Hunters are not alone in loving lead. The Romans employed lead in their plumbing, Gutenberg made printing type from a lead-tin alloy, and lead-acid batteries worldwide start our cars. Lead is especially suitable for making bullets. Because of its low melting point, lead is easy to pour and cast; it retains its kinetic energy over long distances; and it deforms on impact.

But even in tiny dosages, lead is toxic to all living organisms, damaging nervous systems, impairing the creation of blood, harming kidneys and liver, impeding reproduction, and diminishing the cognitive development of children. The amount of lead discharged by hunters isn’t trivial. We spew an estimated 12-to-20 million pounds of lead across America’s fields and forests each year. Imagine 444 fully loaded semi-trucks stretching for six miles. That’s 20 million pounds of lead.

Most of this massive tonnage falls in the shape of shotgun pellets discharged by bird hunters in pursuit of doves, pheasant, grouse and quail. (Waterfowlers were required to switch to nontoxic shot in 1991.) Since birds have no teeth, they pick up grit to grind seeds and plants in their gizzards. Thus, while foraging, they ingest shotgun pellets and can die from consuming as little as one of them.

The balance of lead falling upon the American countryside is composed of bullets that have brought down big game animals and prairie dogs. On impact, these bullets shed dozens and sometimes hundreds of microscopic lead shards. A substantial number of these fragments may end up in our steaks and burgers; the rest are left behind in big-game gut piles or in the carcasses of prairie dogs. This feast of lead-scattered remains is subsequently eaten by a wide variety of scavengers. All told, this annual jetsam of lead causes 10-to-20 million wildlife deaths, perhaps 15 million doves and other upland birds, tens of thousands of raptors, and countless mammals, such as ferrets, coyotes, badgers, weasels and bobcats.

When it comes to human beings, no one knows how many Americans are harmed by eating meat contaminated by lead bullets. Recently, synchrotron X-ray imaging, which can detect far smaller particles than standard X-rays, has revealed that deer and birds downed with lead bullets or lead shot are seeded with nanoparticles of lead that far exceed levels set by the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for lead poisoning, especially lead poisoning in children.

There is also no safe level of lead exposure, a reality that has led to national bans on lead paint in 1977, lead plumbing in 1986, lead shot for waterfowl hunting in 1991, leaded gasoline in 1996, and the U.S. Army’s transition to lead-free ammunition in 2003.

Taking all this into account, I made the switch to nontoxic ammunition and have now shot 13 elk and a bison with a variety of Barnes X copper bullets, all of the animals dropping in their tracks, as well as many dozens of upland birds with bismuth shot. I am not alone in thinking that these bullets provide superior accuracy and one-shot kills. American Hunter, one of the NRA’s flagship publications, has unabashedly praised the Barnes line, saying, “Every now and then a new bullet comes along that redefines what we think we know about hunting projectiles.”

It’s true that copper ammunition is more expensive than lead (about a dollar more per round than premium lead ammo), but how many shots do hunters need to fill their tag — one or two? And nontoxic shotgun shells are now priced cheaper than some equivalent lead-shot loads.

In this light, I can’t think of a single reason not to switch to nontoxic bullets and birdshot for hunting while we continue to use lead ammunition at rifle ranges, and at trap and skeet fields, where lead won’t enter the food chain. It’s the right thing to do for wildlife and for our own health and that of our families.

Yet on September 17, President Trump grandfathered hunting with lead ammunition on 640 million acres of federal lands. The NRA cheered his executive order as a “historic moment.”

Ted Kerasote is a contributor to Writers on the Range, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about the West. He has written about wildlife and nature since the 1970s, and his many books include Bloodties: Nature, Culture, and the Hunt and Pukka’s Promise: The Quest for Longer-Lived Dogs.

The post Lead doesn’t suit us anymore appeared first on Writers On The Range.

That they flourish is due to Yellowstone’s huge expanse of wildlands — you’d have to drive 1,000 miles to circle what’s called the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. 

But new policies from Washington, D.C., would dramatically reduce the size of these wildlands and threaten wildlife’s ability to survive.

