The outside world rarely pays much attention to Colusa County, unless there's a disaster, man-made or otherwise.

It was quite fascinating, then, to see on the Internet a 4,500-word story that centers on an issue right there in the county.

What could it be? What could prompt so much interest in Colusa?

Think garbage. Think landfill. Think the Cortina Band of Wintun Indians.

Yes, that landfill that nobody in Colusa County wants, unless you're a member of the Cortina Band, is a big issue, if you look at it in context rather than in isolation.

And that's what the Center for Public Integrity did earlier this month in a story by Joe Eaton. The center pumps out issue-oriented stories and some significant investigative pieces on subjects that may tend to fall through the media cracks.

This paper, however, paid a lot of attention to the Cortina landfill controversy, running at least 20 stories since 1996.

But the CPI story seemed to put it all in perspective.

"Colusa County, home of the Cortina Band, is a place of pickup trucks, cowboy boots, and Republican Party loyalties, an unpretentious stretch of Northern California where farmers help each other harvest crops before the fall rains. Many families have been here for generations. More recently, Hispanic workers and long-haul commuters bought homes," the story observed.

The story mostly deals with the landfill, quoting opponents and noting potential shortcomings.

But the bigger picture, as the story notes, is how Indian sovereignty provides a haven from state and local regulations that add cost and time to projects. A number of other developments on Indian land are cited.

"The Cortina landfill is one among dozens of projects across the country for which developers and Native Americans are using Indian sovereignty to bypass state and local regulations and build projects that other communities shun — projects ranging from landfills, big box stores and a massive power plant to casinos, motorcycle tracks and billboards. Neighbors are paying the price," Eaton writes.

And, as many have noted, Indian tribes that have casinos are swimming in cash.

"Critics say legislators are unlikely to take a stand against development on Indian reservations for fear of shutting off what's become a free-flowing spigot of campaign cash," the story says.

The Cortina landfill ran into its share of opposition, Eaton writes, noting that Colusa County sued the Bureau of Indian Affairs in 2003, but then gave up the case three years later.

What does the Cortina Band say?

"The Cortina tribal government office is in a blue-sided building between a hair salon and a dress shop in the city of Williams. Late this summer, Elaine Patterson, the tribal chair, refused requests to be interviewed for this story," Eaton writes.

"Later, a secretary repeatedly said Patterson was busy but that she wanted to talk. She asked for a letter with questions and said Patterson would call to set up an interview. The letter was written but Patterson still did not respond to interview requests."