Tom Landwehr trekked into a cool wind through the aster, ragweed and Indiangrass, the sun still low, his Remington 870 Express at his side as Winnie the yellow Lab bounded up ahead. This is Landwehr's blissful place, but even here, while celebrating the opening of pheasant season, the pressures of his job as commissioner of the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) were in full view just up the hill: Row crops that conservationists say destroy habitat and pollute waterways, while farmers say it's their livelihood.
And that's just the start of the conflicts. Landwehr, 60, deals with a dizzying array of contentious political issues, from the Mille Lacs walleye shortage to the Fargo-Moorhead diversion project to aquatic invasive species. Next month, the DNR will release the final environmental impact statement on the controversial PolyMet mining project. With it will come further scrutiny, this time from conservationists, business groups and organized labor. The only guarantee of the PolyMet controversy, like so many issues upon which Landwehr must govern: Someone will feel like his ox got gored, someone will lose.
"I think every Minnesotan has an idea of how the DNR should be run," said Rep. Rick Hansen, the lead DFLer on the House Environment and Natural Resources Committee. "If you don't catch a fish, it's DNR's fault. If the trail isn't groomed, it's DNR's fault. If you didn't get the campsite, it's DNR's fault." Hansen, like many interviewed, sympathizes with Landwehr's plight but isn't shy about critiquing his performance.
To see Landwehr work — at meetings of residents in all four corners of the state or at legislative hearings about water or deer or rocks — is to watch a stoic absorb the verdict of an angry crowd.
"I call it passionate discussion," said Landwehr, who manages 2,700 full-time workers and a $500 million annual budget.
Despite — or perhaps, because of — the criticism, Landwehr has a key fan: The man who signs the checks.
"I think he's done an outstanding job," said Gov. Mark Dayton, who appointed him in 2011.
The walleye shortage at Lake Mille Lacs illustrated the ways Landwehr is useful to Dayton. The commissioner listened patiently to resort owners and sport fishermen who all but called for the DNR to be burned down. He listened to legislators demand, in occasionally scornful tones, that he keep the fishing season open.
But mostly he listened to his scientists and lawyers, who warned him of the dangers of overfishing and violating an agreement with the Mille Lacs Chippewa bands. (Landwehr credits his staff, saying he's lucky that when he's with them, he's the "dumbest guy in the room.")
When Dayton got too far out in front of the walleye issue and said he would "insist" on an ice fishing season, it was left to Landwehr to gently walk it back.
"His decision was clearly science-based," said Rep. Denny McNamara, chairman of the House Environment and Natural Resources Committee. "Politically, the smarter way to go was to keep the season open."
But McNamara epitomizes the rigors of Landwehr's job — the Hastings Republican has his own bone to pick. He contends the DNR is violating terms of a complex legislative deal made on buffer strips around streams, rivers and ditches, aimed to protect waterways from pollution.
Landwehr counters that his agency is merely following the language of the statute the Legislature passed this year. "It's plain language," he said. "If they think we're misinterpreting the language, they should change the language."
Plenty of critics
Other critics are not as diplomatic as McNamara, who mostly offered approval.
Brooks Johnson of Monticello is president of Minnesota Bowhunters Inc. and a fierce critic of the DNR and Landwehr's management.
He criticized the department's deer management that he says led to sharp reductions in the herd, as well as Landwehr's lack of responsiveness.
"I don't know what kind of guy he is because he's never corresponded," Johnson said.
Landwehr said after two bad winters and a decision before his arrival to thin the herd 25 percent to protect crops, the deer population is now on the mend. He said he welcomes a legislative audit of the deer program — the results of which should arrive in the coming months — to learn what can be done better.
As for Johnson, Landwehr said he listens to all voices but tries to remember that there are 500,000 deer hunters in Minnesota. "Is the loudest voice correct? Or is it just the loudest?" he said, in what could be a mantra of the job.
Those loud voices will become a cacophony when the DNR releases the final environmental impact statement on the PolyMet proposal next month. Next year, the DNR will determine whether the environmental review qualifies PolyMet to begin applying for permits, including the DNR permit to mine.
"It will be a key test of DNR and Tom Landwehr's leadership in how they approach this final decisionmaking process and how they involve the public," said Aaron Klemz, spokesman for Friends of the Boundary Waters Wilderness, which has raised issues with science underlying the draft environmental statement.
But as the sun rose on the opening of pheasant season last week, Landwehr tromped through the chest-high flora and whistled commands at Winnie, perhaps able to forget about all that, at least for a bit.
This year's pheasant opener was more meaningful, however. Landwehr, with Dayton by his side, offered up an ambitious 10-point plan last month to restore the pheasant population and preserve a century-old hunting tradition that looks more and more imperiled.
Last year, about 58,000 hunters pursued pheasants — the fewest in nearly 40 years — and harvested 153,000 roosters, the lowest in 30 years. The culprit: a loss of habitat, especially grasses where the birds nest in spring. Habitat loss is largely beyond Landwehr's control, a function of the global commodities boom and federal farm policies that encourage corn and soy production. But you can bet at least some hunters place the blame squarely on him.
Landwehr, who is also a deer hunter, angler and all-around outdoorsman, usually gets about 20 birds per year. But on this day, not a one.
The true joy and meaning of the season opener, Landwehr said in remarks at a land dedication ceremony afterward, is time in nature, with family and friends and the dogs.
Sure would have been nice to get a bird, though.
Patrick Coolican • 651-925-5042
