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Grassland: The History, Biology, Politics and Promise of the American Prairie
More than forty percent of our country was once open prairie, grassland that extended from Missouri to Montana. Taking a critical look at this little-understood biome, award-winning journalist Richard Manning urges the reclamation of this land, showing how the grass is not only our last connection to the natural world, but also a vital link to our own prehistoric roots, our history, and our culture. Framing his book with the story of the remarkable elk, whose mysterious wanderings seem to reclaim his ancestral plains, Manning traces the expansion of America into what was then viewed as the American desert and considers our attempts over the last two hundred years to control unpredictable land through plowing, grazing, and landscaping. He introduces botanists and biologists who are restoring native grasses, literally follows the first herd of buffalo restored to the wild prairie, and even visits Ted Turner 's progressive--and controversial--Montana ranch. In an exploration of the grasslands that is both sweeping and intimate, Manning shows us how we can successfully inhabit this and all landscapes.
320 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1995
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March 22, 2015
I grew up across the street from a hardwood forest in Michigan. When my family visited relatives in North Dakota, the vast wide open grasslands seemed so dry, empty, sad. I just read Richard Manning’s book Grassland, and it was most illuminating — every chapter was rich with information that was new to me, and important to understand. This book changed the way I think.
There are four biomes in the ecosphere: tundra, forest, grassland, and desert. Grasslands typically receive 10 to 30 inches of rain per year (20 to 60 cm). Less than 10 inches is desert, and more than 30 is forest. Generally speaking, there are two types of grasslands: tall grass (wetter) and short grass (dryer).
Almost all of the original tall grass ecosystem in the US has been replaced with corn (maize), a domesticated tall grass that’s a magnet for government subsidy checks. More of the original short grass ecosystem has survived, but much of it has been replaced with wheat, a domesticated short grass that generates better income than grazing.
The process of converting grassland into cropland erased countless species of flora and fauna. Healthy, diverse, soil-building wild ecosystems were replaced by soil-destroying, chemically-soaked, energy-guzzling monocultures of exotic plants — temporarily. Today we beat the soil, and tomorrow the soil will beat us. Plow cultures can never win in the long run.
Manning believes that climate change provided our hominid ancestors with a key to success. An era of rising temperatures shrank the forests, and expanded the grasslands of sub-Saharan Africa, much to our benefit. Grasslands produce far more meat than forests, and creatures that walk upright, and are taller than the grass, enjoy important advantages.
Humans migrated into the Americas during the last Ice Age, when the sea level dropped, and the Beringia land bridge emerged. Beringia was grassland. Somewhere around the time of this migration, a number of large mammals went extinct, but not all of them. Survivors included the bison, elk, deer, moose, grizzly bear, black bear, caribou, and antelope. With the exception of the antelope, all of them migrated from Asia, and had long experience with living cautiously near humans. The indigenous antelopes survived because they could run at speeds up to 70 miles per hour (112 kph), far faster than hungry spear-chuckers. Wooly mammoths were not so quick.
Prior to the European invasion, this new cast of characters did a beautiful job of coevolving with the grassland ecosystem of the western US. Manning suspects that there were about 50 million bison and 10 million elk in 1492. The bison and elk were brilliantly able to feed themselves, fend off excessive predation, and enjoy satisfying lives — without fences, hay trucks, feed troughs, watering tanks, hormones, antibiotics, human managers, or huge government subsidies.
Today, the plains support 45.5 million cattle on the same land. In the nineteenth century, western ranching tycoons began raising large herds of short-horned cattle from northern Europe. The imported animals were accustomed to a moist climate, moderate summers, mild winters, and a diet that majored in forbs (broad leafed flowering plants). But on the western plains, the climate was arid, summers were sizzling, winters were blast-freezers, and the vegetation majored in grasses, not forbs. Frigid winters in 1885-86 and 1906-07 killed 50 to 75 percent of the cattle on the high plains — while the snow-frosted bison remained warm, well-fed, and secretly amused at the misfortune of the hapless newcomers.
Americans also imported thousands of species of exotic plants. Cheatgrass is nearly nutrient-free, except in the spring, and it often wipes out and replaces nutritious indigenous vegetation. Spotted knapweed spreads rapidly, and can suppress 95 percent of the grass. Grazing animals won’t eat it. Nor will they nibble on sulfur cinquefoil or leafy spurge. Leafy spurge can completely dominate a landscape, reducing it to a biological desert. Wildlife can die from malnutrition in places cursed with an abundance of exotics. Killing invasive exotic vegetation is prohibitively expensive. They are here to stay, and their plan is to spread.