Bigger is better for wildland ecosystems, a lesson learned soon after Yellowstone was established as the nation’s first national park in 1872.  When General Philip Sheridan explored the region, he realized even then that the park was far too small to contain its migrating wildlife; he urged expanding the park. I’m an ecologist who has studied the region, and we know even better today that climate, soils and food sources vary enormously from place to place, causing wildlife to sometimes seek new ground.

Through the years Congress has understood this pattern and acted. Federally protected lands around Yellowstone have been steadily enlarged, with national forests created in the late 1800s, designated wilderness areas created in the 1960s, along with wilderness study areas from the 1970s to 1980s, and inventoried roadless areas in the 1990s.

The Yellowstone ecosystem now has as much — or more — lands protected for wildlife than anywhere else in the lower 48 states. These lands are needed to keep intact what makes Yellowstone unique.

Protected federal lands have been the most important buffer against fragmented and developed private lands. In an Ecosphere paper, I reported that on privately owned land, vital signs of ecological health across greater Yellowstone had mostly deteriorated since 1970. But it was the opposite on protected federal lands, with most remaining stable or improving.

As this disparity became widely known, conservation collaboratives have formed to maintain or restore wildlife habitat on large private ranches, while also helping rural homeowners and recreationists learn how to reduce their impacts on wildlife. 

For example, the Greater Yellowstone Coalition is using wildlife-friendly fencing to contain cattle while still allowing wildlife to migrate. The coalition also supports range rider programs to reduce predator impacts on cattle. And the Teton Conservation District provides The Mountain Neighbor Handbook: A Local’s Guide to Stewardship in the Tetons to new residents around Jackson, Wyoming. 

Now, this administration is promoting policies that harm rather than help the Yellowstone area. If enacted, these policies would:

• Accelerate logging in national forests and expand access for motorized vehicles.
• Open inventoried roadless areas to roadbuilding, logging and mining.
• Roll back protections for wilderness study areas.
• Open the habitats of endangered species to development.

The Trump administration is telling us that these policy changes are needed to reduce fuels and protect communities from severe wildfires. The science shows otherwise. An analysis published in the International Journal of Wildland Fire in 2014 found that people’s lives and property are best protected by reducing fuels immediately around homes — not in remote wildlands that are critical for wildlife.

Stripping federal land protections would deliver a knife to the heart of what makes Yellowstone special. Unfortunately, the other great natural ecosystems across the country face the same loss of protections.

What can we do? Comment on the Roadless Rule before October 6. We can also speak loudly and tell our elected representatives to halt the administration’s destructive policies. We can vote wisely in November to stop proposed rollbacks of federal land protections.

If we can block these threats, we can return to working collaboratively across ranchland associations, land trusts, conservation groups, local and tribal governments, recreationists, residents, and visitors. We all know how precious wild country and wild animals are to this nation, and we’ve learned what it takes to keep wildlife thriving.

We have to fight harder than ever now to keep intact the wild places we have left.

Andrew Hansen is a contributor to Writers on the Range, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about the West. He is professor emeritus of ecology at Montana State University and lives in Bozeman, Montana.

The post What makes Yellowstone unique is at risk appeared first on Writers On The Range.

The species is critically endangered in fact, if not by official decree. It is protected by the Act as just “threatened” because the Interior Department lost a lawsuit brought by Gunnison County, the states of Utah and Colorado, and ranching, livestock and energy-development interests.

Now, the plaintiffs don’t even have to fret about threatened status. The Trump administration has essentially done away with the Endangered Species Act itself. On July 14, the administration finalized a rule that legalizes the destruction of habitat that sustains all threatened and endangered life.

It’s still a crime to kill or damage any listed individual plant, invertebrate, fish, reptile, amphibian, bird or mammal. But it’s perfectly okay to destroy all habitat formerly deemed necessary for a species’ survival, which will likely render said species extinct. “Common sense” is how Trump’s Interior Secretary Douglas Burgum defines this nonsensical approach.

