DON’T MISS THIS CATASTIC TIME. But, seriously, more than cats, it will be wonderful.
nonfiction mfa’er Katie Flagg explores the difficulties facing wyoming’s aspiring ranchers in her story for wyoming public radio. according to ms. Flagg:
“the news director told me that at times it sounds like everyone in my story is going to die. Apparently I have to work on making my ‘public radio voice’ a bit happier…”
Kathryn “Katie” Flagg is co-founder of YONTA, a new journal that focuses on art and science and the art of science. first issue due out this summer.
recent graduate of the mfa program in creative writing, nonfiction author Emilene Ostlind was awarded UW’s Outstanding Thesis award for 2011. we asked the ever-lovely Emilene to share some of her work with us, so we could share it with the royal you. included here for your reading pleasure is the abstract, and an excerpt from her thesis. and yes, as a matter of fact, it is outstanding.
“I came to think of the migrations as breath, as the land breathing. In spring a great inhalation of light and animals. The long-bated breath of summer. And an exhalation that propelled them all south in the fall.”
—Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams 1986
The pronghorn antelope that summer in Grand Teton National Park undertake one of the longest recorded land animal migrations in the western hemisphere. Each fall, they begin their journey south by gathering into groups of a half dozen to sixty or more animals and following the Gros Ventre River upstream into the mountains. Biologists, using global positioning system collars, mapped their route in 2003, but no one had seen the migration take place or documented it on the ground. Before winter, the antelope travel 170 miles to reach their winter range in the Red Desert.
An archaeological dig in the migration corridor revealed 7,000-year-old pronghorn skeletons with fetal bones inside, indicating that pronghorn have been following this very migration route between winter range and fawning grounds for millennia. Around the world, long-distance migrations are disappearing due to infrastructure blocking the animals’ corridors, habitat destruction, climate change and other factors, but in Wyoming these unlikely creatures persist in their journey. The GPS waypoints show the animals crossing a 9,000-foot mountain pass, four major rivers, a busy highway, innumerable fences and subdivisions and two natural gas drilling fields. When I learned of the western Wyoming pronghorn migration, I was compelled to follow the animals on foot and try to understand how they were able to continue following this historic pathway in the face of so many obstacles.
I joined wildlife photographer Joe Riis and we spent two and a half years exploring the pronghorn migration corridor on the ground. Migration is a nonfiction book based largely on journal entries from four backpacking trips through the migration corridor. It paints the story of the migration by documenting encounters with deep snow, icy spring runoff, barbed wire fences and long dark nights in the mountains. By telling the story of both the pronghorn journey and my own migration back home to Wyoming from Washington, DC, the book also explores how wild animals enrich our lives and teach us about ourselves. The antelope helped me understand the seasonal rhythm of my home landscape and why I’d felt so compelled to return home.
A June day in Antelope Flats, Grand Teton National Park, northwest Wyoming. I wear a gray and purple knitted hat and a green down jacket, sit cross-legged, my back against the bleached trunk of a fallen cottonwood. The trunk is polished smooth by the bison who come here to scratch their wooly necks against it. I am facing north. A wind carries cold air from the alpine passes of the Teton Mountains. I hold perfectly still.
Two antelope have seen me, but don’t know what I am. They emerged from a draw not long after I sat down. Both are bucks, one larger than the other, and they move slowly, stopping to bite mouthfuls of leaves or to nudge one another with their horns.
Minute by minute they wander closer, watching me sideways. I try to still my heartbeat. They come within five meters. When they bite the sagebrush leaves, I hear their teeth snap together, the grinding as they chew. I can see each golden hair aligned vertically on their thin legs. They come still closer, walking deliberately across the patch of bare ground directly in front of me. The horns of the larger one are a rich black, curling to a sharp point. I hear the breath in their nostrils, smell their animal warmth.
As they pass they turn to look back. The smaller one pushes his face against his companion’s neck and, with an air of drama they click their horns against one another. Then they wander away and out of sight. My hands are shaking.This is the story of how the three of us arrived here, of our migrations, and the tug of the land on bodies drawing us from one place to another, the pathways we follow.
Emilene Ostlind was raised in the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming. After a year working as assistant to the natural history photo editor at National Geographic magazine in Washington, DC, Emilene came back out West for her graduate studies at the University of Wyoming. She earned her MFA in creative nonfiction writing and Environment and Natural Resources in the Spring of 2010. She currently writes for High Country News, a news magazine covering environment, culture and natural resources in the American West.
“As a teenager, University of Wyoming creative-writing professor Brad Watson tested his talents in Hollywood. He wound up as a garbage man.”
in smokeless tobacco use.
we were slightly bemused to see this headline in the laramie boomerang. in the reader comments section online, the debate rages on:
banned wrote on Feb 25, 2011 7:59 AM:
“This is a nasty habit and should be banned on college campuses. It is disgusting to sit next to someone spitting into a cup or trashcan all semester.”
To banned… wrote on Feb 25, 2011 10:59 AM:
“Just because you deem a habit to be ‘disgusting’ doesn’t give you the right to prevent other adults from making the choice to engage in said habit. To me, self-satisfied, smug, superior manner-police calling to ban everything they don’t like is “disgusting,” but here you are with your right to comment. Quit trying to Big Brother everyone else and let adults do what they will with themselves, so long as they’re prepared to suffer the consequences. ”
since many of us teach intro to composition here at the university, and one of the readings we assign our students discusses the concept of Big (and little) Brothers in the Orwellian sense of the phrase, we cannot help but think: maybe we are reaching them. we are giving them the tools necessary in life to fight for the causes in which they truly and passionately believe.
Rebecca Solnit, a visiting writer from San Francisco [is] currently working with students at the University of Wyoming to make an untraditional atlas of Laramie. The product will be a unique perspective of the city that, Solnit hopes, will make people see and explore their own home through new eyes. Wyoming Public Radio’s Irina Zhorov reports.
Feel like pickin’s are slim in your town? Take a weekend getaway to a city where men outnumber women. Check out the map for the top 10 places where odds are in your favor. Bonus: Research shows that guys are more eager to put a ring on it in locales where women are scarce.
there’s much that could be said. but we’ll let the Bonus speak for itself.
our last first//friday@secondstory until the spring semester, friday night’s event was pretty fucking rad. perhaps it was the poetry of kate northrop, or the music of rob joyce, or all that talk about evil knievel and parasites courtesy of kelly herbinson. or maybe it was the fresh, soft-wood aroma emanating from the flooring stacked in the corner of the bookstore (still under construction as it is converted to a coffeeshop). despite the fact that there were so many memorable moments, one thing we did not remember was the department camera — so we’ve pieced together a collage of friday’s event from camera phones and fbook for your viewing pleasure.