Montana
Montana Is a Frontier for Deep Carbon Storage, and the Controversies Surrounding the Potential Climate Solution – Inside Climate News
A new project aims to take carbon dioxide pollution, likely from two natural gas processing plants in Wyoming, and store it thousands of feet underground beneath the wide-open prairies of southeastern Montana.
The project, currently in the final phase of public input, comes as new federal pollution rules prioritize capturing and storing the climate-warming gas emissions from fossil fuel-burning plants to prevent them from entering the atmosphere.
The Snowy River Carbon Sequestration Project in Carter County is the first in Montana to use the space under federal public lands as a storage vessel for greenhouse gas emissions. The new federal rules could lead to much more storage in the decades ahead.
Explore the latest news about what’s at stake for the climate during this election season.
But the potential climate solution has been criticized by scientists and policy experts who claim the reductions in atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gases the technology could bring have been significantly overstated. In the meantime, ranchers, conservationists and nearby residents are concerned about the impacts the projects’ pipelines and injection wells will have on the landscape and the potential for accidents and contamination.
“This project is going to change our way of life here forever,” said Jack Owen, a rancher in Carter County who leases from the Bureau of Land Management on the southern side of the project area and is also a member of Save Native Range, a small group of community members who have come together to oppose the project.


“Our native range is composed of indigenous plants,” he said. “They’re going to bring bulldozers, roads, Caterpillars and trucks. When they’re done, the area will be nearly taken over by invasive species.”
Other residents worry about possible disruptions to cattle grazing, impacts on water resources, damage to roads and infrastructure, potential health risks from pipeline explosions for humans and wildlife, threats to sage grouse populations and the possibility that the project might drive down property values.
Owen is concerned about the devaluation of his private properties surrounded by the project area.
“People don’t want to live near fossil fuel activities,” Owen said. “If I want to sell some of my land in the future, I worry, it won’t have the same value.”
Private CCS Projects, Public Land
In April 2024, the Environmental Protection Agency implemented a new rule aimed at curbing greenhouse gas emissions from fossil fuel power plants. Specifically targeting coal-fired plants scheduled to operate beyond 2039 and new or modified gas-fired plants, the regulation mandates the adoption of the best available emissions reduction technology and requires these plants to use carbon capture and sequestration technology (CCS) to capture 90 percent of their carbon dioxide emissions.
The Snowy River project is owned by a subsidiary of Exxon Mobil. Over 20 years, the project plans to store 150 million tons of carbon dioxide, which some sources have indicated will come from two natural gas processing plants in Wyoming: Exxon’s Shute Creek plant and the Contango plant in Lost Cabin. The BLM concluded its public comment period for the environmental assessment of the project on May 17 and is currently reviewing the submitted comments.
To accommodate the infrastructure necessary to move and store the CO2, which often requires extensive amounts of land, the federal Bureau of Land Management is providing rights-of-way for CCS projects. “This policy is an important tool to help the BLM combat the climate crisis and supports the Biden-Harris Administration’s goal of reaching net zero emissions economy-wide by no later than 2050,” BLM Director Tracy Stone-Manning said when the BLM published its policies for geologic carbon storage in June 2022.
That year, the agency approved the first private CCS project on public land—Exxon Mobil’s operation at Shute Creek, Wyoming, which stores carbon from Exxon’s adjacent natural gas processing plant. This is also one of the two plants in Wyoming that will send carbon dioxide to the proposed CCS plant in Carter County. Since then, four other CCS projects have been proposed on BLM land—three in Wyoming and one in Montana.
On a federal level, momentum grew for CCS with the expansion of the 45Q tax incentive under the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022. This incentive, initially established in 2008, was enhanced through the IRA, providing fossil fuel companies with an $85 credit for each ton of carbon stored underground.
Such initiatives are gaining traction in states that have embraced robust legal frameworks to support CCS.
In 2009, Montana enacted a forward-looking carbon sequestration and management regulation law. Former Montana State Rep. Keith Bales, who sponsored the bill during his tenure from 2007 to 2011, said his goal was to nurture a new industry as the coal sector declined.
