RENAISSANCE MEETS REALITY

Posted on February 2, 2026February 2, 2026 by Max Owens

Will advanced nuclear technology usher in a clean energy utopia — or deepen existing problems?

LATE ON A WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON in a nondescript conference room in Casper, the people filling rows of plastic chairs lean forward in their seats. Reporters lining the back wall raise cameras and audio recorders, straining to catch every word. The air hums with tension as one after another, members of the public speak into a microphone and address the lawmakers seated before them.

The people have traveled here, to the July 2025 meeting of the Wyoming Joint Minerals, Business, and Economic Development Committee, to voice their opinions on a draft bill that would help clear the way for a first-of-its-kind nuclear manufacturing facility near Bar Nunn. The proposed facility would build “microreactors,” which are portable nuclear reactors — sort of like a shipping container-sized diesel generator, except with nuclear fuel — that would aim to provide reliable power for military installations, hospitals, and remote towns.

Murmurs of approval and frustration rise from the crowd as nearly 40 people share everything from heartfelt pleas for caution to hopeful portraits of economic prosperity. At times the tension boils over. “You’re shoving it through!” one commenter shouts, amplifying what several others have declared: that a speedy approval of the measure would disregard the concerns of community members. The chairman’s gavel cracks over the woman’s shouts. The proceedings continue.

Finally, long after afternoon has turned to evening, the last comment has been heard. What happens next is something of an anticlimax: The legislators agree to table the bill — effectively suspending it from consideration, while leaving the door open to discuss the topic at a future meeting.

But they never get the chance. In October, amid the regulatory uncertainty and public outcry, Radiant Nuclear, the company behind the project, pulled the plug on its plans in Wyoming, announcing that it would build its facility in Tennessee instead.

Some people breathed a sigh of relief. Others lamented what they saw as a missed opportunity. But for everyone, this is just the beginning of a much bigger conversation.

The proposed Bar Nunn facility may be off the table, but interest in advanced nuclear technologies is only growing, and industry has its eyes on Wyoming. In 2025 the Trump administration issued four executive orders to expedite licensing and build nuclear power generation capacity. And Wyoming’s favorable tax environment, plentiful open land, and skilled energy workforce make it attractive for nuclear development. Which is why, advocates say, it’s time for Wyoming to make a comprehensive plan governing nuclear energy.

The problem is, there are still a lot of unknowns when it comes to advanced nuclear energy. The technologies on the horizon are largely untested, and important questions remain about their safety and affordability. These unknowns could have serious consequences for Wyoming, for generations to come. And policymakers need to carefully consider the consequences as they weigh how much — and what kind of — nuclear development to allow in the state.

INTEREST IN NUCLEAR ENERGY IS SURGING in part because it’s seen as a way to meet rising energy demands, driven largely by the growth of AI and data centers, without contributing to climate change.

Traditional nuclear energy, with its high price tags, burdensome waste, and painful history of catastrophic meltdowns, has had a rocky past. But the advanced designs coming to the fore these days, proponents say, could power America’s future in an affordable and safe way, while also curbing fossil fuel emissions.

“Advanced nuclear technology” can mean a lot of things. But what’s garnering the most attention from both industry and the public are “small modular reactors,” or SMRs.

Proposed SMR designs vary wildly in their fuel, cooling systems, and power output. The most basic SMRs are scaled-down versions of traditional reactors, of which there are currently 94 in operation across the country, supplying 19 percent of America’s electricity. But their designers say SMRs have important advantages over traditional reactors: They will produce less waste, for one. And because components would be manufactured in a central facility before being assembled at a power plant site — sort of like Lego building blocks for nuclear energy — they could theoretically be deployed much faster. (Microreactors, like the ones Radiant hoped to build, are even smaller than SMRs; while microreactors are designed to be portable, SMRs are not.)

SMRs are also being touted as eminently affordable. Once SMR designs have made it over research and development humps, their size and modularity will lead to great cost efficiencies, Erik Funkhouser, executive director of the nuclear advocacy organization Good Energy Collective, says. That means they are more likely to be built: A large reactor costing $12 billion may be very difficult to fund, for example, but $1–2 billion is comparatively easy. SMRs would be more similar to the energy output and cost of a natural gas plant, Funkhouser says, “and we fund those day in and day out.”

Nuclear proponents hope such advanced designs will usher in a “nuclear renaissance” that will reshape the way we supply electricity to the grid while solving climate change. But other experts caution that nuclear’s economic problems aren’t going away and that commercial deployment of advanced technologies is still a distant dream. Moreover, they worry a “renaissance” could deepen problems around safety and disposal of radioactive waste.

In 1951, Experimental Breeder Reactor 1 near Arco, Idaho successfully powered four light bulbs, becoming the world’s first nuclear reactor to produce electricity. It suffered a partial meltdown in 1955. Later, EBR-1’s reactor design gave way to more reliable alternatives.

DR. ALLISON MACFARLANE speaks with the measured, patient air of someone who has explained nuclear energy policy thousands of times. And she has: From 2012 to 2014, Macfarlane, a geologist by trade, headed the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, the federal agency that licenses the country’s nuclear energy projects.

Macfarlane sees many problems with a potential nuclear renaissance — starting with economics. The financial promises being made about SMRs simply aren’t realistic, she says. In her tenure as NRC chair, she oversaw licensing for three different SMR projects. Two of these projects failed in early stages because of concerns that they wouldn’t be economically viable. The third, developed by a company called NuScale, made it further along. But in 2023, this project also collapsed for economic reasons.

Traditional reactor projects have long suffered from construction costs that balloon far beyond initial projections, and SMRs are susceptible to these cost overruns, too. But they also have another issue to contend with: what experts call economies of scale. While an individual SMR might be cheaper to build than a large nuclear power plant, Macfarlane explains, you’d need several of them to generate the same amount of power. In the end, it would be cheaper to build one big plant than five small ones.

The bottom line for Macfarlane? Traditional nuclear power plants haven’t been cost-effective, and smaller reactors won’t be either. Other advocates fear that if they are built despite this, electric utility customers — homeowners, renters, and businesses — will be the ones to suffer as utilities look to recover their inevitable losses.

The problem is, there are still a lot of unknowns when it comes to advanced nuclear energy. The technologies on the horizon are largely untested, and important questions remain about their safety and
affordability.

