Montana
Latest Mill Closure Threatens Northwest Montana’s Timber Traditions and its Forest Health – Flathead Beacon
For as many Montana mills as Gordy Sanders has seen shuttered or sold during his 53-year career working in the woods, the loss of another local timber company hasn’t gotten any easier. But following the recent closure at Pyramid Mountain Lumber, Seeley Lake’s largest employer for 75 years, where Sanders has worked for nearly 30, he says this one feels like the end of an era.
It’s not just the 100 out-of-work loggers forcing Sanders to reimagine a future for the forest products industry while also pining for the past, nor is it the family owned and operated business’s demonstrated commitment to long-term sustainability and land stewardship. To finally lose Pyramid is to sacrifice a critical cog in the Seeley-Swan Valley that has powered the region economically and ecologically, and to lose it in large part due to the steep cost of living and labor in northwest Montana, as well as the depressed demand for lumber, just doesn’t sit right with Sanders.
“All the mills I’ve watched close have done so because of a lack of raw materials,” Sanders said. “But this is different. This is about not being able to keep enough employees on the payroll, which is tied to housing costs. There’s a lot of creative thinking happening right now to figure out a future, and there’s a lot of support from this community. But I just have no idea what the future looks like.”
Sanders isn’t alone in his struggle to puzzle out a path forward for Pyramid. The forces straining the forest products industry are bearing down on every other family-owned sawmill in Montana, of which only a half-dozen remain. They’re all grappling with a slumping commodities market that’s compounded by underlying factors like labor shortages, lack of housing, an aging workforce, plummeting lumber prices, rising costs of living, an increasingly complex set of land management directives, and a lot of outdated infrastructure, which is more cost effective to replace with automation.
In announcing the closure, Pyramid’s management group and board of directors said the company’s owners have worked for years “to try and find a way to address these difficult issues.” But recently, the confluence of challenges has “crippled Pyramid’s ability to operate” and, “despite their best efforts, they see no way out of this situation,” the board members and shareholders wrote in a March 14 letter.
“It is with the heaviest of hearts that the Board of Directors and Shareholders voted unanimously to close the mill and shut down Pyramid’s operations,” the letter states.
In the month since Pyramid issued that somber notice, however, industry stakeholders, community boosters and the conservation community have rallied around the company to craft a long-term solution. But with so many factors working against it, the reality is stark – either a new buyer comes forward by next month and makes a substantial investment in Pyramid’s infrastructure, to the tune of $60 million, or the owners continue a strategic wind down of operations and auction off the mill equipment. Pyramid already cut off logs on March 31, running the last of its inventory through the sawmill, and surfacing and selling the final loads of lumber.
Despite the long odds, Sanders is emboldened by the show of support, and remains fully invested in helping Pyramid President and General Manager Todd Johnson through the transition. But he can’t say for sure whether that transition leads Pyramid toward a bold new chapter or through a graceful exit.
“My commitment to the owners is that I am going to stay as long as I can help them be as successful as possible in the transition ahead of them and that would include if someone else acquires the mill,” Sanders said. “How that evolves over time, I don’t have a real clear picture of that. I’ve been in this industry since 1971, and one thing that’s clear is that you accomplish very little by yourself. The true benefit of collaboration develops over time. And we might yet benefit.”
When Sanders started out in the industry, he worked for the Anaconda Company, which sold its mill in Bonner to Champion International in 1972. By 1976, Sanders recalled that Champion employed 1,000 workers at the mill with a payroll of $1.2 million, but it sold the mill to Stimson Lumber in 1993 and its 867,000 acres of timberlands to Plum Creek Corporation. The mill in Bonner closed for good in 2008, ushering in a new kind of industrial use at the 28,000-acre site.
“When I started working for the Anaconda Company, I was treating logs one at a time, dragging them from the log pond into the sawmill,” Sanders said. “That log pond is now the Kettlehouse brewery. There’s been lots of changes over time, and there’s always been downsides and upsides, but generally upsides, and that’s what carried us through. Until now.”
The problems facing Pyramid are all too familiar for Paul McKenzie, the vice president and general manager of F.H. Stoltze Land and Lumber Company in Columbia Falls, a 112-year-old family-owned mill on Half Moon Road that holds 39,000 forested acres in Flathead and Lincoln counties. McKenzie said falling lumber prices and a constricted log supply on National Forests are significant sources of pressure on Stoltze; without a dependable and affordable pipeline of raw material it’s hard for traditional family-owned businesses to adapt and keep pace with the dramatic changes upending the timber industry. But employee retention in a prohibitive housing market has also hindered Stoltze’s ability to operate at full capacity, McKenzie said, which is directly tied to the depressed demand for lumber.