Wildlife advocates are outraged. “Taking habitat protections out of the ESA is like taking anti-discrimination provisions out of the Civil Rights Act,” declares Animal Wellness Action president Wayne Pacelle. “The law may still bear the same name, but its core provision and promise have been hollowed out.”

Bart Melton of the National Parks Conservation Association writes that the rule “defies common sense” and that it “paves the way for mining, oil and gas drilling, logging, and development in areas that are crucial to the survival of some of our most vulnerable species.”

Earthjustice attorney Kristen Boyles condemns the rule as violating “the core purpose of the statute and decades of legal precedent, including from the U.S. Supreme Court.”

Meanwhile, multiple lawsuits to block the Trump administration’s “harm” rule are underway. 

For half a century, “harm” had been defined by law as not just human-caused death and damage to listed species but also as “significant modification or degradation” of their critical habitat. With that definition, the Act has saved 99 percent of listed organisms from extinction.

Gunnison sage-grouse remain on Earth because an intact Endangered Species Act required the federal government to write recovery plans for listed organisms. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and partners didn’t have a choice. If they had done nothing, they’d have violated federal law.

The main threats to Gunnison sage-grouse are invasive cheatgrass, wildfire, fragmentation of habitat by urban and suburban sprawl and prolonged drought caused by climate change.

Close to half the remaining grouse habitat is in private hands. So voluntary protection and restoration of habitat by landowners has been paramount. Under the intact Act, most of this protection and restoration was implemented by “Safe Harbor” agreements covering almost 100,000 acres.

Safe Harbor is a voluntary partnership between private landowners and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to protect and restore low-elevation wet meadows and sagebrush that are crucial for long-term Gunnison sage-grouse survival. In exchange, Safe Harbor signatories receive a guarantee that they won’t get hit with additional land-use restrictions or penalties under the Act if their habitat improvements attract more Gunnison sage-grouse.

When the Trump administration proposed its habitat harm rule on April 15, 2025, almost 360,000 public comments were filed. While the administration declines to list the number or percentage of negative responses, an Earthjustice analysis reveals that about 99 percent of the comments were opposed. The Administrative Procedure Act requires federal agencies to consider public commentary and provide a rational, evidence-based explanation for their final rule. The Trump administration routinely ignores this directive.

Without the Act’s mandate for recovery plans, there will be little motivation for landowners to honor Safe Harbor agreements or sign new ones.

The Trump administration’s new, destructive Endangered Species Act is scheduled to take effect September 14. Unless the environmental community succeeds with litigation to block it, Gunnison sage-grouse don’t stand a chance. And we won’t just lose the Gunnison sage-grouse. Hundreds of other listed organisms will slide into oblivion, and the most successful habitat protection and restoration law ever enacted will cease to exist.

Ted Williams, a longtime environmental writer, is a contributor to Writers on the Range, writersontherange.org, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about the West.

The post Trump administration legalizes extinction of the Gunnison sage-grouse appeared first on Writers On The Range.

Monsoons were supposed to be heavy this year. As I looked down at the river in late August, clouds in the distance appeared almost monsoonal. Wisps of rain streamed out, but they evaporated before reaching the parched ground. It just about made me cry.

Below me, the North Fork of the Gunnison unceremoniously trickled into the Gunnison River at a place known as Pleasure Park, a weather-beaten outpost of civilization that’s one of the last best-kept secrets in Colorado.

The Gunnison River starts high in the Elk Mountains and flows into Colorado’s largest body of water, Blue Mesa reservoir, though currently it is only the second largest because of drought. Then it flows free through Black Canyon National Park, but only after most of its water gets diverted to irrigate farmland surrounding the towns of Delta and Montrose. The park is a gem, albeit one of the least visited in the nation. From above there’s not much to do except walk to outlooks to stare at sheer, colorful rock walls on the other side and the thin ribbon of river 2,000 feet below.

The “Gunny” then flows through the remote yet accessible Gunnison Gorge Wilderness. In this thin crack of the earth, I’ve spent the past 12 summers working as a wilderness fly-fishing river guide. 