To add insult to injury, we plowed up the tall grass prairies and planted corn, 70 percent of which is used to feed animals. Corn makes cattle sick, but it fattens them for market faster, and makes a lot of rich people richer. Today’s industrial corn production destroys the soil, pollutes the groundwater, encourages flooding, creates coastal dead zones, and countless other serious problems. It’s not a process with a long term future.
The billionaire Ted Turner tried a different approach. He bought the 110,000 acre Flying D ranch in Montana, sold off the cattle, tore down most of the fences, and brought in bison. The bison cost half as much to raise, and sold for twice as much — while the health of the land improved at the same time. Might there be an important lesson here?
Manning serves us story after story — the downside of horse domestication, the extermination of the buffalo, the ethics of animal rights thinkers, prairie restoration projects, the disasters caused by railroads and steel plows, the Dust Bowl, the fabulous damage caused by wheat farming on the Palouse Prairie, and on and on. It’s an intriguing collection of ideas.
Here’s the bottom line. Prior to 1492, the plains Indians had learned how to live with nature in a relatively balanced manner. The Europeans, on the other hand, tried to manage the American ecosystems to work just like Europe. Unfortunately, the European design was a time-proven disaster in Europe, and everywhere else it was tried. The moral of the story is that winners learn how to live with nature, and losers try to control it and exploit it. Losers repeatedly crash and burn, and they display a remarkable inability to learn from their mistakes.
All of the venerable visionaries of the west are unanimous in predicting a future of change. Peak Cheap Energy will put the forks to industrial agriculture, and many other things. Vast expanses of monoculture corn will follow the wooly mammoths — as will generous government subsidy checks, and maybe the government, too. The Ogallala aquifer will be empty before long. Grassland just may have a bright tomorrow. Let’s hope so.
There are four biomes in the ecosphere: tundra, forest, grassland, and desert. Grasslands typically receive 10 to 30 inches of rain per year (20 to 60 cm). Less than 10 inches is desert, and more than 30 is forest. Generally speaking, there are two types of grasslands: tall grass (wetter) and short grass (dryer).
Almost all of the original tall grass ecosystem in the US has been replaced with corn (maize), a domesticated tall grass that’s a magnet for government subsidy checks. More of the original short grass ecosystem has survived, but much of it has been replaced with wheat, a domesticated short grass that generates better income than grazing.
The process of converting grassland into cropland erased countless species of flora and fauna. Healthy, diverse, soil-building wild ecosystems were replaced by soil-destroying, chemically-soaked, energy-guzzling monocultures of exotic plants — temporarily. Today we beat the soil, and tomorrow the soil will beat us. Plow cultures can never win in the long run.
Manning believes that climate change provided our hominid ancestors with a key to success. An era of rising temperatures shrank the forests, and expanded the grasslands of sub-Saharan Africa, much to our benefit. Grasslands produce far more meat than forests, and creatures that walk upright, and are taller than the grass, enjoy important advantages.
Humans migrated into the Americas during the last Ice Age, when the sea level dropped, and the Beringia land bridge emerged. Beringia was grassland. Somewhere around the time of this migration, a number of large mammals went extinct, but not all of them. Survivors included the bison, elk, deer, moose, grizzly bear, black bear, caribou, and antelope. With the exception of the antelope, all of them migrated from Asia, and had long experience with living cautiously near humans. The indigenous antelopes survived because they could run at speeds up to 70 miles per hour (112 kph), far faster than hungry spear-chuckers. Wooly mammoths were not so quick.
Prior to the European invasion, this new cast of characters did a beautiful job of coevolving with the grassland ecosystem of the western US. Manning suspects that there were about 50 million bison and 10 million elk in 1492. The bison and elk were brilliantly able to feed themselves, fend off excessive predation, and enjoy satisfying lives — without fences, hay trucks, feed troughs, watering tanks, hormones, antibiotics, human managers, or huge government subsidies.
Today, the plains support 45.5 million cattle on the same land. In the nineteenth century, western ranching tycoons began raising large herds of short-horned cattle from northern Europe. The imported animals were accustomed to a moist climate, moderate summers, mild winters, and a diet that majored in forbs (broad leafed flowering plants). But on the western plains, the climate was arid, summers were sizzling, winters were blast-freezers, and the vegetation majored in grasses, not forbs. Frigid winters in 1885-86 and 1906-07 killed 50 to 75 percent of the cattle on the high plains — while the snow-frosted bison remained warm, well-fed, and secretly amused at the misfortune of the hapless newcomers.
