page_198 < previous page page_198 next page > Page 198 district conservation specialists, soil erosion control has made spectacular gains since the 1930s. Moreover, ranchers like the open look of grazed forests (which also tend to increase populations of deer and other game), despite the concern of foresters and conservation biologists. Contemporary environmental activists see the Kickapoo Valley differently. They draw on modern scientific insights into ecosystem fragmentation, population biology, and watershed dynamics, finding much to criticize. Livestock still degrade water quality. And despite the reemergence of a forested landscape in the valley, grazing has created forest fragments, taking a slow but steady toll on various nongame wildlife and plant species, some endemic to the Driftless Region. At the moment, environmental aspirations to restore vegetation to presettlement conditions are contradictory to grazing aspirations (Brick 1994). Both ranchers and environmentalists are engaged in a race to create different rural landscapes. Science, ironically, is supplying ammunition to both the ranchers, who look back to the valley's recent degraded past seeing improvement today, and to environmentalists, who gaze farther into the past seeking a more pristine future. Just as the Soil Bank helped recreate a ranching landscape in Liberty, the two together paved the way for real estate speculators. The most notorious of these has a long history in the Kickapoo Valley, albeit one that is difficult to trace owing to frequent name changes and other efforts to conceal the scope of its activities. Moving throughout the valley, the firm bought cheap forest land, subdivided it, advertised the new parcels in the Chicago area as "abandoned farms," and sold them at an enormous profit. Their deceptive acquisition and marketing techniques have created a furor, generating ill-will with public officials, bankers, extension agents, and clients. One woman recounted how a man knocked on her door asking about her 80-acre forest. He enjoyed hunting with his son, he claimed, and would like to buy her woods for their outings. After some reflection, she agreed to a sale, only to discover later that the new owner was, in fact, a representative of this firm. Almost immediately, they logged the forest for its valuable timber and divided the property into second-home sites. "I felt I had done something awful," she reflected, embarrassed that her trust in human nature had such negative consequences for her neighbors and her former forest. In Liberty, where landownership had changed and the population dwindled, this firm found little difficulty in quietly buying land, mostly forested, and dividing it soon thereafter. Such sales drove up land prices, making it difficult for young farmers to acquire farmland. Many buyers of the small tracts belatedly found that their sites could not support septic systems, making second-home construction impossible. Some would like to sell their lots but refuse to "lose money" on a resale. In fact, few buyers exist for such properties, which have become overpriced rural pariah lands. Â < previous page page_198 next page >