Montana
As Montana's Grizzly Population Grows, Bear Managers Grapple with Conflict Conundrum – Flathead Beacon
When a Swan Valley landowner shot a grizzly bear on June 4 after it threatened his livestock and charged him on his property near Condon, he had no way of knowing that wildlife managers captured the same bear weeks earlier for killing sheep near Potomac, about an hour away. That’s set to change under new legislation requiring the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks (FWP) to notify county officials within 24 hours of relocating a grizzly bear, and to publish those details publicly to an online dashboard.
The implementation of the new law occurs as FWP expands its inventory of more than 400 approved grizzly relocation sites in Montana. It also coincides with a spate of recent self-defense shootings involving people and bears, shedding new light on the criteria state and federal wildlife managers employ when evaluating whether to relocate problem bears. And because the policies are evolving on a landscape that supports a population of grizzlies federally protected under the Endangered Species Act, it’s all governed by a complicated jurisdictional matrix that prescribes competing state and federal management protocol and recovery plans.
Since grizzly bears are listed as threatened by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS), the federal agency has final authority to approve all relocations and lethal removals, as well as to conduct investigations. But FWP is responsible for responding to conflict calls and determining a bear’s eligibility for relocation, and it is beholden to rules adopted by the Montana Fish and Wildlife Commission, as well as laws enacted by the Montana Legislature. Those statutes include Senate Bill 337, which lawmakers passed in 2021 requiring FWP to have all grizzly bear release sites pre-approved by the Commission. The law also prohibits FWP from relocating a conflict grizzly bear captured outside of a designated recovery zone, even as it recognizes that FWS still has the ultimate authority to relocate conflict bears inside or outside of the recovery zones.
In the recent case involving the dead bear in the Swan Valley, for example, state officials in mid-May captured the 2-year-old male grizzly after it was killing sheep on private land just outside of the Northern Continental Divide Ecosystem’s designated recovery zone boundaries. Although FWP officials said the state does not typically relocate grizzly bears that have killed livestock, in this case the agency determined the bear should get a second chance.
FWP equipped the sheep-killing grizzly with a radio collar and recommended that FWS release it at a state-approved relocation site in a remote drainage of the Mission Mountains north of Seeley Lake. Roughly two weeks later, the bear was killed after it threatened livestock and charged the Condon-area landowner.
Following the incident, FWP Director Christy Clark, who previously headed the Montana Department of Agriculture and brings a livestock-production perspective to the wildlife management agency she now oversees, said multiple factors have prompted FWP to reconsider its philosophy when it comes to grizzly bear management, including its policy of relocating conflict bears.
“As the grizzly bear species continues to grow and expand, FWP’s long historied relocation efforts become less and less fitting to the circumstance on the ground,” Clark said in a statement to the Beacon. “More than ever, this once routine tool of relocating conflict bears is becoming an ineffective management response.”
In a separate incident that occurred one week later, more than 250 miles northeast of the Swan Valley, another landowner shot and killed a grizzly bear outside his residence in the Bear Paw Mountains, an island range that rises out of the prairie south of Havre. It was the fourth self-defense case involving a dead grizzly bear in Montana in two months, with “defense of life” mortalities representing half of all documented grizzly bear deaths in Montana so far this year.
The male grizzly bear in the incident near the Bear Paw Mountains didn’t have a recorded history of conflict and hadn’t been relocated; indeed, it marked the region’s first documented death of a grizzly bear at the hands of a landowner in a part of the state where sightings are extremely unusual. But the spate of self-defense shootings illustrates a broader point that livestock producers and other conflict-prone stakeholders have been raising for years — as the grizzly bear population grows and expands beyond the contours of designated recovery zones, there’s going to be more conflict on the landscape, and less tolerance for non-lethal management actions such as relocation.
Even so, on June 19, FWP asked the Fish and Wildlife Commission to approve additions to its list of approved grizzly bear relocation sites, a move that Clark said was aimed at giving the agency more flexibility in determining appropriate sites for conflict bears, not because it intends to increase its relocations.
“Like lethal removal, relocation is now and has long been an option available for potential implementation, if circumstances warrant,” Clark said. “Increased number of relocation sites does not necessarily speak to more or less relocations. It does however represent more sites to consider if relocation is the selected management response.”
During his June 19 presentation to the Fish and Wildlife Commission, FWP Wildlife Administrator Ken McDonald said “typically if we have a bear that is involved in a livestock depredation we don’t relocate it.”
“Fish and Wildlife Service has that option but we typically don’t, and if they get a food reward they are less likely to be relocated than if they hadn’t gotten into that kind of trouble,” McDonald said, describing the division of labor between the two agencies as fairly even, with relocations concentrated in FWP’s Region 1, which encompasses northwest Montana. Since 2009, 84% of grizzly bear relocations have been in Region 1, with 72% occurring in Flathead County.
According to McDonald, there were nine grizzly bear relocations across the state in 2023 — four by FWS and five by FWP — while 2024 saw 29 grizzly bear relocations, including 13 by FWS and 16 by FWP, “mostly in Region 1 where we have the highest density of bears and the greatest potential for relocation.”
After removing one of the relocation sites from the agency’s request due to its proximity to a private landowner, the Montana Wildlife Commission approved the agency’s request for additional site relocations. The full list of more than 400 approved relocation sites expires at the end of next year’s bear-conflict season and will need reauthorization.

For Trina Jo Bradley, a cattle rancher on the Rocky Mountain Front near Valier who served on former Gov. Steve Bullock’s Grizzly Bear Advisory Council in 2020, any bear caught killing livestock should be lethally removed from the population.
“They give too many grizzly bears too many chances,” Bradley said. “They keep getting into trouble, they keep getting into calving pastures and grain bins, and they keep passing along that learned behavior to their cubs.”
As chair of the Montana Stock Growers Association’s (MSGA) Endangered Species Subcommittee, as well as the Montana Conflict Reduction Consortium, Bradley led the charge in 2021 to adopt an official policy recommending “lethal removal of grizzly bears suspected or known to have killed a person or livestock after the first offense.” She also opposed adding “any new relocation sites for conflict grizzly bears anywhere in Montana.”
Despite her concerns surrounding grizzly bear management, Bradley credits FWP for “coming a long way in the last 10 years toward understanding that landowners and livestock producers are an important part of the landscape.”
In the roughly six months since Montana finalized its plan for managing grizzly bears, establishing a blueprint for how it will resolve conflicts between bears and people in preparation for the eventual delisting of the species, Bradley said FWP has demonstrated an increasing degree of sympathy toward landowners, attributing the tonal shift to Clark’s arrival at the helm of an agency that has historically placed the onus of conflict-mitigation on the landowner.
“It definitely helps to have her in office because she’s had a ranch and she lives where the bears live,” Bradley said, referring to Clark.
That change in attitude was evident on May 21, for example, when FWP announced that two mushroom hunters had shot and killed a female grizzly bear north of Choteau after the sow reportedly charged them at close range. The press release included a quote from Clark, who personally spoke to both men by telephone immediately after the incident, referring to them on a first-name basis in her statement.
“I spoke to John and Justin shortly after the incident and they were both still shook up,” Clark stated. “They told me their story and it was clear it was very traumatic. What’s important here is they’re ok.”
The press release included a photo of the men on a cell phone, apparently speaking to Clark, as well as a caption that read: “Hours after their harrowing experience, John and Justin share their story with Director Christy Clark via phone.”
Bradley said it’s a welcome departure for ranchers and farmers who for too long have felt responsible for justifying their use of lethal force against grizzly bears, even as the presence of working lands enriches the landscape, including grizzly bear habitat.
“Working lands like ranches and farms provide important habitat for grizzly bears in the western part of the state,” Bradley said. “They live here because our land is healthy and it keeps the ecosystem intact, and it allows them to disperse further east. We are not the enemy. We’re not just out here shooting bears at random because we want to. We are doing the best we can, and sometimes we have to defend ourselves or our livestock or crops or whatever. Most of us don’t hate grizzly bears; we just want them to be managed in a way that distinguishes between good grizzly bears and bad grizzly bears.”

Grizzly bear advocates, however, say drawing that distinction is complicated, insisting that not every conflict involving a grizzly bear invading a grain bin or harassing livestock should result in its death.