“Competition for labor and the cost of living has changed dramatically since the pandemic,” McKenzie said. “Whereas in 2018 and 2019 a $25-an-hour job was at least a living wage and you could afford to buy a house somewhere in the Flathead Valley, today it’s hard to find a rental you can afford at that same pay scale.”
Sam Scott, a forest economist at the University of Montana’s Bureau of Business and Economic Research, where he runs the forest industry research program, said stakeholders’ concerns over log supply aren’t misplaced, but it’s clear that the larger onus on most remaining mills has shifted to labor supply, an aging workforce and the affordability crisis.
“It’s all tied back down to housing, especially in Seeley Lake, where housing is both unavailable and expensive,” Scott said, noting that community leaders have blamed the dearth of new developments on septic restrictions imposed by the county. “There is nowhere to live, and out of 100 Pyramid employees, 20 are at retirement age, and another 20 will be at retirement age in a couple years. So nearly half of their workforce is at or approaching retirement age, and right now in communities in western Montana, you can’t replenish your workforce when that kind of attrition hits you.”
But the true costs of another closure will only be realized over time, Scott said, with Seeley Lake and the trees that surround it paying the steepest price. He likens a company like Pyramid to a critical piece of community infrastructure, not so different from a wastewater treatment plant.
“In some ways, you have to view them as a public service,” Scott said. “Using the comparison to a wastewater treatment plant, if it starts losing money, shutting down isn’t an option. As we look at the landscape of northwest Montana, shutting down forest treatment isn’t an option. We need sawmills. We need to figure something out as a community.”
Fortunately for companies like Stoltze and Pyramid, they remain beloved institutions in their respective communities, where taking care of their employees is a non-negotiable part of doing business. But that employee investment stretches thin an operations budget that’s already lean due to the low cost of lumber that nobody’s buying because the housing market is unaffordable.
“The only thing that hasn’t changed is our cost of production,” McKenzie said. “And looking to the future we’re thinking, ‘well, how long is this going to last?’ That’s the space we live in — how do we get through the tough times so when they need us again we’re here for them in the future?”

The latest saga involving Pyramid isn’t the first time the company has faced a crossroads, having come close to shuttering in 2000, 2007 and 2015. But they rode out those recessions out of a dedication to their community.
“Money was tight. Pyramid’s owners were advised that their best option would be to close the mill,” according to the shareholders’ letter. “Yet, they decided to ride it out. They couldn’t stomach the idea of letting down their employees, neighbors, friends, and fellow members of the community. However, today’s crisis is much worse.”
With only six mills of consequence remaining in Montana, it’s a crisis that Julia Altemus, executive director of the Montana Wood Products Association, said should not be underestimated. Just one week after Pyramid announced its closure, Roseburg Forest Products in nearby Missoula said it was closing its particleboard plant, which employs 150 workers and bought residual wood like sawdust, chips and bark from Pyramid.
“This is a problem that we have to solve. There are so many ripple effects,” Altemus said. “When that many people are going to be out of work, it has a huge impact, both directly and indirectly. And the forests are going to be a mess.”
Indeed, nearly everyone agrees that the most significant indirect impacts of the closures will be absorbed by the forests, especially parcels that fall in the Wildand Urban Interface (WUI), where state and federal governments have made historic investments in fuel reduction treatments to mitigate the intensifying risk of wildland fire. Last year, the Department of the Interior (DOI) allocated $780 million in funding for wildfire mitigation under the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, and it recently announced an additional $79 million for the same purpose.
Both the Flathead and Kootenai National Forests have already proposed a multitude of forest treatment and fuels reduction projects in the WUI that would benefit from the funding.
Meanwhile, the Montana Department of Natural Resources and Conservation (DNRC) last month awarded $3.1 million to fund 13 projects to reduce wildfire risk to communities and improve forest health. Funding for those projects comes from the State Fire Suppression Fund, which was bolstered by a significant increase in funding through House Bill 883 during the 68th Montana Legislature. The allocation dedicated $15 million annually to reduce wildfire risk and improve forest health through targeted fuels treatments across the state.
“We have all this money coming in from the feds and the state for forest treatment and now we don’t have someone to haul it out of the woods or take the products,” Altemus said. “It is going to require a concentrated effort to find a solution. But we have to find a buyer for Pyramid. These are good workers, and we need them in the woods not going to work at Amazon. These mills need to stay here. We need to get this work done. We need the products. We need to work in the woods.”
DNRC State Forester Shawn Thomas has spent his whole career working in the woods, a path forged during his childhood growing up in Columbia Falls.
“It’s a sawmill town. When I was growing up there in the ‘80s there were quite a few mills in town, and now they’re down to two. It’s sad to lose another one, especially when your forests are so dependent on it for sustainable management.”
