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.
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.
WOC’s 2026 Calendar Contest is live! Join Major and other artists by submitting visual art that illustrates The Lands Between Us — the public lands we all hold in common. To submit your art, tag it with the hashtag #WOCCalendarContest on Instagram, or email it to claire@wyomingoutdoorcouncil.org.
Major and Nancy King have beenvisiting the Snowies — the colloquial name for the Snowy Range about 30 miles west of Laramie — almost every year since the 1980s. For them, the mountain range, its numerous lakes and ponds, and the prolific wildflowers, offer the couple a place of respite — to “get away,” they both said repeatedly.
Major was a winner of 2025 Calendar Contest, and his photo, an aerial of his wife reading amid their camp, captures what they mean when they talk about the history they’ve shared with the area over the years.
On the afternoon the winning photograph was taken, the couple had just returned to their site in the Nash Fork Campground after a hike. They had started a fire, and Nancy had sat down to relax and read. “That’s what I like to do,” she said, “while Major, he likes to fly.”
By flying, she means drones. Photography has always been a hobby and profession for Major, a retired video journalist, most recently at Channel 7 out of Denver. But lately, he’s been particularly taken with drone photography.
“I started flying drones the year the Federal Aviation Administration came out with their regulations to make them legal,” he said. That was in 2016, and he’s been flying commercially and recreationally ever since.
“It not only gives you a sense of freedom, but a chance to see the world from a vantage point that most people don’t get,” he said. “And I love sharing that with people.”
Image: Major King
There’s a more somber side to Major’s photography — and the couple’s excursions to the Snowies — though. Back in the day, their beloved Nash Fork campground was wrapped in the dark timber of a heavy, healthy forest. But over the years, they watched as the trees died. This was due to a devastating infestation of bark beetles — which lay eggs under the bark of many Western pine species, killing the trees. The bark beetle epidemic wiped out most of the mature lodgepole pines in northern Colorado and southern Wyoming in the early 2000s, turning the forests gray and causing the closure of campgrounds and recreation sites across the region, including Nash Fork.
Nash Fork in particular was hard hit, sitting at the confluence of two types of trees — lodgepole and spruce — as well as two invading beetles — the spruce and the mountain pine. The Forest Service had to close Nash Fork for nearly 10 years due to the amount of deadfall caused by beetle kill and the potential hazards the dead trees posed for campers and visitors.
The Forest Service and a local nonprofit called Common Outdoor Ground teamed up to make the campground habitable again in July 2021 after years of clearing trees from the sites to ensure safety for future campers — the Kings, included.
When the Kings were able to return to Nash Fork, they were elated. On this afternoon in 2023, they did what they had done so often there over the years — Nancy pulled out a book, while Major took to the sky to immerse himself in the aerial perspective of a place he’s grown to love.
“It was a somewhat crowded weekend at the campground,” he remembers. “I could see our neighbors, but I was also able to capture Nancy experiencing a moment of solitude from above. In a nutshell, that photo tells the story of why we keep coming back here: the solitude, the chance for reflection.”
Long before the Kings made their first visit to the Medicine Bow Routt National Forest, which is home to the Snowies, the area was known as a place for Tribal gathering and medicine making, according to the Forest Service. The name Medicine Bow comes from the Indigenous tribes (including the Eastern Shoshoni, Cheyenne, Arapaho, Oceti Sakowin, and Crow) who inhabited southeastern Wyoming. In the lush mountain valleys, the tribes harvested quality mountain mahogany to make bows and would gather in the area to hold cultural celebrations and assemble bows together. This became known as “medicine making” and “making bow” to the early settlers, and thus the forest was later named.
The way Major and Nancy talk about this area in southcentral Wyoming, it seems to offer the couple a bit of medicine, too. They talked about the wonder of the mother moose who frequently wanders through their campsites, the carpets of flowers that extend to the horizon, the mirrored surface of the lakes, the wide open feeling as the land continues on as if forever, the night skies so clear you can see not only myriad clusters of stars, but the distant glow of Wyoming’s small cities, and the blue agate, shell fossils and quartz they find at their feet.