Accessible is a relative term. The hearty few that run this remote wild river get to the water by hiking a rough 1.2-mile-long mule trail that drops steeply for almost 600 vertical feet. Even getting to the trailhead takes an hour and a half from the nearest town, and it’s on a four-wheel-drive road that’s been the death knell of many a low-clearance vehicle. Rocky on a good day, it can become impassable when wet. 

For those with the dough, a mule packer can be hired to transport boat and gear to the river. Those with the youth, knees, and determination can backpack down rafts, frames, oars, fishing and camping gear. Even elite guests, including former presidents who book fly-fishing trips with commercial guide services, carry their personal gear down to the river. 

World-class fishing is why anybody makes the effort, 14 miles of wilderness Gold Medal water, the action peaking in June when large hungry trout key in on an epic salmon-fly hatch. 

This stretch of river may be navigable, but it features 18 named technical rapids, and any one of them can humble experienced river runners. Rapids called “Improvise,” “Boulder Garden,” and “Squeeze” can feel more like rock than water, and almost every rapid has ruined a trip at some point. The river is littered with rocks that also earned names because they have strong personalities: “Queen of Hearts,” “The Table and Tombstone,” and “Dicky Do.” Others carry the monikers of unlucky guides. 

All these barriers have kept crowds at bay though now there’s a new constraint — 90-to-100-degree temperatures for days on end. The Gorge can remain runnable in 14-foot rafts down to about 300 cubic feet per second, but even then it’s tight. Today it’s running well below that, and the water is too warm for the fish. Most commercial trips have been canceled.

Looking upriver into the Gorge, I don’t see any boats fishing their way out of the wilderness, and it doesn’t take much to imagine the riverbed — a sad meander of dry cobbles bleached white, punctuated by stagnant pools full of belly-up trout.

This place, with its rugged remoteness, wild rapids and world-class trout fishing, has carved its way into my soul. I mourn for future generations who will probably know a much different river. 

I feel bad for the salty guides out both trips and tips. I mourn too for the bugs that fattened the fish that paid my bills, for the mergansers, ring-tail cats and desert bighorn sheep. All need a river that’s wet.

Jacob Richards is a contributor to Writers on the Range, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about the West. He is a writer about Western environmental issues and sometime outdoor guide. He lives in Fruita in western Colorado.

The post The sadness of a river running dry appeared first on Writers On The Range.

We crave shade here, but where there’s shade in Tucson there’s apt to be affluence. In contrast, seven of the 10 hottest neighborhoods are on the city’s Southside, one of the poorest parts of town. On a summer day, temperatures in the hottest Southside neighborhoods can exceed citywide averages by 7 to 8 degrees. When compared to the Catalina Foothills—one of our metro area’s most affluent regions—that disparity can run as high as 12 degrees.

This isn’t unique to Tucson. A recent study averaged seven years of data to come up with mean temperatures for Tucson and 19 other Southwest cities. The study found that on an average summer day, temperatures were significantly hotter in poorer and more Latino neighborhoods than in richer, whiter ones.

So, to help cool this desert city of 542,000 people, some of my fellow Tucsonans have been busy planting trees. They’re working to achieve an ambitious goal: one million trees planted by 2030.

One Saturday, my friend Mandy and I joined a handful of other adults and a bunch of high schoolers to help plant trees in a modest neighborhood on Tucson’s Southside. Luckily, the digging conditions we encountered in the first yard were the worst—when our arms were still fresh.

“Caliche,” sighed Lenore, a fellow volunteer pushing 70 but still doggedly moving dirt. Caliche is a notorious feature in the Southwest—soil cemented by calcium carbonate. The first time I faced caliche was trying to plant a tree in my own yard, where a hard white layer had formed. You have to break through that hard layer before planting anything.

Lenore was mistaken—it wasn’t caliche—but the soil was compacted and dry. We’d scrape away one or two inches, then launch another round with the digging bar to break up more. Teenagers across the yard weren’t faring any better.

At long last, we dug deep enough to plant two native hackberry trees that in time will offer food for birds and pollinators, as well as shade. We watered them in, then headed down the street to the next house.

