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SF Special: Farmers Square Off vs. Keystone Pipeline

SF Special: Farmers Square Off vs. Keystone Pipeline

“So…umm…could…could I…umm…walk…umm…through Carl’s trees?”

I was a skinny 14-year-old when I pulled my dad’s pickup into Raymond Anderson’s farmyard, shy as a poodle in a wolf pack.

“Carl’s trees” were a lonely half-mile windbreak just a couple miles away from my home farm. “Carl” was Carl Osness, a former resident whose place Raymond and his wife, Lillian, now farmed, near Langford, South Dakota.

“Walk through” was actually code for “to hunt.” Raymond got a kick out of it. 

“Well, Gil,” he said, “everyone else just drives right through them. You’re the first one who’s ever asked. So, when you go out there, tell them to get off my land so you can hunt all you want.”

SF Special: Farmers Square Off vs. Keystone Pipeline
Raymond and Lillian Anderson
For a high-school freshman, that approval topped taking the homecoming queen to the homecoming dance, and even that would rank a distant second.

From then on, that tree line formed my own little piece of South Dakota heaven. This time of year, you’d often hear the cackle of a rooster pheasant while watching a shimmering red-coated doe and accompanying fawns graze green brome grass shining in the summer sunlight. Come fall, the tree line provided great cover for hunting snow geese that would fly-tree top high. It was where I fetched $70—serious money for a 1970s high-school student—by trapping my first fox.

Editor’s note: The author’s farm was originally in the South Dakota path of the Keystone Pipeline. He is a former neighbor of Raymond and Lillian Anderson.

Changed Scene

Another visitor in a white car drove into the Anderson’s farmyard in 2007. Lillian looked outside the window and saw Raymond exhibiting a different mood than the playful one he displayed for me over three decades earlier.

“Raymond is a mild-mannered guy,” she says. “But when he gets agitated, he starts pacing back and forth.”

That day, Raymond practically wore out a path in the farmyard as he verbally jousted with a land agent procuring easements for TransCanada’s Keystone Pipeline. It’s one of several oil pipelines that the Canadian energy infrastructure firm has laid through North America.

“He said, ‘You either take this or you get nothing,’” Raymond recalls. “And I said, ‘You need to leave.’”

“They had no answers for our questions,” adds Lillian. “When they did, they came back with double talk.”

Shortly before that, I’d received a letter from TransCanada, asking if they could survey my family’s farm for the pipeline. I was ambivalent, but I gave them permission. Maybe they would give me good money for the pipeline easement. After all, the country definitely needs a way to transport the oil we all use.

“Do they know how wet it is up there?” my wife asked.

“Hmmm,” I said.

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm.”

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