“Wyoming just has such stunning beauty everywhere,” Major said. “The raw beauty is just amazing, that’s what I love about it. You can still get lost in Wyoming, figuratively and literally.”
Lost in a book, lost in the view through a camera lens, lost in the best kind of way, in peace and beauty.
For millennia, Sublette Pronghorn have traveled the same time-worn migratory pathways, moving from Wyoming’s Green River Basin to lush summer ranges as far north as the Tetons. But in just the past 150 years, their journey has faced growing threats — from population crashes and barbed wire fences to energy development and rural subdivisions. Without bold and timely action, one of North America’s most iconic migrations could disappear.
Formally designating this migration corridor is the critical step needed to ensure its long-term survival. Now, after decades of research, years of prep work, and a dash of delays along the way, Wyoming is finally on the cusp of designating its first pronghorn migration corridor.
The recent public comment period, which closed earlier this month, was the last meaningful opportunity for people to voice support for conserving the Sublette Pronghorn migration corridor. Those of us at the Wyoming Outdoor Council set out to encourage as much public engagement in the process as possible, to make sure decisionmakers heard overwhelming support for designation.
Well, you all showed up in force: At events around the state and online, more than270 people took the time to comment, far exceeding our expectations. At this point, all we can say is thank you. Thank you for standing up for Wyoming’s pronghorn and making it clear just how much this migration corridor means to you.
The truth is, resounding public support for designation could tip the scales for this corridor. In July, when the Wyoming Game and Fish Commission meets to vote on whether or not to recommend designation to Gov. Mark Gordon, we know there will be testimony that questions the need for full protections. But thanks to you, we are on a firmer footing to hold strong against efforts to disregard the data and pick the corridor apart.
The fight is far from over, but we can feel good knowing that we’ve made it easier for state officials to do the right thing for Sublette Pronghorn.
Truthfully though, the sheer volume of public comments is only one part of the story. It was an absolute joy to meet with people online and across Wyoming to talk about migration and hear how much the Sublette herd means to so many of you. We heard so many wonderful stories about how Sublette Pronghorn have touched, and continue to touch, your lives. Especially during a time that can feel scary and overwhelming at the national level, it has been indescribably uplifting to join with so many of you in the common cause of protecting Wyoming’s wildlife.
As the July Game and Fish Commission meeting approaches, we will continue doing everything we can to ensure these pronghorn can carry out the long-distance migration they depend on. Thank you for fueling this effort — and for inspiring a renewed collective commitment to Sublette Pronghorn.
MEGHAN RILEY Wildlife Program Manager meghan@wyomingoutdoorcouncil.org
On March 25, Big Wind Carpenter and I took off from a small Wyoming airport, bound for our nation’s capital, Washington, D.C. As we landed, the city was blanketed in the pink and white blossoms of cherry trees — an unmistakable sign of spring. While the season’s beauty filled us with optimism and a sense of hope, the urgency of our mission and the uncertainty facing Wyoming’s communities stood in stark contrast to the otherwise picturesque scene.
We were joined by elected officials from across Wyoming, city leaders, and union representatives to advocate for essential federal funding opportunities with our state’s congressional delegation.
Our goal in D.C. was to fight for the projects and programs that Wyoming communities, Tribes, and businesses are counting on — ones that promote energy efficiency and clean energy, that Wyomingites had vetted, and that were in the pipeline to be rolled out across the state. We spoke out in favor of programs like Home Energy Rebates, Solar for All, and Tribal Electrification, which collectively represent over $110 million in previously approved grant funding. These funds would help Wyoming’s low-income households afford rising electricity costs and make necessary home improvements — benefitting over41 percent of Wyoming households.
Sadly, the future of these programs is now uncertain.
