Pioneering Biologist Ending 32 Years At Blm

Biologists don’t put much stock in end-of-the-year reports. The wealth of their work is measured in decades, not months.

That’s why we can expect much more out of Lou Jurs, even though he’s retiring next week after 32 years with the U.S. Bureau of Land Management.

“A lot of the stream restoration work I’ve been involved in for two decades won’t be fully realized for another 25 years,” he said.

Jurs was among the pioneering biologists who stood up for fish and wildlife in an agency geared to resource extraction.

He survived the turbulent tenure of Interior Secretary James Watt, the Reagan hatchetman who reduced biology to the lowest priority in the management of public lands.

Jurs was on leading edge projects, from Winnemucca, Nev., to Yuma, Ariz., to southern California and Fairbanks, Alaska.

“I never really settled until I hit Spokane,” he said.

At 56, he has many roots in the ground, but not the kind that will keep him in one place.

“When you’re involved in natural resources, you don’t really retire,” he said. ‘You just move on from one thing to another.”

The environmental movement of the 1960s, including Rachel Carson’s book, “Silent Spring,” opened the doors for Jurs’ career.

“Congress told BLM to put wildlife and fisheries staff on board with range, forestry and engineering,” he said. “But adding biological expertise was a big change. They considered us foreigners because they thought they did just fine without us.”

The media helped cement biology in the BLM mix by exposing specific examples of how loosely managed grazing, mining and logging could be disastrous to fish and wildlife.

But that doesn’t mean life was easy for biologists.

The first head of BLM’s new wildlife division three decades ago was Bob Smith, a visionary who understood that he’d be scattering his colleagues into unreceptive settings.

“The existing powers didn’t want biologists,” Jurs said. “Smith realized we’d be in trouble without some esprit de corps.”

Smith brought the biologists together several times for conferences. “We could share information, then drink a little beer and commiserate,” Jurs said. “We built a network and that’s been the strength of the program.

“Wildlife and fisheries has never been overly staffed. But knowing the people scattered from New Mexico to Alaska and being able to call them and fall back on their experience when you needed it was a big help.”

In the past two decades, BLM has made giant strides in restoring wetland and stream corridors, as well as consolidating scattered holdings in Washington into larger more manageable blocks.

“Much more will be done as long as there are willing landowners to work with and groups like the Inland Northwest Wildlife Council, Ducks Unlimited and Pheasants Forever, who aren’t afraid to be partners with government and provide labor and resources,” he said.

When Jurs came to Spokane in 1985, the BLM’s wildlife and fisheries budget for 350,000 surface acres in Washington was $78,000. Last year, it was closer to $700,000.

“It’s tough to compete for money with Wyoming and Nevada, where 80 percent of the state is BLM and acreages are in the millions,” he said.

Yet, as BLM’s wildlife and fisheries program leader, he has plenty of before-and-after photos to show how proper management can restore cattle-trashed streams into wildlife meccas.

“We put up some fence, spread grass seed for sharptails, plant willows to hold stream banks and make sure the aspen groves survive,” he said. “A little work here and there. Eventually it amounts to something.”

Much of his time nowadays is working with other agencies.

“You try to bring in a little money and a little cooperation from a lot of different areas,” he said. “But the key to restoring and protecting watersheds is to bring private landowners into the picture.”

The 20,000 acres of BLM land along Douglas Creek in Douglas County, where stream restoration dates back to the late ‘70s, is one of Jurs’ proudest showcases.

The test came in the late 1980s, when a rain-on-snow event unleashed havoc on the Waterville plateau.

The ground was frozen and meltwater gushed down the gullies. Tiny Douglas Creek raged to more than 15,000 cubic feet per second - more than twice the typical winter flow of the Spokane River.

“We went in after the storm and the drainage looked like a war zone,” Jurs said. “People thought all those years of management and restoration went down the drain.

“But one year later, all the root wads were sprouting. The bent over stuff rebounded like gang busters.

“It was a textbook example of the tremendous resiliency of a watershed that’s in good condition.”

Jurs said he’s glad to have helped restore BLM land for fish and wildlife.

“An agency biologist learns to hang low when necessary,” he said. “But when the opportunity breaks, you jump out of the cake and do good things again.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo