Heroes for animals: Moses, Theodore Roosevelt

-Seventeenth in a Series–

By Donald H. Harrison

MOIESE, Montana — In 1908, U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt, a formidable conservationist, laid aside the National Bison Range to help bring the American bison (often mislabeled as a ‘buffalo’) back from the precipice of extinction. Today, to paraphrase the lyrics of “Home on the Range,” the bison “roam” and “the deer and the antelope play” over these 18,800 acres in western Montana.

Grandson Shor and I, on the return leg of a road trip from San Diego, California, to Lethbridge, Alberta, took the 1 ½ hour self-guided tour of the range over a 19-mile, one-way, gravel road that climbed from prairie lands to mountains and descended at a 10 percent grade back again to the prairie. One may stop one’s automobile along the route (and in some cases wildlife roaming on the road require you to do so), so my camera and Shor’s cellphone were ever at the ready to take photos.

On our particular circuit through the range, most of the bison were gathered in the last 5 miles or so. Until we reached them, we enjoyed some beautiful vistas. Eventually, our anticipation of seeing the peaceful-unless-disturbed creatures was rewarded with up-close views of them grazing in peace, with no fear of the hunters who use to leave their carcasses to rot after stripping off their coats to make rugs and robes. Nor were there any herds of cattle on the range to compete with them for the forage.

 

The town in which the range is located is named Moiese, after Antoine Moiese, who, I learned, had been a sub-chief of the Salish people until his death in 1918, at age 67. Along with other Salish people, Moiese had been relocated from the Bitterroot Valley in southwest Montana to the Salish reservation which adjoins the National Bison Range.

According to Robert McDonald, public relations director of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, Moiese had two Salish names: Sq̓leps Sk͏ʷalší (Sandhill Crane with a Ring around His Neck) and K̓͏ʷɫnč̓méps Smx̣e (Door of the Grizzly Bear).

U.S. policy toward Native Americans in the late 19^th and 20^th centuries was to assign them American-sounding first and last names for the purposes of the census and in order to register future land ownership, which the U.S. government urged upon the indigenous peoples. The U.S. wanted Native Americans to become private landowners, rather than part of collectives claiming great tracts of land.

While the exact process by which Sq̓leps Sk͏ʷalší became Antoine Moiese is not known, what is known is that many Indian agents, in assigning names to their wards, chose names from the Bible. Thus it is not unreasonable to assume—although it is not proven—that Moiese is a name derived from the Biblical Moses.

Thoughts have a way of jumping from place to place, and in learning about the possible origins of ‘Moiese,’ my thoughts took me to Tijuana, Mexico, to the lobby of the Centro Cultural Israelita (The Jewish Cultural Center) where one sees statues of Benito Juarez and Moses, who are considered to be two great liberators, respectively of Mexico and of the Israelites.

On the same order, perhaps someone in Moiese will be tempted to include with a representative of the Salish people, who were good stewards to the bison and other animals in their realm, such figures as Teddy Roosevelt and Moses in an assemblage of statuary dedicated to the concept of being protectors of the animals with whom we share our planet.

There is a midrash (Shemot Rabbah 2:2) that may explain why the inclusion of Moses would be appropriate. I am indebted to Rabbi Shlomo Zarchi, who writes a column for the J Weekly of Northern California, for explaining it so succinctly:

“Moses was shepherding his father-in-law’s sheep one day, when one of them bolted. Moses followed the runaway animal until it reached a body of water, where it stopped for a drink. Moses compassionately said to the sheep, ‘If only I had known that you thirsted for water. You must be exhausted from running …’ Saying this, he scooped up the animal, placed it on his shoulders and headed back to his flock. Said God: ‘If this is how he cares for the sheep of man, he is definitely fit to shepherd Mine …’ ”

When one reflects on this story, we learn a profound lesson about the nature of Jewish leadership, and what God looks for in a leader. It is not taught in academies and universities, neither is it learned in leadership courses. Rather, it is cultivated by a sense of responsibility for the most vulnerable, by being sensitive to the needs of each individual and not just the causes of the privileged and the majority.

Moses was concerned with a sheep in his flock, whereas Roosevelt, in this instance, cared about creating a place where the once plentiful bison could recover from their near extermination. Both men are worthy of praise for living up to the requirements that we be kind to animals, as implied by such verses in Deuteronomy as one mandating us to send away a mother bird before taking eggs from its nest (22:6-7) and another telling us not to plow with an ox and donkey together (22:10) lest in these two instances respectively we cause the animals either emotional or physical pain.
Clearly, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which administers this refuge for bison, is engaged in the work of tikkun olam – repair of the world. It was a privilege to tour through the preserve, and I recommend a visit to anyone who is in the area.

From Kalispell, Montana, where we had spent the previous night, the National Bison Range may be accessed via Montana State Route 93 which runs along the western edge of Flathead Lake. After our visit, Shor and I continued south to Interstate 90 and then headed west to our next stop on our journey: Spokane, Washington.

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Harrison is editor of San Diego Jewish World. He may be contacted via donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com