We also spoke in support of other long-standing programs that could be lost. The Rural Energy for America Program is one, which helps small rural businesses and agricultural producers lower operating costs through investing in energy efficiency and clean energy projects. Likewise, Investment Tax Credit and Direct Pay helps lower up-front costs for residents, local governments, schools, and businesses to afford their own rooftop solar or renewable projects. Finally, we fought for continued investment in public safety and quality of life, which makes local infrastructure more resilient to flooding and natural disasters, creates more walkable communities with safe routes to schools, and enhances occupational safety for Wyomingites working in mines.
Our presence was about more than policy — it was about real people and real projects. We were there to highlight the direct impacts recent federal decisions will have on our state and its people, and make sure that Wyoming voices are heard during the fast-tracked decision-making that has been largely absent of public input.
For months, our phones at the Wyoming Outdoor Council have been ringing off the hook. Community members have been asking which programs have been cut. Were the ones that help low-income residents afford their utility bills, like the low-income energy assistance program, now gone? Small business owners are worried about not receiving the federal grant portion for projects already underway. Tribal program employees are facing stalled infrastructure plans.
The message we’ve heard is clear: these funding cuts are hurting our communities. Yet, despite these challenges, hundreds of millions in federal funds have been frozen, and Congress is now considering further cuts to these vital programs — to fund tax breaks that overwhelmingly benefit corporations and the wealthy, leaving Wyoming residents to bear the cost.
In our meetings with Sen. John Barrasso, Rep. Harriet Hageman, and the staff of Sen. Cynthia Lummis, we emphasized how one-time investments, like these programs, could significantly benefit our communities. We shared how federal funding is an investment that furthers local priorities by: saving money, diversifying economies, creating jobs, and improving critical infrastructure. We worked to translate these ideas into real, on-the-ground impacts by showing how federal grants provide a pathway to bring federal tax dollars back to Wyoming by reinvesting them in our communities.
We also thanked the delegation for taking the initiative in recent years to better equip communities, Tribes, and businesses in securing federal grants — they helped host Wyoming’s Federal Funding Summits alongside the governor, and worked to integrate Wyoming’s new Grants Management Office. Because of these resources, Wyoming communities are now better positioned to compete with other states for federal funds and our workforce is more competitive.
Our meetings in D.C. weren’t without their challenges, however. We faced resistance on issues that seemed more tied to national-level talking points than what is actually going on in Wyoming communities.
This only reinforced a crucial point: while we brought the stories of Wyoming’s residents to D.C., our fight isn’t over yet.
Right now, Congress is actively working on a budget reconciliation process where these programs could be on the chopping block. House leadership shared their aspirations to have a new budget signed by President Trump by as early as May 26. That means, the time to act is now — and fast.
These federal funding opportunities are more than just figures on a spreadsheet; they are a direct investment in the hopes and dreams of Wyoming’s future, and you and your neighbors. These programs help move our communities towards having healthier air to breathe, clean water to drink, resilient infrastructure, and thriving local economies. Let’s not forget that spring is a time for new growth and new beginnings. Together, we can work hard to secure a future where Wyoming thrives.
MEGHAN RILEY Wildlife Program Manager meghan@wyomingoutdoorcouncil.org
A conversation with Jackson naturalist Kevin Taylor, pondering pronghorn in Jackson Hole, ‘nature inheritance,’ and hope for the next generation
Twice a year, Sublette Pronghorn embark on one of the longest land migrations in the lower 48 states — an epic journey stretching 165 miles from I-80 to Grand Teton National Park. Their ancient migration pathways crisscross highways and meander through ranches, communities, and the backyards of people who call this part of Wyoming home.
Kevin Taylor of Jackson is one such person. Kevin moved to Jackson over 20 years ago as a naturalist and guide in the ecotourism industry. He has spent years observing wildlife and studying the ecology of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, devoting time and effort to understanding and appreciating the place he lives and the animals that also call it home.
As a continuation of our series on people connected to this magnificent migration, Kevin was kind enough to share his story with us on a visit to where the Gros Ventre River flows out of the mountains north of Kelly, Wyoming. Like the river, pronghorn stream out of the Gros Ventre range and into Jackson Hole, following the path of least resistance at the end of their spring migration in May.