Chris Servheen, who retired in 2016 after working as the FWS grizzly bear recovery coordinator for 35 years, acknowledged that the NCDE population has met the recovery goals he helped write. But as livestock predation and other conflicts with humans increase, so have grizzly mortalities, and management strategies need to evolve in a way that strikes a balance between conflict mitigation and conservation objectives. The state’s current management plan, he said, fails to achieve that.
“The bears live in a mine field of humans and human activities. They’re not out there looking for humans; they run across us and our attractants,” Servheen said. “We are very much a risk for bears, which is why we try to provide opportunities for bears to succeed, because we live in such a risky and human-filled environment.”
FWP relocates grizzly bears for a variety of reasons. In some areas, like the Cabinet-Yaak Ecosystem in northwest Montana, bears are relocated from the Northern Continental Divide Ecosystem to help supplement the population. Bears can be relocated in response to conflict. They can also be relocated preemptively if the potential for conflict is high. Since grizzly bears are listed as threatened by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, that agency has final authority to approve all relocations and lethal removals.
For decades, wildlife managers have followed relocation criteria detailed in the Interagency Grizzly Bear Committee (IGBC) guidelines for conflict responses, which includes preemptive moves and also allows for the capture and relocation of grizzly bears to pre-approved release sites to prevent potential conflict, even those with a conflict history, albeit on a case-by-case basis. That’s what happened in the case of the Condon-area landowner who shot and killed the grizzly bear earlier this month.
But Servheen rejected the notion that the bear’s relocation represented the root of the problem.
“The guy in Condon getting charged by a bear has nothing to do with the relocation,” Servheen said. “Relocated bears don’t get into trouble because they’re relocated, they get into trouble because of what happened beforehand.”
The details of what happened beforehand aren’t entirely clear in the case of the Condon bear, however, nor are those of what happened afterward. That’s due in part to FWP’s tendency of only releasing scant details about a grizzly bear mortality, which Servheen called a missed opportunity for public education and outreach.
“The details of these self-defense killings in particular could be educational for the public,” Servheen said. “It help us learn so much about what happened. Was someone hiking into wind? Were they in thick brush? Did they see any tracks? By understanding what happened we can all learn from that and prevent things from happening in the future. Every one of these self-defense killings is a learning opportunity and not publishing the details of what happened is irresponsible, because it’s going to happen again and again.”
Asked about its policy of not disclosing the details of a self-defense killing, FWP officials deferred to FWS, the agency charged with investigating grizzly mortalities. Likewise, FWS declined to elaborate on the details of open investigations.
“We work with states, tribes, federal agencies, and the Interagency Grizzly Bear Committee to provide consistent messaging on living and recreating in bear country,” according to a statement from Billy Stull, a senior special agent with FWS. Investigations undertaken by FWS into the “unpermitted and illegal take of grizzly bears” are all handled similarly, including self-defense killings, Stull said. The U.S. Department of Justice and U.S. Attorney’s Office determines the prosecutions for each case.
Currently, management authority over grizzly bears rests with FWS because grizzly bears are a federally protected species. But Montana Gov. Greg Gianforte has advocated for a return of the species to state management, with FWP last fall completing its state grizzly bear management plan. Under the plan, “FWP would continue to ensure their long-term presence in Montana, recognizing that they are among the most difficult species to have in our midst.”
“FWP views grizzly bears as both ‘conservation-reliant’ — meaning the threats grizzly bears face can never be eliminated, only managed — and ‘conflict prone’ and embraces the challenges of ensuring the species’ healthy future, while ensuring the safety of people and their property,” according to the 326-page management plan’s executive summary.
As more bears and more people converge on a conflict-prone 21st century landscape, striking that balance amid intensifying development pressure has grown more challenging, and elected leaders in Montana are ramping up pressure on FWS to delist the species.
“It’s time for U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to catch up with the science, follow the law, and return management of grizzlies to the states, where it belongs,” Gianforte said earlier this year after FWS rejected petitions by state governments in Montana and Wyoming to delist grizzly bears in their respective recovery zones — the Northern Continental Divide Ecosystem (NCDE) and the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem (GYE) — moving instead to establish a single distinct population segment encompassing grizzly habitat in both states, as well as in Idaho and Washington.
