I didn’t think much about conservation until I lost a hunting spot. It was a patch of BLM land in Wyoming — nothing special, just sagebrush and draws and a surprising number of pronghorn. I’d hunted it for four years without seeing another person. Then one October, I pulled up and found a construction fence.
They never put a fence around a hunting spot to tell you good things.
What Actually Happens When Hunters Don’t Show Up
That land I lost wasn’t closed by activists or developers directly. It was sold by a rancher whose kids didn’t want to run cattle, to an energy company that outbid the state wildlife agency. The wildlife agency was underfunded because license sales had been dropping for a decade. Fewer hunters, less money, less land.
I didn’t understand this math when I started hunting. I bought my tag, paid my fees, and figured the system just worked. It doesn’t. It runs on hunters — on license dollars, on Pittman-Robertson excise taxes on guns and ammo, on volunteer hours at habitat projects. When we stop showing up, the funding stops too.
The Uncomfortable Thing
I’m not a joiner. I don’t love meetings or committees or wearing branded hats to banquets. But I started going to local conservation group events — not because I wanted to, but because I realized if I didn’t, the people who would show up were the ones who wanted to close public land to hunting.
And they do show up. Every time. Public comment periods, county commissioner meetings, land use hearings — the anti-hunting crowd is small but organized, and they’re not skipping meetings to sleep in on Saturday.
The first meeting I went to, the room was mostly hikers and mountain bikers who wanted a section of state forest closed to hunting during certain months. There were three hunters in the room, including me. Two of us spoke. The motion passed. 200 acres of public land, no hunting for three months out of the year — not because of evidence, but because we didn’t show up.
What I Do Now (It’s Not Much, But It’s Something)
I’m not saying go run for office. I’m saying buy a membership to a conservation group that actually does habitat work — RMEF, NWTF, Pheasants Forever, Backcountry Hunters & Anglers. Pick one. Read their emails once in a while. When they ask for comments on a public land proposal, spend the five minutes to write something. It matters more than you think.
I also started picking up trash in parking areas I hunt. Not because I’m a hero — because nothing kills hunter access faster than a trailhead full of shotgun hulls and beer cans. The anti-hunters photograph that stuff and use it in public hearings.
We don’t own the land. We borrow it. And the lease is up for renewal every single time someone files a comment.
