I received a mailing today from an environmental group urging me to forward a post card showing grazing bison to Montana Governor Marc Racicot (pronounced "rosko"). The card asks the governor to stop killing bison. The card is a gimmick -- politicians rightly ignore such preprinted campaigns.

I could trash it or forward it to Racicot. It would make no difference. But I am tempted to mail it. Montana's policy towards bison wandering into our state from Yellowstone National Park is to haze, prod, haul, pen, zap and shoot them till they come here no more. Racicot and the Montana cattle industry have behaved with all the delicacy of Henry VIII towards his many wives.

Gov. Racicot, however, is a politician of unusual skill. Though as many as 1,200 bison have been slaughtered on his watch, Racicot remains one of our most popular governors. He is considered a candidate for higher office, perhaps Secretary of the Interior, a possibility that makes environmentalists in this state cringe.

On the surface, the bison issue appears to be a matter of science and the protection of public health. Some of the bison and elk of Yellowstone National Park carry strains of Brucellosis, a disease that causes spontaneous abortions in cattle and ungulate fever in humans.

Ironically, the disease was originally given to elk and bison by cattle. The Racicot bison-slaughter policy is predicated on the fear that bison can give it back to cows. It's a policy of perception, not science: There has never been a documented case of transmission from bison to cow, and bison leaving the park in winter are miles away from cattle.

Racicot, though, has bent over backwards to assure the cattle industry that there is no contact between cattle and bison. He has also gone to great pains to keep the public from seeing the actual killing of bison. His administration was the first to dispatch the great beasts in private pens away from cameras. The secrecy is being challenged by a small group of activists, under the banner of the Buffalo Field Campaign. Their cameras show us the guns, snowmobiles and helicopters of the Montana Department of Livestock.

You might wonder why this game of cat and mouse is being played in a state where agriculture and cattle are giving way to tourism and high-tech industry. Our rivers, lakes and mountains bring people here not just to visit, but to live. Electronic commerce is not the future; it is happening now. But political power changes slower than the economy. Those who have it will not give it up easily, and will exercise it with brute force for as long as they can.

Ranchers still pull the political reins of Racicot, even as the world changes around him. So, we are in a quandary. We have a bad policy enforced by a very popular governor. If Racicot had but a half-measure of political fortitude, he could explore other solutions.

Bison leaving Yellowstone usually end up in the Gallatin National Forest, which has a policy of keeping cows out for 30 to 60 days following the presence of bison. This is the simple solution to the bison problem: Enforce an existing policy and keep cows away from bison. Yet it is stubbornly avoided. In late 1999, the Federal Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service (APHIS) and the National Park Service gave up the fight. They abandoned cooperative efforts with Montana to formulate a rational plan, opting to go it alone.

"We don't feel ... there's a need to kill every bison that comes out of the park," said Patrick Collins, APHIS spokesman. Racicot reacted with characteristic detachment, citing a joint goal of formulating a "thoughtful and sensitive" plan. He also told ABC's Nightline that the problem is "almost solved." His meaning is not clear. Our few remaining bison are the remnants of the great herds that once occupied our prairies. They are a national treasure.

Maybe I'll send that card after all. "Dear Governor Racicot: See the peaceful bison. See them eating. See them wandering. See that they cannot read signs, and do not understand political boundaries. They are a national treasure. We entrust their safety to you. Governor Racicot, please stop killing them."

Mark Tokarski is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country News (www.hcn.org). He lives in Billings, Montana.