It was March, and snow was falling with increasing intensity as Kevin and I drove north. Though we walked just off the road for our conversation, we donned snowshoes to avoid sinking to our knees, and only the tips of the tallest sagebrush and bitterbrush were exposed above the snow. Overlooking the river with the Tetons in the distance, there were no pronghorn to be found. The Sublette Pronghorn herd will be here in a few short months, however, passing by on their way to the greener pastures of their summer range in Grand Teton National Park.
This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.
Image: Elizabeth Boehm
WOC: Can you share a bit about your background in the area and your profession?
Kevin: In the late 1990s, I worked on a master’s degree at the University of Wyoming in Laramie. Right after I finished my master’s, I met my wife, and I was offered a position in Jackson Hole in ecotourism to guide educational programs in Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks.
If you twisted my arm and asked for my specialty, it would actually be botany. I have a master’s in botany from the University of Wyoming. One of the things that keeps me from going on to a Ph.D. are [my interests] in so many different facets of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. I see my niche as a generalist … to bridge the gap between science and primary literature and the public.
WOC: How has your career as a wildlife guide and naturalist influenced how you see pronghorn antelope?
Kevin: Personally, I really enjoy teaching people about pronghorn in Grand Teton National Park … I want people to be amazed by this place. I want people to be inspired so that then they can take that inspiration home with them and get excited about getting to know their [own] places, spending more time outside, and developing a deeper relationship with home. Pronghorn are a great avenue to amaze and inspire people.
WOC: What stands out to people when you’re viewing pronghorn with them?
Kevin: In places outside of Wyoming, we teach about animals when we find an antler, a rub on a tree, or a track. I think what’s so remarkable about this area is that we can teach about these animals as we’re watching them. Viewing or finding pronghorn is not real difficult because they’re active all day long. All of the animal species that were here prior to settlement are still here, and that’s really remarkable. There are not a lot of places in the lower 48 that can say that. To be able to talk about these amazing aspects of pronghorn anatomy, physiology, and history while watching them behave is really amazing for visitors.
[The movements of wildlife in the valley] are a part of how we mark our calendars. Wildlife watching is such an important part of the culture here and the timing of when animals do what they do, when they migrate, when they return, when they’re breeding, when they’re having their young — it’s what we talk about. When you look at the local newspaper here, the Jackson Hole News & Guide, we open the paper and either on the front page or the second page, there’s almost always a wildlife-related article. When people get off the airplane and they walk towards the gate to come into the airport, they walk through an antler arch. There’s these elk antler arches on each of the four corners of the town square. To me, that’s so symbolic of how important wildlife is to Jackson Hole, to the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem and, of course, to the culture of Wyoming.
I think what’s so remarkable about this area is that we can teach about these animals as we’re watching them. Viewing or finding pronghorn is not real difficult because they’re active all day long. All of the animal species that were here prior to settlement are still here, and that’s really remarkable. There are not a lot of places in the lower 48 that can say that. To be able to talk about these amazing aspects of pronghorn anatomy, physiology, and history while watching them behave is really amazing for visitors.
— Kevin Taylor
WOC: Why is wildlife important to you specifically?
Kevin: When I think of the top five reasons why I have lived the second half of my life in Wyoming, one of those, without question, is wildlife. It’s the fact that all the wildlife species that were here prior to settlement are still here. I also hunt … that can be a real foreign concept that you can actually love an animal and hunt it. [Hunting] is such a big part of my relationship with this landscape. I very much like and ‘live’ the idea of participating in nature. So not just watching it — not just observing it — but also participating in it.
I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, where meat came from a styrofoam container. For me to have the opportunity to show and to model to my daughter where our food comes from is very significant. If you are what you eat, my daughter and my family are partially elk. To say that eating that meat all year is important is an understatement. It’s sacred — it’s just a part of who we are and what we do. We all know that hunting is such an important part of Wyoming culture, and I hope it never, ever goes away.