U.S. Sen. Steve Daines, R-Montana, released a similar statement accusing the federal agency of “moving the goalposts on recovery” and promising to “push back every step of the way.”

The leading cause of grizzly death is management removals by state wildlife agencies in response to cattle depredations and bears getting into human foods and attractants. Historically, relocation has been a reliable strategy for maintaining a viable recovery population of grizzly bears while also resolving conflicts.
As grizzlies spread out in search of food and expand their range eastward, as well as to the southwest, they’re appearing on landscapes where they were uncommon a decade or two ago. Over the past few decades, grizzlies in the NCDE have lived mostly in a recovery zone that is 85% public land and includes Glacier National Park and the Bob Marshall Wilderness. But that has changed in recent years as grizzlies disperse and their population edges into new territory. The area occupied by grizzly bears in the NCDE has increased by 42% since 2004, and by 25% since 2010, according to FWP.
Kristen Kipp, a rancher and member of the Blackfeet Nation, where agriculture far outstrips other sectors as the leading economic driver, said grizzly depredation can account for up to a 15% loss of a reservation rancher’s cattle.
Like Bradley, Kipp served on the governor’s grizzly bear advisory council five years ago, and is an advocate of non-lethal measures to deter bears, including bear-resistant infrastructure like electric fencing, as well as bear spray and livestock guardian dogs.
“I love electric fencing,” she said. “But a fence isn’t always going to stop a bear. And I love my dogs. I raised Karelian bear dogs for years. But I still don’t leave the house without two forms of protection; either a firearm and a dog, or bear spray and a dog. But on the east side, bear spray isn’t effective when the wind is blowing.”
Despite having gone, in her words, “above and beyond” what could reasonably be expected of landowners to bear-proof their properties, Kipp said landowners still “get shamed for putting the bottom dollar over valuing wildlife or the ecosystem.”
“I think there’s value in both,” Kipp said. “It’s not one or the other. Grizzlies are such a contentious subject, and there’s so much disagreement on both ends of the spectrum. But at the heart of it, landowners do value wildlife and the environment, they just need to make a living and care for the land. They have their own livestock and families to feed, and they don’t want to go under.”
Other landowners have given FWP plaudits through the years, praising the agency’s bear-conflict experts for helping transform rural outposts into bear-smart communities through education and outreach, and for relocating bears to appropriate environments, such as along the North Fork Flathead River.
“I have lived for 30 years in the North Fork area of the Northern Continental Divide Ecosystem. Over the years we have been the recipient of many relocated bears,” Elizabeth Holycross, of Polebridge, told the Fish and Wildlife Commission in support of FWP’s list of approved relocation sites. “Overwhelmingly, they thrive up here and I urge you to retain all designated relocation sites in this recovery zone. They are all needed. The North Fork population density is extremely low and we are well accustomed to living in prime bear habitat.”
According to Clark, FWP’s director, “both tools, relocation and lethal removal, are in our management tool box.”
“What stands to change,” she continued, “is how much those two tools are used. Our policies must remain flexible as the landscape changes. More grizzly bears in areas that are fully recovered will continue to influence how frequently FWP relocates grizzly bears. Bear abundance, the impact of lethal removal on that abundance, and conflict history have been and remain among the factors considered as part of FWP’s conflict response process. As those and other situational variables change, FWP will continue to adaptively work towards a conflict response that is effective relative to conflict resolution and consistent with Montana’s established commitment to eventual state management.”
For Clark’s part, she said the agency’s tonal shift since being tabbed as FWP’s director last December is a feature of her leadership, not a bug.
“We want to make sure we recognize the traumatic nature of these events on the people who are involved. Our top concern is human safety and well-being and we want to make sure we’re communicating that,” Clark said. “This year there are more bears and more conflicts and with me being a new director it’s going to sound different.”
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Montana
Women who made agriculture work in Montana
Recently, I was asked to talk about what it is like to be a female rancher.
I was flattered to be asked, but I don’t know the answer.
I do know what it is like to be a human rancher and I know that I admire many women who also are ranchers.
