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The hiking community is usually the biggest supporter of conservation efforts. But sometimes the animal you’re conserving is scary.
Before I learned his name, I knew Joe Scott only as the Bear Guy.
“Oh, and he is an archetypal Bear Guy,” Andrea Wolf-Buck, the communications director of Conservation Northwest, a Washington state conservation nonprofit, wrote me in a follow-up email after the initial oblique introduction. “Joe does not disappoint!”
I was speaking with Wolf-Buck in the first place because, unlike Conservation Northwest, I am not someone who has a Bear Guy on speed dial. To be honest, all I knew about bears at that point boiled down to three things: 1) that I really do not want to get eaten by one, 2) something something something play dead?, and 3) that they brought out extremely strong opinions in the ever-lively Washington Hikers and Climbers Facebook group, a 263,000-member-strong private community prone to long debates over the ethics of geotagging photos, the progeny of large animal tracks, and, evidently, the proposed restoration of grizzly bears in North Cascades National Park on the Canadian border.
A typical comment thread on a post about the latter in recent years has looked something like this:
Stupid idea. Let them roam where they roam. If they end up migrating down here, then so be it.
We do not want grizzly bears in the North Cascades. Keep them where they are. This is a terrible idea.
I think Mother Earth approves. I’m excited about this!
I am a hiker and climber and would prefer not to be killed by a bear.
This is amazing conservation news and a project long in the making to bring them back to their habitat!
I love the N Cascades the way they are.
NO.
I, like many members of the overwhelmingly liberal, animal-loving, granola-munching hiking community in Washington state, am predisposed to anything and everything that has a conservation angle. The fisher restoration? Bring ‘em back! Gray wolves? A majestic animal and a beautiful success story! But guiltily, I’d felt a niggling sense of, well, understanding when fellow outdoor enthusiasts expressed nervousness about the grizzly proposal.
“[T]he thought of grizzlies in the North Cascades sends shivers down many a Northwest hiker’s spine,” Craig Romano, a local guidebook author in favor of the restoration project, has written. “And I know that many of my fellow hikers have no desire to hike in grizzly country — even less so to encourage these bears to return to some of their favorite hiking grounds.”
A view of the North Cascades. “The wildest places are those that have grizzly bears,” said conservationist Joe Scott, “and we derive a great deal of value from that as people.”
Photo by craig kerwien on Unsplash
Though grizzlies (also called brown bears) once numbered in the thousands in the Pacific Northwest, their population was decimated by the Hudson Bay Company's fur operation in the mid 1800s. While hikers send pictures of cinnamon-colored (and deceptively named) black bears to the North Cascades park stewards in excitement every season, the last credible grizzly sighting in the area was in 1996. The grizzly bear — one of the most iconic symbols of the mountain west — is now believed to be functionally extirpated in the North Cascades.
Despite being a conservation horror story, this history has made modern Washington something of an arkoudaphobic hiker’s paradise. The state has all the rugged, breathtaking alpine beauty of places like Glacier National Park, Yellowstone, or British Columbia, but without the accompanying media reports of grizzly attacks. While Washington does have plenty of smaller black bears, they’re skittish and not considered to be much of a threat; precautions like bear spray and bear bells, all necessary in grizz’ country, are frequently dismissed by longtime locals as paranoid out-of-towner behavior. As Conservation Northwest’s Wolf-Buck sympathized with me on a call, “No Washingtonian who goes into the woods is really afraid of a black bear. We know what we’re supposed to do. Grizzly is a different story.”
The latest iteration of the on-again-off-again Washington state grizzly reintroduction process began in 2015 and found an unexpected bipartisan ally in President Donald Trump’s then-secretary of the Interior, Ryan Zinke. Opposition by the local ranching communities, taken up by Rep. Dan Newhouse (R-Wash.), sent Zinke backpedaling, and his successor, David Bernhardt, shut down the plan for good. Then last November, the National Park Service and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service revived the effort to reintroduce the bears using the Endangered Species Act provision 10(j), intended to “relieve landowner concerns” by giving potential newcomer bears an experimental status of “threatened,” allowing for more management options and relaxing regulations. The public comment period ended in December; now everyone is waiting for the environmental impact statement, which is the next bureaucratic hurdle to clear.
In the meantime, you can count on a Bear Guy to tell it to you straight. “I think the number of human deaths at the claws of grizzly bears [in Yellowstone National Park] totals 11 since 1872,” Scott said. “So there’s your perspective.”
Scott’s real title is international program director of Conservation Northwest; in addition to working on the grizzly program in the North Cascades, he partners with teams in British Colombia on similar grizzly revitalization projects. The programs in B.C. are often led by First Nations groups, who are spiritually, culturally, and even geographically linked to the grizzly; on the southern side of the border, the Upper Skagit Indian Tribe has voiced support for the restoration efforts but did not reply to a request for comment by press time.
