Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
by Piper Wallingford

In the city where I was born, the shopping center across the road was half-empty. A sporting goods store and Chinese restaurant were nestled against a laundromat and a used bookstore on the western side of the parking lot. But the eastern half was an open field, perfect for exploration while my parents shopped. The dry grasses hid the small burrows of a prairie dog town, and I would play a game trying to get close to them before they disappeared into their underground homes.

As I grew up so did the city, and the shopping center was finally finished. A clothing store was plugged into the spot by the bookstore and the prairie dog town was leveled, ironically, to make room for a pet store. In an effort to spare my six-year-old self, my mother told me the prairie dogs had been moved to a new home with more space. And maybe they were.

Many states in the west support environmental compromises to urban sprawl. Prairie dog relocation is the best-known example. When contractors decide to relocate a prairie dog colony before developing an area, they usually use third-party organizations, such as local citizens or environmental groups concerned about prairie dog welfare. The actual removal process consists of live traps, or flushing the prairie dogs from their burrows by pumping in a solution of water and detergent. The prairie dogs are then relocated to their new home in the plains away from the suburbs.

But environmental compromises are often impractical. Relocation of prairie dogs is a process filled with legal hassles and loopholes. Prairie dog colonies can only be moved during certain months so as not to disrupt breeding. A permit is also required for relocation, and the application process often takes an additional thirty days. For developers trying to start or complete a project by a certain date, relocation can ultimately cost them money. Exterminating them is cheaper and more efficient.

Developers also have no legal obligation to relocate the prairie dogs. Common prairie dogs are not federally protected by the Endangered Species Act, and most local communities do not have regulations. Much of the public does not even see prairie dog relocation as a concern. Farmers often consider prairie dogs as pests since their burrows can lame a horse and destroy property. There are few restrictions on prairie dog hunting, so it is always open season. Since prairie dogs are considered pests, it is often impossible to achieve a permit to relocate them, as no one else wants another colony.

Besides being unrealistic, environmental compromises do not confront the underlying problems. Those interested in prairie dog relocation seem to be people who have the least amount of familiarity: environmental groups in larger cities and suburbanites who feel nostalgic for open spaces. The problem is lack of awareness. Until a prairie dog town is threatened by suburban expansion, no one cares about them. For farmers, they are pests. For suburbanites, they are untamed pets. For young girls, they are cute. I loved them because they are adorable, but never appreciated them for their own worth. I don't think many people in the cities ever do.

Relocating prairie dogs makes no one confront what is happening. There is no reason to be sad, or to have regret, because somewhere the prairie dogs are living happy on the sunny plains. But relocating them could be as bad of a solution as exterminating them. The colony will probably be moved to a more rural area, but an area that will nevertheless eventually become a housing or shopping development. But then, you won't have to see it, so it won't affect you. At least exterminating the prairie dogs, seeing the small mounds bulldozed over, is real. There is no pretending, or hiding behind pretty lies. And maybe then, people will stop to think about how much they really need a finished shopping center.

Because ultimately, it doesn't matter whether people think they are pests or pets. At least farmers kill them personally, not through consumerism and greed.