Biological Station remembers its past while conducting cutting-edge research

Exploring the Flathead Valley in the summer of 1898, Morton J. Elrod discovered his lifelong passion.

The eventual founder of the Flathead Lake Biological Station set up camp along the banks of the Swan River. From there, he waded into Flathead Lake, climbed nearby mountains and traversed the woods.

It was the early days of Montana’s statehood and Elrod was looking to the future. In the valley, he found a place where those inclined to study could develop “a better appreciation of living things, plant or animal,” according to biographer George Dennison.

The biological station, which he established the following year, “became his obsession for the remainder of his career,” Dennison wrote in “Montana’s Pioneer Naturalist: Morton J. Elrod.”

From its inception in 1899, the station was known as the “Sentinel,” or guardian, of the lake. For researchers working in the facility today, that sentiment still holds true.

“It’s a great idea to celebrate where you come from while also looking to the future,” said Jim Elser, the current director of the biological station as it marks its 125th anniversary this year. 

The station and its success owe much to Elrod, a name held in high esteem by many Montanans, scholars and researchers today. 

A professor, Elrod arrived at the University of Montana in 1896, at a time when Missoula was untouched from development and progress. Montana was home for roughly 142,900 people, fewer residents than the state’s total square mileage. 

Elrod was tasked with establishing a biology department at the university. And he did, using the opportunity to establish the biological station in the midst of the unique natural world he discovered in the Flathead Valley.

“The laboratory outside Elrod’s door offered a cornucopia of untold wonder for discovery,” Dennison wrote. 

Elrod was involved in everything, from reconnoitering what would become Glacier National Park, to documentary photography, to being the University of Montana’s first biology teacher. His name can be found across the state, from Elrod Elementary School in Kalispell to Elrod Hall in Missoula. 

“He was there setting the foundational scientific knowledge of the basin that we are still building on today,” said Elser. “A lot of this has to do with him.”

THE STATION originally sat on the north end of Flathead Lake near where Elrod camped. The university rented land from the Sliter family, who remains involved in the station’s work today. In 1908, the station was moved to its current location in Yellow Bay on the east side of the lake just south of Bigfork. 

Yellow Bay is a pristine location for the station, said Tom Bansak, current associate director for the Flathead Lake Biological Station and a freshwater ecologist at the University of Montana. 

Tucked behind the Yellow Bay peninsula sits a small settlement of cabins, laboratories and classrooms. The Mission Mountain Range overlooks the calm water protected within the barriers of the bay, which shields the campus from the massive lake body. 

Elrod, after looking at every bay and cove around Flathead Lake, explained that he selected the site because of its access to the river and proximity to the lake in his 1920 station report. 

In total, the station owns 80 acres of land. Much of it is untouched wilderness. 

Almost every building in Yellow Bay is, or once was, a lab. As its reach and size grow, buildings are repurposed to better accommodate students and researchers from across the world. Little cabins surround the shoreline of the peninsula, each summer bustling with students eager to research a unique body of water.

The station has served as a summer research location since 1901 and has only effectively closed its doors twice to students, during World War II and the Covid-19 pandemic, Bansak said. 

Among the earliest students at the station was Jessie Bierman, who became the first Montana Board certified female medical doctor. Bierman stepped off of a steamboat on the shore of Flathead Lake in 1921 as a university student ready to study the ecology of the lake. 

Little did she know that a century later, the station’s research boat would be named after her: the “Jessie B.” Bierman later served as the director of maternal and child health in the Montana Department of Health, establishing a blueprint for pediatric care across the state. 

From 1928-29, the station evaluated Flathead Lake’s fish population, adding to some of the work completed in its early days. 

However, the station lacked significant funding, especially during times of economic depression, turmoil and war. The station entered a bleak period during World War I, Dennison said. But post-war years brought remarkable productivity. 

Elrod submitted his last station report the summer of 1931. He was followed by a string of new leaders committed to studying nature in its most natural form.