He understands firsthand the significant role a mill like Pyramid plays in Montana’s forest treatment landscape; of the roughly 376 million board feet the state produces annually, down from 412 million board feet a decade ago, Pyramid processes about 40 million board feet, with between 25% and 30% coming from National Forests. The rest of Pyramid’s wood comes from the state, the Bureau of Land Management, and from private parcels and tribal lands, including the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, which harvests about one-third of the volume the state contributes.
The blueprint for Montana’s management puzzle is the Montana Forest Action Plan, a statewide initiative guiding collaborative forest management across federal, state, tribal, and local jurisdictions, while partnering with private landowners and conservation groups. One of those conservation groups is The Nature Conservancy (TNC), whose forest treatment projects spanning western Montana are primarily aimed at restoring fire-adapted ecosystems, not producing revenue. But the value of the trees TNC removes helps cover the cost of the restoration work, and in the Seeley-Swan Valley, Pyramid was a critical partner.
Mike Schaedel, forest restoration and partnership manager with TNC, said Pyramid’s closure will have “profound effects on the ability of TNC and other partners to do forest restoration and fuels reduction work in western Montana.”
Performing forest restoration work in the low-elevation dry-forests usually involves leaving the largest, healthiest trees of fire-adapted species, like ponderosa pine and western larch, and selectively harvesting smaller, less fire-resistant species like Douglas-fir. That said, the projects do produce some ponderosa pine, and the loss of Pyramid, one of the last two major mills to process ponderosa in the state, reduces the economic value of these projects.
“On TNC-managed lands most of the large and medium sized trees were removed by the previous industrial timber landowners,” Schaedel said. “This means we will need more grant funding to complete our projects and we can do less work. On private lands, it may mean that the work may not happen at all.”
Zach Angstead, federal legislative director for Wild Montana, said members of the conservation community are working to identify grants that might help Pyramid over the hump because, he says, “to potentially lose them is devastating.”
“The forests in our state need active management, especially in the wildland urban interface, and we need places like Pyramid in order to do meaningful restoration work,” he said. “They were partners in that. And there’s still more to do.”

Having more to do isn’t what Loren Rose had in mind when he retired as Pyramid’s COO, but he’s been plucked out of retirement to help the company forge a path forward, if one exists.
“I’ve told everybody who’s inquired about the mill and the opportunities going forward that the current model doesn’t work. If it did, they wouldn’t be getting out of the business,” Rose said. “The model that would work would be a more streamlined, more efficient sawmill and those are readily available. But it would cost $60 million plus or minus to do something like that. But ifyou did that, in my way of thinking, not only would you be able to participate in the market, but you would also buy a little time to figure out what else is next.”
Banking time to figure out what’s next isn’t merely a strategy that can help Pyramid, but the Montana forest products industry writ large.
“This really isn’t about Seeley Lake and it’s not about Pyramid; it’s about forest health in Montana and the infrastructure required to maintain forest health, and by just about every metric in Montana the forest health is poor and it’s only going to get poorer,” Rose said. “If you remove the ability to process 30 to 40 million board feet and with it 150 workers then the jobs of our land management agencies just got a lot tougher.”
Ask Pat Clark what’s next, and he’ll tell you about his partnership with F.H. Stoltze to build North America’s first mass timber production facility aimed at using small-diameter trees to build large format, cross-laminated timber panels. Called Stoltze Timber Systems, the concept represents a strategic move to bolster the value of small-diameter timber coming out of Montana forests, which holds little value at the lumberyard, by producing large-format mass timber, or composite wood.
Despite the relative success of Stoltze Timber Systems, including a recent $1 million U.S. Forest Service grant, Clark said the mass timber industry remains out of reach for most mills of Stoltze’s scale. That’s due in part to risk-averse shareholders who are reluctant to bet it all on a product that doesn’t yet hold value, at least not in the way Clark envisions it will one day, having based his company Wooden Haus Supply, on the widespread applications of mass timber in Europe.
“These family-owned mills are understandably risk averse, and they’d prefer to keep doing what they’ve been doing for 112 years,” Clark said. “But there’s no magical way to optimize a sawmill. And if the industry keeps going down the same old path, well, just look at what happened to Pyramid. It didn’t work. I understand that it’s difficult to believe that mass timber is the future of the business because it’s totally different. The mass timber business is like a tech business that uses wood.”
Dan Claridge of Thompson River Lumber Company, the only other Montana mill that processes ponderosa pine, which is also Montana’s state tree, said the downstream consequences of Pyramid affect the whole industry.
“I consider them like family, and with the reduced capacity, it is going to put more strain on the industry as a whole in order to meet the demand of what needs to be done to properly treat the forest,” Claridge said, adding that every mill owner he knows is thinking about how to remain relevant in the coming years.
