spent an afternoon giving ourselves a tour of a piece of the West that ought to be as famous as Jamestown or Plymouth Rock. Stephen was then working on his book on Buffalo, and on a visit to Santa Fe, where I'd recently built a house, he proposed that we'd take off across the Great Plains to see what then stood as a kind of ground zero in the American story. The place we were heading entirely lacked the school book associations of a colonial Virginia or Massachusetts Bay, or even of Santa Fe, then closing in on its four hundredth year as the oldest city founded by Europeans in the American West. But the place we were driving towards did have one great advantage not enjoyed by those more famous sites. The Blackwater draw UNESCO World Heritage Site outside Clovis, New Mexico, pushes definite human inhabitation of North America back more than thirteen thousand years in the past in twenty twenty six. There are pretty definitive arguments for a human presence in America even older. Of course, the best evidence so far is the blockbuster find in twenty nineteen of what turned out to be sixty one beautifully preserved footprints, mostly left by children or adolescents, in the soft mud of an ancient lake, a couple of one hundred miles southwest of the Blackwater Clovis site in today's White Sands National Monument. Grass remains crushed by those feet have dated to twenty three thousand years ago, a full ten millennia before Clovis. But so far, no ancient culture whose remains archaeologists have on Earth seems to have draped itself over this continent with the geographic sweep of the Clovis Paleolithic hunters, whose excavated campsites and tools cover every part of the present United States. For most of America, and this is certainly true of most of the American West, places like White Sands excepted. Clovis is the beginning of the human presence here, our human ground zero. Before Clovis, most pieces of the West truly were wilderness landscapes that lacked a human presence. After Clovis, the pattern in most places is one occupation after another right down through today. In search of Clovis America, Stephen and I were out in a country I'd once made home. We call it the High Plains today, although who knows what names most of its ancient inhabitants might have used for these flat prairies. The names we do know seem to reference the region's endless horizontal flatness, a sensory impression that perhaps was universal for us upright primates. Steven and I were headed for a very old set piece here less than a century ago when archaeologists discovered the spot. Clovis culture was unknown and Blackwater draw was about to be mined for gravel to pill roads through a handful of nearby American farming towns. When archaeologist E. B. Howard made discoveries here that rocked the world. Scientists named the culture, whose large dramatic points they were finding after the closest of those towns, Clovis, New Mexico. With the addition of a grand new tool, radiocarbon dating, over the next half century, science would find evidence all over the West and all over America of a Clovisia the beautiful that had lasted four hundred years, significantly longer than the two hundred and fifty years of the present United States. Stephen and I had made one cardinal mistake in our over to the Texas border from Santa Fe. We'd forgotten to check if the Blackwater draw Grounds and its visitor center were actually open. For some reason now lost to time. It turned out the site was in fact closed for the day, which I'll confessed didn't really deter us. Interested in information and education rather than mischief, we simply climbed over the gate and proceeded to give ourselves a self guided tour around one of our country's most famous ancient human sites. That tour made it clear that the Clovis people had arrived in America at a propitious time. Among the large cosmic forces that have shaped North America's big history, one of them had allowed these people their access to the continent hemmed up for thousands of years on the Baringian land mass that formed between Siberia and Alaska, when much of the northern Ocean waters were ice. The ancestors of these people had been blocked from entering America i Tinrant. Earlier groups like those who found White Sands had probably followed the coastlines from Asia to America in some kind of watercraft, but sixteen thousand or so years ago, the Wisconsin Maximum had ebbed enough to open a passage out of Beringia and into North America. As best we can tell, by thirteen thousand years ago, the early Americans we now call Clovis were all the way down to Blackwater in today's New Mexico. The Clovis people were lucky enough to be here when giants still roamed the continent. Indeed, it was the Pleistocene megafauna of the Americas that drew humans out of Siberia in the first place. Across most of the American West thirteen thousand years ago, it was possible for Clovis people to do what so many humans loved to do, specialize economically, and what they appeared to have wanted to specialize in was hunting big animals, especially elephants, the various