IN 2024, TERRAPOWER, A BILL GATES-FUNDED VENTURE, broke ground on its experimental nuclear power plant near Kemmerer — Wyoming’s first. The theoretical power output of TerraPower’s reactor is just above the threshold for what many consider to be an SMR. But its design, which uses molten sodium as a coolant instead of the water that traditional “light water reactors” use, is a perfect example of the advanced technology that proponents think will power a zero-emissions future.

The problem, Macfarlane says, is that these kinds of advanced nuclear facilities take a very long time to become operational. And we don’t have much time to curb the worst impacts of climate change.

“When you engineer anything — a fighter plane, or bridge, or nuclear reactor — you design it on your computer and then you have to build a scale model,” Macfarlane explains. As a design is scaled up and into three dimensions, aspects will shift and adjustments must be made, and then more adjustments must be made when moving from scale model to commercial scale. “With small modular reactors, we are at the computer model stage.”

There are only two SMRs being demonstrated in the Western world, according to Macfarlane: the Kairos reactor in Tennessee and the GE Hitachi BWRX in Ontario. Neither have completed construction. And the rest, she says, are so far from commercial deployment that they are basically figments of imagination.

Even TerraPower’s project in Kemmerer fits into this category, she says. While the project has cleared important hurdles, it has not yet received its construction permit from the NRC. And the gap between the design phase and large-scale commercial deployment for it and other advanced nuclear technologies could be on the order of three decades.

That’s why Macfarlane loses her patience when proponents laud advanced nuclear technologies as the silver bullet to combat climate change. “I’ll try not to be too colorful in my language…. If we had 20 years to fart around and perfect this technology, great,” she says. “But we don’t have endless time. We have to address this problem now.”

AT THE JULY MINERALS COMMITTEE MEETING IN CASPER, much of the opposition to Radiant’s facility had to do with waste. High-level radioactive waste, an unavoidable byproduct of nuclear power generation, produces fatal doses of radiation and could lead to far-reaching impacts on people and the environment if leaked into ground or surface water. Radiant’s plan involved storing waste from its microreactors onsite in Bar Nunn.

Wyoming law prohibits spent nuclear fuel from being stored within the state. But the company was asking for an exception. (A similar exception was given to TerraPower years earlier.)

In the short term, we actually have pretty foolproof ways to store nuclear waste, Macfarlane says. The current storage standard is within “dry casks,” or large steel canisters surrounded by thick concrete. And these work well: Even dry casks tipped over and inundated during the Fukushima disaster, for example, were undamaged.

But people are correct to worry about the long term. High-level waste remains radioactive for tens of thousands of years. While dry casks will hold waste safely for decades, perhaps even for a century, there’s no way to avoid their eventual degradation, Macfarlane explains. That means someone must always be monitoring them, and someone must foot the bill when it’s time to change them out. “The question of who’s going to pay for this 100 years from now is not answered at all,” Macfarlane says.

Another source of uncertainty is the lack of a federal site for permanent disposal of high-level waste. In TerraPower’s case, the company is allowed to temporarily store waste from their operations onsite, until a national repository is established. But such a site doesn’t yet exist. And the prospect of establishing one in the foreseeable future is bleak, meaning that waste would likely be stored within the state for far longer than “temporary” might suggest.

Wyomingites have good reason to be cautious about radioactive waste. From 1958 to 1963, the Susquehanna-Western uranium mill near Riverton processed uranium ore on land seized from Wind River Tribal members through eminent domain. When it shut down, a 70-acre pile of radioactive tailings was left behind.

Without a lining to keep it contained, waste soon seeped into the groundwater. Local families began experiencing cancer at alarming rates — an apparent impact of the radioactive plume that continues to this day.

When remediation efforts began, tribal members were often excluded from the decision-making process. “We were stymied at every turn,” says Gary Collins, a Northern Arapaho member involved in the discussions. He describes an atmosphere of broken promises and disregard for the people bearing the waste’s cancerous brunt.

Today, decades later, the waste has been removed. But the danger of contamination lingers, unseen by the people who live nearby. Collins rattles off a handful of local families impacted by cancer. “When you drive by here, you don’t see anything different,” he says. “You see a vast open field. You see somebody’s cows out there grazing away.” Collins pauses. “Are you eating those cows?”

Uranium processing is not the same as a nuclear power plant or nuclear manufacturing facility. But the story of the Susquehanna mill tailings offers a troubling lesson: When radioactive waste isn’t given the diligence it deserves, the impacts, which can last for generations, often fall on the most vulnerable communities.

A uranium mill operated by Susquehanna-Western, Inc. in Karnes County, Texas. When another Susquehanna mill near Riverton, Wyoming closed in 1963, it left behind nearly 1.8 million cubic yards of radioactive waste.

How to store radioactive waste safely, in both the short and long term, is an important question. But what about other safety concerns? After all, nuclear energy still carries the stigma from catastrophic meltdowns at Chernobyl and Fukushima. Would advanced nuclear technologies be, as some of their proponents claim, less prone to dangerous accidents?

In the years since those notorious meltdowns, the industry has made important safety advancements. But Dr. Edwin Lyman, a nuclear physicist and director of nuclear power safety at the Union of Concerned Scientists, thinks that many of the advanced nuclear technologies in the spotlight today are not likely to be much safer than nuclear power plants from earlier eras.

“We don’t have endless time. We have to address this problem now.“
— Dr. Allison Macfarlane

Part of the problem, according to Lyman, is that many of these technologies aren’t as “advanced” as industry would have you believe. “Most of the so-called advanced reactors are really repackaged designs from decades ago that were attempted but didn’t succeed,” he says. Today’s “innovative” technologies have designs similar to flawed projects from the 1950s and 60s: There was the Experimental Breeder Reactor 1 in Idaho, which in 1951 was the world’s first reactor to produce electricity — before an accidental meltdown damaged half its fuel in 1955. And there was Fermi 1 in Michigan, which suffered a partial meltdown of its reactor core in 1966.

Unlike the well-known meltdowns of history, these accidents didn’t result in any major release of radioactive material. But the technologies were discarded in favor of safer, more reliable reactors — which are what’s operational today.

Now industry is returning to those older, experimental designs, as the basis for some of the “advanced” technologies of today. To Lyman, that’s risky. He’s concerned that when it comes to some advanced designs, there are still questions without answers backed by rigorous data — such as the risk of fire posed by sodium coolants, and how well physical containment structures would work in the event of an accident. Security is another concern, with some designs increasing the risks associated with nuclear proliferation and nuclear terrorism.

