Appendix B.
A Few Days with Ralph at the Desert Range
By Richard J. Klade
B
efore I first worked in a research
organization in 1968 my perception
of scientists probably mirrored the general public view. Scientists were deadly
serious people who wore white coats
and spent endless hours studying mysterious phenomena. They were important
people, but humorless and sort of dull.
The “mad scientist” or “absent-minded
professor” types were entertaining, but
most people thought they existed only
in the movies or as characters in comic
books; they didn’t represent reality.
So far, I’ve yet to meet a mad scientist. But I have encountered a number
of researchers who might be considered
real characters, unusual people who
were perhaps a bit eccentric. Most of
them were delightful. Not the least of
these characters was Ralph Holmgren.
Ralph worked for many years at the
Desert Experimental Range, a remote
outpost some 300 miles southwest of
Ogden. The range is 48 miles west of
the nearest community, Milford, Utah.
Research there focused on the effects
of grazing on dry-land vegetation,
which covers millions of acres in the
Interior West. Before my opportunity
to visit him at his desert home in 1976,
Holmgren was known to me largely by
reputation.
Coworkers said Ralph liked the
Desert Range so much that he disliked
leaving the place and even spent his
vacation time there when he took annual leave. He often was referred to as
“the old sheepherder.” One rumor was
that Ralph had a pet antelope at the
range. He was said to be a genial man,
somewhat shy, whose habits were a bit
unusual. The unusual part was confirmed
on one occasion when I encountered him
checking into the Ramada Inn in Ogden
before attending a meeting at Station
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Headquarters. Ralph’s luggage consisted
of two shopping bags. The man carrying
his belongings in bags was of average
size, deeply tanned from hours under the
desert sun, and had a twinkle in his eye.
Dispatched to the Desert—Any
formal records of my visit to the Desert
Range are long gone, and trying to recall
events that happened nearly 30 years
ago is a chancy business. However, one
thing is certain. I never was sure why I
was sent there. Either Station Director
Roger Bay or Assistant Director Jim
Blaisdell told me to go. The mission
was something vague about “helping
Holmgren get some writing done,” and
also “working with him” on a visit by
Bureau of Land Management (BLM)
range managers. “Work with him” is
an assignment often made by Forest
Service managers when they are keeping
a commitment to send help, but really
don’t know what the problem is. Like a
good soldier, I went.
My visit was in late June of 1976;
the weather was dry and it was hot. The
trip began very early in the morning to
allow for a brief lunch stop in Milford
and get me to the destination early
enough in the afternoon to help Ralph
that day with whatever I was supposed
to help him with. As I progressed down
State highways on the 6-hour drive
from Ogden the temperatures got hotter,
signs of human habitation were fewer,
and vegetation became more and more
sparse.
People who are not impressed with
the beauties of desert shrubbery and
an empty landscape might call the
area encompassing the Desert Range
“desolate.” I won’t go that far, but must
admit the surroundings are somewhat
less than lush. The entry road passed
between two stone pillars. A buzzard
was perched atop one of the pillars when
I went through. That turned out to be of
no significance, much to my relief.
The stone pillars at the Desert Range entry were impressive, with or without a roosting buzzard.
Incidentally, I learned later that
the pillars were made of Warm Point
Quartzite, a rock found near the Desert
Range. They were built by CCC men
during the 1930s, as were the buildings,
fences, and roads.
Working With Ralph—A young
man who was a student at Brigham
Young University (BYU) employed for
the summer directed me to the building
where Holmgren was to be found. He
was seated at a desk in a second-floor
loft, with pencil in hand, ruefully contemplating a stack of papers that looked
like a publication manuscript. Aha, we
were going to work on the first part of
my assistance assignment.
Ralph’s answers to a few discrete
(I hoped) questions about problems
he might be having with the writing
didn’t pinpoint much of anything. If he
had a problem, it probably was the one
faced by most authors at one time or
another—reluctance to apply one end of
the anatomy to a chair and start the other
end concentrating on the job at hand.
We chatted for a while about writing in
general, and I pointed out several times
that I was willing to help with anything
he wanted.
“Well,” said Ralph, “we’ll have 25
BLM guys coming in tomorrow. A few
are from the Nevada State Office, but
most are from Districts in Utah and
Nevada. We’ll spend the whole next day
on a tour of our study plots. Some of the
Districts are pretty far away; so a few
are staying over two nights. We need to
get things ready.”
My first (and actually only) assistance
task was moving mattresses. Ralph, the
BYU student, Range Technician John
Kinney, and I carried them from a pile
on the second floor of a storage building
to various other buildings in the Desert
Range complex. There were only 24.
When concern was expressed about how
25 BLM guests, plus me, were going to
sleep on 24 narrow mattresses, Ralph
just shrugged and said, “Oh, things like
that always work out.”
He then announced, “We need to get
some provisions. Come on, we’ll take a
ride over to the store.”