WOC: Why does the Sublette Pronghorn migration corridor matter?
Kevin: Let’s [take] a hummingbird. You know, we can do a wonderful job of protecting hummingbird habitat here and [a wonderful job of protecting their habitat] in South American countries where they winter. But it’s all for naught if we don’t protect the travel corridor along the way.
We can easily apply that to pronghorn as well. The Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem has incredible wildlife habitat — a lot of very intact habitat. The Red Desert has incredible habitat down there, but if we don’t protect that corridor in between, it’s all for naught. For me, there’s a lot of things that we can’t control. Here in Wyoming, [we can’t control] harsh weather, like [what we saw] two winters ago when so many pronghorn died across the state. We have a hard time controlling disease, too. That can come about in animals, which was also an issue two years ago. I am a big fan of controlling the things we can control, and we have the ability to protect this pathway so that my daughter’s kids … can anticipate pronghorn [moving through this area]. We have control of being able to make that decision.
I am a big fan of controlling the things we can control, and we have the ability to protect this pathway so that my daughter’s kids … can anticipate pronghorn [moving through this area]. We have control of being able to make that decision.
— Kevin Taylor
WOC: What are your hopes for the future when it comes to the ability of animals like Sublette Pronghorn to migrate from I-80 to Grand Teton National Park?
Kevin: About 25 years ago, I remember driving behind an RV, and on the back of the RV there was a bumper sticker that read: “We are out spending our kids’ inheritance.” I remember thinking hard about that, and I sort of changed the context of the bumper sticker. When the bumper sticker said ‘inheritance,’ I thought about the idea of ‘nature inheritance.’ We are out spending our kids’ ‘nature inheritance.’ That’s something I’ve held on to ever since.
My hope is that my great, great granddaughter can stand [here] and in early May, she may see pronghorn migrating … coming back out of the Gros Ventre River [drainage] and into Jackson Hole to spend the summer. To me, that’s a symbol of the idea of ‘looking bigger’ and thinking about the legacy we leave behind. It’s that idea of ‘nature inheritance.’
When I became a father, almost 19 years ago now, I signed up for hope. I get choked up — what greater symbol of hope is there than bringing children into the world? [I hope] we use our ability to make decisions to pass on our ‘nature inheritance’ to our kids, [which means doing] things like setting aside the Path of the Pronghorn.
Image: Jorn Vangoidtsenhoven
From Green River to Cora to Jackson, our Pronghorn & People series features the stories of folks who share their backyards with migrating Sublette Pronghorn — and who are hopeful this migration receives the protection it needs to endure.
Keep an eye on our blog for more. In the meantime, learn more about this migration corridor and how you can help protect these incredible animals on our Sublette Pronghorn page.
For Wyomingites, it can be hard to picture the hustle and bustle that occurs in Washington D.C., the seat of our nation’s government, where all our laws and policies are formed. Even more difficult can be tracking these intricate workings as Congress works to pass laws that will support their current political agenda.
Politics and processes aside, most Wyomingites can agree that our vast public lands are the reason that many of us live here (and not in D.C.) — and that any efforts to threaten future access are an affront to our way of life. Last week, I had the privilege of traveling to our nation’s capital to advocate for protecting our public lands from these threats to defund and dismantle our public lands.
In February, we witnessed major staffing cuts to the federal agencies tasked with managing our public lands, forests, and national parks. In the face of a growing recreation and tourism industry, and decades of budget cuts to several vital agencies, these short-sighted reductions in force have many of us wondering just how our public lands will be appropriately managed.
Luckily, Wyomingites of all walks of life spoke up and I was proud to hand-deliver a printed letter to Wyoming’s Congressional delegation that over 1,200 citizens signed, opposing these mass federal agency layoffs. The message was well received, but our work to see our public lands stewarded for future generations is far from over.
In addition to the risks caused by our land management agencies being under-staffed and under-funded, a larger threat looms in the form of some members of Congress being dead set on selling our federal public lands, calling the sale of public lands a “great idea.”