species of mammoths that had evolved in America when they could. It was the discovery of large Clovis spear points embedded in the remains of mammoths, giant groundsloss, camels, and horses that rocked the world in the nineteen thirties. It confirmed something the famed fulsome Side found fewer than ten years earlier, had indicated that what many thought was a brand new American story actually was a very very ancient one, with people hunting giant creatures so far back in time, these animals were no longer even found on earth. Walking along Blackwater Draws set into these vast plains that March afternoon, the obvious observation to make was that the elephant hunt did not last. Twenty eight of those mammoths died at human hands in this spot. Except for an isolated pot population on a tiny island in the Burying Sea, all the species of American mammoths went extinct during Clovis times. Then, in the early nineteen seventies, archaeologists uncovered more than eight thousand artifacts at Blackwater draw from the Fulsome culture. The people who followed the Clovis people. In time, as indicated by the Fulsome site and many others like it across the West, the extinction of the elephants had led the next inhabitants of the interior West, especially on the high plains, to specialize and yet another of the great Pleascetocene species, a massive early bison, now called bison antiquis. But like the mammos in time, Bison antiquis was also faded to become extinct. While Fulsome culture and its spent offs perfected bison drives, corrals and at adle technology to enable them to survive some two thousand years around roughly eleven thousand years ago, this LifeWay too collapsed. Looking around us at these windy, usually brightly lit savannahs now bereft of both elephants and giant bison, but populated in the present by oil wells and monocrop agriculture, led Steven and me to commence some reconstruction of the big patterns in the deep time history of this place, track any part of the world across the large expanses of time since humans arrived, and a story begins to unfold that demonstrates a set of principles about history. First, because the grand forces mean that the Earth is an evolving and endlessly changing world. No place remains the same across big history. The science of ecology once waxed eloquent about climax the biophysical reality of natural environments if left undisturbed supposedly, but every environment is endlessly undergoing disturbance or recovery from it, so that what appears to be climaxes are merely snapshots in time changing as we look, is in fact the normal state of the world. Second, we human beings, like every other species, alter the places where we live. The famous geographer Ye Thutwan once composed a simple and elegant aphorism I long ago committed a memory. Space plus culture equals place. Space plus culture equals place. What do you meant was take natural settings, add in human economies and technologies and ideas about living, and what you get are places. Yet the truth about life in a given place is that the past of a place never remains in the past. Only the first human inhabitants to occupy a piece of ground get to interact with an unaltered space. This is the biological principle that drove the human migrations out of Africa and around the world. The search for places other humans haven't yet altered remains a part of our psychological makeup. It's why we love to find ourselves on a trail where no one is in front of us, or on an overlook with no houses or other humans in sight. It's why wilderness is so important to us. As for inhabiting places, since we succeed one another in place after place, we human inhabitants end up interacting not with pristine environments, but with settings that have already been changed by the people who have occupied the ground before us. Does the folsome people did in the wake of four hundred years of Clovis inhabitation of the high planes, all of us who come later are engaging with someone else's previously created place. Henry David Threaux's famous passage about wishing to know an entire heaven and an entire Earth included a line where he hoped some demi god, as he put it, hadn't preceded him and plucked from the heavens the best of the stars. Unfortunately for the natural world, that's often the narrative of human history. Someone else has already been there. The real question usually has to do with which of the best stars got erased and which few survived. What I want to do with this episode is to lay out what Stephen and I dropped into that day on the High Plains, the general patterns of thirteen thousand years of human conversion of space to place and then place into another place. And in honor of that day at Blackwater Draw, I think the best way to do this is to concentrate on that country. The country we were visiting then. The High Plains is one example of what seems to have happened in every place we live in the West. So I mean to provide the outlines of the big history. The French who study this in Europe call it La Longueiray in a region now divided by state lines, and that today