Americans also imported thousands of species of exotic plants. Cheatgrass is nearly nutrient-free, except in the spring, and it often wipes out and replaces nutritious indigenous vegetation. Spotted knapweed spreads rapidly, and can suppress 95 percent of the grass. Grazing animals won’t eat it. Nor will they nibble on sulfur cinquefoil or leafy spurge. Leafy spurge can completely dominate a landscape, reducing it to a biological desert. Wildlife can die from malnutrition in places cursed with an abundance of exotics. Killing invasive exotic vegetation is prohibitively expensive. They are here to stay, and their plan is to spread.
To add insult to injury, we plowed up the tall grass prairies and planted corn, 70 percent of which is used to feed animals. Corn makes cattle sick, but it fattens them for market faster, and makes a lot of rich people richer. Today’s industrial corn production destroys the soil, pollutes the groundwater, encourages flooding, creates coastal dead zones, and countless other serious problems. It’s not a process with a long term future.
The billionaire Ted Turner tried a different approach. He bought the 110,000 acre Flying D ranch in Montana, sold off the cattle, tore down most of the fences, and brought in bison. The bison cost half as much to raise, and sold for twice as much — while the health of the land improved at the same time. Might there be an important lesson here?
Manning serves us story after story — the downside of horse domestication, the extermination of the buffalo, the ethics of animal rights thinkers, prairie restoration projects, the disasters caused by railroads and steel plows, the Dust Bowl, the fabulous damage caused by wheat farming on the Palouse Prairie, and on and on. It’s an intriguing collection of ideas.
Here’s the bottom line. Prior to 1492, the plains Indians had learned how to live with nature in a relatively balanced manner. The Europeans, on the other hand, tried to manage the American ecosystems to work just like Europe. Unfortunately, the European design was a time-proven disaster in Europe, and everywhere else it was tried. The moral of the story is that winners learn how to live with nature, and losers try to control it and exploit it. Losers repeatedly crash and burn, and they display a remarkable inability to learn from their mistakes.
All of the venerable visionaries of the west are unanimous in predicting a future of change. Peak Cheap Energy will put the forks to industrial agriculture, and many other things. Vast expanses of monoculture corn will follow the wooly mammoths — as will generous government subsidy checks, and maybe the government, too. The Ogallala aquifer will be empty before long. Grassland just may have a bright tomorrow. Let’s hope so.
December 28, 2022
I believe it takes a certain kind of passion to write such a boldly honest, impeccably thorough love letter to grassland.
A review of the Great Plains, from pre-history to its radically politicized present, with a steady heartbeat of appreciation for what grassland actually is, and what it never should have become. Environmental and regional journalism at its finest with a fascinating array of characters who are quietly going about the work of figuring out how we can proceed, more sensibly and with more integrity, from the holocaust of Expansionism.
A review of the Great Plains, from pre-history to its radically politicized present, with a steady heartbeat of appreciation for what grassland actually is, and what it never should have become. Environmental and regional journalism at its finest with a fascinating array of characters who are quietly going about the work of figuring out how we can proceed, more sensibly and with more integrity, from the holocaust of Expansionism.
March 20, 2013
I first came across Richard Manning when Against the Grain: How Agriculture Has Hijacked Civilization jumped out at me from the "agriculture is bad" section of the Mudd's wonderful third floor. Manning makes the "agriculture is bad" argument deftly in that book, covering each aspect thoroughly but quickly, with a deep understanding of his sources, and he provided me with probably the best reading list I've found in a single book. I knew there was something special about him then, but I didn't follow up until I saw Food's Frontier: The Next Green Revolution at the APL.
In Grassland, Manning shows what he is capable of when he's free of the tight constraints of argument and expository description. Given the deep ecology creds established in Against the Grain, it's really not that surprising that Manning would shine in deeply felt bioregional environmental history. Grassland is impressive. Manning's main goal is to really look at the biome, to see its parts and appreciate that its inhabitants and functions are as important and wonderful as any of the more well-loved systems like mountain valleys, rainforests, and tidepools.
