Sally Hendry set out down the highway on a 28-degree morning with an armful of thick orange ribbons meant to symbolize unity. Trudging through the snow, the retired social worker wrapped one of the ribbons around a utility pole.
“Is that high enough?” Hendry asked her friend Terry Bencen, also of Burns, as she reached up the pole.
“Should be,” said Bencen, observing as Hendry tied the ribbon into a bow. “I thought you were going to do something fancy,” he teased.
A small army of volunteers set out across Burns and the neighboring city of Hines on Wednesday to tie the unity ribbons along the major streets and highways.
It might seem like a minor gesture, but for these residents, placing unity ribbons is a start to bringing Burns back together.
Although the leaders of the armed occupation at the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge were arrested, Harney County remains a tense, and in some ways, a divided place.
Three Months Of Outsiders In Harney County
For local residents, the occupation didn’t just affect the refuge. It took over daily life in Harney County.
The occupation and the issues it raised come up during basketball games, in tense conversations on Facebook and in the grocery store aisle in Hines. Rumors circulate about family riffs — and even break-ups — because people took different sides on the occupation.
Public officials and agency employees say they’ve been harassed and followed by militia groups, and many are uncomfortable with armed strangers who carry sidearms into the grocery store.
The reasons for the stress and the community divisions have changed over the weeks.
In November and December, Ammon Bundy and the outsiders who came to town were focused on the Hammonds, local father and son ranchers convicted of arson. Even then, the presence of the self-described militia groups was disconcerting to many in Burns.
When the Bundys and their followers took over the refuge, many residents were anxious, but that anxiety quelled some when the occupiers demonstrated that they wanted to be nonviolent. People also grew used to the militants. Some residents still vehemently wanted the Bundys to leave, but others began to listen to and appreciate the militants’ message.
But earlier this month, the shooting death of LaVoy Finicum brought a new wave of militia members back to town to protest his death, and now the reasons for worry have shifted yet again.
Twenty-three-year-old Frankie Gould said having outsiders in town whom she distrusts has had a big effect on her young family. She didn’t quite know what to say when her 3-year-old asked about the “strangers with big guns” in town.
Gould said she now avoids certain places in Burns.
“I feel like I don’t even want to take my kids anywhere,” said Gould. She has turned around in restaurant parking lots to avoid outsiders when she noticed out-of-state license plates filling the spots.
“I don’t even want to go in and see these people,” said Gould. “It has been a very big hassle for everybody in town.”
Those in Burns who support the militant groups feel like they’re finally standing up for an important cause.
“My community is divided,” said Jennifer Casey, who owns a ranch near Crane, Oregon. “I believe the way we go from here is through education. We educate people about their rights. People do not even know their constitutional rights anymore.”
Casey said she feels the occupation has raised important questions about federal agencies.
“They’re trying to ruin a chance for my children to live the way I’ve raised them. I just feel it’s being trampled. It doesn’t mean nothing to nobody,” Casey said.
Meanwhile, Charlotte Roderique, chair of the Burns Paiute Tribe, has worried constantly over the ancestral sites and tribal artifacts stored at the refuge headquarters being trampled.
“We take our protection of our ancestors very seriously,” said Roderique. “It is an emotional thing for us and it’s hard to talk about.”
The tribe plans to conduct a cleansing and prayer ritual when the occupation finally ends.
Occupation Talk Dominates The Conversation
On Tuesday in Burns, a knitting club gathered at a bookstore downtown. Two white-haired women who are both named Helen knit and chatted. They used to spend this time catching up on grandkids or asking after each others’ health, but now their conversation quickly turns toward the refuge occupation. Helen Hardwick said she doesn’t know anyone who supports the militants.