we tend to think of as New Mexico or Texas, or Oklahoma or Colorado or Kansas. Yet like most regions, the High Plains has long been something real and discernible in and of itself. Whether we call it Kansas or Colorado, the High Plains have been shaped fairly uniformly by the grand forces of the planet and by an American story that has given it a regional art through time. Here's one insight for thinking about things like this. There's a theory about human settlement in place, assembled as a kind of convergence of history, geography, and ecology, and it's sometimes called the theory of possibilism. An eccentric Kansas professor of ecological history named James Malin back in the nineteen thirties brainstormed that bioregional environments like the High Planes do not actually determine how people live in them. Instead, they offer up a range of possibilities from which we choose based on our cultural preparation, what we recognize as potential resources, and our technological abilities. A region like the High Planes doesn't offer unlimited possibilities, though whaling or an economy based on processing timber doesn't fall within the range of lifeways here yet on this as if sunlit grassland, whose offerings might seem quite limited, There's been a wide range of possibilities for human life from Clovis times to the present. As is the case with every region of Earth, the geology, topography, climate, and ecology of the West High Plains have been the fundamental keys to human life here. Generally, this region's surface geology is a sedimentary outwash from the Rocky Mountains that buried ancient carboniferous life forms from the Permian, Triassic, and in a few spots the Jurassic periods. The overlying erosional wash from the mountains also buried very old mountain stream runoff in the form of a fossil underground lake we now call the Oblalla aquifer As an erosional apron of the Rockies. The plain's surface gradually slopes downward in elevation from west to east, so despite its appearance to the eye, the topography is not actually flat. Long before Clovis hunters arrived, rivers like the Arkansas, the Cimarron, Canadian, and Pecos had carved arroyo and canyonated channels across this high plane surface. On its easternmost edge, that outwashed surface presents as a sharp plateau, the cap Rock Escarpment. For the last million years, another set of rivers borne on the plateau itself, the Red Brazos and Colorado River of Texas, have spilled off the escarpment through deep, brightly colored canyons that expose the underlying Permian and Triassic rocks. Pelloduro Canyon, which I've mentioned a few times here lately in Texas's Panhandled is the most well known, but dozens of smaller million year old canyons run water off this giant plateau. While geology and topography have remained fairly constant since humans came to live here, climate and biology have changed greatly, and often Because the region is far inland from the Gulf of Mexico and the Southern Rockies intercept much of the moisture coming from the Pacific, The High Plains has a semi arid climate since Clovis times. It's been drier than the country on either side of it, typically bathed in three hundred and twenty annual days of sunshine and vigorously wind swept, but its climate has always been truly variable over time, sometimes producing cool, lush conditions, but there are always drought episodes and raging dust storms. One major dry period since humans have been in America, the so called Alta thermal prevailed for thousands of years on the High Plains. This kind of topograph and this kind of climate have made the High Planes a short grass and mid height grassland for most of human history, and that's important to this story. The energy that drives most terrestrial systems comes directly from the sun, and sunny, semi arid grasslands are a very direct converter of solar energy into forms that other life can use. In one simple step of photosynthesis, thermodynamic energy streaming from the sun is directly available to animals that eat grass, then to other animals that eat the grass eaters. So when early humans came to the high planes, they found biological life centered on the conversion of this massive solar energy charge had produced a remarkable and diverse world of different life forms. Those life forms, elephants and bison, and their wide array of predators, became the first possible basis of human high planes and habitation. One other element influenced the range of possibilities on the high planes geographical connections. As social animals, we humans seek out contacts with other human groups. If those groups live in environments different from ours. We trade what we produce for things we lack and they have. Today's global market economy is the modern result, but more limited forms of the idea have always been around. During every part of high plane's history, people joined in economic systems that tied them by trade to people living somewhere else. Quite often, when people are using local nature to provide economic resources for people living in other places, those trade networks act