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A fifth of U.S. counties now restrict renewables development, according to exclusive data gathered by Heatmap Pro.

A solar farm 40 minutes south of Columbus, Ohio.
A grid-scale battery near the coast of Nassau County, Long Island.
A sprawling wind farm — capable of generating enough electricity to power 100,000 homes — at the northern edge of Nebraska.
These projects — and hundreds of others — will never get built in the United States. They were blocked and ultimately killed by a regulatory sea-change that has reshaped how local governments consider and approve energy projects. One by one, counties and municipalities across the country are passing laws that heavily curtail the construction of new renewable power plants.
These laws are slowing the energy transition and raising costs for utility ratepayers. And the problem is getting worse.
The development of new wind and solar power plants is now heavily restricted or outright banned in about one in five counties across the country, according to a new and extensive survey of public records and local ordinances conducted by Heatmap News.
“That’s a lot,” Nicholas Bagley, a professor at the University of Michigan Law School, told us. Bagley said the “rash of new land use restrictions” owes partly to the increasing politicization of renewable energy.
Across the country, separate rules restrict renewables construction in 605 counties. In some cases, the rules greatly constrain where renewables can be built, such as by requiring that wind turbines must be placed miles from homes, or that solar farms may not take up more than 1% of a county’s agricultural land. In hundreds of other cases, the rules simply forbid new wind or solar construction at all.
Even in the liberal Northeast, where climate concern is high and municipalities broadly control the land use process, the number of restrictions is rising. At least 59 townships and municipalities have curtailed or outright banned new wind and solar farms across the Northeast, according to Heatmap’s survey.
Even though America has built new wind and solar projects for decades, the number of counties restricting renewable development has nearly doubled since 2022.

When the various state, county, and municipality-level ordinances are combined, roughly 17% of the total land mass of the continental United States has been marked as off limits to renewables construction.
These figures have not been previously reported. Over the past 12 months, our energy intelligence platform Heatmap Pro has conducted what it believes to be the most comprehensive survey of county and municipality-level renewables restrictions in the United States. In part, that research included surveys of existing databases of local news and county laws, including those prepared by the Sabin Center for Climate Change Law at Columbia University.
But our research team has also called thousands of counties, many of whose laws were not in existing public databases, and we have updated our data in real time as counties passed ordinances and opposed projects progress (or not) through the zoning process. This data is normally available to companies and individuals who subscribe to Heatmap Pro. In this story, we are making a high-level summary of this data available to the public for the first time.
Restrictions have proliferated in all regions of the country.
Forty counties in Virginia alone now have an anti-renewable law on the books, effectively halting solar development in large portions of the state, even as the region experiences blistering electricity load growth.
These anti-solar laws have even begun to slow down energy development across the sunny Southwest. Counties in Nevada and Arizona have rejected new solar development in the same parts of the state that have already seen a high number of solar projects, our data show. Since President Trump took office in January, the effect of these local rules have become more acute — while solar developers could previously avoid the rules by proposing projects on federal land, a permitting slowdown at the Bureau of Land Management is now styming solar projects of all types in the region, as our colleague Jael Holzman has reported.
In the Northeast and on the West Coast, where Democrats control most state governments, towns and counties are still successfully fighting and cancelling dozens of new energy projects. Battery electricity storage systems, or BESS projects, now draw particular ire. The high-profile case of the battery fire in Moss Landing, California, in January has led to a surge of local opposition to BESS projects, our data shows. So far in 2025, residents have cited the Moss Landing case when fighting at least six different BESS projects nationwide.
That’s what happened with Jupiter Power, the battery project proposed in Nassau County, Long Island. The 275-megawatt project was first proposed in 2022 for the Town of Oyster Bay, New York. It would have replaced a petroleum terminal and improved the resilience of the local power grid.
But opposed residents began attending public meetings to agitate about perceived fire and environmental risks, and in spring 2024 successfully lobbied the town to pass a six-month moratorium on battery storage systems. The developer of the battery storage system, Jupiter Power, announced it would withdraw after the town passed two consecutive extensions to the moratorium and residents continued agitating for tighter restrictions.