It is somewhat general for a really place-based history, covering grasslands from western Montana to Kansas to western Wisconsin. Manning focuses on the big changes in ecological function and the associated cultural and economic factors. In the deep past, these include the Laramide orogeny, which put much of North America into the rain shadow that drove out the forests, the Pleistocene extinction (and the less well-known replacement with Eurasian mammals) and the immigration of the Clovis peoples, and the introduction of horses to Plains society and the associated shifts in lifestyle and politics.
Much more attention, of course, is focused on the ecological imperialism of European settlers, the central tragedy of the story. Manning focuses first on grazing, railroads, road construction, which allowed settlers to replace the bison-horse-native american system with ranches and begin the process of degradation.
Agricultural, Manning argues, was much worse. The ecological package that aided conquest of the East coast was ill-adapted to conquering the dry Plains, so the USDA actually sought out new plants to help them destroy the ecosystem. They brought in new varieties of winter wheat from Siberia, adapted to the dry conditions. Dozens of other invasives were sought that enabled settlers to plant trees, shrubs, and other civilized amenities on their grassland homesteads. Many of these species became noxious invasives, while others introduced devastating diseases to which North American plants had no immunity (this effort is supposedly responsible for the demise of the American Chestnut, for instance).
The process of wheat expansion turned rangeland that was relatively degraded but still hosted dozens of plant species into a monoculture. The moldboard plow and tile drainage essentially destroyed the pedological and hydrological basis for diverse life in the plains. It was the worst disaster the place had ever seen, and as agriculture has intensified, it has only gotten worse.
Manning finishes the book off with a discussion of activism, but he spares us the standard exhortations to action. He points out that the only sustainable way of life on the Plains is one that respects what the place wants to be - he says "the song the land calls forth" or something. He goes so far as to assert that the plains are not meant for writing, so our stories here must be written in the landscape of the place.
This is a clever way of dismissing the environmental activism narratives he seems to find rather cloying, based on Romantic ideals that favor sublime vistas and paint humans out of the landscape. The activism he sees, based on words not places, has not yet managed to really help the land. While conservation is well-established in various government agencies, it is a vision based on urbanite recreation, which leads, eg, the USFWS to stock streams with non-native fish and kill birds that compete with ducks, favored game birds. It is an extension of the ecological imperialist mindset, not a rejection of it, much less a return to the land. Worst is when people who are advocating just that solution - a bison and elk-based economy premised on the restoration of native vegetation and natural hydrology - are challenged by "animal rights" activists who fail to see that a healthy landscape is the only thing in the interest of animals, including humans. In general, Manning's cynical perspective is a refreshing change of pace from the standard activist book formula.
I failed to appreciate these aspects as much, but Manning delved pretty deeply into the literature of the Plains, a historical hub of bioregionalism and home to many authors who thought they needed such a literature. This may belie his earlier notion of an "illiterature of the Plains" but it does help flesh out and humanize his story. His coverage of Native American culture and history was way too thin, which is a shame.
In Grassland, Manning shows what he is capable of when he's free of the tight constraints of argument and expository description. Given the deep ecology creds established in Against the Grain, it's really not that surprising that Manning would shine in deeply felt bioregional environmental history. Grassland is impressive. Manning's main goal is to really look at the biome, to see its parts and appreciate that its inhabitants and functions are as important and wonderful as any of the more well-loved systems like mountain valleys, rainforests, and tidepools.
It is somewhat general for a really place-based history, covering grasslands from western Montana to Kansas to western Wisconsin. Manning focuses on the big changes in ecological function and the associated cultural and economic factors. In the deep past, these include the Laramide orogeny, which put much of North America into the rain shadow that drove out the forests, the Pleistocene extinction (and the less well-known replacement with Eurasian mammals) and the immigration of the Clovis peoples, and the introduction of horses to Plains society and the associated shifts in lifestyle and politics.
Much more attention, of course, is focused on the ecological imperialism of European settlers, the central tragedy of the story. Manning focuses first on grazing, railroads, road construction, which allowed settlers to replace the bison-horse-native american system with ranches and begin the process of degradation.
Agricultural, Manning argues, was much worse. The ecological package that aided conquest of the East coast was ill-adapted to conquering the dry Plains, so the USDA actually sought out new plants to help them destroy the ecosystem. They brought in new varieties of winter wheat from Siberia, adapted to the dry conditions. Dozens of other invasives were sought that enabled settlers to plant trees, shrubs, and other civilized amenities on their grassland homesteads. Many of these species became noxious invasives, while others introduced devastating diseases to which North American plants had no immunity (this effort is supposedly responsible for the demise of the American Chestnut, for instance).