“In this case, I wanted to ensure that if a mandate for carbon sequestration materializes, there would be a structured framework enabling companies to proceed,” Bales said.
Usually, the Environmental Protection Agency oversees Class VI injection wells—the type designated for CCS projects to inject CO2 into deep rock formations. However, Wyoming obtained federal “primacy” in 2020 to regulate its own CCS industry, a pioneering move nationwide. That same year the state enacted legislation mandating Wyoming power plants using fossil fuels to incorporate carbon capture by 2030, further incentivizing companies using coal and gas to generate electricity to develop CCS infrastructure and expertise.
The alignment of the new Biden administration rule, financial incentives, evolving regulations from government agencies facilitating rights-of-way and state governments’ pursuit of new opportunities for fossil fuel-dependent economies have created a pivotal moment for CCS.
Realities On, and Under, the Ground
Carter County, in the extreme southeast corner of Montana, borders Wyoming and South Dakota. Denbury Inc., an Exxon subsidiary and Montana’s larger producer of crude oil, plans to inject 150 million tons of CO2 below the surface of BLM lands there.
Denbury’s 105-mile-long Cedar Creek Anticline pipeline currently transports CO2 from the Shute Creek plant in Wyoming through Carter County north to Fallon County, Montana. There the carbon is used to force oil to the surface at Denbury’s Coral Creek oil field, a long-established technique known as enhanced oil recovery.
The Snowy River CCS plan calls for Denbury to send additional carbon dioxide through the Cedar Creek pipeline to be drawn off and stored before it reaches Fallon County. This storage is solely for Exxon to earn a tax credit from the federal government for managing its carbon emissions instead of releasing them into the atmosphere.
Denbury plans to lease about 100,000 acres of land and porous space from the BLM for 30 years to store CO2 underground, but the carbon would be stored, the project proponents hope, in perpetuity. After Denbury’s lease expires, the Environmental Protection Agency will continue monitoring, as they are the authority to permit the injection wells.
The proposed Carter County site was chosen by Denbury due to the availability of vast uninterrupted public land, which comprises 92 percent of the area. Factors such as geological formations, existing pipelines and environmental considerations such as impacts on sage grouse habitat and other wildlife, invasive weeds, sediment levels in water bodies, and topsoil management were found to be minimal.
Carter County is flat, dry and sparsely populated, with an average of about three residents per square mile across its approximately 3,500 square miles. Anyone driving a car is assumed to be an outsider and it’s a rarity to see more than one vehicle on the road at a time. Traveling through the area can evoke a sense of desolation in visitors, yet it offers glimpses of the classic Montana culture, with cowboys crossing the highway on horseback. Known for its expansive skies, vast flatlands and low hills, the community embraces isolation and self-sufficiency, fostering a tight-knit bond where everyone knows each other.
Although the Snowy River project has been in the works for three years, few people in Carter County have a solid understanding of what Denbury is proposing and many feel excluded from the process. Traditionally, ranchers and farmers in the area have regarded the BLM as stewards of the land, but they perceive a growing conflict of interest as the agency prioritizes infrastructure projects, particularly those supported by fossil fuel companies.
Liz Barbour, who manages a ranch on the eastern side of the project area, pressed the BLM to conduct an Environmental Impact Statement, which the agency declined to do, stating the project would not have a significant impact. In response, Barbour has made multiple trips to Washington, D.C., this year to lobby against the Snowy River project.
“BLM already has a no surface occupancy stipulation on that specific piece of land for sage-grouse habitat,” Barbour said. “It doesn’t matter if you’re putting in oil wells or a theme park.”
Supported by the Northern Plains Resource Council, an organization that brings farmers and ranchers into discussions about environmental and climate issues, Barbour has met with Stone-Manning—the director of the BLM, as well as the director of the BLM in Montana, and nearly all Montana legislators. So far, she hasn’t received a response from any authority that convinces her of the safety of the project.
“I partner with the land every day and feel it’s my responsibility to protect it,” she said. “We have demanded the BLM conduct an EIS so that we can assess the exact impact of this project on our environment.”
