Wyoming

RENAISSANCE MEETS REALITY

Posted on 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 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)
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)
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 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

Protect Wyoming’s 3 Million+ Acres of Roadless Areas

Posted on 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 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 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

LOST IN THE BEST KIND OF WAY: THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO

Posted on by Claire Cella

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.

For more information about the contest, visit our calendar contest page.

Major and Nancy King have been visiting 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.”

Aerial view of a tent, campfire, and person sitting in a chair reading.
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.

TOGETHER, WE’RE GIVING SUBLETTE PRONGHORN A PATH FORWARD

Posted on by Meghan Riley

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 than 270 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

Springing into action: Fighting to fund Wyoming communities

Posted on by Jonathan Williams

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 over 41 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.

Now that we’re back home in Wyoming, the fight continues. Your voices are more critical than ever. With the support of your calls and letters, WOC was able to take one more step in advocating for the programs that matter to you. But it’s still you — Wyoming’s ranchers, business owners, tribal members, and everyday citizens — who have the most powerful voice. Directly communicating with our elected officials and sharing your personal experiences and concerns will make the real impact. 

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

“Pronghorn are a great avenue to amaze and inspire people.”

Posted on by Helen Lewis

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.