Grizzlies on the Prairie: A Return, Not an Invasion
Native wildlife is returning to its rightful range in Montana—and it’s up to us to adapt.
On the rolling grasslands of north-central Montana, grizzly bears are coming home.
Once common across the Great Plains, grizzlies were driven into the mountains by a campaign of extermination that lasted more than a century. Bounties, traps, rifles, and poisons cleared the Great Bear from tens of millions of acres. By the 1970s, fewer than 200 grizzlies remained in the contiguous United States, confined geographically to a few pockets of wilderness. Today, thanks to the Endangered Species Act and decades of federal protection, these bears are beginning to do what wild animals do when given half a chance: survive, adapt, and disperse into previously occupied habitat. .
A Cowboy State Daily story published July 4, 2025, depicts the unease in Montana towns as grizzlies range eastward from the mountains into prairie country. It chronicles close calls, livestock depredation, and the mixed feelings of residents. But the real story isn’t about bears “invading.” It’s about what it means—for people, predators, and land use—when native wildlife tries to reclaim habitat that was stolen from them.
The Prairie is Grizzly Country
Despite modern myths, the prairie is not—and never was—cow country. It’s grizzly country, wolf country, buffalo country, sage grouse country. Long before fences and feedlots carved up the northern plains, grizzly bears roamed from California’s Central Valley to the Mississippi River. They dug roots, turned over carcasses, and shaped ecosystems as apex scavengers and omnivores. Their disappearance, like the extermination of wolves and bison, like the genocide of Native Americans, was a prerequisite for colonization—not an accident of history.
So it’s no surprise that grizzlies are now returning to lower elevations. It’s where the food is. As the recent article notes, bears follow seasonal cycles: fawns in the spring, berries in the fall, carrion year-round. They use cover wisely and learn to avoid conflict when possible. Their occupation of prairie isn’t an anomaly—it’s an ancestral home.
What is anomalous is the vast sprawl of subsidized livestock operations that dominate the West’s public and private lands. Montana alone has more than 2.1 million cattle, many of which are grazing on lands leased from the federal government for as little as $1.35 per cow/calf pair per month. These domestic animals push native species aside, degrade watersheds, spread invasive species like cheatgrass, and invite conflict with carnivores. And when that conflict comes, it’s the wildlife—not the cows—that are marked for removal.
Coexistence Isn’t a Burden—It’s a Responsibility
In the story, residents express frustration and fear—and those feelings are valid. No one wants to lose animals or wonder if a bear is lurking near the swing set. But grizzlies are not the problem. The problem is a political and cultural system that has never seriously invested in coexistence.
It’s encouraging to hear that Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks (FWP) compensated a local family for a lost pig and helped fund electric fencing. Those are the kinds of measures that work. Science shows that electric fencing, range riders, bear-proof garbage systems, and proactive herd management are far more effective than killing bears after the fact. But these tools are underused, underfunded, and undercut by the very industries that claim to want solutions.
The livestock lobby wants it both ways: full reimbursement when a calf is lost, full immunity when their operations degrade habitat, and full control over public lands. Under the new federal law signed July 4, 2025—dubbed the “Big Betrayal Bill”—ranchers will now receive 100% reimbursement for losses to predators like grizzlies and wolves, even as the law strips protections for wildlife and expands extractive industry access across millions of acres.
Who’s Really Being Asked to Adapt?
When ranchers say they “weren’t prepared” for predators, what they’re really saying is they’ve grown accustomed to a distorted landscape—one where wild animals are pushed to the margins, and profit takes precedence over ecology. Grizzlies returning to the prairie aren’t a crisis. They’re a test: Can we live with the wild, or will we once again try to kill our way out of inconvenience?
Coexistence means supporting communities with the tools and resources they need—but also reforming the economic and political systems that prop up destructive land uses. It means challenging the myth that livestock have a sacred right to occupy every acre of the American West. And it means honoring the idea that grizzly bears, no less than humans, deserve room to raise their young, search for food, and walk ancient paths.
In the words of one of the Montana residents quoted in the story: “Grizzlies are reclaiming their natural territory, and we’re willing to try living alongside them.”
That’s a future worth fighting for.
Grace Kuhn is the Digital Director for Western Watersheds Project. grace@westernwatersheds.org
Fantastic - Unfortunately for them they will be shot by guys "out mushroom hunting" or ranchers. Or shot and never known about - SSS.
Well I don't want to ignite a firestorm and alienate 95% of the readers here but I will go ahead and do just that. Out front: I fear and hate bears. Any bears, but especially grizzlies. I have had up-close-and-personal experiences with bears on remote backcountry trails and don't possess any romanticized " they're the spirit of the wilderness" or "let's all coexist" notions about them. They are savage predators who think nothing of dis-articulating their victims and eating them while they are still alive and that means humans too. My sympathies are with the ranchers. The NPS treats grizzlies with exaggerated courtesy and builds trails into grizzly country but denies to hikers the means to safely travel them. Anyone solo hiker who travels the grizzly country trails in the northern Rockies knows the fear seeing a bear paw print can invoke.