That pattern — a town passes a temporary moratorium that it repeatedly extends — is how many projects now die in the United States.
The Nebraska wind project, North Fork Wind, was effectively shuttered when Knox County passed a permanent wind-energy ban. And the solar project south of Columbus, Ohio? It died when the Ohio Power Siting Board ruled that “that any benefits to the local community are outweighed by public opposition” to the project, which would have generated 70 megawatts, enough to power about 9,000 homes.
The developers of both of these projects are now waging lengthy and expensive legal appeals to save them; neither has won yet. Even in cases where the developer ultimately prevails against a local law, opposition can waste years and raise the final cost of a project by millions of dollars.
Our Heatmap Pro platform models opposition history alongside demographic, employment, voting, and exclusive polling data to quantify the risk a project will face in every county in the country, allowing developers to avoid places where they are likely to be unsuccessful and strategize for those where they have a chance.
Access to the full project- and county-level data and associated risk assessments is available via Heatmap Pro.
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The 50-year-old law narrowly avoided evisceration on the House floor Wednesday, but more threats lie in wait.
Americans may not agree on much, but it seems fair to say that most are pretty happy that the bald eagle isn’t extinct. When the Senate passed the Endangered Species Act on a 92-0 vote in 1973, bald eagles were among the first on the protected list, their population having cratered to fewer than 450 nesting pairs by the early 1960s. Now delisted, bald eagles easily outnumber the population of St. Louis, Missouri, in 2026, at more than 300,000 individuals.
The Endangered Species Act remains enduringly popular more than 50 years later due to such success stories, with researchers finding in a 2018 survey that support for the legislation has “remained stable over the past two decades,” with only about one in 10 Americans opposing it. Even so, the law has long been controversial among industry groups because of the restrictions it imposes on development. In 2011, when Republicans took control of the House of Representatives, Congress introduced 30 bills to alter the ESA, then averaged around 40 per year through 2016.
“A lot of environmental laws have not been brought into the 21st century or modernized effectively,” Gabriella Hoffman, the director of the Center for Energy and Conservation at Independent Women’s Forum, a conservative think tank that supports overhauling the legislation, told me. “It might sound counterintuitive, but a lot of us who are critical of the current iteration of the ESA want it to work.”
Other critics have argued that environmentalists and NIMBYs have weaponized the ESA to block infrastructure projects, including, in some cases, clean energy development, as we’ve covered extensively in The Fight. Kristen Boyles, the managing attorney of Earthjustice’s Northwest office, suggested, however, that pitting the ESA and wildlife protections against clean energy creates a false dichotomy. “I think there are very few examples of a species and a clean energy project collision that can’t be worked around,” she told me. “Most of the time, [the Endangered Species Act] is making sure that we have a process that respects both the web of life and the clean energy that we all want.”
This month, Republicans’ multi-pronged efforts to weaken the ESA are reaching a crescendo. In 2019, the Trump administration managed to push through the first major changes to the ESA in decades by finalizing rules that softened the protections for “threatened” species, expedited delisting plants and animals, and allowed new economic considerations such as lost revenue to be weighed alongside the benefits of protected status. Though President Biden walked back some of those changes when he took office, others remained in place until late last month, when a judge struck them down as in violation of both the Endangered Species Act and the National Environmental Policy Act.
Now, however, the assaults are back. The House has been readying legislation that would have bypassed the regulatory pathway, codifying or expanding upon many of the changes made under Trump 1. The bill, H.R. 1897, was pulled from floor consideration at the last minute on Wednesday, apparently due to a lack of support.
“It just fell from its own weight,” Mary Beth Beetham, the director of legislative affairs at Defenders of Wildlife, told me afterward. “There is no way to fix this bill” — though in theory it could return to the schedule down the line.
However the Trump administration also submitted final rules with overlapping goals to the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs earlier this month, which Boyles expects to see finalized any day now. The two-pronged approach gives Republicans multiple ways forward in their goals of overhauling the ESA by making it more deferential to industry — and less nimble in extending protections to species that may face accelerated threats like climate change.