“I’m tired,” Mandy admitted. “Are you tired?”. I wasn’t, but I would’ve been if I’d been digging solo.

The second yard, like the first, was bare, but this time the ground was considerably softer. While we dug, two women came out with their friendly husky to cheer us on. Working as a team, we planted two native desert willows.

The third yard was easier still. The young couple who bought the house six months ago had watered the spots—hallelujah!—where we then planted a desert willow and a red push pistache. He and the other homeowners had agreed to keep watering their new trees, particularly before the monsoon rains (hopefully) arrive in late summer and until the trees become established, at which point the desert-adapted trees can largely fend for themselves.

These trees are “a promise to future generations” for shade, health and prosperity, said Mayor Regina Romero — Tucson’s first-ever female mayor and first Hispanic mayor in 150 years.

“Climate change waits for no one,” the mayor said. “Without a livable community, we have no Tucson.”

My friend Mandy and I got involved through the NeighborWoods Tree Planting program, which operates under the nonprofit Tucson Clean & Beautiful. It works closely with the city and is funded entirely by the state through the Inflation Reduction Act, with money guaranteed for one more year.

The mayor launched the Tucson Million Trees initiative in 2020 by planting a tree in her own yard. Five years later, 150,000 trees are in the ground. While new plantings are encouraged everywhere, the NeighborWoods program invests heavily in neighborhoods that are particularly hot.

Fliers distributed to neighborhoods offer a short list of low-water use, mostly native trees for planting, including palo verde, desert ironwood and velvet mesquite. The program offers up to three free trees per yard—homeowner’s choice—plus free labor to put them in the ground.

The morning I volunteered, folks planted 101 trees. I personally helped plant three of them. It’s a long way to reach one million, but I’ll be back. We need all the shade we can get.

Karen Mockler lives and writes in Tucson, Arizona and is a contributor to Writers on the Range, writersontherange.org, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about the West.

The post Planting one million trees to cool a desert city appeared first on Writers On The Range.

Congress largely rejected those cuts the last time around, but the administration is trying again, hoping to bully Congress into further weakening the management and protection of our public land.

A major part of Burgum’s strategy has been to continue the administration’s policy of driving out the people who do the work. Over the past year, Elon Musk’s DOGE-driven firings and buyouts gutted the Interior Department’s workforce. About a quarter of National Park Service employees have left since January 2025, including rangers, biologists, historians and maintenance workers, all pushed out through waves of terminations and early retirement offers. There’s also been the slow demoralization of being told your life’s work doesn’t matter.

This month, Interior announced yet another round of buyouts, the latest effort to thin the ranks of the people who keep trails open and fight wildfires.

What’s almost hard to believe is the policy of erasing history itself. Under orders from Secretary Burgum and President Trump, the National Park Service has removed or flagged for removal hundreds of interpretive signs and exhibits across the country.

At Independence National Historical Park in Philadelphia—the birthplace of the 250-year-old democracy that we’re about to celebrate—an exhibit about enslaved people at the President’s House has been removed. At the Grand Canyon, signs acknowledging that white settlers displaced Native American Tribes were taken down. At the Selma to Montgomery National Historic Trail, some 80 items have been flagged for removal. At Stonewall National Monument, the Pride flag came down.

Climate science has been banished from Glacier National Park, and Grand Teton removed a sign about an army officer who bragged about the massacre of more than 170 Piegan Blackfeet people. The stories of Japanese American internment in the western states, of women’s suffrage, of labor rights—all deemed unpatriotic by an administration that believes you can only honor America’s 250th birthday by pretending half of its history never happened.

At the end of March, Burgum also convened the “God Squad,” officially known as the Endangered Species Committee, for the first time in more than three decades. Its meeting lasted less than 30 minutes, yet the committee voted unanimously to exempt all oil and gas drilling in the Gulf of Mexico from the Endangered Species Act. The decision will almost certainly doom the Rice’s whale, a species found nowhere else on Earth, of which roughly 50 remain. It was the first time national security has been invoked to override the Endangered Species Act, and conservationists warn that it will not be the last.