MORE CLEAN ENERGY IS NEEDED TO POWER AMERICA’S FUTURE, and even many critics of advanced nuclear technology, like Macfarlane, aren’t advocating shutting down existing nuclear plants. “We definitely need that carbon-free electricity,” she says.

But nuclear isn’t the only zero-emission energy source on the table. Renewables such as wind and solar are quickly becoming cheaper. And while nuclear industry proponents have long scoffed at the reliability of these sources, this is far from the problem it’s made out to be, Dr. Amory Lovins, a Stanford University energy efficiency researcher, says. Wind and solar may be variable, but “variable does not mean unreliable,” he says — especially as modern wind and solar forecasting, significant improvements in battery technology, and other advancements are shoring up the reliability of renewable-heavy grids.

Unlike advanced nuclear projects that won’t come online commercially for years, renewables are adding valuable capacity to the grid right now. “There’s no way nuclear can address climate change in any timely fashion,” Macfarlane says. But renewables, by being cheaper and quicker to deploy, give us a chance.

In the long term, nuclear may well be part of the puzzle that helps the U.S. meet growing energy demands. It may even make sense for Wyoming to host new nuclear projects. But bringing nuclear energy to Wyoming isn’t something we should rush. Even if we speed ahead with advanced nuclear technologies, it’s not likely to add enough clean energy capacity fast enough to solve the climate crisis — and it is likely to expose Wyoming communities to unnecessary risks.

As Lyman, the nuclear physicist, says, speed isn’t the friend of safe nuclear energy. And asking important questions — about how industry and government plan to build projects responsibly, deal with waste, keep communities safe, and pay for it all — takes time.

It will take even more time, and surely many more public meetings stretching late into the night, to build a comprehensive state policy around nuclear energy.

But slowing down and making well-informed decisions could yield clarity. In a world of unknowns, that clarity may offer the strongest foundation for moving forward, on Wyoming’s terms.

Header image: An artist’s rendering of TerraPower’s planned Natrium nuclear power plant near Kemmerer, Wyoming. (Courtesy TerraPower)

ACTIVISM DESPITE THE ODDS

Posted on January 27, 2026January 20, 2026 by Willow Belden

Why your voice matters, even on losing battles

ONE DAY LAST SUMMER, I ran into an acquaintance in Laramie. It was June, and the battle around selling off public lands was at its peak. I encouraged my friend to call her senators and tell them to vote no.

She sighed.

“What good will it do?” she asked. “They’re not going to listen to me.”

I was stunned. This was a woman who had always struck me as politically engaged. If she wasn’t speaking up, who would?

My friend’s skepticism is not uncommon. Many Wyomingites are reluctant to contact their lawmakers, because they assume it won’t make a difference. But how true is that? Is there value in engaging politically, when it seems like a losing battle? How much difference can a small group of citizens make?

“People have a tremendous opportunity to influence legislation,” says Ryan Williamson, a political scientist at the University of Wyoming who specializes in American government and politics. “Legislators want to keep their job. They want to win reelection.” So they pay attention to what their constituents are saying.

Even if you are in the minority, you can make a difference, Williamson says. That’s because most people don’t speak up at all.

“Your average American, their idea of political engagement is maybe voting every four years,” Williamson says. “The high-performing American also votes in midterm elections. … But as far as direct contact with legislators, that is a very small subset.”

As a result, those who do reach out can have an outsized influence.

This is especially true in Wyoming, where each state lawmaker only represents a few thousand people. If they receive 50 calls about a certain issue, that’s a meaningful percentage of their constituency and could make or break legislation — especially on lesser-known issues, where a lawmaker’s mind isn’t entirely made up.

*Era Aranow, a former WOC intern and staffer, speaks to Sen. Cale Case at the Capitol. (Photo: WOC staff)*

This scenario is not just theoretical; we’ve seen it play out in Wyoming multiple times.

One of the most recent examples was during last year’s legislative session. John Burrows, WOC’s Energy and Climate Policy Director, remembers the day vividly.

It was Jan. 29, 2025, and John had gone to Cheyenne to testify before the House Minerals, Business, and Economic Development Committee. The committee was discussing a bill that would allow Wyoming to become the dumping ground for the nation’s nuclear waste.

John felt an anxious weight in his stomach as he walked up the snowy steps to the Capitol. He knew the best chance to stop this bill would be now. If the bill made it over to the senate and passed into law, Wyoming would be liable to feel the consequences for thousands of years.

The committee room filled with people who came to testify. Others joined online. Everyone had questions.

The meeting went on for an hour, then two. And then, one lawmaker made a comment that John knew would be pivotal. It was Rep. Mike Schmid of La Barge who spoke. “I’ve got hundreds of emails,” he said. “And not one is in support of … this idea.”

John’s pulse quickened. Hundreds of emails, he thought. And not one in support. Surely, lawmakers couldn’t ignore that level of public opposition.

Sure enough, the bill died that day in committee. Lawmakers couldn’t justify supporting a measure that their constituents so vehemently opposed.

A tiny win now could pave the way for a bigger victory down the road.

To John, this is a classic example of Wyoming’s small government at work.

“It doesn’t take as many citizens reaching out to have an impact as you might imagine,” he says. “A hundred or 150 people sending an email … can absolutely stop bad legislation from moving forward.”

This has happened on multiple issues over the years. In 2016, public outcry killed a bill that would have called for federal lands to be transferred to the state. In 2024, public pressure prompted the Wyoming legislature to agree to sell the Kelly Parcel to Grand Teton National Park. And year after year, legislation aimed at dismantling net metering — which allows rooftop solar customers to be compensated for the excess energy they feed back into the grid — fails because of steadfast opposition from citizens.

“Everybody’s coming out with a pitchfork saying, ‘No, don’t do this,’” John says. “And so that’s what keeps winning the argument around net metering.”

You won’t win everything. There are certain issues where lawmakers’ opinions are so entrenched that no amount of public input is going to make a difference. But even if you don’t win outright, there can be hidden benefits.

For one thing, speaking up publicly can raise awareness around an issue. It can help with fundraising efforts for the cause. It can even pave the way for recruiting new candidates for the next election cycle.

Secondly, politics is not a zero-sum game. Sometimes it’s not about passing a good bill, or killing a bad one, but rather about modifying legislation to make it more palatable. Baby steps count.