In response to the threat, U.S. Senators voted on an amendment brought by Sen. Martin Heinrich (D-New Mexico) late on Friday, April 4, that would have prevented the sell-off of lands from being included in Congress’ upcoming budget reconciliation.
Our lawmakers had the opportunity to protect our public lands from being sold off to pay for future tax cuts — and, unfortunately, they failed to do so. The amendment died on a 48–52 vote, leaving the threat of land sell-off on the table. Even more unfortunate was the fact that both Wyoming Senators John Barrasso and Cynthia Lummis voted against the amendment.
To put it bluntly, the threats to our public lands have never been greater. With the potential sale of federal lands being included in this upcoming budget package and more federal agency layoffs right around the corner, we need Wyomingites to keep speaking up on these issues so that our delegation hears them. Now more than ever, those of us who love our public lands need to fight to ensure they remain and are well stewarded.
If you haven’t signed or shared our open citizens sign-on letter defending our public lands stewards, please sign below, or consider contacting your Congressional representatives today to let them know that you value our public lands far too much for them to be sold off. Some things just aren’t for sale. As always, thanks for speaking up and stay tuned for more ways that you can help protect the best things about Wyoming.
A conversation with Bill Ames, longtimeGreen Riverresident, about coexisting with migrating pronghorn
Twice a year, Sublette Pronghorn embark on one of the longest land migrations in the lower 48 states — an epic journey stretching 165 miles from I-80 to Grand Teton National Park. Their ancient migration pathways crisscross highways and meander through ranches, communities, and the backyards of people who call this part of Wyoming home.
Bill Ames of Green River is one such person. Bill moved to Green River more than 40 years ago for a land surveyor role, and his career and hunting interests have made him a keen observer of the land and the critters that call it home, including the Sublette Pronghorn herd.
As a part of our series on people connected to this magnificent migration, Bill was kind enough to share his story with us during a trip outside of town in search of pronghorn on their winter range.
We hopped into Bill’s truck and drove up Highway 372 onto the sagebrush plateau. Sure enough — near a large solar project, trona mine, and numerous gravel pits — we encountered several bands of wary pronghorn that moved away swiftly as the truck’s tires ground to a stop.
This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.
WOC: Can you share a bit about your background, and what you love about this area?
Bill: I was a land surveyor by trade, and I worked mostly pipelines and power lines. I was in the desert all the time, and had boots on the ground most days of the year. I was exposed to the vastness, the public access, and the diversity of wildlife constantly. Before moving, I had no idea something like this existed. I was like a kid at Christmas when I found out [about the West].
WOC: Why is this area relevant to the Sublette pronghorn herd?
Bill: We’re standing along Highway 372, and it’s a migration corridor for antelope. We’re real close to the solar project that was on Highway 372, and there are a lot of gravel pits right around here. There is a lot of industrial activity and the habitat has changed. The antelope keep coming because this is what they know. This is home. Other than the highway mortality — which we’ve seen quite a bit of since I’ve been here — I really haven’t seen a lot of winter mortality up on this plateau that Highway 372 runs down. It’s a pretty good spot for the critters to make a living.
WOC: What changes have you seen over the course of your life here watching pronghorn antelope in this area and interacting with them?
Bill: We don’t have quite as many antelope as we did when I moved here. You can tell they’re seasonal critters. I mean, there are antelope that live here all year round, but there are definitely more antelope that show up here in the winter time.
WOC: What are some of the specific ways you’ve noticed people enjoy wildlife on the landscape?
Bill: Antelope are easily accessed, readily available, and you can go out and see them. You can see them with their fawns, and you can see them in the winter. The community as a whole — we just enjoy them.
In Green River, there [are fewer] deer and elk on the landscape — nothing like antelope. For the hunting public, hunting antelope is perfect for kids. It’s a great opportunity for them, and I just wish we had more on the landscape so they could draw a license a little easier.
WOC: What’s the value in protecting the Sublette Pronghorn migration corridor?