Although several government
vehicles were parked in the complex,
we got into Holmgren’s personal car.
My recollection is it was a brand-new,
white, Chevrolet sedan. With all the
out was easier than getting in. The fence
windows rolled down, we took off
had some 2-by-4 cross braces on the
toward the west at a pretty fast clip. It
inside that made the climb up easy.
was mid-afternoon, and no doubt the
We finished the return trip to the
temperature was in the 100s. We drove
Desert Range without incident. Passing
for quite a while, finally stopping at a
through the area where vehicles were
dilapidated general store. A rough lookparked, I expressed surprise that Ralph
ing guy attired in worn out jeans and a
would take his new personal car (now
dirty underwear shirt was the only clerk. thoroughly coated with dust) instead of
He was a big fellow, and I envisioned
a government rig. “None of them have
talking him into hauling the boxes of
been running for a while,” Ralph said.
food we were about to buy out to the car. “Our guys are taking parts out of two of
By then, I was almost as sweaty as he
them to see if they can get that one over
looked, and there was no way I wanted
there going.”
to do anything physical.
I then asked if air conditioning wasn’t
We walked around in the store for a
available when Ralph bought his Chevy.
while. Ralph bought two-dozen cookies
Gesturing toward a small pile of hoses,
and a six-pack of beer. We left.
tubes, and miscellaneous metal parts
The Journey Back—At what
near one of the disabled government
seemed like about the midpoint in the
vehicles, he said, “Oh, it came with it.
drive back to the Desert Range, Ralph
I’ve never liked it in my cars—took it
asked if I was interested in historic sites. out right away.”
When I said I certainly was, he said,
The next question concerned the pet
“Good, there’s a ranch just ahead that
antelope. “She should be around about
has a family graveyard that dates back to this time,” Ralph said, “We’ll run out
early settlement days around here. We’ll and see her.” We drove a short distance
drop in on them and I’ll show it to you.” past the buildings and parked in an
We veered off the highway to the
area facing a gentle hill. “There she
right onto a dirt road, drove about a
is,” Ralph said. Sure enough, a young
half mile, and pulled up in front of a
pronghorn stood part way up the rise.
large ranch house. No one was home.
Ralph called out, “Annie, come
“That’s OK,” Ralph said. “They won’t
here.” The antelope didn’t move. He
mind if we just go ahead and look at the
cupped his hands and yelled, “Come
headstones.”
here, Annie.” Nothing happened. He
Well, they apparently did mind if
jumped up on the hood of the Chevy
people tramped through their graveyard. and yelled louder, “Annnneeeee.” There
A “chicken wire”
fence about nine feet
high surrounded the
plot. A formidable
padlock secured the
gate. It’s a guess, but
Holmgren was probably about 55 years
old. I was in my
30s and in reasonably good shape, I
thought. He went up
and over that fence
in a flash. I struggled
up, and with Ralph
tugging at me from a
perch on the inside,
Desert Range Superintendent John Kinney showing a
more or less fell into
small visitor how Annie responded to a sugar cookie treat.
the graveyard. The
The little girl was a member of a family driving by on the
several dozen tombnearby highway. They spotted the antelope and Kinney,
stones were, indeed,
stopped, and the daughter got a first-hand introduction to
wildlife.
interesting. Getting
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was no movement on the hillside. Ralph
turned to me and said, “Heck, that’s not
Annie.”
For the benefit of doubters, and I
was one, there really was a pet antelope
named Annie at the Desert Range. John
Kinney, who served at the range for nine
years, had a picture of Annie on the wall
of his office in Boise in 2004. He says
she was quite tame and liked to nibble
on sugar cookies provided by the staff.
It was starting to get dark and we
headed for the kitchen. The BYU
student, Kinney, and a fourth resident,
Don Beale, a Utah Division of Wildlife
Resources researcher, were there. Beale
was doing a study of antelope. He also
was the cook.
After dinner, Ralph took me to
another room in the dwelling and
showed me a bed he said I was welcome
to use during my stay. He then went off
somewhere, and wasn’t seen again until
the next morning. I went back to help
the kitchen crew clean up and see if they
would comment on a few of the day’s
minor mysteries. They enlightened me.
Kinney and the student said it was
really good luck that Beale was there to
cook. They said Ralph hated to cook,
and if nobody was around to do that
chore he lived mainly on oatmeal cookies. The BLM guests were bringing their
own grub, so the “provisions” we had
gone to get were just Ralph’s personal
supplies.
Ralph had given me his bed. That gift
concerned me in view of the impending
mattress shortage. Where was he going
to sleep? The crew said it was no problem at all. “He’ll probably just stay up
all night reading. He does that a lot.”
The Guests Arrive—Breakfast was
just after sunup. Beale laid out a good
spread and the five of us consumed it
all with gusto. As we ate, the “regulars”
had a lively discussion of whether or
not it was going to rain that day. That
was interesting, because average annual precipitation at the Desert Range
compound is about six inches, and half
of that is snow in winter months. Rainy
summer days probably are causes for
great celebration. When the weather
topic was exhausted, I asked Ralph if he
had worked in other places. “I worked
up in Idaho for a while,” he said, “but
the trees made me nervous.”