Mike Hansen, a third-generation rancher in Carter County, has properties on the southeast side of the project area. Approximately 8,000 acres of his private property are adjacent to the proposed project areas, and he also holds a BLM grazing lease on 4,000 acres within the project boundaries.


Denbury plans to construct 15 injection wells to sequester carbon underground. Four of these wells, a seismographic drill and a testing well to gather geological information about that area are planned on land Hansen leases from the BLM.
He is concerned the impact of drilling will contaminate the surface water. He owns three reservoirs that are vital for cattle watering, two of which are adjacent to proposed drilling sites. “If stuff from underground surfaces, what’s going to happen to my water supply? How am I going to water my cows?” Hansen said.
Another rancher, Jerry Keith, relies solely on groundwater to irrigate his lands and provide water for his cattle through pipelines spanning his ranch. One of his water wells is located 4 miles away from one of the proposed injection sites and he worries Denbury drilling may disrupt his water supply.
“You can’t drill to get water because there is no water down there,” Keith said of the area to which he pipes water. “So, we have to pipeline it to the cattle and the building and everything else. We’ve got almost 15 miles of pipeline on the ranch.”
John LaFave, research division chief of the Montana Bureau of Mines and Geology and a professor at Montana Tech, believes there is little risk of groundwater being seriously impacted by the project. The geologic formation of the proposed project area differs from most of the county, he said, with no bedrock aquifers existing beneath the surface. At the project site, the surface primarily consists of shale formed from compacted mud and clay, which acts as a barrier or seal for water and other fluids.
“These deep injection projects are counting on the impermeable seal rocks to prevent anything from going up,” LaFave said. “From that point, the risk to groundwater resources seems pretty minimal.”
More Pressures on an Already Threatened Bird
It’s not just people who have a problem with the project.
Construction for energy development projects can directly impact sage grouse, an important upland game bird in Montana that’s designated as a sensitive species. To draw carbon off of the existing Cedar Anticline Pipeline, the Snowy River project will construct 40 miles of new pipelines in Carter County, a crucial area for sage grouse habitat conservation.
A 2011 study conducted by researchers from the University of Montana on the effects of energy development on sage-grouse populations found that disturbances during the breeding season, such as noise, vehicle traffic or power lines, can lead sage grouse to abandon their breeding grounds.
After analyzing coal and natural gas extraction infrastructure in the Powder River Basin of Wyoming and Montana between 2001 and 2005, researchers observed a more rapid decline in male sage-grouse populations in areas with energy development compared to those without. In development zones, only 38 percent of sage grouse breeding grounds remained active, in contrast to 84 percent in undeveloped areas.
“I’m worried about all the power lines and construction that would pass through these lands,” said Doug Bomsell, a member of the Carter County Conservation District. “Habitat disruption and noise really bother the birds, especially during nesting season.”
Denbury has pledged to limit activities during sage grouse nesting season, typically from March to June. However, the company acknowledges the challenge of completely avoiding disturbances in sage grouse habitat. Consequently, Denbury has proposed protecting sage grouse habitat elsewhere in Montana to make up for potential impacts related to the Snowy River CCS project, said Therese Hartman, program manager of The Montana Sage Grouse Habitat Conservation Program.
Whether such offsetting programs really work to protect wildlife is another question, but some conservationists see climate change as an even bigger threat to the birds than construction disturbance. They believe that amid the long-standing decline in sage grouse populations, the sage grouse credit system presents an experiment for conserving their habitat in the long term.
“We already have extensive negative impacts occurring to sage grouse habitat from active fossil fuel development,” said Ben Deeble, president of the Big Sky Upland Bird Association, which works to enhance upland bird habitat in Montana. The CCS project in Carter County “is more than likely to damage the habitat further, even though it may have a global climate benefit. I guess if you’re going to damage wildlife habitat, I’d rather do it with something that has a potential global benefit than continuing just on the same pattern of atmospheric destruction.”