Bill: I don’t think we would have any antelope if we didn’t have the migrations. They have to follow the habitat. They have to follow the green-up — the vegetation for raising their fawns — and follow less-snowy habitat to make it through the winter. It takes miles. From the Teton Park down here to Rock Springs — there’s antelope that have been documented traveling 165 miles.
The mountain men trappers were here 1780 to 1830 — that’s only 200 years ago. The railroad came in 1866, and the barbed wire fence came in around 1880, and Wyoming wasn’t a state until 1890. That’s 135 years ago. That’s like yesterday. These antelope have been here for centuries before that with no man-made obstructions. When you look [at] what man has put on the landscape to make it more difficult for this wildlife, you ask “where are we going to be in 20, 40, 50 years?”
It’s never going to be easier to protect these migration corridors than right now, and I think industry can live with it. I know the people of Wyoming would support that. If we could just preserve some of these wildlife corridors so that future generations can enjoy what we’ve enjoyed, and allow these antelope to reach their full habitats as they’ve done for centuries. It is just something we can’t afford to lose. Once it’s gone, I don’t know if you could get it back.
It isn’t like you can put signs up telling the antelope where to go if they don’t know how to get there. The corridor is lost and we can’t afford to go down that path.
I know industry and oil and gas. It’s all money, but the value of wildlife and their corridors are only going to increase. [A corridor is very valuable today], but in 50 years, migration corridors are going to be so priceless. I would hope our future generations would be very appreciative of that. It’s worth a lot.
It’s never going to be easier to protect these migration corridors than right now, and I think industry can live with it. I know the people of Wyoming would support that … It is just something we can’t afford to lose. Once it’s gone, I don’t know if you could get it back.
— Bill Ames
WOC: What are your hopes for the future, when it comes to the ability of these animals to migrate?
Bill: I hope that we’re able to coexist with these migration corridors. We need industry, we need oil and gas, we need right-of-ways for power lines and pipelines, but you know, we can work together. My whole life was in the oil and gas industry, and technology has changed. We have the ability to horizontal drill if we have to, and we can preserve these migration patterns to allow the animals to get where they need to survive the year, prosper, and keep their populations up.
Still, man can develop the resources that it takes to maintain our lifestyles. It isn’t like these wildlife corridors are going to take up the whole country. It’s just a little sliver that they need to maintain their historic values. And I hope we can achieve that for them.
It’s just a little sliver that they need to maintain their historic values. And I hope we can achieve that for them.
— Bill Ames
WOC: You’ve done amazing work to preserve these corridors yourself, by getting out onto the landscape and installing gates of your own creation. What has that process looked like and where have you drawn inspiration?
Bill: Working in oil and gas from Baggs to Pinedale to Big Piney to Evanston, I saw the struggles wildlife have with fences. Fences are necessary, [especially in the agricultural industry], but are there smarter ways we can do it? Can we get these animals to cross these fences without burning a lot of extra calories pacing up and down?
I felt fences were one of the main issues in wildlife’s struggle trying to make it through a year. ‘Drop-down fences’ with drop-down wires exist — and those are fantastic, but they’re a little labor-intensive. So I worked with the agricultural producers, and I tried to create a structure that would be acceptable to them that they could operate and have installed in their fences without much time to allow critters to cross more easily.
I came up with a pipe design for a fence that allows an 18-inch crossing underneath, and a 27-inch-high crossbar for them to get across in the winter time, when the gate is open. We’ve installed about 20 of them so far, and this year we’re going to get a lot more installed. Hopefully we can get the volunteers to come help.
From Green River to Cora to Jackson, our Pronghorn & People series features the stories of folks who share their backyards with migrating Sublette Pronghorn — and who are hopeful this migration receives the protection it needs to endure.
Keep an eye on our blog for more. In the meantime, learn more about this migration corridor and how you can help protect these incredible animals on our Sublette Pronghorn page.