The process of wheat expansion turned rangeland that was relatively degraded but still hosted dozens of plant species into a monoculture. The moldboard plow and tile drainage essentially destroyed the pedological and hydrological basis for diverse life in the plains. It was the worst disaster the place had ever seen, and as agriculture has intensified, it has only gotten worse.
Manning finishes the book off with a discussion of activism, but he spares us the standard exhortations to action. He points out that the only sustainable way of life on the Plains is one that respects what the place wants to be - he says "the song the land calls forth" or something. He goes so far as to assert that the plains are not meant for writing, so our stories here must be written in the landscape of the place.
This is a clever way of dismissing the environmental activism narratives he seems to find rather cloying, based on Romantic ideals that favor sublime vistas and paint humans out of the landscape. The activism he sees, based on words not places, has not yet managed to really help the land. While conservation is well-established in various government agencies, it is a vision based on urbanite recreation, which leads, eg, the USFWS to stock streams with non-native fish and kill birds that compete with ducks, favored game birds. It is an extension of the ecological imperialist mindset, not a rejection of it, much less a return to the land. Worst is when people who are advocating just that solution - a bison and elk-based economy premised on the restoration of native vegetation and natural hydrology - are challenged by "animal rights" activists who fail to see that a healthy landscape is the only thing in the interest of animals, including humans. In general, Manning's cynical perspective is a refreshing change of pace from the standard activist book formula.
I failed to appreciate these aspects as much, but Manning delved pretty deeply into the literature of the Plains, a historical hub of bioregionalism and home to many authors who thought they needed such a literature. This may belie his earlier notion of an "illiterature of the Plains" but it does help flesh out and humanize his story. His coverage of Native American culture and history was way too thin, which is a shame.
August 24, 2012
This book sat on my shelf for nearly a decade and I am so glad I finally cracked it. Manning explores North America's most misunderstood, maligned and ravaged ecosystem by turns, starting with long (geologic) and then short (after people arrived) history and how the humans who lived in the prairie regions have irrevocably transformed it by the way they've chosen to live there, starting with (possibly) the extinction of the woolly mammoths and other large predatory game around the time the glaciers receded. Each chapter looks at the prairie through a different perspective and usually the lens of a different discipline. I've lived in this region and loved it for more than 15 years but this book still turned my understanding of so many things on its head. A great, engaging read and an important book.
March 3, 2018
I learned a lot while reading this, but it was a tough read. Really could have done without a lot of the metaphors that didn’t make any sense, and the author changes track really frequently which made it hard to follow at times and I would lose interest after reading just a few pages. He does cover a lot of ground, from the ecology of North American grassland, the history of plains megafauna, to European settlement and the industrialization of the plains (cattle grazing and ranching, plowing virgin sod to make way for farming monocultures), to prairie restoration efforts. Hard to get through, but I did get a lot out of it.
July 25, 2025
I have so many opinions on corn, cattle and grass that I never thought I would have.
December 16, 2025
Gorgeous and devastating. This was written in the 90s so similar to when I read Silent Spring I need an update I need to know if there’s still hope or not
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July 19, 2025Great book. I thought this was going to be more of a technical book about prairies rather than a meta narrative about our country and the complete disregard for our almost extinct native grasslands, but was pleasantly surprised. Now I need to finally visit the Neal Smith NWR..
June 5, 2014
I read this book as an assignment in a class I am taking at JCCC called ‘Natural History of Kansas.’ The book is a manifesto by Richard Manning that chronicles the demise of the grasslands that once covered much of the central USA. Less than 4% of the grassland that once covered the land still exists today. Manning transitions his story by following a Bull Elks 1800 mile graze from the Sweet Grass Hills of Montana down the Missouri River to Independence Missouri. The travels are believed to be motivated by the rotting instinct of Earl the Elk as well as instinctive grazing habits that brought him back to the prairie grasslands of his ancestors.
Manning explains the destruction of the grasslands through agricultural and ranching practices that consistently battled nature on the Great Plains. Settlers introduced foreign crops and foreign ways to the prairie turning most of the grassland with the plow over the years. Ranchers replaced the native buffalo that freely roamed the grasslands with cattle from the British Isles that now are raised in barb wire fenced lands and took to feed-lots for fattening. Buffalo now only exist within the confines of enclosures reminding us of a zoo.