Joseph Severy kept the station funded and relevant from ’34 to ’36; Gordon Castle added new buildings and classes on site in 1937; Richard Solberg strengthened the research program from ’62 to ’67; and John Tibbs began year-round research sessions during his time as director from ’67 to ’80.

A milestone came in 1977. That’s when the Environmental Protection Agency gave the station $4 million to start year-round research on Flathead Lake. Today, researchers continue building on the dataset, a rigorous scientific monitoring program on the largest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi. 

THEN CAME director Jack Stanford in 1980, a former student of the station. Stanford recalled that before he was hired former director Solberg approached him, telling him that the biological station needed to be a world class research facility. Solberg tasked Stanford with getting them there. 

“I devoted most of my life to that place,” said Stanford, who discovered the station when he completed his doctorate at Yellow Bay through the University of Utah while researching stoneflies in the early ’70s. 

The watershed engaged Stanford’s interest in limnology, or the study of the biological, chemical and physical features of freshwater lakes. The first time Stanford laid his eyes on Flathead Lake, he said, he was consumed with awe. 

“This lake was clearly — even in those days we understood —  that it was clearly one of the cleanest big lakes in the world,” Stanford said. 

Over the years, the Biological Station has developed their own equipment to study Flathead Lake, specifically to be able to measure the water’s small amounts of phosphorus, an element that turns lake water green.

“We were trying desperately to figure out how to make the proper measurements so we could have a baseline,” Stanford said, citing urgency due to threats to the watershed. 

Human inputs of nutrients like phosphorus caused alarm in the ’70s and ’80s. Research by the station led to a ban on laundry detergents containing phosphorus and the renewal of wastewater treatment facilities in Kalispell. 

Another challenge, Stanford said, came when a Canadian mining company attempted to place a coal mine at the headwaters of the North Fork, a choice that would adversely affect the lake’s clear, healthy waters. 

As a steward of the lake, the station emphasized the importance of maintaining the ecological integrity of the crown of the continent’s watershed and ecosystem, Stanford said. 

By establishing that baseline of what normal lake levels look like, and comparing samples under different circumstances, the station helped prevent the creation of the mine. 

In 2010, research from the station and its partners resulted in an agreement between the United States and Canadian governments to protect the North Fork of the Flathead River from energy development and mining. 

Stanford feels confident that his leadership intentionally led the station to more success. Stanford put the biological station on the research map in a global and international capacity, according to current director Elser.

“The challenge to me was to do cutting-edge research, research that mattered on an international scale, and I think that everyone who works at the station needs to continue that approach. Nothing but the best, nothing but cutting-edge stuff,” Stanford said. “If they do that, the funding will come, notoriety will come, students will graduate and go on to do great things. As far as I can tell since I have retired, that has been front and center.” 

But other challenges arose, Stanford said. One of the biggest was a reoccurring one: funding. 

More money was needed to adequately measure what was going on with the lake’s water quality, Stanford said. Through government grants, and developing independent sources of revenue, the station adapted and improved. Stanford estimates that the station invested more than $50 million into research and development throughout his tenure. 

Today, the station runs samples taken from other water bodies for outside institutions to produce revenue. It also has a boarding program for retreats, another source of income.

However, much of its budget comes from donations and philanthropy. Elser and Bansak both expressed gratitude for the philanthropic community and landowners around the lake who have helped keep the biological station viable. 

“Much of what we can do is only possible because of our very generous community,” Bansak said. 

Stanford retired in 2016, passing the torch to Elser for its next chapter, including overseeing the celebration of 125 years of pioneer work on a unique watershed. 

One hundred and twenty-five years after Elrod’s first evaluations of Flathead Lake, there stands a stronger, well-known research giant, operating with the same goals that Elrod laid down. 

“As the ‘Sentinel on the lake,’ one of the oldest and highest ranked freshwater stations in the world, Elrod’s Biological Station at Flathead Lake stands today as a lasting monument to his vision for the future of ecological and limnological research at the University of Montana,” Dennison wrote.