In Idaho, state wildlife biologists are doing something they never learned in college—teaching trout how to eat native foods. It seems that the hatchery-raised fish, fed a diet of protein pellets instead of stoneflies, have developed rather discriminating palates. They react to worms and other traditional fare the way most five-year-olds do to broccoli.

This story is depressing for those concerned with the wild landscapes and communities of the rural West. Trout represent cultural and ecological links between the past and the present. When biologists must teach them what to eat we wonder if we have already lost the struggle to preserve the West.

The flood heralding the arrival of the "next West" is cresting. Many communities, once isolated by geography and climate, now struggle with burdens of increased traffic, bursting school classrooms and twenty-acre "ranchettes". Can citizens reap the benefits of new growth while maintaining traditional Western values of neighborliness and community?

People such as Ray Rasker of the Wilderness Society and Gundars Rudzitis from the University of Idaho are documenting the West's changing character. Their work indicates that roadless public lands, wilderness areas, free-flowing rivers, national parks and forests, the open range and healthy wildlife habitat play a major role in stimulating much of the region's new economic activity. Their work also provides evidence about the increasing biological and social benefits of the lands that connect these protected areas—the lands "in-between". These lands provide important habitat for species that like to roam: grizzlies, elk, and wolves, and also are part of the region's cultural landscape. Preserving them is vital to protecting both West's wildlife and rural character.

The latest science tells us that large protected areas such as Yellowstone are simply too small to support viable populations of wide-ranging species. The problem is described by a theory called island biogeography. Here's a quick lesson. Take a map of the West and a pen. Circle all the protected lands—wilderness areas, national parks and wildlife refuges. Pretend the space between them is water. The result is a series of islands (often surrounded by intense resource use and development). As David Quammen neatly describes in his recent book, Song of the Dodo, island biogeography demonstrates that when populations of plants and animals are confined to small habitat "islands" they meet a predictable fate—extinction.

Attention is now focused on identifying and protecting the connective tissue between the islands. There is growing understand that keeping these areas intact is the best hope for preserving both the West's biological integrity and cultural traditions.

And here is a major change. Many environmentalists realize that efforts to preserve the region's biological diversity and cultural heritage requires conservation strategies that reflect the importance of economic security and progress. Solutions also need to be sensitive to the concerns and hopes of communities both small and large. Thoughtful environmentalists realize they often promote solutions that conflict with work that defined many Western lives (e.g., logging, mining, and farming). Understanding that Westerners have been movers of stuff rather than symbols is important.

Another stumbling block is that much of these lands are private. Economic realities will dictate their ultimate fate. Most residents are deeply committed to the land. For ranchers and timberland owners, their property may represent college tuition or retirement income. Frustrated by development pressures and threatened by restrictions on the use of their property, they face agonizing choices about lands they have held and nurtured for generations. Well-intended regulations, such as the Endangered Species Act, often succumb to a higher law of "unintended consequences". Regulatory uncertainty and constantly moving "goalposts" confuse and frustrate landowners. As industry and environmental groups spar in protracted and expensive litigation, owners hurry to reduce their liabilities by harvesting, draining or selling critical habitat.

Those concerned with promoting understanding and cooperation between conflicting visions of the West need to embrace new ideas. Conservation strategies must respect local efforts to define a vision for a new West. Most stakeholders will have more in common than they realize. Westerners need to begin a constructive, honest and long overdue debate about the region's present and future. Resolving these issues requires patience, time and trust. But in the West, the prospect of hard work has never been an excuse for foot-dragging. Let's make sure it's not used as one now.