As for the U.S. Forest Service, draconian cuts in its staff are planned along with wholesale closings of regional offices and dozens of research stations. The agency’s reorganization also includes moving its main headquarters from Washington, D.C. to Salt Lake City, Utah.

This administration has made its intent clear: Cut budgets, drive out the workforce, erase history, greenlight extinction. Energy extraction is paramount, while conservation, research, and preservation are all values that can be discarded.

These are not disconnected policy decisions. They are part of the coherent vision of a cabinet secretary who sees public lands as surplus inventory and history as a branding problem.

But this is what Doug Burgum will learn: Americans are not going along with it. Polling shows that nearly 80 percent of the public opposes removing factual history from national parks. More than 99 percent of public comments opposed rolling back roadless protections for national forests. Congress rejected the worst of last year’s budget cuts, and it will be pressed to do so again. When the administration, aided by Senator Mike Lee of Utah, tried to sell off public lands through the reconciliation bill, bipartisan outrage killed it.

Doug Burgum can propose all the budget cuts he wants, but he will face determined opposition from all of us who treasure our public lands.

Aaron Weiss, director of the Center for Western Priorities, is a contributor to Writers on the Range, writersontherange.org, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about Western issues.

The post Interior Secretary ramps up assault on public land appeared first on Writers On The Range.

The BLM is America’s biggest landlord, responsible for over 245 million acres of our public lands. That’s more than 10% of the total land in the United States, which means that the management policies of BLM have enormous impacts, especially in the West where it is by far the largest landowner.

The agency’s website proclaims: “The Bureau of Land Management’s mission is to sustain the health, diversity, and productivity of public lands for the use and enjoyment of present and future generations.” BLM’s record at living up to that mission is at best debatable, given the agency’s long accommodation of ranching, timber and fossil fuel interests. What’s not debatable is that under this administration the BLM intends to go hog-wild on resource extraction.

There is no more extreme example of this than BLM’s proposal to revise the Resource Management Plans for Western Oregon BLM Lands. 

These plans cover management of some of the most diverse and ecologically significant conifer forests in the world, vital for providing clean water, carbon sequestration, and essential habitat for endangered species including northern spotted owls, marbled murrelets, and coho salmon.  Their irreplaceable importance was acknowledged in 1995’s Northwest Forest Plan, which covered both BLM and Forest Service lands in the range of the northern spotted owl. 

That Forest Plan established a network of Late Successional Reserves protected from logging, included an Aquatic Conservation Strategy to protect key watersheds, and mandated a Survey and Manage program to provide the data needed for stewardship of at-risk species.

BLM never fully committed to these strong conservation protections, and the agency effectively withdrew its lands from the Forest Plan in its 2016 Western Oregon Plan Revision. Since then, it has repeatedly failed to live up to its own weakened standards. Now, it has decided that even those are too restrictive.

On February 19, the agency released its proposed new Resource Management Plan. It would open nearly 2 million acres to clear-cutting with no protections for remaining old growth. It would completely eliminate Late Successional Reserves and would further reduce 2016’s weakened riparian protections. It would open all currently designated Areas of Critical Environmental Concern for re-evaluation, potentially eliminating the designations and opening them up for logging.

And the bottom-line goal? To quadruple the logging volume on Western Oregon BLM forests, returning these public lands to the “robust” levels of the 1960s and 1970s. Those days of rampant and unsustainable clear-cutting led directly to the public outcry against the destruction of the Pacific Northwest’s ancient forests, and to the necessity for the Northwest Forest Plan. Now BLM wants to turn back the clock as if that destruction never happened.

If the landlords of a big apartment building were proposing something radical—say, the demolition of the top 10 floors—they would certainly call a public meeting, right? They’d provide ample time for tenants to make their voices heard, right? Not if the landlord is the Bureau of Land Management.

The Federal Register notice specifies a mere 30 days for public comments on this radical proposal: All must be received by March 23 and can only be provided digitally or by mail. There will be no public meetings.