The lack of appreciation for the native grasses and plants of the prairie has resulted in an unhealthy environment in the USA since what we are doing with agriculture and ranching is contrary to nature. Farming of crops now requires the use of fertilizer, herbicides, and insecticides for production. Getting beef from the pasture to the dinner table results in disease caused by high protein diets stimulated with hormones, and protected by antibiotics. This has created pollution resulting in a dead zone at the mouth of the Mississippi River where it dumps into the Gulf of Mexico. Americans health has been affected driving up health care costs.
Manning calls for a resurrection of tallgrass prairies and preservation of what is natural in our heart land. He recognizes the changes that have destroyed the grasslands but brings understanding and hope. This book is a must read for anyone interested in Natural History or American History. By reading this book I have gained new insights and interest.
Manning explains the destruction of the grasslands through agricultural and ranching practices that consistently battled nature on the Great Plains. Settlers introduced foreign crops and foreign ways to the prairie turning most of the grassland with the plow over the years. Ranchers replaced the native buffalo that freely roamed the grasslands with cattle from the British Isles that now are raised in barb wire fenced lands and took to feed-lots for fattening. Buffalo now only exist within the confines of enclosures reminding us of a zoo.
The lack of appreciation for the native grasses and plants of the prairie has resulted in an unhealthy environment in the USA since what we are doing with agriculture and ranching is contrary to nature. Farming of crops now requires the use of fertilizer, herbicides, and insecticides for production. Getting beef from the pasture to the dinner table results in disease caused by high protein diets stimulated with hormones, and protected by antibiotics. This has created pollution resulting in a dead zone at the mouth of the Mississippi River where it dumps into the Gulf of Mexico. Americans health has been affected driving up health care costs.
Manning calls for a resurrection of tallgrass prairies and preservation of what is natural in our heart land. He recognizes the changes that have destroyed the grasslands but brings understanding and hope. This book is a must read for anyone interested in Natural History or American History. By reading this book I have gained new insights and interest.
September 14, 2011
One of my favorite books on agriculture so far. This book is a hard read, in that it is LOADED with historical facts in between the philosophical and poetic preaching of Richard Manning. Just when you start to get a flow or pace going, he slaps you in the face with a different era or a different civilization to learn about. Very intelligent, almost too much for such a simple title. But I give it five stars because it's facts are entertaining and though it is a one sided book, it's worth the read.
March 2, 2008
A most interesting piece on the prairie. Manning believes that the Eastern yeoman farmers, coming as they did from a place dominated by trees, never understood the place. Of course, generally speaking, people have often understood too little too late about their environments...
January 13, 2011
I read this book when we first moved to Kansas and so it was all new to me and I found it facinating. I especially liked how it covered so many areas - it gave me a good introduction.
March 14, 2021
This book honed my ideas about the nature of the our nation and its relationship to the land. Manning is a wonderful writer and a fine journalist eager to explore the world with open eyes, synthesize this information in complex ways, and then report what he discovers (which I find to be an increasingly rare thing these days).
As a Midwesterner, I found Manning's definition of "grassland" a little disconcerting at first. He labels almost all of Nevada as a "grassland," but not the northern tier of Illinois (which I guess is technically mostly savannah, but to me far more grassy than Nevada, which I would label a high desert). Which makes this a book more about the West than the Midwest.
I am also far less anti-wheat than he is. He regards farms with the jaundiced eye of a range rover. But I believe farms, particularly unirrigated farms that choose crops that fit the moisture profile, have their place across much of the grassland, maybe not so much in central Montana, but certainly in central Kansas. Unlike fenced-in ranches, farms tend to be unfenced and open, inviting the kind of community I find missing in the ranching states. I love that about farm country, and this seems to be lost on Manning.
Still, this was a captivating read. I found myself underlining big chunks of it for later reference. Coupled with Tim Flannery's "Eternal Frontier," they are bookends that opened my eyes to the complexities of our harsh but beautiful continent.
As a Midwesterner, I found Manning's definition of "grassland" a little disconcerting at first. He labels almost all of Nevada as a "grassland," but not the northern tier of Illinois (which I guess is technically mostly savannah, but to me far more grassy than Nevada, which I would label a high desert). Which makes this a book more about the West than the Midwest.