LANDER, WYOMING (March 4, 2025) — Yesterday, the Wyoming Game and Fish Department announced a new phase in the process to designate the Sublette Pronghorn migration corridor, releasing a comprehensive Biological Risk and Opportunity Assessment. This report outlines specific threats to migration and opportunities for conservation along 10 discrete segments of the migration corridor. This marks an important step in the process to officially designate the migration corridor, initiating a formal public comment period that runs through May 2.
In response, the Wyoming Outdoor Council issued the following statement:
“We at the Wyoming Outdoor Council congratulate Department biologists on their thorough analysis of the Sublette Pronghorn migration. The Biological Risk and Opportunity Assessment clearly demonstrates the need to designate this migration corridor,” Meghan Riley, wildlife program manager for WOC, said. “The level of detail, not to mention the years of data and work, that went into this assessment are truly astounding.”
After the harsh winter of 2022–23 drastically reduced the Sublette herd’s population, alleviating pressure from development in key migratory habitat is imperative for its recovery. Animals that were able to migrate further south experienced higher survival rates than pronghorn that overwintered to the north, clearly demonstrating the need to protect connectivity between seasonal ranges.
“This population took a huge hit, especially in the north of the herd’s range. Recovery is slow-going and precarious, given existing and anticipated threats to corridor functionality,” Riley said. “With widespread public support for conserving this herd’s migratory habitat, it is our hope that the Game and Fish Commission heeds the call to protect this storied herd of pronghorn for current and future generations to enjoy.”
Following an analysis of public comments, Game and Fish will present its case for designation to the Wyoming Game and Fish Commission at their July meeting. At this time, commissioners will vote on whether or not to recommend designation of the Sublette Pronghorn migration corridor to the governor.
The public lands that define Wyoming and contribute significantly to our quality of life are under unprecedented and nuanced attacks. State legislative efforts to transfer our public lands to the state compounded by federal efforts to sell them off to seed a sovereign wealth fund are suddenly on the table. Of course, there have been thoughtless and drastic cuts to the federal workforce that will affect wildfire response, road and campground openings, trail work and delay important landscape health and public access projects. The Wyoming Outdoor Council is shocked and dismayed by the firings of so many public servants, and these losses will have very real consequences for the land, water, air, and wildlife we were founded to protect. Beyond these impacts, we are very concerned about how these losses will affect our fellow Wyomingites. It’s easy to paint with a broad brush the federal worker, but it is important to note that these civil servants are our neighbors, the parents of our kids’ friends, the people we talk to at the grocery store. We find it particularly abhorrent to celebrate how these people’s lives have been impacted.
There’s no question that there are inefficiencies and disagreements between people, organizations, businesses, tribes, and governments (to name a few) about how the government functions. But as an organization, we work to separate those differences in policy, management, funding, and decision-making from the individual persons tasked with those duties. To be clear, firing the federal workforce does little, if anything, to address concerns of fraud, waste, and abuse. With approximately 350 million people living in this country, there’s certainly a lot that differentiates us: hopes, dreams, and the lived experiences that form who we are as we all try to do the best we can with what we have and for who is in our orbit. At WOC, we believe our land, air, water, wildlife, and grappling with the realities of climate, unite us. Some of our best memories with family, friends, or by our lonesome took place in the Wyoming landscape.
It is for these values and every person in Wyoming that the WOC team shows up every day, works to engage agencies, leaders, and the people of Wyoming in pursuit of doing and being better. We care about your jobs, about your hardships, about the obstacles and opportunities life presents you with — it doesn’t matter if it is in the public or private sector, or what that job or passion is. In our efforts to understand, we help the rest of Wyoming understand, too. The WOC community, our staff, board, members, partners, and volunteers are not a monolith —nor are federal, state, or industry workers. When divergent ideas and experiences come together, we see it as a strength, not a weakness — and it is hard work and we’re here for it. Join or engage with us to build our collective strength for what truly matters in Wyoming.
Stay tuned for important updates and actions on this and many other matters. Thank you for your attention, compassion, and support – onward!