“Everyone suffers when something like this happens, and everyone is thinking about the future. Obviously, the immediate impact is to the town of Seeley Lake, but we’re all going to feel it. Someone told me a while back that if you’re not moving forward, you’re moving backward, and we can’t afford to stand still. I truly believe that.”
McKenzie said the owners at Stoltze recognize the need to keep moving forward, which is why they’re focused on building better markets for wood products like small diameter timber in order to remain relevant in the future. But the key, McKenzie said, “is we have to find a use that has enough value that is going to pay its way out of the woods.”
“That’s the kind of stuff we are looking toward in the future,” McKenzie said. “How do we generate the kind of wood that Montana needs? We don’t grow timber very fast, but we do a good job in forest management and forest stewardship. But it’s not the cheapest way to do things.”
[email protected]
Montana
Frontier Conference women: MSU-Northern, Montana Western pull upsets to advance to semifinal round
BUTTE — MSU-Northern and Montana Western pulled a pair of upsets Saturday at the Butte Civic Center to wrap up the quarterfinal round of the Frontier Conference women’s basketball postseason tournament.
The fifth-seeded Skylights started the day with a red-hot shooting performance to down No. 4 Rocky Mountain College 82-74. Western, the sixth seed, used a third-quarter surge to defeat No. 3 Carroll College 65-56.
MSU-Northern (17-11) and Western (14-13) now advance to Sunday’s semifinal round, where the Skylights will play No. 1 seed Dakota State at noon and the Bulldogs will face No. 2 Montana Tech at 2:30 p.m.
MSU-Northern 82, Rocky Mountain College 74
MSU-Northern sizzled in the first quarter, making seven 3-pointers to take a double-digit lead, and put together a crucial third-quarter run to get past Rocky and advance to the semifinal round.
Becky Melcher splashed four 3s in the first 10 minutes, and Taya Trottier, Canzas HisBadHorse and Shania Moananu added one apiece as the Skylights built a 29-13 lead. Melcher scored 14 first-quarter points and finished with a game-high 30 on 10-of-19 shooting (7 of 15 from 3-point range). She added 11 rebounds, a blocked shot and three steals to her stat line.
Rocky battled back to tie the game at 36-36 in the second quarter on a Brenna Linse basket, but MSUN responded with consecutive triples from Trottier and Melcher and took a 44-38 lead into halftime. The Bears eventually stole the lead back in the third quarter following a 9-0 run capped be an Isabelle Heggem bucket.
But the Skylights again answered — this time with a 13-2 run to take a 60-51 lead. MSUN led 66-59 going to the fourth and wouldn’t trail the rest of the way. The Skylights trailed for less than two total minutes of the game.
As a team, MSUN made 14 of 26 3s in the game. Ciera Agasiva was 3 for 3 from behind the arc, and Trottier was 2 for 3. Trottier had 18 points, eight rebounds and six assists, while Agasiva had 13 points.
Paige Wasson led Rocky (20-9) with 29 points but was 0 for 10 on 3-point attempts. Heggem had a double-double of 21 points and 12 rebounds.
Montana Western 65, Carroll 56
After neither team led by more than five points in the first half, Western broke open a 25-25 tie game by outscoring Carroll 20-9 in the third quarter.
Bailee Sayler scored 10 points in the quarter, including making two 3-pointers, to help the Bulldogs take control. They led 45-34 going to the fourth, and Carroll wouldn’t get closer than six points the rest of the way.
The Fighting Saints were just 18-of-65 shooting (27.7%) for the game.
Sayler scored an efficient 22 points on 7-of-8 shooting. She was 2 for 3 from 3-point range and 6 for 7 at the free throw line. The Missoula native also had nine rebounds.
Isabella Lund added 16 points for the Bulldogs, and Keke Davis had 11 points and 11 rebounds.
Carroll (19-10) was led by Kenzie Allen with 12 points. Willa Albrecht and Meagan Karstetter scored 11 points apiece for the Saints.
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.
4 View gallery
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.
4 View gallery
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.”
4 View gallery
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.”
4 View gallery
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.”
-
World4 days agoExclusive: DeepSeek withholds latest AI model from US chipmakers including Nvidia, sources say
-
Massachusetts4 days agoMother and daughter injured in Taunton house explosion
-
Montana1 week ago2026 MHSA Montana Wrestling State Championship Brackets And Results – FloWrestling
-
Denver, CO4 days ago10 acres charred, 5 injured in Thornton grass fire, evacuation orders lifted
-
Louisiana6 days agoWildfire near Gum Swamp Road in Livingston Parish now under control; more than 200 acres burned
-
Technology1 week agoYouTube TV billing scam emails are hitting inboxes
-
Technology1 week agoStellantis is in a crisis of its own making
-
Politics1 week agoOpenAI didn’t contact police despite employees flagging mass shooter’s concerning chatbot interactions: REPORT