I am also far less anti-wheat than he is. He regards farms with the jaundiced eye of a range rover. But I believe farms, particularly unirrigated farms that choose crops that fit the moisture profile, have their place across much of the grassland, maybe not so much in central Montana, but certainly in central Kansas. Unlike fenced-in ranches, farms tend to be unfenced and open, inviting the kind of community I find missing in the ranching states. I love that about farm country, and this seems to be lost on Manning.
Still, this was a captivating read. I found myself underlining big chunks of it for later reference. Coupled with Tim Flannery's "Eternal Frontier," they are bookends that opened my eyes to the complexities of our harsh but beautiful continent.
March 16, 2022
The third book by Manning that I've read in the past few years. I discovered his work at a time when a combination of different factors came together so that reading his books, specifically, Against the Grain: How Agriculture Has Hijacked Civilization, changed my life.
Manning's writing, I think partially because he's an old newspaper man, is a great introduction to eco-criticism, or ecological or environmental writing, or whatever you want to call it. His language is direct. Because he's not coming to his subjects (American history, prehistory, hunter gatherer societies, industrial agriculture, western expansion, manifest destiny, the New Deal, native habitat restoration, etc.) as a scientist or academic or a philosopher, what he has to say and the questions he asks are remarkably down to earth, even practical.
Manning's writing, I think partially because he's an old newspaper man, is a great introduction to eco-criticism, or ecological or environmental writing, or whatever you want to call it. His language is direct. Because he's not coming to his subjects (American history, prehistory, hunter gatherer societies, industrial agriculture, western expansion, manifest destiny, the New Deal, native habitat restoration, etc.) as a scientist or academic or a philosopher, what he has to say and the questions he asks are remarkably down to earth, even practical.
July 20, 2025
I'll never look at a wheat field the same way again.
"Thus we close the circle. We found the American West a curious place, alien and bare to our eyes. Because of this, we failed to allow it to tell us its story, to give us its name. We failed to learn from the plants and the people who knew them as a way of life. We failed to regard the animals for what they were and wiped all of this out to replace it with a world of our own devising. Because we imported this world, it came in on the roads we built for it and flourished at the roadside the way brush does along a desert stream. And now, absent from nature and feeling a vague sense of the loss, we return to the West, increasingly along the same section-line roads, and believe that when we see a pen full of bison we are seeing nature. What we see at the roadside is not nature, but a face we have painted for nature. The leafy spurge, crested wheat grass, and penned bison are our own images reflected through a fence."
"Thus we close the circle. We found the American West a curious place, alien and bare to our eyes. Because of this, we failed to allow it to tell us its story, to give us its name. We failed to learn from the plants and the people who knew them as a way of life. We failed to regard the animals for what they were and wiped all of this out to replace it with a world of our own devising. Because we imported this world, it came in on the roads we built for it and flourished at the roadside the way brush does along a desert stream. And now, absent from nature and feeling a vague sense of the loss, we return to the West, increasingly along the same section-line roads, and believe that when we see a pen full of bison we are seeing nature. What we see at the roadside is not nature, but a face we have painted for nature. The leafy spurge, crested wheat grass, and penned bison are our own images reflected through a fence."
August 21, 2025
264:2025
Decent, not amazing. Got long, especially for only 288 pages, but still mostly interesting.
Some beautifully written passages.
It felt like mostly the reader was just told that we plowed up or over grazed the grassland and destroyed it.
And then in the next chapter, we move to another part of the grassland to be told we plowed it up, over grazed it, and destroyed it.
I wanted more of the biology of the plants and animals and the overall ecology of the grasslands more than what we've done to them.
There was some talk of what we're doing now, but minimal detail of conservation/restoration.
It may also be a bit egocentric, but having lived my whole life in the northern plains (though decidedly more urban now) very little mention of the Dakotas and Minnesota which I'd hoped for more of.
Decent, not amazing. Got long, especially for only 288 pages, but still mostly interesting.
Some beautifully written passages.
It felt like mostly the reader was just told that we plowed up or over grazed the grassland and destroyed it.
And then in the next chapter, we move to another part of the grassland to be told we plowed it up, over grazed it, and destroyed it.
I wanted more of the biology of the plants and animals and the overall ecology of the grasslands more than what we've done to them.
There was some talk of what we're doing now, but minimal detail of conservation/restoration.
It may also be a bit egocentric, but having lived my whole life in the northern plains (though decidedly more urban now) very little mention of the Dakotas and Minnesota which I'd hoped for more of.