Locals are also concerned about potential damage to existing roads or the creation of additional roads around their grazing lands. The project plans to use approximately 25 miles of existing roads and 27 miles of two-track routes over a mix of BLM, county and private lands.
Tom Sieg, a rancher with properties on the northern side of the project, questioned why the BLM is granting rights-of-way for large-scale construction while imposing stricter restrictions on ranchers for wildlife and other environmental considerations.
“I guess if you’re going to damage wildlife habitat, I’d rather do it with something that has a potential global benefit than continuing just on the same pattern of atmospheric destruction.”
“We can’t even drive on it, and they’re going to put roads, wells and pipelines too?” Stieg said “What’s the deal?”
He believes the project will further restrict grazing, potentially leading to conflicts between ranchers and project personnel, and fears that Denbury doesn’t respect the traditional ranching lifestyle.
“If they can pump it in the ground and it wouldn’t cause a problem, why don’t they pump it in Wyoming where it came from?” he asked. “I don’t want them messing around here in the middle of our BLM land.”
A Troubling Legacy
Denbury, which has operations along the Gulf Coast as well as in the Rocky Mountain West, has faced scrutiny for various incidents. In February 2020, a leaking Denbury CO2 pipeline exploded in Satartia, Mississippi, the first such incident officially reported in the country, causing 49 hospitalizations and the evacuation of 300 residents. The U.S. Pipeline and Hazardous Materials Safety Administration fined Denbury $2.8 million, citing its lack of preparedness for hazards, delayed notification of local authorities and inadequate community education regarding the pipeline’s presence.
In April, another leading pipeline in Sulphur, Louisiana leaked more than 2,500 barrels of CO2, triggering an emergency response in the former mining town.
Carter County residents worry about similar hazards.
“I wonder how much pressure will be forced out underground, since they will be putting the CO2 so deep underground,” Keith said. “When that blows out, that could be a major catastrophe.”
Exxon and its subsidiary, Denbury, did not respond to requests for comments regarding the residents’ concerns.
But leaks may not be the most significant risk associated with CCS projects, said Brian McPherson, who directs the Carbon Science and Engineering Research group at the University of Utah. CO2 plumes move slowly even under extreme conditions, he said, which slows the rate at which it can travel to potential leakage points, such as wells or faults, and limits the amount of the gas that can escape.
“If the sites are monitored and the potential leakage points are monitored and tracked, the safety associated with leakage is very tractable,” he said.
Induced seismicity—earthquakes caused by the process of pumping the CO2 underground— poses a more significant threat, he believes. These earthquakes, common in oil and gas fields, result from changes in fluid pressure underground and can be small and undetectable. And, unlike oil fields, CCS projects lack the financial incentive to maintain precise pressure control across their underground storage space, he said.
“In every well and every spot in the reservoir, oil companies spend billions of dollars to maintain that control because it means trillions of dollars across the sector,” McPherson said. But, even with the federal incentives, and the EPA designated to monitor the projects, fossil fuel companies have little motivation to adhere to monitoring and policy regulations without a profitable resource to pull up from underground, rather than something to dispose of there.
“For oil companies tax credits like 45Q are a net liability, not an asset,” he said. “It’s a high-risk endeavor and the first big earthquake that occurs associated with CO2 injection will destroy the entire operation.”
Denbury already faces allegations of irresponsible land stewardship in Montana. Tom Giacometto, a rancher from Broadus in Powder River County, adjacent to Carter County and home to one of Denbury’s enhanced oil recovery units, is suing the company for damages he alleges it caused on his property, which borders the facility. In two lawsuits filed in 2016 he sought financial compensation for the destruction of one of his cattle reservoirs, health hazards and hindrance to property use and residents’ comfort caused by the operation. Another lawsuit filed in 2022 cites 16 pipeline leak incidents, including two near Giacometto’s residence and one in his alfalfa field, which resulted in explosions and the release of CO2.
“The least they could do is contribute some things here for the benefit of the land and community,” Giacometto said. “That’s my biggest gripe; that would not make them a complete asshole.”
After a nine-year courtroom battle, Giacometto settled with Denbury in March 2024, declining to disclose the compensation amount for legal reasons.