“Your average American kind of expects change to happen suddenly and substantially,” says Ryan Williamson, the political scientist we heard from earlier. “But especially if you’re in the minority, change is going to come, at best, incrementally.” A tiny win now could pave the way for a bigger victory down the road.

Finally, even if you don’t change a politician’s mind, you are still holding them accountable when you speak up.

“Even if one person reaches out … then that legislator can no longer say, ‘No one is opposed to this,’” Williamson says. You might plant a seed of doubt in their mind, and that seed could grow over the years as more people start championing the issue.

*Constituents write to their lawmakers at a rally in Jackson. (Photo: Claire Cella)*

At the end of the day, Williamson says, you have to ask yourself if you are content with the status quo.

“If you care enough, you just have to trust that your contribution, at some point, in some way, will be meaningful,” he says. “Not to do anything would be a kind of implicit endorsement of the status quo.”

That is the mindset that Pinedale resident JJ Huntley lives by. JJ calls her lawmakers at least once a month, and sometimes more often. She focuses mostly on Wyoming’s congressional delegation — the people representing her in Washington — and she reaches out about a range of issues, from public land sales to federal layoffs to immigration.

This outreach has never — not once — made a tangible difference. Her lawmakers have never voted the way she wanted on these issues. But JJ is unwavering in her commitment to keep trying.

Part of it is personal: The process of articulating her position reaffirms her values. It reminds her of everything she loves about Wyoming. Partly, she wants to set an example for the next generation. And partly, it comes down to the belief that if she says nothing, she will be complicit in bad policymaking.

“If we aren’t talking, then we’re basically saying we don’t care,” JJ says. “There will not be a change. … I want my voice to matter, so I have to keep talking until it does.”

“If you care enough, you just have to trust that your contribution, at some point, in some way, will be meaningful.”
— Ryan Williamson

I recently attended a film screening in Laramie hosted by a Wyoming nonprofit. After the movie, the attendees sat around in a circle and talked about our hopes for the future. The executive director urged us to be vocal during the legislative session.

There was silence for a moment, and then one woman raised her hand.

“How much good will it actually do to contact my lawmakers about this?” she asked.

I nearly leapt out of my seat. “I can answer that!” I said eagerly.

I proceeded to tell her everything I had learned researching this story: how a small but vocal minority can influence legislation, especially in a state like Wyoming; how political engagement often has hidden benefits, even if you don’t win outright; how tiny victories add up.

*A constituent writes to a legislator in defense of public lands. (Photo: Claire Cella)*

We can’t know how — or if — our input will make a difference. But one thing is sure: If we don’t engage, we won’t be making a difference.

As Ryan Williamson put it, “Politics is hard. Change is slow. And it’s easy to get disenchanted. But the health of a democracy is dependent on engagement from the citizenry.”

If you’re on the fence about speaking up, he says, ask yourself this: “How would you feel knowing that you could have done something?”

Header image: Photo by Kaitlyn Baker on Unsplash

2026 LEGISLATIVE PREVIEW

Posted on January 20, 2026February 6, 2026 by Auna Kaufmann

Top issues we’re watching this session

THIS YEAR’S LEGISLATIVE SESSION starts Feb. 9, and WOC is gearing up to fight for conservation priorities in Cheyenne. This is a budget session, meaning that lawmakers will be primarily focused on passing a state budget.

With cuts to federal agencies, assaults on public lands, and conservative lawmakers promising to “DOGE the budget,” it’s more important than ever to speak up for the people of Wyoming and the wild landscapes we cherish. We have been attending interim committee meetings and tracking committee bills all year. Here are the top three items we’ll be watching this legislative session.

1. Wildfire Funding

Lawmakers have been talking about wildfires a lot this year, and they are worried. The state has been experiencing more drought, bigger fires, and extensive beetle kill. And with timber projects behind schedule and unprecedented federal layoffs, there is concern that we won’t have enough personnel to properly respond.

To address this concern, lawmakers are proposing legislation that would make it possible for more state workers to undertake forestry projects on federal land. So-called Good Neighbor Authority agreements allow the U.S. Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management to rely on state employees when they need extra help with wildfire mitigation and forest health. Currently, there’s a cap on how many Good Neighbor positions are allowed in Wyoming, and there are restrictions on how those positions are funded. This legislation would open the door for more Good Neighbor positions and would make it possible for outside entities, such as nonprofits, to help foot the bill.

The governor’s proposed budget also includes an ask to expand firefighting capacity in the state and to battle annual invasive grasses in fire scars.

WOC will be supporting these asks.

Photo of snowy hills, with the charred remnants of trees sticking up. — (*Photo: Karsten Koehn on Unsplash*)

2. NUCLEAR WASTE

Freedom Caucus members are proposing a constitutional amendment that would let citizens decide whether nuclear waste should be stored in the state. Under the proposal, the public would get to vote any time a company wants to store spent nuclear fuel or high-level radioactive waste in Wyoming.

Adopting this constitutional amendment is a two-step process: First, lawmakers have to approve putting it on the ballot. Then, voters have to adopt it in the November election.

With the federal government easing nuclear regulations and exempting new experimental reactors from environmental reviews, it’s more important than ever to give Wyoming citizens a voice in the nuclear discussion. WOC is supporting this constitutional amendment as an important step toward consent-based siting.

With the federal government easing nuclear regulations and exempting new experimental reactors from environmental reviews, it’s more important than ever to give Wyoming citizens a voice in the nuclear discussion.

4. ‘DOGE’-ing the Budget

The governor’s proposed budget promises deep cuts but offers little indication where they’ll be coming from. We will work hard to ensure that the Department of Environmental Quality has the funding it needs to protect Wyoming’s air and water quality. We will also push for adequate funding for the Department of State Parks and Cultural Resources, so that it can continue supporting Wyoming communities with educational and recreational opportunities in our state parks.

3. COMMUNITY-VALUED LAND

A proposed bill would enable Wyoming to designate certain state land parcels as having “significant community value” — which could help protect those parcels in the future. If the legislation passes, the Board of Land Commissioners would have to consider the community value whenever they consider proposals to change the use of the land. WOC is supporting this, as it increases the opportunity for public comment on state land-use changes.

5. Corner Crossing

In places where public and private land are laid out in a checkerboard pattern, you often have to step across private land in order to access public land. This is called “corner crossing” — and it remains legal after the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear an appeal on a corner crossing lawsuit. But Wyoming lawmakers want to shore up the court ruling with a clear state statute.