Scott had actually overestimated the fatalities he quoted to me: Since Yellowstone was founded, just eight people have been killed by grizzlies inside the park boundary (a ninth unsubstantiated fatality may have occurred in 1907 after someone supposedly poked a bear cub with an umbrella). The home of Old Faithful gets 4.8 million visitors a year; North Cascades, by contrast, is one of the least-visited National Parks, with just 30,154 visitors in 2022. Yellowstone estimates the odds of being injured by a grizzly within its borders are around 1 in 2.7 million visits; in theory, if that ratio held in Washington, it could take almost 90 years before there was even an injury.
Grizzlies are “not like little Tasmanian devils spinning around the landscape, striking hapless humans at random, or some nonsense like that,” Tom Smith, a bear biologist specializing in human-bear conflict, and who is not involved in the North Cascades restoration effort, told me. “There is always some predisposing factor, and the vast majority of those [attacks] … if the persons had done something proactive or differently, they wouldn’t have happened.”
"You don't get to being an old bear by doing stupid things," Tom Scott, a bear biologist specializing in human-bear conflict, told Heatmap. "They don't just jump like a jack-in-the-box out of nowhere to go after people."
Photo by John Thomas on Unsplash
The problem is, there is a lot of bad information out there about grizzlies, which is why people like me — outdoorsy, environmentally minded, sympathetic to conservation efforts — can get caught up in the what-ifs. Many such fallacies are repeated and amplified in those Facebook posts: that the translocation candidates would be other place’s “problem bears” (they wouldn’t be); that we don’t need more meat-eating carnivores roaming the mountains (Cascade grizzlies are heavy plant-eaters); and that we should wait for the bears to come back on their own (cut off from the North Cascades by roads and cities in B.C., they won’t). Even concerns about climate change’s impact on future bears can be assuaged; research shows habitats favorable to grizzlies are only likely to expand as the region warms, in part because bears eat many of the plants that are the first to spring up after wildfires.
Then there is the fact that we’re still years and years away from grizzlies being more than a few needles in a vast 9,800-square-mile haystack. The proposal on the table is to move just 25 bears into the mountains over a 10-year period, with the dream goal of the population reaching perhaps 200 after a century. “I will probably never see a grizzly in the wild in my lifetime in Washington state,” Wolf-Buck told me.
Despite the anxiety on social media, most people are also supportive of the proposal. A May 2016 poll commissioned by Defenders of Wildlife, another conservation nonprofit supporting the bear project, and conducted by Tulchin Research, found 79% of hikers, campers, hunters, and fishers in the state supported the effort. Among all voters, approval was one percentage point better.
Support dips to a still-strong 66% in the eastern, agricultural, and red parts of the state, including Okanogan County, which lies directly to the proposed reintroduction area’s east. “In the community that I am a part of, and in the circles that I typically spend my time in, people are staunchly opposed to having another predator to deal with,” Pam Lewison, a rancher and the director of the Center for Agriculture at the conservative Washington Policy Center think tank, told me, adding that “ultimately, the thought that these are majestic creatures who are more afraid of you than you are them is just not true.”
But grizzlies are “odds assessors,” according to Smith, the bear biologist, and there are simple ways for hikers to tilt the math in their favor. In addition to precautions recreationists should already be taking in black bear country — storing food in bear canisters and never in a tent — the “one thing I don’t see blazoned across every pamphlet that should be there is, you have no business going into bear country without a deterrent,” Smith told me. “I mean, you have no business.” For most people, that just means getting in the habit of carrying bear spray. And hike with friends: “The simplest thing that a person can do, that shows consistent positive results, is hike with two or more people,” Smith added. “I don’t have a single incident in North America where two people calmly stood their ground and the bear touched them.” (Oh, and all that stuff about playing dead? Don’t do that.)
According to Scott, the North Cascades are “probably some of the best grizzly bear habitat on planet Earth.”
Photo by Hunter Reilly on Unsplash
Will there be a learning curve? Of course. But “just like the bears, we’re a highly adaptable species,” Scott told me, pointing out that “people will get used to it: They get used to carrying bear spray, they get used to storing their food in bins, they get used to making noise on a trail, and they get used to leashing their dogs. None of this is all that big of a deal.”
Then the Bear Guy said something that surprised me: that maybe we should be a little bit nervous outdoors. Maybe Washingtonians’ laxity is what is unnatural, the wildlife population long ago brought to a bloody heel by us. But is that actually what we want our state’s remaining wild lands to be — human playgrounds? “Some people want it, but I think most people don’t,” Scott said. “All the marketing for the outdoor crap and all this stuff — it’s all about adventure. Well, you want adventure? Here you go. Guaranteeing your safety is not adventure.”