Here’s a closer look at what’s happening.
Though not as durable as changes to the law itself, the regulatory route for amending the ESA is a quicker and faster-acting process. If legislation ever passes the House, it may still go nowhere in the Senate — or the upper chamber may choose to write its own version, which must then be reconciled. Rules can be challenged, but they also take effect immediately and remain in place until a lawsuit proves successful.
“It’s within the power of the executive branch,” Boyles explained. The Trump administration “can’t change the law because you’ve got to get Congress to do that, and it’s hard to get things passed through Congress” — as evidenced by Wednesday’s events on the House floor.
Though there are several pending final rules pertaining to the ESA under review by the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs tweaking critical habitat rules for animals such as the Canadian Lynx and various species of freshwater mussels, three in particular had environmentalists worried: “Rescinding the Definition of ‘Harm’ under the Endangered Species Act,” “Regulations Pertaining to Endangered and Threatened Wildlife and Plants,” and “Regulations for Designating Critical Habitat.”
The first concerns the definition of the word “harm,” which is central to how the Endangered Species Act protects wildlife. The ESA specifically prohibits “harassing, harming, pursuing, hunting, shooting, wounding, killing, trapping, capturing, or collecting any of the listed species, or attempting to do so.” While words like “shooting” and “killing” are pretty unambiguous, “harming” has been defined by the Fish and Wildlife Service and the National Marine Fisheries Service for decades as including modifications to habitat that negatively affect the protected species. “If you cut down the tree where the endangered bird lives, you haven’t actually shot the bird; you have just as clearly caused it not to survive because you’re cutting down the places it needs to live,” Boyles said.
Now, the FWS and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Fisheries have proposed final rules that would rescind their respective definitions of “harm.” The environmental groups I spoke with were dismissive of these proposals, given that the particular definition of “harm” had been challenged by the timber industry in 1995 and upheld by the Supreme Court in a 6-3 vote.
“When you look at something like the attempt to redefine ‘harm’ under the Endangered Species Act, an agency can’t do that,” Lisa Saltzburg, a senior attorney with Defenders of Wildlife, told me. “The law says what it says, and they can’t, by regulation, just get around that.”
Of greater concern to Boyles, at least, were the other two rules. The first, “Regulations Pertaining to Endangered and Threatened Wildlife and Plants,” concerns the 4(d) rule, which extends blanket protections to animals and plants listed as “threatened.” The new version would repeal those automatic protections and instead require a separate rulemaking process for each animal listed as threatened, slowing the implementation of protections. “Listing is inherently urgent — that’s the gateway to protection,” Saltzburg said.
The other rule, “Regulations for Designating Critical Habitat,” pertains to the 4(b)(2) rule of the Endangered Species Act, which describes the Secretary of the Interior’s ability to exclude an area from a critical habitat designation if the economic, national security, or community benefits are deemed to outweigh the wildlife protections. The final rule now being weighed essentially creates a “framework biased toward exclusion,” its critics say.
Regulations are just one mechanism for altering the Endangered Species Act, though. The legislative route wouldn’t be vulnerable to a court’s determination that it is inconsistent with the law because it would be the law. Any legal challenge would have to prove that the law itself was unconstitutional, a higher bar to clear.
“The bill is just beyond bad,” Saltzburg, the senior attorney with Defenders of Wildlife, told me before it was pulled. Introduced as the ESA Amendments Act of 2025 by Arkansas Republican Bruce Westerman in March of last year, H.R. 1897 seeks to rename the Endangered Species Act the “Endangered Species Recovery Act,” which critics say underscores its priority of delisting animals and plants.
Hoffman, the director at IWF who supports the Republican amendments, told me the ESA has historically “prevented extinction, but it has not done a great job of the delisting part,” with only around 3% of the species that have been listed in the past half-century bouncing back to the point that, like the bald eagle, they can ultimately be removed. “You can even have certain production, you can have new projects, all the while balancing it out with ensuring that nobody is harmfully targeting imperiled species,” she said.