A bill drafted by the Travel, Recreation, and Wildlife Committee would do just that, by specifying that corner crossing is not criminal trespass. The legislation would offer more clarity for people who wish to access public lands, and more security for wardens and sheriffs in enforcement. WOC supports this step toward providing protection for those accessing public lands.

Header image: Photo by Pete Alexopoulos on Unsplash

What Our Staff Loved Listening To This Year

Posted on December 19, 2025December 19, 2025 by WOC Staff

Looking for some great podcasts to keep you company in the new year? Our staff has you covered with their favorites from 2025. And it’s quite a diverse list — from nature and science shows, to discussions about linguistics, to philosophical deep dives.

Find your new favorite from the list below, and let us know what you’ve been listening to this year in the comments!

THRESHOLD

Recommended by: Meghan, Wildlife Program Manager // LISTEN HERE

I enjoy this one for its informed deep dives into issues related to science, the natural world, and how we, as humans, relate to them. Season 1, which covers all things bison, is my favorite, but each one is engaging, thought-provoking, and impeccably researched.

EXTREMELY AMERICAN

Recommended by: Willow, Communications Director // LISTEN HERE

This podcast is exceptional. Season 2, entitled “Onward Christian Soldiers,” is an inside look at a small town in Idaho, where a group of Christian nationalists are trying to end democracy as we know it. It’s utterly engrossing, with sharp, crisp narratives that will keep you on the edge of your seat.

VOLTS

Recommended by: John and JW, WOC’s Energy & Climate Team // LISTEN HERE

A staple of WOC’s climate and energy team. This podcast is all about the energy transition and finding ways to reduce emissions across all levels of society.

PHILOSOPHIZE THIS

Recommended by: Blue, Technology & Systems Coordinator // LISTEN HERE

An educational deep dive into many of the philosophers that have stood the test of time. Host Stephen West provides detailed and informative analyses on myriad philosophers throughout the ages. What I enjoy about this show is the wide scope of authors, creative thinkers, and philosophers that are showcased.

A WAY WITH WORDS

Recommended by: Gabby, Public Lands Program Manager // LISTEN HERE

Folks from all over the world call in to this linguistics podcast to ask Martha Barnette and Grant Barrett questions about new words, old sayings, slang, family expressions, word histories, etymology, linguistics, regional dialects, word games, grammar, books, literature, writing, and more. It is a fun podcast to pick up on new language and sayings — from “lamppost syrup” to being “happy as a clam at high water.”

HUNTING DOG CONFIDENTIAL

Recommended by: Auna, Government Affairs Manager // LISTEN HERE

As an avid dog nerd, I love learning about our furry companions. Hunting Dog Confidential is an in-depth look at the history of hunting dog breeds from around the world and how their histories intertwine with the unique landscapes, hunting styles, and human cultures that developed and refined them.

Have a podcast you loved listening to this year? Let us know in the comments below!

DECOLONIZING THANKSGIVING

Posted on November 19, 2025November 19, 2025 by Sandy Whitehair

My Son, A Pair of Rattlesnakes, and the Real Story Behind “Turkey Day”

I have a child who is on the lower end of the autism spectrum. As a kid, he was connected closely to the environment and our Native beliefs. He loved being in nature and spoke to all creatures.

One adventure I remember very clearly was a family excursion in the Wind River Mountains. My son was seven or eight at the time. We spent all day in the mountains: fishing, picking berries, and taking pictures. At some point, unbeknownst to me, my son spoke with two baby rattlesnakes and put them in his pants pocket.

That evening, as our son was getting ready for bed he said, “I need to make a bed for my friends.”

When he showed me his “friends,” I freaked out. I took them quietly to my husband, who assured our son he would put them in their own bed. After my husband “put the baby rattlesnakes to bed” — i.e. released them back into their environment — he told me our son could have gotten seriously hurt. Baby rattlesnakes are more venomous than adults. My husband shared that our son’s connection is what saved his life because he spoke to them and treated them with respect.

*Sandy Whitehair and her son Jack pause for a photo in the Wind River Range.*

Now, at age 27, our son’s connection to the natural world has shifted, along with his beliefs about our culture. He follows young people on Youtube who share his interests. For instance, he’s obsessed with a Youtube channel called Star Wars Theory, which believes Disney is destroying the Star Wars franchise. (Hahaha.) This fascination might seem harmless, but by immersing himself in this online community — by devoting all his energy to embracing a make-believe world — he’s neglecting his ties to his own family and culture. The value system I’ve worked hard to instill in him is slipping away.

Since COVID, his viewpoint has gotten narrower — to the point he questions our beliefs and our existence as Native people of Turtle Island. “Turtle Island” is our name for North America, or the earth. It stems from our creation story and celebrates the notion of one land that all people lived upon. My son now scoffs at the concept. “People crossed the Behring Straight,” he says. “People need to know we evolved from apes, not from ants living underground.” In a technical sense, he’s not wrong about the Behring Straight, but turning his back on the stories we hold sacred is disrespectful. It’s like going to church and telling the priest that God doesn’t exist.

As a mother, I am worried. He is a young Native man who is losing the strength and courage to resist colonization. When one Native person is lost to colonization, we can lose a whole tribe. I’m glad my son has found a way to fit into our modern world, but that shouldn’t come at the expense of his heritage.

As a Native woman, I think about colonization a lot. But this time of year, with Thanksgiving looming, it takes center stage in my mind. To me — and to many Native people — Thanksgiving is not a feel-good holiday. It’s a painful reminder of the violence and injustice committed by white colonizers against us.

I’m glad my son has found a way to fit into our modern world, but that shouldn’t come at the expense of his heritage.
Sandy Whitehair

In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, I always make it a point to talk with my children about Hopi or Dakota/Lakota life and cultural teachings. Recently, with my son turning his back on our traditions, it feels more urgent than ever to teach him — and all my children — about the full story behind Thanksgiving. To decolonize the holiday.

Let’s be clear: Thanksgiving is based on a story written from one point of view. In that story, white settlers and Native Americans came together to share a harvest feast. This portrayal conjures up images of harmony and respect. It implies that the colonizers’ takeover of North America was amicable. Many Americans believe this story to be fact. But it’s not so simple.

