Dear editor:
A few years back, a good friend of mine won one of the rarest tags in Wyoming, a Commissioner’s license. The kind of tag most hunters only dream about. It offers wide latitude in where and what species you can hunt, raises significant money for wildlife conservation, and carries a lot of excitement among people who care deeply about Wyoming’s outdoors.
When he told us where he planned to hunt, some folks were surprised. Southwest Wyoming, near Rock Springs.
This isn’t the high-country elk hunt you see on magazine covers. No dark timber. No alpine bowls. Instead, it’s sagebrush flats, wind-scoured rims, sandy washes, and rocky draws. Big, open country that can look empty until you slow down and really look.
I joined him late in the season, glassing from rims in a November wind that cut straight through you. We saw very few people, hundreds of pronghorn and more mature mule deer bucks than I’ve ever seen in one sitting. And eventually, we found elk that seemed to disappear into what looked like wide-open desert.
That’s when it hit me: this place is still wild in a way that’s getting harder to find.
Not wild because it’s untouched - this is a working landscape - but wild because it’s still intact. Big, connected habitat that is able to support wildlife that move long distances, survive hard winters, and pass those traits on.
A few days later, my friend took a beautiful bull elk, crouched behind a two-foot sagebrush with nothing to hide him but patience and good judgment. It was a classic Wyoming moment. No shortcuts. No guarantees. Just effort, a little luck, and respect for the land and the animal.
Driving home, I kept thinking about that country and what it might look like 20 or 30 years from now.
That question matters right now.
The Bureau of Land Management is considering changes to the just finalized Rock Springs Resource Management Plan, which governs how roughly 3.6 million acres of public land in southwest Wyoming are managed. Those lands include some of the best remaining big game habitat in the state; winter range, migration corridors, and places where animals raise their young.
For sportsmen, this isn’t theoretical.
The Rock Springs Field Office includes a significant stretch of the Red Desert to Hoback mule deer migration corridor, the longest documented mule deer migration on Earth. It also holds crucial winter range for mule deer, elk, and pronghorn. It supports sage-grouse core areas, native cutthroat trout streams, and wide-open country that still lets you feel like you’re a long way from anywhere.
These landscapes are the reason Wyoming still produces world-class hunting.
They’re also the reason so many of us care deeply about how development is sited and managed.
Wyoming hunters understand multiple use. We live it. Energy development has long been part of this state’s economy and identity. Many of us work in those fields or have family who do. But time in the field teaches you something important: not all acres are equal.
Some places can handle disturbance. Others can’t.
When migration corridors get pinched, herds suffer. When winter range is fragmented, animals don’t make it through tough years. When birthing habitat is disturbed, recruitment drops.
The current Rock Springs Resource Management Plan reflects years of hard work by hunters, anglers, local leaders, conservationists, labor, and industry. It came out of a long public process, a governor’s task force, and tens of thousands of public comments. It wasn’t perfect, but it struck a workable balance; protecting the most important wildlife habitats while directing development toward lower-conflict areas.
That balance is worth holding onto.
The Greater Little Mountain Area, locally referred to as the crown jewel of Sweetwater County, is a good example. It’s some of the best hunting country in Wyoming, supports elk, mule deer, moose, pronghorn, sage-grouse, and native trout, and has benefited from decades of habitat work. Sportsmen helped shape how it’s managed because we wanted our kids and grandkids to have the same chance we did.
That kind of forward thinking is why Wyoming still leads the West when it comes to wildlife-based outdoor traditions.
The Rock Springs plan will shape this landscape for decades. Long after the headlines fade, the decisions made now will determine whether future hunters are glassing intact habitat, or staring at maps wondering where the animals went.
That late-season elk hunt near Rock Springs reminded me why this matters. Not because of the antlers. Because of the place. Because of the effort it demanded. Because of the feeling that you were part of something bigger than yourself.
Wyoming still has room for that kind of experience. The question is whether we’re willing to manage our public lands with the same care, restraint, and common sense that good hunters bring to the field.
I hope we are.
Nat Paterson
Policy Director, Wyoming Wildlife Federation