to simplify the natural world. There are plenty of examples to follow. Here is the basic template of history in most of the West, in America and the world on the high Plains from the time of the Clovis elephant hunters. The Fulsome hunters inherited a Clovis place that Clovis culture had changed from its original condition. The place fashioned by the Clovis people no longer offered the possibility of a life based on hunting elephants. In the couple of thousands of years that followed, the Fulsome people and their several offshoots dominated the high planes and concentrated their economies on the remaining animals, particularly herds of giant pleisosne bison. But by nine thousand years ago, the huge Pleistocene bison were also gone, so were ground sloths, camels, horses, dire wolves, American cheetahs. Entire ecologies that humans had found on the high plains had vanished. So the next inhabitants inherited a place pretty drastically altered by two major predecessors. These new people, a collection of slightly different regional cultural groups who are collectively known as the Archaics, would live full, in rich lives across the high plains for the next eight thousand years. To offer a sense of scale that's almost forty times longer than the United States has existed, Archaic peoples were hunter gatherers who devoted far more attention to plant gathering than had their ancestors. But on the windswept, sun drenched high planes grasslands, it was still a grazing animal that converted sunlight most efficiently into energy. Mammoths, camels, and horses had left no successor species, but bison did. With most of its grazing competition eliminated. The modern bison floated in an almost weed like efflorescence, better adapted to the grasslands than even the Archaic people who hunted them. Bison made possible an archaic high planes place that would survive across those eighty centuries. Think of that as we celebrate two and a half centuries of the United States. The archaic high planes place did confront a major climate emergency that demanded an extreme response. About sixty five hundred years ago, climate in the American West cycled into an extremely warm, dry phase that lasted nearly two thousand years. This is the long hot drought climate historians called the Alta thermal. It may be a predictor for our response to global climate change in the West. In our time, the Alta thermal came close to turning the High Planes into a true desert and a vacant one. Not only did bison leave the region for wetter conditions to the east and north, evidence is strong that most of the Archaic peoples did the same. While a few villages of Archaics held on at permanent wetlands like Blackwater Draw and at Lubbock Lake, where springs bubbled the Oglalla aquafor to the surface, pretty much everybody else left. Starting about two thousand years ago, significant change, occurring on both sides of the High Plains began to create a new set of human possibilities. Crop growing as a brand new LifeWay, diffused northward from its invention in Mexico to groups like the Mugga Yawn and the Anasazi of the desert southwest, and to the mound building Mississippian cultures of the Mississippi Valley. When farming societies developed on either side of the High Plains. The opportunity to create new kinds of local places was under way in president New Mexico, just west of the High Plains, corn growing, pottery making, pueblo building societies of great sophistication and far reaching trade networks emerged to cast spheres of influence onto the plains. Only a few hundred years later, agricultural village dwelling Mississippian peoples Caddo and speakers in what is now East Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana also established vibrant societies that began to push up the rivers towards the High Plains, looking for trading partners. That trade took on a tantalizing form. What High Plains people had in profusion were the products of the bison hunt. They had maroon and blue striped flints from a famous quarry called Alibates, beautifully tanned robes, and especially dried protein in abundance. What they had always had in ins dificient supply of was a source of carbohydrates. With agricultural people not far away, both hunters and farmers could overcome their dietary bottlenecks. A form of mutualism for all groups involved luxury and status. Goods like turquoise from the Pueblo mines lubricated that exchange. While these trade items would change over time, immersion into far flung regional trade networks was a new possibility that didn't depend on one's local resources to create place with a more imaginative take on the possibilities now high planes, people pursued life ways of increasing complexity between twelve hundred and fifteen hundred. In fact, a famous experiment on the high planes involved a group called the Antelope Creek people, who tried agricultural towns far out in the heart of the high planes along the Canadian and Republican rivers. Antelope Creek crops, points, pottery, and tools came from both the Eastern and the Western farming traditions. Rather than the