October 13, 2019
A grand book, perhaps a bit dated since it was first published in 1995, but still grand. And sad. We industrial age humans, mostly of European stock, have truly fucked-up a lot of this earth in North America, and especially the grasslands from the Rocky Mountains to the Mississippi River. The bottom line: we need to watch and listen to nature, because, like gravity, nature always wins. Or, as Manning says, ". . . the West is not ruled by a just and peaceful God."
February 7, 2024
This historical nonfiction was written with flow and passion throughout the entire book. I enjoyed learning about the many aspects of grasslands and how truly important grassland restoration is to maintaining biodiversity and ecological sustainability in the US. I also loved reading about the “wild west”. Great book!
November 3, 2024
Overall good book about grass and such. Loved the history, cultural, and scientific content. Great for prairie fairies and Iowans. But the philosophical stuff might have been a bit of a stretch at times. Also, he wrote with the classic over-confidence of non-fiction writers, only to be disproven 30 years later on several fronts. These people oughta learn "could" instead of "will."
July 30, 2020
A well-written book that brings the points home about the history of the prairie and similar grasslands in the USA, and the issues that currently face what little is left. Should be read by all who live out west and those with an interest in grasslands.
October 7, 2018
Poetic in parts, practical in majority. Lost my focus halfway through and never completely regained it
July 17, 2024
Disappointingly terrible.
April 24, 2025
Read for a class it low key changed my life though it was actually incredible
December 9, 2025
Would recommend, focuses more on the Great Basin and the mixed/short-grass prairie but applies to anywhere west of the Mississippi in some capacity.
July 14, 2010
Another good book about grasslands and the Prairie, though less poetic and less humorous than Ian Frazier's Great Plains. However, the book had a stronger political position than Frazier's or other books about the Plains I've read so far. And that position argued for an appreciation of nomadic lives (often inspired, if not dictacted, by the terrain of grasslands). Furthermore, Manning celebrates the spreading of the grasslands (as they are supposed to in the Plains region) in opposition to the Jeffersonian ideal of agriculture imposed upon the land and sustains a strong critique of the Jeffersonian ideal of farming and civilization. I particularly liked the attention and detail paid to the invasive species that have overrun the prairie and the pains taken to try and eradicate them. Although this book was more political in its tone, Manning's book expressed a similar philosophical position as Frazier; it's just that he was less poetic about it. Nonetheless, this is definitely worth reading if you are interested in the Prairie.
I am interested in reading more of Manning's books, particularly his book that focuses solely on agriculture.
I am interested in reading more of Manning's books, particularly his book that focuses solely on agriculture.
March 10, 2015
Manning is a journalist who seems to be quite knowledgeable about the American prairies. His bibliography lists many books on the subject. His land ownership testifies to his love of the prairie. His interviews and trips verify his professionalism. He explains the origin of grasslands and the animals native to it. Then he describes the livelihood of the native Americans, the invasion of Europeans and their conversion of the prairie to plowed fields. He advocates returning the land from plowed fields back to grassland prairie and raising bison as well as cattle. Bison fare better in winter than cattle. While discussing 'buffalo commons' he does not clearly state that the entire prairie be 'commons', but he does say that large ranches are required to raise bison. Farming is doomed anywhere that lacks sufficient rainfall because the aquifers are being depleted and water is too scarce to distribute. Periodic droughts are the norm on the western portions of the Great Plains. There is a lot of explanation in this very readable work and I want to read it again to absorb some more.
March 13, 2009
Meh. I can't say much since I only got 60 or so pages through this before it was due, and I am really not interested in whatever else Manning eventually covers in the book. Up to where I read this book is written very much like how I would expect a journalist to write book: interesting ideas not terribly well researched with a peppering of sketches of the diverse types of people living in the Western U.S. prairie. This book may be nominally interesting to those totally unfamiliar with Western U.S. history, grassland science, or grass-based agriculture. This book made me want to grow a beard (to show how outdoorsy I am) and have a pony tail (to show how sensitive and environmentally awakened I am). Wait, I've already got those...
February 9, 2016
A well-researched and exquisitely written argument for the return of the prairie, the original ecosystem of the western two-thirds of the US. When we replaced the bison with European bovine and took the steel plow to the grassland, it was no less a natural disaster than when chainsaws are taken to the Amazon rainforest.
June 10, 2008
Since I fell in love with prairies in South Dakota... I wanted to read this.
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