Home, Home on the Island : Buffaloes Thriving on Santa Catalina Under Watchful Eyes of Conservancy

Doug Propst maneuvered his Jeep down a dry ravine through scrub oak, prickly pear cactus and scorched grass. One hundred yards away, dust hung in the air like baking powder flung skyward.

“That’s them,” he exclaimed, squinting into Santa Catalina Island’s shimmering, mid-morning light.

As the vehicle eased over a knoll, the object of his search appeared on the valley floor. More than 50 large, shaggy buffaloes lounged around the foot of Cape Canyon Reservoir, drinking, snacking and sunning themselves--not unlike the tourists on Avalon’s beach 10 miles to the southeast.

Grunted Nervously

Chocolate brown buffalo cows, with caramel colored calves at their side, grunted nervously and turned their bearded faces toward the intruders. A bull, the size of a Volkswagen, rolled on the ground, powdering his coarse, matted hair with dirt--nature’s version of mosquito repellent. Bath complete, he pushed to his feet and emitted a belch-like snort before casually rambling up through the sage scrub. At the top of the rise, he stood poised against the azure sky.

The fact that most people have seen such profiles only on nickels is not lost on Propst, who is president of the Catalina Conservancy. He has been roaming these back roads for more than 34 years, but speaks as enthusiastically as someone seeing the magnificent beasts for the first time.

A former Montana rancher, he was hired to run the Santa Catalina Island Co.’s cattle ranch. But the cattle were soon phased out, and he found himself caretaker of the island and one of the largest herds of bison in the country outside of such refuges as Yellowstone National Park and the National Bison Range in Montana.

Less Than a Thousand

The bison count nationally, which numbered an estimated 60 million in the 1800s, dwindled to less than a thousand at the turn of the century as hunters shot the animals for their hides and meat. Whole carcasses were left across the plains as hunters took only the gourmet delicacy of the day, buffalo tongue. Still others were slaughtered for sport.

Bison protection laws were enacted in 1907. Since then, the numbers have increased to about 80,000, according to the American Bison Assn. Of these, about 1,500 are found in California, most of those on ranches in the southern part of the state.

But on Catalina, the buffaloes, first by circumstances and then by ambitious conservation efforts, have been given refuge.

As is often the case with non-natives who move to California, the first buffaloes arrived on Catalina to become movie stars. Approximately a dozen animals were shipped in for cameo appearances in the 1924 silent film, “The Vanishing American.”

A few years later, a few more were brought in from their traditional Great Plains home to strengthen the island herd. Today, the buffaloes still get top billing in the Catalina Conservancy’s extensive preservation program.

Since 1919, the 21-mile-long island has been owned by the family of chewing gum magnate William Wrigley Jr. through the Catalina Island Co. In 1975, the company deeded more than 86% of the island, or about 42,000 acres, to the nonprofit, private conservancy to preserve and restore the island’s plants and animals and control recreation use. Financing for the programs comes mostly from a stock portfolio donated by the Wrigley family and private donations.

Much of the wildlife was introduced to the island by settlers and later by state game officials.

As Propst drove through rugged Cape Canyon on a recent morning, animals nonchalantly showed themselves. A black and white feral pig and her piglet trotted up a hillside, a wild turkey ambled through a small grove of red barked manzanita and swallows dived onto ponds to scoop up bugs.

It is rutting season, and the buffaloes are gathered near ponds and streams in larger herds, sometimes as many as 100 cows, yearlings and calves band under the watchful eyes of bulls who have won the harem. At one watering hole, a large bull with ribs showing lumbered by. Usually weighing about two tons, the bulls often lose two or three hundred pounds this time of year.

Pushed From Herd

Here and there, solitary old bulls will be seen, pushed out of the herd by the younger bulls. “See that old guy. He’s been in a lot of wars,” Propst said, pointing out a rangy animal with one horn broken off and the other chipped.

Some live to be more than 30 years old.

At Middle Ranch, the conservancy’s working ranch, dozens of young buffaloes are lured into corrals each year and shipped to ranchers for breeding stock. Without such measures, the island would be overrun.

The conservancy staff does no hands-on work with the buffaloes unless there is an emergency. Herding them is out of the question.

“You can drive cattle where you want to go. And you can drive buffaloes where they want to go,” Propst said.

He recalled one bull that the staff tried to snare in hopes of removing a long strand of wire tangled around his leg.

“We tried to herd the bull through the brush where one of our men, a good roper, was hiding in bushes on horseback. Well that animal got one sniff of what was awaiting and took off--buffaloes can make horses look like they are tied to the ground--we never saw him again.”