hide tepees of the buffalo hunters, these people built rock slab houses of multiple rooms, including one built Acoma style on the top of a butte now called landergen Mesa. The architecture seemed to be based on the Pueblo model from two hundred and fifty miles farther west. Ideas from multiple cultures had made the act of creating place on the high plains more imaginative than it had ever been. Crop growing, though, is a strategy to extract solar energy directly, but plants need moisture too, and the Antelope Creek people ultimately couldn't sustain farming on the high plains with the moisture that fell from the sky. Drought finally caused them to abandon their experiment. Other groups Catto and speakers like the Wichitas and Pawnees and sue and speakers like the O Sages and Mandans, would later push farming villages part way up the plains rivers, but it required a new technology in the twentieth century before anyone else would try to create farming places as far out on the high plains as the Antelope Creek people had six hundred years earlier. When Old worlders arrived on the scene and founded places like Santa Fe, Nacotish, New Orleans, and Saint Louis, radically new possibilities opened up on the high plains. Two developments, domesticated animals from Europe and the bottomless trade lusts of a truly global market, created dramatic new possibilities out on the grasslands. One of the animals was an old American native. The horse returned to America, it underwent a stunning ecological release. It took less than a century for new dominant horse riders, the Comanches, the Cheyennes, the Kiowas to merge this animal with the bison of antiquity to create a new LifeWay and a new place in the global market. Trade economy for the high planes horse and bison more than doubled the human capture of solar energy streaming into the grasslands. These horse riders built on old trade networks to exchange bison products, both for crops from farmers and now for European industrial goods. But the Comanches at least still saw the solar connection. They made the sun their primary object of religious veneration, and visitors to their vi villa said that in the mornings, the Comanches would hang their shields in full view of the sun and rotate them throughout the day like a field of leather sunflowers, absorbing sun power. Of course, high plane settlement and the creation of place didn't end here. The people who now came to the region had old World cultures that benefited from ideas and technology from across the globe, bison and even grass would not survive them. Once their global market economy entirely obliterated bison for a period of well over a decade, new Mexicans from west to the Plains directed new grazing animals, in their case enormous flocks of sheep, onto the now strangely silent high planes grasslands. This Old World animal introduction began the alteration of high plains ecology by weakening the grass cover and introducing invasive weed species like tumbleweeds. Then Texans and other Americans from Old World backgrounds poured in from the east and populated the high plains with cattle and ranches. Their animus at many of the remaining wild species eliminated wolves that high plains ancient keystone predator. They poisoned paride dogs and blackfooted ferrets out of existence. They even waged a war of annihilation on coyotes and eagles. By the early twentieth century, with deep drilling available to them to tap underground resources, these new arrivals discovered the fossilized solar energy of the High Plains, carbon wealth in the Permian and other formations buried underfoot. This was a possibility for creating place that was entirely invisible and unimagined to all previous inhabitants. Now it organized the ancient rim of the elephant and the thousands of years of bison into a kind of landman place of oily trash line roads and mechanical nodding oil field pumpjacks. The high plains, especially the Texas and New Mexico parks, is still such a place, but there's competition now. Optimistic Americans became the first to try to farm the high planes, since the Antelope Creek people had failed. They began by committing a kind of ecological sacrilege. They plowed under the ancient grasslands that had been so effective at converting sunlight to useful energy. That looked like a tragic mistake initially when a de grassed high plane's hit by drought collapse into the dust bowl, the most epic disaster and human out migration in Western history. Nonetheless, the early nineteen forties produced a new technological miracle, v eight automobile engines strong enough to pump water up out of the vast Oglalla aquifer for making the high planes into a cotton empire. Today, oil field pump jacks and cotton to the horizons. Get some visual relief with the glinting, spinning propellers of don Quixote like wind farms. But you suspect that sucking up fossil carbon and drawing on a shrinking underground lake to grow cotton are experiments in place building that will have barely half the lifespan of Clovis culture itself. The briefest High Planes human episodes so far maybe half