Last week I alluded to Malheur—a French word which translates as “misfortune”—having a kind of name-place irony, back in 2016. It was national news. Maybe you recall?

But, before I go further I want to take a moment to say that telling this story makes me a bit uncomfortable. On the surface it has little to do with the sound of Malheur, with music, with a connection to nature. And, because it involves the US Government, it has political overtones. Birds aren’t political, right? Why dredge it all up? Aren’t we all overburdened with current events as it is?

Literally speaking, birds are not political. But, birds have symbolic resonance. “Hawks” want war, “doves” seek peace. Consider the phrase “canary in the coal mine”. What does it mean, exactly? It’s a metaphor that relies on the sensitivity of birds to detect danger. Canaries are more sensitive to toxic air than humans.

Sometimes stories from the past can help bring the present into focus.

Posting about politics just seems exhausting and unproductive, right? It’s usually just preaching to the choir in an echo chamber. Meanwhile, reading political articles often just leads to feeling a pit in one’s stomach. I know I’m not alone, and I know it happens across political divides.

While I do feel timid, learning about the history of the landscapes I visit makes me to feel more connected to them, and gives me a little courage to bring up uncomfortable, but worthwhile topics.

The Malheur Wildlife Refuge Occupation

In January of 2016, a far-right militia led by Ammon Bundy, averaging maybe a two to three dozen in number, occupied the Malheur Wildlife Refuge. Their demands? That the Federal Government cede ownership of refuge lands to “the people of Harney County”, and for ranchers to be allowed to graze their cattle as they see fit, unencumbered by federal permits. It was a stunning move, coupled with unusual imagery: video clips of AR rifle-toting men shuffling around in cowboy hats and winter coats, speaking in soft voices. Their enemy, the federal government, was an off-camera abstraction, seemingly immutable as the snow-covered landscape. It was a strange spectacle.

The backstory for this flashpoint goes back many years, involving episodic tensions over federal land use in the western US. The reason it played out at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge seems like, well, bad luck—misfortune. The spark was the re-sentencing of two local ranchers, the Hammonds (father and son) to serve out the remainder of a minimum five year prison term for a conviction of arson. (An exhaustive Wikipedia entry on the arson cases does not paint a sympathetic portrait of the Hammonds’ actions.) A small protest rally for the Hammonds in nearby Burns, OR in December 2015 was co-opted by Bundy and others—who all lived out of state—when they attempted to galvanize resentments, and escalate the protest. This took shape as the occupation of the nearby Malheur Wildlife Refuge, which lasted for 41 days

In the aftermath, one occupier, LaVoy Finicum, was shot dead in a climactic altercation with FBI and law enforcement. The federal government tallied over six million dollars in costs for repair and restoration to the refuge facilities, while state and county agencies attributed over three million dollars in costs related to the dust-up. The vast majority of county residents, and the Hammonds themselves, did not approve of the occupation.

In a surprise legal conclusion, Ammon Bundy and six other occupiers were acquitted of conspiracy to impede federal officers, the charge the government brought in the wake of the ordeal. The verdict seemed to be chalked up to: 1) A thin presentation with scant evidence meeting the specific requirements of the charge, and 2) far-reaching defense arguments, including revelations FBI informants may have overstepped with behaviors that smacked of entrapment. Together this appeared to sow reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors.

The verdict was a bitter pill for most people following the story to swallow. How is it possible that a small number of people could take over a wildlife refuge—involving breaking and entering, aggravated trespass, and trespass with a firearm—for well over a month and face no consequences?

Some observers see a loose connection between Malheur and the January 6th attack on the US Capitol. Malheur was arguably a precursor, emboldening extremist groups by reinforcing the idea of taking over government property as a viable form of protest.

In this way the president’s broad pardons given to over 1200 individuals convicted for their involvement in the 2021 Capitol riot does not bode well.

So…?

So where does that leave us today? Well, for starters, Malheur Wildlife Refuge (and the nearby Steens Mountains, and Alvord Desert) are wild, beautiful, wide open places. If that sounds interesting, consider making the trip! You’ll be happy you did!

But what else is it about the 2016 Malheur occupation that seems uncannily similar to right now? Is there a canary in a coal mine here?

Let’s think…

A small number of people…taking over government buildings…wielding power like self-righteous vigilantes…with a disdain for bureaucracy…a hostility toward government oversight…a belief in private control over public resources…a belief that their actions represent the will of the people, when it’s far from clear that they do. Sound familiar?

I have an answer in mind and maybe you do too. But, I don’t want to dignify the annoyingly-named entity by mentioning it here.

Any conclusions one can draw from the Malheur occupation are blurry, unsatisfying, and when tallied up in a ledger, offer more losses than gains. From a more detached point of view—perhaps closer to that of a migratory bird—all that remains when you subtract out the egos, the surprise plot twists, the courtroom dramas, the short-sightedness, the logic and the absurdity of it all, is the wordless landscape. The habitat.

Is the habitat more or less functional? Water, food, shelter—is it easier or harder to come by? For some, or for all?

Habitats like Malheur can appear simple at a glance. Wet basin, scrubby uplands, big sky. Boring. But if you bear witness to the land, if you just listen to it in the spring, you can hear it. It’s complex. It’s structural. The sound has order. The wildlife voices fit together, they make room for one another. I would go so far as to say it’s musical. It’s a complexity forged over time. It’s easily broken, and difficult to rebuild.

Thanks for reading and listening. I’m grateful for you. Malheur Suite II is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms (Spotify, Apple, Tidal, Amazon, YouTube…) Friday, March 21st.

Further Reflection on the Malheur Case: This final podcast episode from the This Land Is Our Land series from OPB offers two jurors’ reflections on the case and verdict. It’s really good reporting.

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