But it could be some time before fossil fuel companies have a financial incentive to be better neighbors.
While the new federal CCS rule may change the financial equation for electricity plants in the long run, it does not go into effect until 2032 and only governs new gas-fired plants and existing coal generators.
A separate rule no sooner than 2025 is expected to address existing gas plants, such as the two expected to feed the Carter County CCS project.
A Costly Experiment?
Critics of CCS say the cost and industrial intensity of the technology make it an unlikely climate savior, and it’s debatable whether these projects will bring jobs and big investments to rural areas.
Mark Z. Jacobson, a professor of civil and environmental engineering at Stanford University, published a study in 2019 suggesting that CCS technologies may do more harm than good. His research indicates that over 20 years, a full-fledged carbon capture and storage (CCS) operation captures only 10 to 11 percent of the total emissions of the plant where it’s installed. This figure accounts for cumulative greenhouse gas emissions from outside the project’s direct operations, including the carbon footprint associated with logistics, such as transporting equipment from different parts of the world.
“If the energy is coming from a renewable source and could have been used better in Montana or anywhere else to replace a fossil electricity [plant],” that would do more to reduce emissions than using the power to run a CCS operation, Jacobson said. “In most cases they are still using fossil fuel to run the carbon capture equipment, so that’s even worse.”
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He concluded that the overall costs, including air pollution, potential health issues, economic impacts and contributions to climate change, could be similar to or even higher than those of operating a fossil fuel plant without carbon capture, or not capturing carbon at all.
His study is particularly relevant to Montana’s largest CO2-producing industry, the Colstrip Power Plant. A 2018 study on the power plant considered establishing a CCS plant using the 45Q tax credit to capture and store 63 percent of Colstrip’s CO2 emissions annually. However, the plant eventually abandoned the idea due to high infrastructure costs.
McPherson disagrees with Jacobson’s skepticism. He sees private investment in CCS as a positive step with industry securing funding, shaping policies and advancing the technology. However, he acknowledges the importance of the 45Q tax incentive, which is currently set to expire in 2033, for industry expansion, and believes its renewal is crucial. And CCS companies need to turn a profit during that time, he emphasized.
“Unless carbon markets become a tangible and a significant financial force, the industry won’t stand on its own just with credits,” he said.
Major fossil fuel companies, such as Exxon, are intrigued by large-scale projects like the one in Carter County but are taking a cautious approach, McPherson suggested, and are waiting to gauge the success of early adopters in the marketplace before committing their capital investments.
“The project in Montana will be among the first tangible data sets,” McPherson said. “Before companies jump in with their capital investments.”
Is the Payoff Worth the Risk?
Communities like Carter County that are taking the initial risks on a technology with an uncertain future may not receive the compensation they expect.
Another Mark Jacobsen, who works as a communication officer of BLM Montana-Dakotas, said in an email that the rentals and fees collected from the project would be allocated to the federal treasury as mandated by the Federal Land Policy Management Act. Twenty five percent of the project’s hiring will be sourced locally, and a portion of the lease fees will go to the Montana School Trust Funds.
That’s not how it works with the existing Cedar Anticline and other natural gas pipelines. Federal oil and gas regulations ensure compensation for landowners affected by oil and gas projects. But carbon dioxide is not classified as a mineral, and so industry is not required to pay the affected individuals for the impacts from the pipelines for CCS projects. And while the pipes don’t cross private lands, ranchers with grazing agreements with the BLM may retain mineral rights on those public lands.
While Denbury pays the BLM for surface land use and underground pore space, ranchers do not receive compensation for disruption on the surface, impacts on any mineral rights they might hold or the exploitation of the previously unvalued void beneath the soil.
Jerry Keith feels that’s unfair.
“This is where they would drill the injection well,” he said, pointing towards an empty space on BLM land adjacent to land he leases from the agency. Pipes will travel for miles in various directions from the well over land that Keith leases from the agency. “If we have the mineral rights on it, why shouldn’t we be getting something from that?”
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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.
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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.”
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