We, the people, to whom these forests belong, will be given no opportunity to look officials in the eye and demand that they provide scientific or legal justification for this wholesale abandonment of responsible forest management.

These magnificent forests are not fiber farms. They do not belong to the Bureau of Land Management or to the logging companies waiting to move in and reap quick profits. They are held in trust for the American people. BLM’s proposed new plan would destroy these forests, and that trust.

Still, we can act. The following are the only available ways to comment on the proposed Resource Management Plan:

 Through BLM’s website: https://eplanning.blm.gov, Project Number DOI-BLM-ORWA-0000-2026-0001-RMP-EIS.

 Via Email: BLM_OR_Revision_Scoping@blm.gov.

 By snail mail: Attention BLM OR930: 1220 SW 3rd Ave, Portland, OR 97204.

Pepper Trail is a contributor to Writers on the Range, writersontherange.org, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about the West. He is a writer and ecologist in Oregon.

The post The Bureau of Land Management is running amok appeared first on Writers On The Range.

In the end, public land defenders won. Confronted by an outpouring of grassroots opposition, Senator Lee removed his amendment to the Trump administration’s “Big Beautiful Bill.” But the struggle demonstrated that we need to act sooner.

Four elk hunters in Wyoming showed us what stepping up can look like. Instead of sitting back and looking sadly at a huge chunk of prime elk country blocked by a billionaire’s ranch, they built a special ladder. By climbing over it, they crossed from one corner of public land to another, setting in motion a legal process that freed up millions of acres of public land in six states.

They also shot some nice bulls.

The hunters’ creativity in the field has become an inspiration. That’s why the two of us—state legislators in Wyoming and Montana—are teaming up to fight for public land access, just as the hunters on Wyoming’s Elk Mountain did. 

Across the West, millions of acres of public land are still legally open but practically inaccessible. At checkerboard corners where public and private land meet, a person can stand on public ground, look directly at more public ground just an inch away, and still be told they cannot step from one to the other. 

In Wyoming, the question of corner crossing dragged through the courts for years. Last October, the Supreme Court refused to hear a case challenging a lower court decision allowing corner crossing. The ruling establishes that crossing between public land corners without touching private property does not constitute trespass. 

That means corner crossing remains legal in the 10th Circuit states of Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Oklahoma, Kansas and New Mexico.

In other states, a legal grey area remains.

In Montana, Governor Greg Gianforte and the director of Fish, Wildlife and Parks say that corner crossing remains unlawful under state law. That declaration puts political clout behind the status quo, where public land remains accessible to those who can buy control of key parcels and hire fancy attorneys.

The consequences are not abstract. For working families in Montana and Wyoming, access to public land is a necessity, not a luxury. It is how people put meat in the freezer as grocery prices rise. It is how parents take their kids outdoors without paying fees. It is how rural communities hold on to traditions that are increasingly out of reach.

We, as elected leaders, need to act. We can’t let confusing court decisions or laws that don’t serve the people be the last word on any issue dealing with public land.

That’s why the two of us support state legislation in both Wyoming and Montana that will clarify the law and protect public access. The stakes are high and rising. Land prices have become astronomically out of reach for most people, outside wealth continues to pour into our states, and politicians in Congress and our state legislatures increasingly side with wealthy landowners.

Unless public land supporters in office act to clarify corner crossing in law, access will continue to shrink. The result will be a two-tiered system: a West for people who can afford exclusive access, another West that’s diminished for everyone else.

Corner crossing may be ingenious, but it is not radical. It is a straightforward affirmation that public land needs to be available to the public. We don’t think this is a partisan issue. Hunters, anglers, hikers, conservationists, landowners, and working families span every political stripe in our states. Fair access to public land for future generations is a shared value.

The choice ahead is simple. We can defend public land as a public right for our children and grandchildren, or we can allow the West to slide toward a situation where those with wealth continue to block vast swaths of public land.

As legislators from Montana and Wyoming, we know which side we are on.