That charming “first Thanksgiving” was a myth, dreamed up in the 1800s. Yes, tribal people had been interacting with white settlers. But those ties were less about friendship and more about diplomacy. There may have been one peaceful meal together, but that doesn’t make up for the theft that had occurred the year before, when the pilgrims robbed Native storehouses and graves. And it certainly doesn’t make up for the centuries of oppression, violence, and genocide that followed.

Native Americans of Turtle Island have been reeling from the atrocities of colonizers for over 500 years. In the 15th Century, the Doctrine of Discovery, issued by a series of popes, essentially authorized imperial powers to invade non-Christian lands and impose Christianity on Indigenous populations. In the 1800s, Manifest Destiny was the word of the day: the belief that white people were destined to expand westward across North America. Both ideologies have had devastating effects on Indigenous communities.

Over the centuries, Native people have fought to save our homelands, only to be forcibly removed. We were coerced into signing treaties that stole our lands. We were beaten, raped, and murdered while the Federal government sought to forcibly assimilate our children in boarding schools.

So much for harmony and respect.

Thanksgiving is not a feel-good holiday. It’s a painful reminder of the violence and injustice committed by white colonizers against us.
Sandy Whitehair

Decolonizing Thanksgiving is to recognize the truth of the holiday for Native Americans. This holiday is filled with stereotypical portrayals of Native peoples: generic, dark-skinned Natives in generic loincloths and headdresses. This loses the nuance between different tribes and freezes us in time, feeding into the myth that we are a relic of the past. Celebrating Thanksgiving with no acknowledgment of the intolerance baked into its history is perpetuating our oppression.

Sharing is a Native belief. Native people on the East Coast saved the white man from dying. We fed them. We taught them how to farm. We even shared the idea of democracy, upon which the constitution is based. In return, we were murdered, robbed, and subjugated.

Before indulging in the feast of Thanksgiving, please remember that we, Natives of Turtle Island, are still here! And we are still fighting for our survival. We are a living, thriving community with a rich history.

As for me? I’m sharing that rich history with my son this month. I’m encouraging him to read books by Native authors. I’m suggesting Native films to watch (no offense to Star Wars). And I’ll do everything I can to help him rekindle the spiritual and cultural connection he felt as a little boy, when he picked up those rattlesnakes. (Maybe I’ll encourage him to leave the wildlife outside this time, though).

Sandy Whitehair is WOC’s Tribal Conservation Director. She is an enrolled Hopi member with affiliation to the Dakota/Lakota people of South Dakota.

INDIGENOUS BOOKS, MOVIES, AND ARTISTS WE LOVE

Posted on November 17, 2025November 17, 2025 by WOC Staff

Native American Heritage Month is about celebrating living, evolving cultures.

Here’s a list of Indigenous content we at the Wyoming Outdoor Council are reading, watching, and listening to this month and beyond.

BOOKS

*Theory of Water* by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson

MOVIES

MUSICIANS

A reason for hope: Check out our Community Climate Map!

Posted on October 1, 2025October 1, 2025 by Jonathan Williams

Over the last several months we’ve seen the rollback of programs designed to help Wyoming communities adapt to a changing climate, reduce emissions, lower utility bills, and improve local infrastructure. We’ve also seen targets placed on renewable energy and the very science of climate change.

This news has been difficult to stomach. But there’s reason to be hopeful. That’s because local communities around the state are stepping up to address the challenges ahead.

We put together a new Community Climate Map to highlight the work that local Wyoming groups are doing to make their communities more sustainable and resilient. We invite you to take a look around.

COMMUNITY CLIMATE MAP

The science of climate change is real, and Wyoming is already seeing impacts play out — from more intense fires, to lower snowpack, water scarcity, and worsening air quality.

In the absence of stronger national leadership, now is a critical moment for community-based action. Groups and individuals around the state are already making a difference. They inspire us — and we hope they will inspire you to reach out and get involved in your community.

Not seeing your community on the map, or have questions about how to get more involved? Let us know. Our team is committed to updating this resource and helping you get connected to those on the ground doing the hard work. draft assessment needs.

Image: Russ Schnitzer

Protect Wyoming’s 3 Million+ Acres of Roadless Areas

Posted on September 3, 2025September 3, 2025 by Alec Underwood

The U.S. Department of Agriculture wants to start allowing road construction and industrial development in parts of our national forests that have thus far been protected.

The agency announced last month that they intend to do away with the 2001 Roadless Rule, which prohibits road building on millions of acres of undeveloped land.

Wyoming has more than 3 million acres of “Roadless Areas,” which account for some of the state’s most remote, ecologically valuable lands. Allowing roads to be built in these landscapes could increase wildfire risk, jeopardize wildlife migrations, and make it harder to get away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. Plus, the Forest Service already has a massive backlog of deferred maintenance on existing roads, which would only be exacerbated by new road construction.

*Map depicting Wyoming’s roadless areas. The brown shading shows areas that could lose protections if the Roadless Rule is rescinded.* *Source: The Wilderness Society.*

SPEAK UP NOW!

The USDA is accepting public comments on the rule change until Sept. 19. Fill out the form below to weigh in.

We’ve provided a template, but please personalize it as much as you want — the important thing is to share why YOU care about roadless areas.

LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP, WYOMING!

Posted on August 26, 2025August 26, 2025 by WOC Staff

The case for caution on a nuclear future

By John Burrows and Big Wind Carpenter

IN THE LAST YEAR, we’ve heard a lot about Wyoming’s “nuclear renaissance.” With industry’s narrative leading the messaging, it’s hard to tell exactly how much is hype versus reality. But something does feel different about the conversations happening today around nuclear energy.

Things are moving rapidly in a new direction, which will likely have significant impacts on Wyoming. Now is a critical time to be paying attention, asking questions, and advocating for the best interest of our communities and state. It’s important that we slow down and look before we leap headlong into a nuclear future we can’t undo.

A confluence of political, economic, and logistical factors are driving the resurgence of nuclear discussions in Wyoming:

The U.S. is experiencing a significant increase in demand for electricity, driven largely by the expansion of data centers and artificial intelligence. Estimates vary, but in general energy demand is predicted to rise 1.5–2% per year over the next 20 years.

Many of the same companies, industries, and investors that are increasing electricity demand are also seeking ways to reduce emissions.

In June, the Trump administration issued four new executive orders to expedite the testing and permitting process for new nuclear technologies (including the TerraPower nuclear reactor in Kemmerer) and reforming the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.