In fact, 36 percent of the farmers and ranchers in the U.S. are women and they manage almost half of America’s ag land.
Globally, we produce more than half of all food.
In Montana, we all benefit from amazing female leaders in agriculture.
If you want to know about improving soil health or the rewards of raising sheep, talk to Linda Poole in Malta.
If you want to learn how to organize a grassroots rancher’s organization and effect meaningful change, talk to Maggie Nutter in Sunburst.
Trina Bradley of Dupuyer will look you in the eye and tell you everything you need to know about the impacts of grizzlies on her ranch life.
Colleen Gustafson, on the Two Med, graciously hosts and educates non-ranchers for months at a time without strangling them, all while maintaining every fence, buying every bull and killing every weed on her ranch.
Adele Stenson of Wibaux and Holly Stoltz of Livingston find innovative solutions to ranching challenges and then — even harder — find ways to share these innovations with hard-headed, independent cusses who want to do it our own way.
In fact, I’ve noticed that often women seek novel innovations to deal with a ranching challenge.
If a man happens to be around, she might even run it past him.
It’s rubber band ranching – stretch with an idea, contract to assess it, then stretch again to implement it.
Long ago, my friend Michelle and I promoted the One Good Cow program at the Montana Stockgrowers Association meeting.
We asked cattle producers to donate one cow to ranchers who had lost so many in blizzards and floods that year.
As we stood on stage in a room full of dour, silent men, I remember finding the one person I knew and asking what he thought.
Just as he would bid at a livestock auction, he barely nodded his approval.
We ended up gathering more than 900 cows from across the nation and giving them to 67 producers.
One Good Cow was a good idea.
Now I don’t seek approval for my ideas so sometimes my rubber band doesn’t contract to assess one before I stretch into action.
That’s how I got myself into producing shelf-stable, ready-to-eat meals made with my beef and lamb.
This is a good idea, too.
I hope.
I wonder if it is easier to ranch as a woman in some ways.
Society pressures men to know all of the answers all of the time, but If I mess up, I try to learn from my mistake and move forward.
When Imposter Syndrome hits or we can’t find a solution to an unsolvable problem – the effects of climate change, commodity markets or competing demands from family – secretly faking it until we make it gets lonely.
The downward spiral of loneliness and the pressure to be perfect can lead to suicide.
Male ranchers kill themselves 3.5 times more often than the general public.
Female ranchers kill themselves, too, just a little less often.
I’m fortunate to have good friends who love me even when I’m far from perfect.
We laugh together, they remind me that I have a few good attributes even when I forget, they tolerate my weirdness and celebrate little successes.
They stave off loneliness.
They know all ranchers try our best, we appreciate a little grace, and a warm fire feels good to our cold fingers.
Lisa Schmidt raises grass-fed beef and lamb at the Graham Ranch near Conrad. Lisa can be reached at L.Schmidt@a-land-of-grass-ranch.com.
Montana
Montana cowboys help build trauma ranch for Israeli soldiers
The hills of the northern Judean Desert will soon turn yellow and dry. For now, they are covered in green bloom, dotted with bursts of purple and yellow wildflowers, butterflies hovering above them. From a hilltop in the Binyamin region, where Ruthy and Haim Mann run their therapeutic horse ranch, the view opens wide: the Moab Mountains to the east, the Binyamin hills to the north, Wadi Qelt plunging dramatically toward the Jordan Valley and the northern Dead Sea. At moments, when the haze lifts, Herod’s winter palace can be seen in the distance on the other side of the wadi.
Biblical history feels at home here. Philistines and Crusaders, Babylonians and Hasmoneans, Assyrians, Byzantines and Seleucids all passed through. Joshua, Saul and Jonathan fought nearby. David hid in these hills. On one of the mountains opposite us, the Good Samaritan once passed, refusing to ignore a wounded man lying by the roadside and bandaging his injuries.
The desert has seen much. But a band of real-life cowboys from Montana, pointed boots, wide-brimmed hats and oversized belt buckles, is new even for this landscape. But a band of cowboys who wear Tzitzit (fringed ritual garment), bless bread with the Hebrew “hamotzi,” keep Shabbat and study the weekly Torah portion, though they are devout Christians, is new for me as well.
