Distinctly Montana Magazine

D I S T I N C T L Y M O N T A N A M A G A Z I N E • W I N T E R 2 0 2 1 36 T HE NAME MONTANA CONJURES UP COWBOYS HERDING CATTLE ON THE OPEN PRAIRIE, AND GUN- FIGHTERS HIDING OUT IN CANYONS TO HIDE FROM ROPE-SWINGING VIGILAN- TES. But does Montana summon images of the lone sheepherder tending his flock and enduring days of solitude, bitter cold and the intense summer heat? The Helle family has been keeping this tradition alive in a small corner of Montana, herding sheep in the Gravelly range outside Dillon for the last ninety years. I contacted Mike, who works in their marketing department, and somehow talked my way into joining their annual fall sheep trail, covering fifty miles in six days with an average of fifteen miles per day in order to get the livestock to the Helle ranch for winter. The Gravelly range is vast with most of it sitting well above 9,000 feet. The landscape is varied with long plateaus where the wind howls, sub-alpine forests, meandering streambeds and thick stands of sagebrush that roll over the jagged hillsides. This is where the herders call home, living in their sheepherder wag- ons from July until October, herding up to 2,000 in one flock. While I am on this sheep trail, I will get a brief glimpse into a life virtually unchanged for a century or more. On my first day we set out to find Taza, who has been herding for the Helle family for over twenty years. Mike, Evan Helle and I find him on a hillside resting the sheep. As I try to see out the truck's hazy side window, an image emerges over by the fence line and I feel as if I have stepped back in time. There Taza stands silhouetted by the distant cliffs of Black Butte, where his trip started days earlier. His cowboy hat is stained dark and curled, bandana worn and frayed, coat ten different shades of brown from years of hard work on this landscape. What captures me instantly are his kind eyes and his genuine smile. He asks Evan in broken English why I am here. When Evan tells him I am writing an article, he looks over at me and smiles. I smile back and give an awkward wave. I try to make friends with his dogs, but they look at me with suspicion in their eyes and stay at a distance. As I am taking photographs the wind snaps at me. I shrug deeper into my coat knowing that the forecast is calling for snow later in the week. I take a couple photos of the flock, and as I look up from my camera I discover how well they blend into the environment. I question what it will be like helping herd 1,300 sheep the next day with one of Helle's other herders, Arman- do. We say our goodbyes to Taza and on the way to our camp n the Trail with Sheepherders, O article and photos by HALLIE L. ZOLYNSKI DILLON Groundskeepers of the Land Armando tending to his flock

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