The recently passed federal budget maintains many important subsidies for nuclear energy development, while repealing subsidies for renewables and other forms of energy generation.

Wyoming has the nation’s largest recoverable uranium ore deposits, along with ample open land, a skilled energy workforce, and a favorable tax environment, making it attractive to industry.

What does this mean for Wyoming, and what do communities need to be thinking about to prepare?

Communities need a clear, accurate understanding of what would happen to radioactive waste generated in Wyoming. If Wyoming develops nuclear energy, Wyoming will have to deal with the by-products — high-level radioactive waste. This is critical to understand because currently the United States has no permanent repository for this waste. Nuclear waste generated in Wyoming will stay here for decades, or longer, as we wait for a federal solution.

New technologies mean new challenges. Demonstration reactors, such as the TerraPower reactor, are first-of-their-kind projects and use different types of fuel and cooling sources than existing commercial nuclear plants. Similarly, small modular reactors pose new and unprecedented transportation, safety, and security risks. These must be thoroughly considered at local and state levels before opening the door to nuclear development.

Decision makers must understand the actual cost of nuclear energy — and not just the financial cost (which is very expensive), but also the environmental and social costs. The implications of introducing this new industry are multi-generational and far-reaching. We must consider long-term impacts and how projects would be decommissioned, bonded, and managed if new start-up companies fail to live up to their hype.

The state, local communities, and tribes should be in the driver’s seat. Wyoming’s decision makers must look beyond the bullish predictions of industry and the federal government, which has sweeping regulatory authority and oversight. New proposals must be evaluated objectively and address the fears and concerns of local communities. Siting should be consent-based, and agreements must prioritize the well-being of the communities that will host these projects for generations.

We must understand and learn from our country’s legacy of nuclear energy. The nuclear industry has made mistakes in the past, and many deep scars remain — not only on our landscapes, but also in the families and communities that have shouldered the burdens and harms of this type of energy production over the years. Humility, thoughtfulness, and trust are needed now. Many Wyomingites are appropriately skeptical of these projects. The burden to prove otherwise should not be on those most vulnerable.

With the pressing need to reduce emissions from electricity production, new nuclear energy projects might very well have a place in our state’s future. But if the terms and conditions of Wyoming communities are not being met, leaders must also have the courage to reject industry’s sales pitch. Now is the time to slow down, ask the right questions, and develop proactive policy to guide development on Wyoming’s terms.

Image: Courtesy of Nuclear Regulatory Commission

THE LAND PAYS THE PRICE

Posted on August 26, 2025August 28, 2025 by Max Owens

Federal employees are the heartbeat of public lands stewardship.
What happens when they’re gone?

A giant downed tree and wreckage of limbs block the trail. Peggie dePasquale considers the obstacle in thoughtful silence, calculating the angles. Finally she nods. “If we cut here, and get a little lucky, we may be able to roll it off the trail — no need for a second cut.” She pauses to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “But we definitely need to get a little lucky.”

My colleague Gabby Yates and I have joined Peggie here in Wyoming’s Gros Ventre Range — an amorphous group of mountains in designated wilderness between the Continental Divide and the Tetons — to see firsthand what’s happening to public lands as the Trump administration culls the federal workforce. For much of the morning we’ve been inching up a forested ridgeline, stopping frequently to clear deadfall.

Gabby lops off limbs with the Pulaski, a modified axe, while Peggie and I sever branches with handsaws. Then it’s time for the giant log, and the crosscut saw. The tinny rasp of the five-foot saw, commonly used in wilderness areas where mechanized equipment isn’t allowed, rings through the forest. Fifteen minutes of steady, sweaty back-and-forth later, the log finally splits and crashes to the ground.

Until recently, Peggie roamed this area as a wilderness ranger for the Bridger-Teton National Forest, where she not only did trail upkeep but also collected vital data and educated visitors. But in February, she was terminated from her position, joining thousands of other federal employees suddenly out of work. Now, months later, the cost of having fewer people to steward public lands — people who maintain campgrounds and trails, protect wildlife habitat and cultural resources, manage wildfire risk, and respond to emergencies — is becoming clearer and clearer.

*Gabby Yates and Peggie dePasquale pause their trail work to enjoy views of the Gros Ventre Range.*

Peggie had worked in and around the Bridger-Teton National Forest for more than a decade, first as a field instructor for the Teton Science School and later as an organizer for the Wyoming Wilderness Association. But she was relatively new to the Forest Service, with just two field seasons as a ranger under her belt.

In late January of this year, while spending the off-season in France for her husband’s job, Peggie received the infamous “Fork in the Road” email pressuring federal employees to resign. She had been looking forward to the upcoming season in the Gros Ventre: Her work plan was finalized, and a promotion to crew lead was on the horizon. Leaving her post was the last thing she wanted. She ignored the email.

But on Valentine’s Day, while skiing with friends, she received a text: The district ranger needed to speak with her immediately.

“I found a way to give them a call and received the news that the leadership at the Jackson district of the Bridger-Teton Forest were instructed as of that morning to terminate all probationary staff based on performance,” Peggie tells us. “Leadership had been given a day to make these calls to people who they wanted, more than anything, to keep on their team. Their hand was forced.” The call was followed up with a letter that said that she had not performed up to par and that’s why they were letting her go, despite her excellent performance reviews.

Peggie was among at least 2,400 Forest Service employees with probationary status (which includes new hires and recently transferred or promoted employees) who were fired that weekend. In the weeks and months that followed, chaos within federal agencies reigned, with further mass layoffs and the shuttering of dozens of federal offices. As of June, in the Forest Service alone, the number of employees fired or who took the government’s “deferred resignation,” a buyout designed to downsize the federal workforce, totaled 7,500 — more than 20 percent of the Forest Service’s workforce.

A month after Peggie was fired, a federal judge ruled some of the layoffs unlawful, and Peggie was told she could return to her post. But by that point, she had already accepted another job offer.

She faced a dilemma: Should she stick with the new position, or return to the job she’d been heartbroken to lose? And if she did return, would she lose the job again just as easily? As one current Bridger-Teton National Forest employee (who asked to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation) described, the atmosphere within the agency for those who remain has been turbulent, in large part due to ever-shifting directives. “Sometimes it seems purposefully chaotic, but I think a fair amount of it is sheer ineptitude,” they said. “In the meantime, agency personnel are getting ping-ponged back and forth with no context, no clarity, and no real actionable direction.”