Supporters of the ESA, however, argue that the 3% statistic is misleading, given that most animals on the endangered species list haven’t been protected long enough for a full recovery — a 2016 study found that the average bird had been listed for 36 years, while their average federal recovery estimate was 63 years — and that the greater focus should be on its 99% success rate in preventing extinction.
Notably, H.R. 1897 would expand on the first Trump administration’s now-overturned rule, which permitted smaller habitat-damaging projects to go forward if they didn’t damage a habitat as a “whole.” The bill would make it more difficult for an area to qualify as critical habitat at all. It also eliminates FWS’s ability to require mitigation and offsets for unavoidable harm from projects. “These aren’t reforms to make the Endangered Species Act work better,” Boyles said. “They’re the same rollbacks that already got kicked out of court, now coming back dressed up as legislation.”
The bill would also make it more difficult to list species as endangered by adding administrative and procedural hurdles, such as mandatory economic analyses and multi-tiered work plans that must be submitted to Congress. The more than 1,700 domestic species covered by the ESA must be reviewed by FWS or NOAA every 5 years to determine whether their protected status remains appropriate; H.R. 1897 forces faster delistings by imposing a 30-day rulemaking window on already overburdened agencies once a decision is made, although the rules are complicated and, as it stands, can take years to finalize. FWS has lost 18% of its staff since the start of the second Trump administration and is already struggling with a backlog.
In a particularly pointed illustration of how H.R. 1897 would unwind preexisting safeguards, a federal court earlier this year voided a 2020 Florida wetlands permitting program for violating ESA protections for local wildlife. H.R. 1897 simply overrides the court by putting the state program into federal statute.
Boyles sounded doubtful when I asked for her read on the future of the bill, noting that it had been pulled from consideration a few weeks ago, too. “I have to assume that when members of Congress heard from their constituents, they decided this might not be the most pressing thing for them to do right now,” she said, adding, “I think this is House leadership recognizing they don’t have the votes and if they don’t have the votes, they’re not going to bring it up.”
But environmentalists won’t breathe easy before it’s officially dead. When I asked Saltzburg to speculate about the species that might not have made it this far if legislation like H.R. 1897 had passed two decades ago, she called the thought experiment “a nightmare to even imagine.”
“This isn’t about efficiency,” Saltzburg said. “It’s about inviting the extinction of species we’ve already proven we know how to save.”
The companies are offering Texas ratepayers a three-year fixed-price contract that comes with participation in a virtual power plant.
Customers get a whole lot of choice in Texas’ deregulated electricity market — which provider to go with, fixed-rate or variable-rate plan, and contract length are all variables to consider. If a customer wants a home battery as well, that’s yet another exercise in complexity, involving coordination with the utility, installers, and contractors.
On Wednesday, residential battery manufacturer and virtual power plant provider Lunar Energy and U.K.-based retail electricity provider Octopus Energy announced a partnership to simplify all this. They plan to offer Texas electricity ratepayers a single package: a three-year fixed-rate contract, a 30-kilowatt-hour battery, and automatic participation in a statewide network of distributed energy resources, better known as a virtual power plant, or VPP.
This structure is novel for the way it packages the electricity rate, the physical battery, and the VPP into one single offering. It’s also the first time that Octopus, the U.K.’s largest retail electricity provider, is deploying standalone home batteries for customers in the U.S. without rooftop solar.
“As the price of batteries has come down and the data center dynamics really take shape, I think we’ve gained conviction that Texas — and frankly the rest of the U.S. — is ripe for deploying batteries at scale in households,” Nick Chaset, CEO of Octopus Energy’s U.S. arm, told me.
Octopus already offers a range of retail electricity plans in Texas’ market, which encourages competition among electricity providers by allowing consumers in most parts of the state to choose their provider. That structure made the state a natural first market for the rollout of this new model.
Participating customers will be able to lease a Lunar battery for $45 a month with no upfront cost and the option to purchase the system at the end of the 10-year battery lease. The program is open to ratepayers regardless of whether they have rooftop solar or are existing Octopus Energy customers.