They define themselves as Christian Zionists. Not an official denomination, more a small, independent current on the margins. They have no church of their own. “But it’s growing,” said Zach Strain.
When I ask Yoss, short for Yosef, Strain and Jedidiah Ellis why they wear blue Tzitzit attached to their belts, Yoss quotes the Book of Numbers, Chapter 15, Verse 39. “That’s the longest I’ve heard him speak since they got here,” Haim Mann jokes.
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Ruthy and Haim Mann, the ranch owners
(Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)
On a recent Monday morning, the small group of five men and three women is already at work. Bethany Strain and Lily Plucker haul wheelbarrows of stones, Lily’s three-month-old son, Jethro, strapped to her chest. Her husband, John Plucker, the group’s unofficial leader, builds the wooden ceiling of what will soon become a resilience and support center for soldiers coping with PTSD at the edge of the ranch.
Yoss and Jedidiah work on the stone wall of the riding arena. Promise Strain washes laundry by hand facing the desert view. Eliora Ellis saws a wooden beam. Zach, who stands nearly 6-foot-7, reinforces the stable fence. They work in near silence, focused, as if fulfilling a commandment.
By profession, Zach trains horses and riders for the film industry, primarily for Westerns, and has appeared in some of them himself. He worked on the TV series “Yellowstone.” When I try to draw him into Hollywood gossip about Kevin Costner, but since there is a biblical injunction against gossip, all I can get out of him is that the horses on the series were the finest and most expensive available. They are reserved, almost shy. They speak sparingly. They appear unaccustomed to social company. Montana is about 18 times the size of Israel with roughly one-tenth its population. The nearest neighbor can be miles away. In the photos they show me, each home looks like it could have stepped straight out of the cast of “Little House on the Prairie”, except for one detail: a giant Star of David mounted on the Strain family home.
All of them are related. Zach, Yoss and Promise Strain are siblings (the fourth brother, Ezekiel, left yesterday). Jedidiah and Eliora are married. Yoss is married to Bethany, John Plucker’s sister. Plucker is married to Lily. It is their last day in Israel, and they seem determined, more than anything, to make the most of every remaining moment. This is their last day, though not their first visit. For most of them, it is their fourth or fifth trip, and never a vacation. They come to work.
Ruthy and Haim Mann, the ranch owners, are Israeli cowboys in their own right. Boots, hats and wide brims included. Haim, a lawyer by training, also carries a handgun. They live in the settlement of Alon, part of a cluster of three Jewish communities northeast of Jerusalem, which includes mixed, religious and secular residents living side by side. “It works beautifully,” Haim says. The population is largely middle-class.
Indeed, although several flashpoints of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, including Khan al-Ahmar, lie not far from here, this specific area, located in Area C of the West Bank, is quiet and calm. Not quite Montana, but they manage with what they have.
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Riding against the backdrop of the new treatment center
(Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)
Both are remarried. Together they have two daughters, along with four children from Haim’s previous marriage and two from Ruthy’s, and they are grandparents to five grandchildren. Thirteen years ago, they founded a small therapeutic horse ranch. (“We’ve always loved horses,” they say). Ruthy handles treatment, working with teens with autism, motor and social challenges and trauma. Haim manages the horses. Five years ago, they were told to evacuate their original site. “We gave service to the whole community and got a punch in the stomach in return,” Ruthy said. With assistance from the Settlement Division, they relocated to the current hilltop. Haim closed his law office, Ruthy left her job at the Biblical Zoo in Jerusalem, and they committed fully to the ranch, which officially opened to the public about six months ago. Five dunams, 13 horses and a sweeping biblical landscape. Beyond routine therapy for local youth, the ranch increasingly served teens who had left the ultra-Orthodox community, including girls who were victims of sexual abuse, “even at ages 12 and 13”, sometimes within their own families.