Ultimately, Peggie decided not to return to the Forest Service, opting instead to stay in the role she’d just accepted: National Forest Wildlands Director for the Wyoming Wilderness Association, her previous employer.

We traverse flower-filled meadows bordered by red rock outcroppings and hike higher into the mountains. Peggie literally wears a different hat now — an orange cap emblazoned with WWA’s logo — and the trail work we’re doing with her today is not part of her typical job duties. But she’s the kind of person who can’t visit the forest without pitching in: When Gabby and I asked her to show us around, there was never any question that we’d load up the saws.

As we hike, Peggie points out examples of the work she and her former colleagues did here in past years. Some, like the sturdy bridges that span creeks and streams, are obvious displays of labor. Others, like the drainage ditches dug to mitigate rutted trails, are less obvious. Peggie shares that because of staffing cuts, it’s unlikely that a Forest Service crew will make it to this trail this year — meaning the hard work that keeps trails accessible and safe just won’t happen.

Because of staffing cuts, it’s unlikely that a Forest Service crew will make it to this trail this year —
meaning the hard work that keeps trails accessible and safe just won’t happen.
— Peggie dePasquale

Rutted trails and deadfall may seem like a minor inconvenience for many visitors. But for others, like horsepacking outfitters, the impacts can be far greater. “There are people that rely on these trails for their livelihood, and who don’t necessarily have the capacity in the pre-season to spend whole days clearing trail,” my colleague Gabby, who has a background leading horsepacking trips, explains. And with fewer Forest Service staff, the backlog of trails that need clearing will continue to grow.

The impacts of staffing cuts don’t stop with unmaintained trails. Fewer backcountry crews means less data on wilderness visitorship, which forest managers use to make sound management decisions. Cuts have also halted studies of invasive weeds, which Peggie says represent one of the most pressing threats to the Gros Ventre. “At the end of last year, we were working with our GIS specialists to create a survey that would allow us to track infestations,” she shares. From there, managers would work with an invasive species specialist to find a solution. “But now, a program that had so much potential and energy and enthusiasm is just no longer.”

Then of course there’s wildfire: Wilderness crews, like the crew Peggie was on, reduce fire risk by educating visitors about campfire safety, ensuring campfires are properly extinguished, and reporting newly started blazes in the backcountry. Other Forest Service employees play vital roles, too. Without adequate staff for fuels mitigation or trail maintenance, catastrophic burns are more likely, and firefighting personnel may struggle to get where they need to go. Without administrative staff, fire crews face travel delays. And with fewer support staff trained to aid in fires — red card carriers — crews on the frontlines carry a heavier burden.

The Bridger-Teton National Forest, though it encompasses an enormous 3.4 million acres, represents only a fraction of the 30 million acres of federally managed public lands in Wyoming — nearly half the state. I ask Gabby, who is in charge of the public lands program at the Wyoming Outdoor Council, how the impacts from layoffs that we’re seeing here fit into the larger picture of public lands across the state and the West.

She says she’s less worried about unmaintained trails or bathrooms and more concerned with, “What’s going to happen to these ecosystems? We’re talking about wildlife resources. We’re talking about watershed resources. If there’s no one there to manage these issues, the problems we have are just going to be exacerbated.”

Indiscriminate firings of land stewards are a devious part of a much larger effort to transfer public lands to state control, Gabby continues. “With these layoffs, there’s a slippery slope: If we’re not properly staffing these places, we’re not properly managing them, and when that occurs, they become more of a liability than an asset, and there’s more of an excuse to sell them off.”

Although the push for public lands transfer has a long history, it was brought into sharp focus this summer, when Congress tried to include the sale of millions of acres in the federal budget reconciliation bill. If there’s anything to learn from the past, it’s that transfer of public lands to states is a direct pathway to sale and privatization, as states eventually realize they have nowhere near the resources needed to manage lands, let alone turn a profit.

If there’s anything else to be learned, it’s how fervently Americans want to see their public lands protected, not sold off. With the recent sell-off attempts in Congress, for example, the backlash was swift and enormous, and showed just how disconnected many politicians are from the lands they seek to sell off. “Decision makers aren’t seeing places that people care about, or rely on for clean water, or cultural values, or recreation,” Gabby says. “They’re seeing something that you can extract value from.”

Places like the Gros Ventre are ground zero for such attempts: It’s Forest Service land that doesn’t have the recognition of, say, a national park, and therefore means little to distant politicians. Yet for those nearby — people like Peggie, Gabby, and countless others — such places are more than just land. They’re cherished parts of their backyards, places whose true value defies measurement.

*Clearing trails is difficult, time-consuming work. With fewer Forest Service employees, the backlog of trails in need of maintenance is growing.*

We clear tree after tree as the heat of the afternoon builds. Peggie patiently explains to Gabby how to avoid getting the crosscut saw stuck; she hands me the axe and tells me to enjoy some “wilderness therapy.” The work feels good, and the results are immediately tangible — one of the things Peggie loved most about this work.

On a small scale, there’s no doubt we’re making a difference. And we’re not the only ones, either: From individuals to organizations, there’s no shortage of people stepping up to fill the gaps left over from staffing cuts. The Friends of the Bridger-Teton, for example, recently launched the FBT Forest Corps, an initiative that lends a hand on vital trail infrastructure projects. WWA, Peggie’s organization, helps fund this new initiative, and also regularly trains volunteers to conduct solitude monitoring surveys that would otherwise go undone.

On the other hand, Peggie is clear that our work today is but a drop in the bucket. Nothing, she says, can replace the work done by a full wilderness crew.

“… Our work today is but a drop in the bucket. Nothing can replace
the work done by a full wilderness crew.“
— Peggie dePasquale

We stay past our agreed-upon turnaround time to clear one last log. Finally, though, we turn our backs on whatever awaits up the trail and begin the hike down.

Our talk turns to what gives us hope, for the Gros Ventre and places like it. “For me, it’s the community of people who care for wild places,” Peggie says. “Which is interesting — this idea that it’s people who are bringing us to this point of conflict, and it’s also people who give us hope that we’re capable of finding a solution.”

As we pass the wooden sign marking the wilderness boundary, Peggie gives it a pat like it’s an old friend. With it, she seems to say goodbye. And — I’ll be back.

Have you noticed impacts on public lands from federal layoffs?
Let us know! Fill out our form at our Federal Layoff Hotline below.

FEDERAL LAYOFF HOTLINE