the lifespan. So if the present version of place on the high Plains is your thing, all I can say is best celebrated while you can working through all. This was pretty much how the conversation went as Steven and I drove back to Santa Fe from our visit to Blackwater Draw. Sure everywhere in America has experienced this kind of sequence of human places superimposed on natural landscapes and previous human places. But somehow, amid the pump jacks and the flared natural gas, the center pivot irrigation, and the wind farms, the obliteration of original nature from elephants to what's here now seems like a fairy tale that's almost not believable. In most American regions, The previous inhabitants altered the world, often repeatedly, but usually they handed down some semblance of original nature. On the high Plains today, you have to look hard to find tiny pieces of ground where any part of that original high plains grasslands to the horizons still exists. The best preserved pieces on the high Plains today are its canyon lands and breaks country that was just too rugged to remake. It's intriguing to look at this place now and imagine the stories through time that brought us to this point. It's also a frustrating reality check attempting here. What American Prairie is trying in Montana are the Southern Plains Land Trust is doing in Colorado. Buying up ranches, tearing down fences, and restoring their parts of the modern High Plains to some semblance of its various pasts is probably as difficult on the Southern High Plains as it is anywhere in America. Given all the destruction and infrastructure of modern place building, I and areas, ever pull off large scale twenty first century rewilding projects here, it will no doubt be one of the epic conservation accomplishments of modern American history. 00:35:18 Speaker 2: So, Dan, this this script covers a lot of ground, and I'll begin it where you do with Clovist and Folsome people. And I guess the first question I wanted to ask is, you know, you grow up and you sort of think of, oh, there were cave people and then there was civilization, right, And there's this long, you know, oversimplification that I think is still pretty prevalent in our culture of thinking of cave people and civilization. But as you point out, there's there are these entire civilizations that have their own technology, their own culture, and so I wonder it's something that's become very fascinating to me. But I wonder what it is that you get out of thinking about these cultures or these people as their own societies, right, like thinking instead of just looking at this broad spance of time as people were kind of hunter gatherers. But what you drill down here into the differences between Clovis and Folsome and those who came after. And I sort of wonder what it is if you were trying to convince someone of the utility of thinking about these groups in such specific terms, what that might be. 00:36:37 Speaker 1: Well, I think, to me, what an exercise like this one is all about, and Steven and I did as we were driving back from visiting that Clovis site. It's been twenty years or so ago when we did this. I mean, this was kind of what we were trying to assemble. Okay, how do you get from elephant hunters thirteen thousand years ago to a landscape that's dominated by cotton fields and oil feel pumpjacks and what falls in between to make that possible? So, I think part of the appeal of something like this to me, and one could do this by the way. I mean, this is just an example that applies to the the Southern high Plains, but you could do this to just about any landscape around the world. And what it does, it seems to me, is it applies a kind of a context to who we are. We are beads on a string, and that string extends a very, very long way back into the past. As I mentioned in the script with respect to this particular story, I mean for the archaics, and they're just one out of several groups that obviously occupy this same ground. I mean, they are on the ground eighty times longer than the United States has existed in that same part of the world, and I think a lot of Americans we tend to be obviously dominated by thoughts about our own lives and about the present. I mean, we go through our lives in many cases sort of unaware, not thinking about the fact that we're a bed on this very very long string, and that string goes back in fascinating ways into the past. And probably the most important thing that you could take from this is and clearly I borrowed that aphorism from Yefuchwan, the famous geographer who came up with the idea of how you create human places on the landscape. Space plus culture equals place, he said, And part of that understanding then enables you to realize that the space that we occupy now, the places that we've created on the space of a place like Montana, SA or West Texas or eastern New Mexico, those places have been changed by previous inhabitants multiple times over the past. And so part of the I mean, the two kind of models that I try to present here for people to think about this sort of big history is Yefu Twan's place or space plus culture equals place. And then the other idea, of course, is this idea of possiblism, which takes Yefu Twan's idea and tries to make you understand that every group that comes to a particular landscape brings a different way of looking at it, and they're able to create a place based on their abilities, their cultural abilities, their ideas, their technology. And so this particular spot on the ground, how do you get from elephants to oil wells is a kind of a good example I think of how that works, not just in this spot, but probably across most of the world. And you know, to answer your question why does one do this, I think it provides you with some sort of context about the spot you occupy in this large progression of history. 