Lunar will provide the battery hardware and — at least initially — the VPP software used to coordinate this statewide network of home batteries. That could evolve though, as Chaset told me that as the partnership grows, “there’s going to be a really good conversation about what is the right software platform.” Octopus’ platform and subsidiary, Kraken Technologies, manages what the company says is the “the world’s largest virtual power plant of residential assets.”
Lunar will orchestrate the batteries’ charging schedules so that they draw power when electricity prices are low and discharge back to the grid during periods of peak demand, effectively operating as a cheaper, cleaner alternative to a fossil fuel peaker plant. According to Octopus, customers will see the benefit of those energy arbitrage savings through the fixed price of their three-year contract. Households will also gain resiliency benefits — in the event of a power outage, their battery can keep the lights on and critical appliances running for as long as a day or so.
One of the biggest draws, Chaset told me, may just be the plan’s three-year term. In Texas, he said, it’s common for households to sign up for six- to 12-month fixed-rate electricity plans, which exposes them to significant price swings in between renewals. “This is as much as anything about stability,” he told me. “Oftentimes what we hear from Texans is yes, they want to save money. But what they don’t want is to feel like every six months they’re having to go shop again. They want to just know, this is my plan, I’m getting a fair rate.”
This model could thus gain traction simply by appealing to customers’ desire to reduce decision fatigue, while hopefully, at a much larger scale, demonstrating the outsize impact home batteries can have on the grid. “We believe that is going to be changing how [distributed energy resources] are viewed in a big way, Kunal Girotra, founder and CEO of Lunar Energy and former head of Tesla Energy, told me.
Girotra framed the Octopus partnership as “a blueprint that we hope we can replicate across other markets.” In practice, that would involve the two companies working with utilities in regulated territories to offer this subscription-style home battery to their customers. Octopus can’t serve as the electricity provider in regulated markets, meaning the company would have to add value in other ways. “Because we have so many different regulatory constructs, there’s going to be a lot of different flavors of this,” Chaset told me. Octopus did not specify the role it would play in a regulated market, other than to say, “We’re excited to explore how we can partner with utilities to deploy distributed battery systems.”
Unsurprisingly, the two companies are excited to bring their new retail electricity model to data center developers, as they aim to demonstrate “a world where you can see win-wins for the consumer and for this sector of the economy that we have to build,” Chaset told me. The idea is that data centers would help drive the deployment and adoption of distributed energy resources in communities where they plan to operate, which would effectively expand local grid capacity and potentially accelerate grid interconnection timelines — a binding constraint for hyperscalers in the AI race.
“If you are building a data center in Amarillo, Texas, and you want to make sure that the community around you benefits, come to us. We will deploy 25,000 batteries, put one in every single home in that county or in that community,“ Chaset told me. Reaching literally every household is wishful thinking, of course, as participation is voluntary and these programs remain unfamiliar to most consumers. Still, the broader message he’s trying to convey is clear: “Utilities, communities, we’re here to help.”
Current conditions: Illinois far outpaces every other state for tornadoes so far this year, clocking 80, with Mississippi in a distant second with 43 • Western North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Mountains face high wildfire risk during the day and frost at night • A magnitude 7.4 earthquake off the coast of Honshu, Japan, has raised the risk of a tsunami.
The nonprofit that sets the standards against which tens of thousands of companies worldwide measure their greenhouse gas emissions is secretive and ideologically tilted toward industry. That’s the conclusion of a new whistleblower report on which Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo got her hands yesterday. The problems at the Greenhouse Gas Protocol “are systemic,” and the nonprofit “seems to be moving further away from its commitment to accountability,” the report said. Danny Cullenward, the economist and lawyer focused on scientific integrity in climate science at the University of Pennsylvania’s Kleinman Center for Energy Policy who authored the report, sits on the Protocol’s Independent Standards Board. Due to a restrictive non-disclosure agreement preventing him from talking about what he has witnessed, he instead relied on publicly available information to illustrate the report. “Not only does the nonprofit community not have a voice on the board,” Cullenward wrote, but the absence of those voices “risks politicizing the work of scientist Board members.” Emily added: “While the Protocol’s official decision-making hierarchy deems scientific integrity as its top priority, in practice, scientists are left to defend the science to the business community.” The report follows a years-long process meant to bolster the group’s scientific credibility. “Critics have long faulted the Protocol for allowing companies to look far better on paper than they do to the atmosphere,” Emily explains. But creating standards that are both scientifically robust and feasible to implement is no easy feat.