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The BLM
managers arrived at
intervals throughout
the day. Ralph
greeted them and the
student and Kinney
showed them to
their mattresses. The
guests took over the
kitchen and made
lunch. We did the
neighborly thing
and helped them eat
it. They were good
cooks and we no longer had a kitchen, so
we also helped them
Ralph Holmgren explained how to apply findings from reconsume the dinner
search at the Desert Range to BLM range managers during
they made that night.
the field day, June 22, 1976.
At least some of us
did; Ralph wasn’t
seen at lunch or dinner.
In mid-afternoon, one of the Utah
ways, most by sheep, a few by cattle.
District guests hurried up to Ralph and
Within the pastures are fenced exclosaid he was terribly sorry but he just got
sures. Inside them the vegetation has
a radio message about a bad accident
been allowed to grow with no disturback in his unit. He had to leave right
bance by large animals. So researchers
away to take care of the crisis, and
have been able to compare the effects on
couldn’t possibly return for the field
plants of various grazing systems, or no
day. After he left, Ralph glanced at me
grazing, and also study plant succession
and said, “Well, I guess that makes
over many years.
twenty-four.”
As our group started walking toward
A Day on the Range—The next day
the first pasture on the agenda, a young
we temporarily reoccupied the kitchen
manager pointed to a shrub, and said
for another breakfast at daybreak. Once
something like, “Oh, there’s ______,
again, the discussion topic was the
_____” (He spouted a Latin scientific
chance of rain interfering with the day’s
name). Ralph stopped the group. He
activities. The BLM men started appear- said, “No, that’s _______, ______,
ing, we left, and they made breakfast
_______, ______.” (He identified the
and cleaned up the kitchen. That took a
plant by the correct scientific and comwhile, but it was still pretty early when
mon names). Holmgren then reeled off
all the guests were assembled outside
about a dozen scientific and common
waiting for business to get under way.
names of plants that grow at the Desert
The field day got off to a somewhat
Range, pointing out several that were
rocky start. Ralph ambled out to face the in our immediate vicinity. For each, he
group. He was wearing wrinkled work
added information on plant associations,
pants, well-worn hunting boots, a floppy forage values, and growth characterisbucket hat, and a patterned shirt. The
tics. Anyone who had been unimpressed
shirttail was hanging out. He launched
with our field day leader was converted
into a rambling, somewhat disjointed
right then and there.
welcome and orientation talk. The
Respect turned to awe throughout a
BLM managers fidgeted around a little
very long day as Ralph expounded on
and seemed unimpressed. One near me
the meaning of what we were seeing at
was overheard to mutter, “This is our
exclosure after exclosure. He gave the
expert?”
results of studies on seasons of use, rotaThe Desert Range is divided into
tion systems, watering techniques, and
some three dozen study pastures that
herding and handling animals, sprinkling
have been grazed in various controlled
in management recommendations. The
managers hung on his every word. There
obviously was very little Holmgren
didn’t know about the results of 40 years
of research at the Desert Range. And he
described things in terms the BLM men
obviously understood.
Number, please—Most of the guests
drove off for home after dinner that
night. After the stragglers left in the
morning, our little group settled in for a
relatively late, and leisurely, breakfast.
Of course, an argument soon erupted
about the chances for rain that day. Well,
enough was enough. I finally interrupted
and said something like, “You guys are
just pulling my leg. There’s about as
much chance of rain today as there is it
will snow.”
Soon thereafter it rained for two
or three minutes. Ralph just smiled,
touched my arm, and pointed at the
raindrops on the kitchen window.
Ralph went off somewhere and
while we were doing the dishes the
conversation turned to the telephone on
the kitchen wall. It was the type now
found only in museums. I learned it was
on a party line, and anybody could listen
in on conversations. The Forest Service
built and maintained the line, so among
the duties of John Kinney was acting as
manager of the local phone company. It
wasn’t a very big company; it served the
Desert Range and one other customer, a
ranch. The line ran 48 miles to a school
in Milford. Signals were rings like “two
shorts and a long.”
During my visits to the kitchen,
whenever one signal rang no one answered. My guess was the calls were to
the ranch house where we had inspected
the family graveyard. But it seemed
strange that everyone would be gone for
several days from a working ranch that
looked like a big operation. That wasn’t
it, the breakfast crew said. “That’s our
ring. Ralph hardly ever answers it. He
says it’s usually just somebody in Provo
or Ogden wanting some fool thing or
other.”
Spending a few days at the Desert
Range was not one of the major events
in my life, but it comes to mind fairly
often. Whenever I have occasion to
munch on an oatmeal cookie it reminds
me of Ralph Holmgren—competent
scientist, good host, gentleman…and a
real character.
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