00:40:36 Speaker 2: And one element of that, especially when you talk about transitions between cultures in this long sweeping history, is environmental collapse. 00:40:48 Speaker 1: Yeah, and I. 00:40:50 Speaker 2: Think if you were to just throw out that word to someone on the street, that's something that's in the future, and it's sort of this large long declension narrative where we're still on our way towards that. It hasn't happened yet. But if you look into deep time, I mean, you don't even have to go that deep really in North America, or Central America. There are these examples again and again of societies that suffered environmental collapse and catastrophe. 00:41:21 Speaker 1: Well, I mean, that's the explanation, for example, for why the Clovis culture comes to an end. These are people who specialize. I mean they did other things too, but they seem to have been something of specialists of a specialist economy based on elephant hunting, on hunting mammos, and when the mammoths were gone, that particular culture was no longer viable. So there was one early environmental collapse that dates back to something like twelve thousand years ago. And then they're followed by the clove or the folsome people who have another specialty, which is on these large plesss in bison. And after a couple of thousand years, those animals are gone too, and you have another collapse. And so this story, if you track through it and think in the terms that you just presented for us, is actually a sequence of collapses. Sometimes they're supplied internally and sometimes they're supplied from external forces, which is probably what happened, for example, to the bison and the collapse of the bison economy that people had relied on for so many thousands of years. But nonetheless that's another instance of an environmental collapse. That means that you have to try something else. You've got to come up with another strategy. And towards the end of this script, I tried fairly quickly to describe following the collapse of bison what you get as a period, and it is a fairly brief one when sheep herders from the Southwest will come to this landscape and for about fifteen or twenty or thirty years they'll herd sheep across the country, and then they're going to be pushed back into New Mexico by essentially Anglo Americans moving out from Texas who bring cattle, and so there's yet a ranching, a second kind of agricultural place building on the part of those Anglo Americans, and they're essentially ranchers, and of course they have their own way of changing the landscape and creating a new place, and one of those is by getting rid of wolves and mountain lions and coyotes and prairie dog towns and on and on, eagles and so forth. So if you look at this from the kind of big perspective, you not only see these environmental collapses that lead to the next step and people reimagining how one lives on a landscape like this. But you get a good sense, I think particularly you get a good sense when you reach each the present that all these people who have lived on this particular landscape in the past have altered it in ways that create a different world for those of us who are alive now. I mean, you go down to the southern high plains. Now you don't see wolves, you don't see bison, you don't see mammoths, you don't see in fact, in many places grasslands remaining that produced so much solar energy for all these early cultures. What you instead see is a world that has been transformed for the modern global economy. It's been turned into cotton fields and pumping units. 00:44:44 Speaker 2: And you sort of bring this point up throughout the script that one of the ways in which environmental historians look at the past and analyze, you know, a given sis society is how they utilize energy. Yeah, and you talk about because Elliott West, I think in the in the Contested Planes, Elliott West, he spends a few pages describing this this cycle of energy from the sun, and this is where as organisms we you know, that's what that's what sort of allows humanity to flourish in places, is their ability to utilize energy from the natural world, and you bring that up to the presence. So I wonder if you could sort of talk about why, why why environmental historians are interested in these questions and sort of how it what insights it offers. As far as the great planes. 