The Trump administration’s efforts to paralyze wind and solar permits are once again withering in the cold light of the court room. On Tuesday, U.S. District Judge Denise Casper ordered the end to a series of delays on renewable energy permits, delivering a victory to regional trade groups that had argued the administration was violating the Administrative Procedures Act by holding up approvals. Per Heatmap’s Jael Holzman, the ruling “is a potentially fatal blow” to “key methods the Trump administration has used to stymie federal renewable energy permitting.”
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In the race to build North America’s first small modular reactor, GE Vernova Hitachi Nuclear Energy is in the lead. Work is already underway on the world’s first deployment of the American-Japanese joint venture’s 300-megawatt boiling water reactor, the BWRX-300. The project at Ontario Power Generation’s Darlington plant is 38% done, and it’s on track to produce electricity by 2030, said Roger Martella, GE Vernova’s head of government affairs and policy. The remark, which Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin highlighted on X, came one day before the energy giant reports its latest earnings.
Meanwhile, one of Barack Obama’s early moves as president was to halt construction of the Yucca Mountain nuclear waste repository, effectively blocking any plan by the federal government to deal with radioactive spent fuel. Since then, no state has stepped up as an alternative; either way, federal law stipulates that the site in Nevada must be the United States’ first permanent tomb for nuclear waste. But what if nuclear waste wasn’t treated as waste at all? That was the Trump administration’s new pitch earlier this year when it invited states to submit applications to host so-called nuclear innovation campuses, sites where reactors, fuel enrichers, and waste recyclers can all set up shop. It’s a good sell. At least 28 states have so submitted applications, according to Exchange Monitor.
Project Vault, the effort the Trump administration set up to create a critical minerals reserve for U.S. manufacturers to weather Chinese trade restrictions on key metals, will soon close its first funding tranche. The program, announced in February, will combine $2 billion in private funding with a $10 billion loan from the Export-Import Bank of the U.S. The project “was not designed to be a stockpile alone,” John Jovanovic, the head of the Ex-Im Bank, told Reuters. “What it was designed to do was actually solve problems that the market faces … What we want to do is let it be dynamic and let it help try to solve a bunch of these problems.”

“Perovskites hold a place of honor in the pantheon of much-heralded clean energy breakthroughs that have yet to actually arrive, alongside small modular nuclear reactors and solid-state batteries,” Canary Media reporter Julian Spector wrote yesterday. “In theory, these crystal structures could radically improve solar panels’ capabilities by absorbing wavelengths of light that conventional silicon cells can’t catch. But the stunning advances in R&D specimens have yet to infiltrate the cold, hard world of commercial solar manufacturing.” Until now, at least. On Tuesday, the startup Tandem PV officially opened its new factory in Freemont, California. The company aims to produce large panels of glass treated with a photovoltaic perovskite crystal coating that can increase how efficiently panels convert the sun’s rays into electricity by nearly 40%.
“We’re going to emphasize quality and speed over cost,” Tandem PV CEO Scott Wharton told Matthew last year. “If we do this right, then the theory is, we’ve become the next First Solar — that’s our intention. We want to take back solar leadership from China, which is a bold statement, but I think we’re on the journey.”
Over the next three nights, an eye-popping 723 million birds are expected to be migrating across the U.S. In Michigan alone, at least 5.3 million birds are likely to fly overhead. “Most of these birds will be in flight while we sleep. They are guided by stars, the magnetic field, and sounds,” a meteorology account called Michigan Storm Chasers wrote on X. “You can help these birds migrate by turning off any unnecessary outdoor lighting, especially between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m.!”