The writers are contributors to Writers on the Range, writersontherange.org, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conservation about the West. Karlee Provenza is a Democrat serving House District 45, Laramie, in the Wyoming House of Representatives. Democrat Joshua A. Seckinger serves House District 62, Bozeman, in the Montana House of Representatives. For information about the bills they propose, contact Karlee.Provenza@wyoleg.gov or Joshua.seckinger@legmt.gov. The Wyoming Legislature convenes Feb. 9 and plans to consider corner crossing.

The post Lawmakers need to protect public access for corner crossers appeared first on Writers On The Range.

The pair that found each other to form Washington’s first wolf pack came from far-flung places: the Canadian Rockies and the British Columbia coast. The spontaneous recolonization has become a notable success story.

Washington now has more than 230 wolves in at least 43 packs, living mostly in the northeastern part of the state. This area makes sense, as it is adjacent to wolf-populated wildlands in both Idaho and Canada. Wolves are amazing and ecologically vital, but also a challenge for the people they live among.

One rancher I know said, “When wolves first showed up, it felt like they were managing my cattle.”

The rancher finally regained control of his herd by using labor-intensive practices that deter wolves from preying on cattle. One of the most effective tools was a rider patrolling on horseback.

Range riders are specialized cowboys who keep the peace by providing a human shield. The riders bunch herds up at night when wolves are most active, and they make sure calves stay close to their moms.

While not infallible, range riding works well in keeping attacks on livestock relatively low while also reducing opposition to wolves. Human deterrence is costly, though. Contracting and managing range riders has cost up to $1 million each year. Washington has chosen to share the burden by funding ranchers willing to use these practices. Public and private dollars are funneled through two public agencies and the nonprofit I direct, Conservation Northwest.

“Washington has more range riders than any other state,” said Jay Shepherd, who directs Conservation Northwest’s wolf field program. As a result, Washington has the fewest depredations on livestock among states with established wolf packs, which means fewer wolves killed.

When wolf attacks do occur, the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife may help a rancher use nonlethal tactics to deter wolves, ranging from fancy flagging to rubber bullets. If the incidents cross a certain threshold, the department may act to kill one or more wolves.

The response is guided by a protocol negotiated by an advisory group of stakeholders, ranging from wolf advocates to ranchers. The group determined that preventing problems was most effective; prevention was also appreciated by ranchers who didn’t like the compensation process after they’d lost cattle.

Sharing the cost of deterrence makes sense. Collaborating to fund peacekeeping tactics has also been a good way to bridge the persistent urban-rural divide.

Elsewhere, in states like Idaho and Wyoming, people kill more than a third of their wolf population each year. In Washington, that mortality rate is under 5 percent.

Oregon has almost as many wolves as Washington, but combativeness is more the norm than collaboration in that state, resulting in twice as many dead cows and wolves. Bitter political conflict about wolves is also more evident in Oregon than in Washington, where the state’s bipartisan focus has been on funding deterrence.

California, with about 50 wolves, is newer to the arena. Its initiation to wolf drama came last year, when the Beyem Seyo pack killed more than 80 cows despite an expensive, but late, attempt at nonlethal disruption. The state ended up killing five wolves and relocating two more. Media reports described the wolves as “euthanized.”

In Colorado, a 2020 ballot initiative directed the state to bring wolves in from Canada. Although 25 wolves have been released, the effort has now been stalled by political polarization, which cost the head of the wildlife agency his job.

On the whole, if you’re a wolf, the best state to start a family is Washington — for now. Facing a tight budget, Washington halved its wolf funding in 2025. That means fewer range riders, more livestock depredations and angrier ranchers, along with litigation over a wolf-removal order.

If Washington can’t resume proper funding, our sterling record could end. If we can’t find the grace to continue the collaborative approach that from experience we know works, everyone will lose.

Especially the wolves.

Mitch Friedman is a contributor to Writers on the Range, writersontherange.org, an independent nonprofit spurring lively conversation about the West. He heads Seattle-based Conservation Northwest, which he founded in 1989 after years organizing Earth First! protests.

The post On their own, wolves walk into Washington state appeared first on Writers On The Range.

The post Southeast county in Utah has a radioactive target on its back appeared first on Writers On The Range.