00:45:40 Speaker 1: Well, with the great planes, clearly, I mean what you had was a world that was propelled by solar energy, and it was a fairly direct translation of the energy from the sun into plants via photosynthesis, producing grasses that were eaten by grazing animal and then of course predators and humans do play the role of predators in these early economies, are able to eat the animals that eat grass. So we're interested in this kind of thing throughout history because societies of every kind, ecologies of every kind have to run on energy of some form, and solar energy is the most widely used, particularly has been up until the last few hundred years of human existence. I mean, we've relied on places that produce a lot of solar energy. So grasslands in the past were really wonderful spots for humans, and it's probably no accident that that's the kind of country that we evolved into consciousness in. We were drawn out of forest into grasslands in Africa because those grasslands were producing a kind of a direct translation of solar energy into the kind of energy that we could use, into the sort of food sources that we could use. And historians, i think have been intrigued by this because we've realized that over the past several generations of human history, we've moved away from this sort of direct application of solar power into the use of in the modern world. Of course, it's been driven largely by fossil solar power, by the kinds of power that one is able to translate from these buried ancient sources of energy of carbon that we began tapping into with the Great Industrial Revolution that used coal, and now, of course oil is our primary source of fossil fuel. And so that story, I mean is really visible in the out of the southern high plains. And it's interesting to me that the grassland solar direct solar powered phase of this story occupies a much larger piece of time than the fossil fuel story. The fossil fuel story in this part of the world only dates to about nineteen hundred and so it's little more than a century old. On the other hand, you go back thirteen thousand years with lifestyles based primarily on solar energy. So it's kind of another one of those fascinating things to think about, and that's probably why histories have spent a lot of time with it. 00:48:48 Speaker 2: One last question, because you mentioned it in your previous answer. But when a lot of people think of grasslands, they think of a big empty right, Yeah, but you raised the point in this article that it's one of our most threatened landscapes. It's one of our most threatened habitats. There's only a few chunks here and there that exist as as they were, and it's still shrinking. So I wonder if you can just speak to appreciation for grasslands as a Western landscape and in sort of the current state of our grasslands. 00:49:26 Speaker 1: Yeah, that's that's a good observation, to be sure, because I mean, grasslands are one of the most threatened ecosystems all around the world, not just in the United States, and what happened to our grasslands and of course our grand We have grasslands in many parts of North America. But the vast grasslands of the Great Plains, that five hundred miles basically west of the Mississippi River up to the foothills of the Rockies was the that was the great Bison Belt. That was sort of the version of an American Serengetti with all these diverse animals, and it was a part of the West. And I'll talk about this in one of the future episodes. It was a part of the West that unlike the Rockies, unlike the Colorado Plateau, unlike the rainforest of the Pacific Coast, that didn't get much public land. Most of the Great Plains, because it seemed to be easily plowed up and easily homesteaded, ended up being privatized. And that privatization, I mean, it's obviously one of the great legends and stories of the American West, the homesteading story. But that homesteading story basically destroyed a lot of the Western ecology of the grasslands. And so the grasslands ended up many of them being plowed, being infested with weeds by the introduction of domestic animals from other parts of the world and hay from other parts of the world, and as a result, we've struggled in our own time to try to recreate some facsimile of what our great grasslands once were. I mean, that's what American Prairie in Central Montana, I think, is trying to do. They're trying to once again focus on the grasslands in this wonderful Serengetti country we once had, and also trying to reintroduce some of the animals that were lost from it. So it's one of the great I think losses and in some respects kind of historical mistakes of the frontier of the American West, that so much of that country was torn up and destroyed. I mean, I talked a little about the dust Bowl in this particular episode, and I'll talk about it more later, but it of course is the greatest environ our mental tragedy in the history of the American West, and it takes place in this kind of landscape. 00:52:05 Speaker 2: Well, Dan, appreciate it. 00:52:07 Speaker 1: Thank you, Antal. Thanks