North Bridger Bison
Shields Valley, Montana
Matt Skoglund knew nothing about ranching. He was a lawyer from the Chicago area who spent a decade doing environmental policy work, and the issue he worked on most was bison management. That is how he fell in love with the species. What he fell out of love with was the policy world itself. He wanted something tangible. Something, as he puts it, you could touch, taste and feel. After reading Dan O'Brien's memoir about pioneering the modern field harvest of bison, he got serious. In late 2017 he typed bison ranching consultant into Google, found a man in Bozeman and a holistic management workshop on a bison ranch, and from there a handful of mentors. The rest was reading everything he could find, a million podcasts, and a great deal of trial and error. He and Sarah had already made the harder leap. On their first date she asked where in the world he would live if he could live anywhere. He said southwest Montana. She said Paris. Eighteen years ago, about to be married, they quit their jobs, got married, and moved to Bozeman. Everyone thought they were mad. He calls it the best decision they ever made.
The ranch runs to a little over 2,500 acres owned and leased, classic Montana grassland where bison lived for thousands of years before they were pushed to the edge of extinction in the late 1800s. They run it as one herd, year round. They do not wean the calves, and let the mothers do that themselves. Everything is one hundred percent grass fed. The fences are built so that pronghorn can pass underneath and deer, elk and moose can go over. They manage for biodiversity, and they are the first Audubon certified bird friendly bison ranch in Montana.
Then there is the harvest, which is the part people seek them out for. Instead of loading animals onto a truck, they drive out to wherever the herd is grazing that day. It is a single shot from ten to fifteen yards with a copper bullet. As ethical and humane as it gets for food, Matt says. He believes most people who find them come for that reason, and for the meat itself. We could have the prettiest bison and the prettiest mountains and great views. But if the meat is not excellent, our business is dead.
North Bridger sells by the quarter, half and whole animal, so the smallest order is eighty to ninety pounds of meat. Matt emails every customer to thank them and give a rough timeline. After a field harvest he photographs it, nothing gory, and sends the photographs out with an update. He emails again when the meat is ready. About half their customers are in Montana and the rest are scattered across the country, and a good number have become friends who text him photographs of what is on their grill. Business advisers tell him this is madness. He is unmoved. Someone spending two thousand dollars to fill their freezer with our bison meat, I feel like I owe it to them to communicate transparently.
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