About two years ago, they began hosting a joint Passover Seder for dozens of such teens. “The at-risk girls,” Ruthy says, “taught us a great deal about treating trauma.” That knowledge, regrettably, soon became urgently necessary. When war broke out after the October 7’s Hamas massacre, activity at the ranch halted. Ruthy began treating evacuees from southern Israel housed in Dead Sea hotels. “Everything there was terrible,” she says. At first, the therapy sessions were held in the hotels, without horses, using smaller animals instead. Over time, families began coming to the ranch to ride. “We started with 20 families. Within a month, 150 were coming,” she said.
Soon after, soldiers began arriving, some physically wounded, others psychologically scarred. “It started with soldiers who rode with us as kids,” Haim said. “They enlisted, went to fight and were injured. They came back to us to rehabilitate, to regain control over their lives.”
The need, they say, is immense while the supply is limited. Many soldiers from the West Bank have been killed or wounded, disproportionately to their share of the population. “But in all of the West Bank,” Ruthy says, “there isn’t a single ranch like this. There is a resilience center in Binyamin, but not everyone is suited to sitting in a closed room talking to a therapist about their feelings. It’s also a community that is less inclined to ask for help. Still, many people need precisely this kind of therapy, with horses, out in nature.”
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Building a wooden ceiling on their last day in Israel
(Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)
Demand is surging. “We feel the shockwaves of the psychological injuries from the war starting to hit with tremendous force,” Ruthy said. “It’s not just ripples. It’s a tsunami.” Everything mental health experts warned about during the war, that once it ended and there was no longer anything to suppress or conserve strength for, a major wave of psychological casualties would follow, is unfolding before the Manns’ eyes. “You feel it everywhere,” Haim adds. “In rising divorce rates, in pent-up violence. We know that what isn’t treated today will worsen tomorrow. The country has to confront this by building more resilience centers, otherwise we’ll be carrying it for years. “And it’s not like the trauma of October 7 is going to disappear anytime soon. We’ll be living with it for years.”
“There are other injuries that aren’t being talked about enough,” Ruthy says. “For instance, girls who were already in very difficult circumstances before October 7 and had just started to rebuild their lives, only for the war to shift attention elsewhere and leave them sidelined.” There are also many patients with older wounds and traumas that resurfaced, but there isn’t enough time, enough therapists or enough resources to reach them.” The sound of a bell rings out to announce lunch. The group gathers in the ranch’s main building for a modest meal of white rice and a tough steak. They recite a blessing over the food and eat in silence.
Word of the group’s arrival reached Haim as well. “I wanted to thank them, in my name and on behalf of the Jewish people. I offered them a day of horseback riding in the area. They came here and fell in love. We fell in love with them, too.” The group stayed at the ranch for three months, building everything by hand. “They were like a miracle for us,” Haim says. “We didn’t have a dime.” This latest visit, about a month long, focused entirely on constructing the new center.
Zach first visited Israel in 2014. This is his fourth trip. “It was very important for me to come help, to build and strengthen Israel,” he said. “Israel is the light of the world, maybe even the foundation of the world. I don’t know how to explain it, but when you’re here, you feel it.”
What does it mean to be a Christian Zionist?
“Some people call us that. Maybe it’s accurate,” he said. “We don’t have definitions.”
How do you define yourself?
“We don’t spend much time defining it. We’re somewhat different. We just go by the Bible. We’re not part of any church. It’s not really a movement. Nobody knows us. It started with our family, and people joined.”
I watch a video of a Shabbat meal at the family home in Montana: Kiddush over wine, Sabbath songs and a reading of the weekly Torah portion. They look a bit like the Amish. “We are not evangelicals”, he insisted. “We’re not trying to convert anyone. And I don’t even understand why I would need to convert anyone.” “We’re not evangelicals,” Bethany says as well, “but we’re fairly close to that.”
Zach, have you noticed a change in Israel compared to your previous visits?
“Since the war, I think people have come to see more clearly how deep and destructive evil can be. In America, it’s created a serious division. Many think Israel shouldn’t exist. That’s what’s being taught in schools today. They don’t know what’s happening here.”
That’s what they’re teaching in schools?
“We didn’t attend public schools,” he says. “Our parents pulled us out because they were teaching us lies.”
Zach also refers to John Plucker as the group’s unofficial leader. “I go where John tells me,” he explains. The fact that Plucker is 12 years younger does not seem to matter. The Strain and Plucker families have known each other for years and are closely connected. Two of the Plucker daughters are married to two of the Strain sons.
“‘Unofficial leader’ is a good definition,” agrees John Plucker, 27.
Are you really a cowboy?
“Yes. That’s how I grew up, on a traditional ranch with horses and cattle and everything. Today I’m an independent contractor and run a construction company. There’s not much money in ranching. It’s more of a lifestyle. I want to work a few more years and buy some land.”
Plucker does not define himself as a Christian Zionist. “I’m just a regular Christian,” he says. “But I see Israel the same way they do, and we believe the same things, so maybe I am a Christian Zionist? I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t really care.”
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The cowboys in Montana fields
(Photo: Courtesy)
So why did you come?
“The Strains have been coming for years, and they convinced me. We all love Israel very much. The first time I was here was after COVID, and it was incredible. HaYovel brought us. They believe God gave this place to the Jewish people. Here I learned a lot about redemption. You can see it happening in real time. It’s powerful. You learn much more here than just by reading the Bible.”
The last time he came was in November 2023. “They brought us to work in Shiloh, harvesting olives. The moment I came to the ranch, I fell in love, even though there was nothing here yet. My background is ranching and horses, so this suited me much more than picking olives, which is a pretty strange job, honestly. We didn’t hesitate to return, even though our baby had just been born.
“I see what they’re doing here with the young men and women who come for therapy. They give them purpose. They turn something negative into positive. It really brings redemption into people’s lives. I’m glad to be part of it. I already want to come back again. Staying in one place for a long time, building relationships, that’s a blessing.”
When I ask about politics, the group responds with puzzled looks, as if they had never even heard of Trump.“We’re simple ranchers,” Plucker said. “These things don’t interest us. We’re aligned with conservative views, but I don’t really understand politics. I’m here for the Jewish people. Politics may be important here, but not for us.”
By midday, the horses are released ahead of the afternoon’s therapy sessions. I meet Aviv, Sinai, Negev, Pele, Pazit, Milky and Moshe, a large black horse. I do not ride, but standing beside them, something shifts. A horse is a wonder. Sinai, a horse, or perhaps a mare, I didn’t check, walks toward me and looks straight into my soul. We share a quiet moment.
What is it about horses?
“A horse is a spiritual animal,” Ruthy said from atop Negev. “Every encounter with a horse exposes the soul. The horse immediately senses your frequency. If you’re tense, it’s tense. If you’re calm, it’s calm.”
“What allowed horses to survive for 80 million years is extreme sensitivity,” Haim said. “They are alert to fear, to anxiety. They feel your heartbeat, your breathing. A horse is a perfect mirror for someone living with PTSD. When a person jumps at the sound of a motorcycle and shifts into survival mode, the horse shifts just as quickly. And when you calm down, the horse calms down with you. It forces you to lead, not with force, but with quiet confidence.”
Ruthy sees symbolism as well. “A horse is an open, unburdened space. The entire archetype of the horse is about strength and success, getting back on the horse, being on top of things. That’s also our therapeutic philosophy: to reconnect with that life force, to climb back into the saddle even after the hardest falls. It restores a sense of control to people who have lost all control over their lives.”
Montana
Evacuation orders issued as 5,000-acre wildfire burns near Roundup, Montana
ROUNDUP, Mont. —
The Rehder Creek Fire is burning 16 miles southeast of Roundup has grown to about 5,000 acres, prompting evacuation orders for residents in the Bruner Mountain Area/Subdivision.
The fire started Feb. 26, the cause is unknown and containment was at 0%.
Evacuation orders are in effect for all residents in the Bruner Mountain Area/Subdivision. The Musselshell County Sheriff’s Office is coordinating the evacuation orders, and 911 reverse calls have been sent out to advise people in the area.
A shelter is opening at the Roundup Community Center. Residents were told to contact Musselshell County DES for further information.
Firefighter and public safety remain the top priority. The public is asked to avoid the Fattig Creek and Rehder Road area so emergency personnel can safely and effectively perform their work.
Fire resources assigned to the incident include 40 total personnel, 11 engines, one Type 2 helicopter, three tenders and two dozers.
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