Another Oil Lease
The note arrived unexpectedly.
The Graham family is negotiating to lease rights to drill for oil under my ranch.
Again.
My hands shook.
My heart sank.
The Grahams gave us a good deal on this ranch, including all of the subsurface rights except oil and gas.
I like the entire family.
They have no incentive to sell those mineral rights.
Unlike a gold claim, mineral rights cost nothing to retain and they might generate income.
Leasing mineral rights makes perfect economic sense.
But the last time oil explorers came to the ranch ranks among the Top 10 most traumatic events of my life.
I learned firsthand about the worst of human nature – deceit, greed, utter disregard for the land, slovenliness, pride and power-mongering.
My chest tightens at the memory of awakening to dishes rattling and spotlights lighting up my entire house.
The exploration crew was shaking a 5.9 earthquake next to my house at 11 pm, while my children slept.
My husband, Steve, warned me not to go out there.
Their lease trumped our property rights.
But I refused to stand idle and let them destroy my beloved home.
As I shook my finger at the 40,000 pound truck that towered 15 feet over me, I caught a glimpse of Steve standing in the shadows, wearing a heavy jacket in July.
He had my back.
My kids tried to sleep, but I rarely managed rest that summer.
Instead, I worried about my water.
A review by the Montana Salinity Control Association determined that the water for my 16 springs originates in the Rocky Mountains and flows downhill until it hits a semi-permeable layer of shale.
All of those springs are connected.
If fracking cracks the fragile shale, my springs will either be contaminated with deadly chemicals or disappear.
Without water, this ranch won’t survive.
The damage the explorers caused to my land in 2011 – a dozen years ago – is still visible.
I don’t dare drive my pickup on some of my roads for fear of getting high-centered in the deep ruts.
My creeks still pond where their 20-ton monster thumper trucks broke through the thin crust and sank.
All of that summer, I filled garbage bags with dirty toilet paper, sandwich wrappers and hundreds of survey stakes scattered across the range.
Sure, they forked over a few greenbacks in an attempt to remediate my land, but it wasn’t enough to repair the damage.
And no amount of money could reimburse the emotional toll of watching them devastate my ranch or enduring the bully-tactics of amoral attorneys.
But I wasn’t the only person who faced horrific consequences.
The roustabouts brought crime to Conrad and their machinery wrecked county roads.
One county commissioner – she happened to be illegally selling my water to the explorers until I caught her – lobbied to close the library and use that money for more police protection and to rebuild roads.
Libraries are fundamental to democracy.
After all, information is power.
She was willing to threaten a foundational institution for the almighty dollar.
I suggested that the county commissioners institute a fee on the explorers’ business permit so they would pay for the impacts they caused to our county.
She said she needed to be nice to the oil explorers or they would leave, taking economic development with them.
Oil doesn’t move.
Explorers can’t take it with them.
In 2011, the explorers tried to sneak out of town, but they tore out power lines with their rigs as they left.
Eventually, electricity was restored.
The library levy passed.
Life returned to normal.
Until now.
Again.
The potential lease is legal, rational and completely unjust.
I haven’t slept since I received that note.