There is still much work ahead: more studies; more research; more proposals; more letters to Congress; more outreach to the state’s ranchers, who are concerned about their livelihoods and the stresses on animals they care about; and, especially, more education of those who want to enjoy the beauty of Washington state but are a little bit uneasy about sharing that space with newcomers.
Which, to an extent, maybe we ought to be. As a wise Bear Guy once told me, “we might not necessarily be the boss out there, and that’s a good thing.”
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Today’s conversation is with Chris Moyer of Echo Communications, a D.C.-based communications firm that focuses on defending zero- and low-carbon energy and federal investments in climate action. Moyer, a veteran communications adviser who previously worked on Capitol Hill, has some hot takes as of late about how he believes industry and political leaders have in his view failed to properly rebut attacks on solar and wind energy, in addition to the Inflation Reduction Act. On Tuesday he sent an email blast out to his listserv – which I am on – that boldly declared: “The Wind Industry’s Strategy is Failing.”
Of course after getting that email, it shouldn’t surprise readers of The Fight to hear I had to understand what he meant by that, and share it with all of you. So here goes. The following conversation has been abridged and lightly edited for clarity.
What are you referencing when you say, ‘the wind industry’s strategy is failing’?
Anyone in the climate space, in the clean energy space, the worst thing you can do is go silent and pretend that this is just going to go away. Even if it’s the president and the administration delivering the attacks, I think there’s an important strategy that’s been lacking in the wind and other sectors that I don’t think has been effective. There was a recent E&E News story that noted a couple of wind developers when asked for comment just say, “No comment.” This to me misses a really big opportunity to not get in a fight with people but talk about the benefits of wind.
Not taking advantage of milestones like ground breaking or construction starting is a missed opportunity to drive public opinion. If you lose support in public opinion, you’re going to lose support from public officials, because they largely follow public opinion.
And there’s no way that’s going to change if you don’t take the opportunities to talk about the benefits that wind can provide, in terms of good-paying local jobs or supplying more electrons to the grid. By almost any measure the strategy employed so far has not really worked.
Okay, but what is the wind industry strategy that isn’t working? What are they doing to rebut attacks on the technology, on property values, on the environment?
We’re not hearing them. We’re not hearing those arguments.
You can’t let criticisms go unanswered.It would better serve the industry and these companies to push back against criticisms. It’s not like you can’t anticipate what they are. And what do you have to lose? You’re in the worst position of any energy sector in this political moment. It would be nice to see some fight and sharp campaign skills and strategic effort in terms of communication. And there’s no strategic value from what I can tell in [being silent].
I understand not wanting to pick a fight with folks who hold your fate in their hands, but there’s a way to thread a needle that isn’t antagonizing anybody but also making sure the facts have been heard. And that’s been missing.
You’d specifically said the industry should stop ‘being paralyzed in fear and start going on offense.’ What does that look like to you?
Taking every opportunity to get your message out there. The lowest hanging fruit is when a reporter comes and asks you, What do you think about this criticism? You should definitely reply. It’s lifting up third-party voices that are benefiting from a specific project, talking about the economic impacts more broadly, talking about the benefits to the grid.
There’s a whole number of tools in the toolbox to put to use but the toolboxes remain shut thus far. Targeted paid media, elevating the different voices and communities that are going to resonate with different legislators, and certainly the facts are helpful. Also having materials prepared, like validators and frequently asked questions and answers.
You’re trying to win. You’re trying to get your project to be successful and deliver jobs and tax revenue. And I think it would be wise for companies to look at the playbooks of electoral campaigns, because there’s lots of tools that campaigns use.
How do renewable energy developers get around the problem of partisanship? How do you get outta that through a campaign approach?
These projects are decided locally. It’s deciding who the decision-makers are and not just letting opponents who are getting talking points through right-wing media show up and reiterate these talking points. Oftentimes, there’s no one on the pro side even showing up at all, and it makes it really easy for city councils to oppose projects. They’re losing by forfeit. We can’t keep doing that.
And more on this week’s most important conflicts around renewable energy.
1. Chautauqua, New York – More rural New York towns are banning renewable energy.
2. Virginia Beach, Virginia – Dominion Energy’s Coastal Virginia offshore wind project will learn its fate under the Trump administration by this fall, after a federal judge ruled that the Justice Department must come to a decision on how it’ll handle a court challenge against its permits by September.
3. Bedford County, Pennsylvania – Arena Renewables is trying to thread a needle through development in one of the riskiest Pennsylvania counties for development, with an agriculture-fueled opposition risk score of 89.
4. Knox County, Ohio – The Ohio Power Siting Board has given the green light to Open Road Renewables’ much-watched Frasier Solar project.
5. Clay County, Missouri – We’ll find out next week if rural Missouri can still take it easy on a large solar project.
6. Clark County, Nevada – President Trump’s Bureau of Land Management has pushed back the permitting process for EDF Renewables’ Bonanza solar project by at least two months and possibly longer .
7. Klickitat County, Washington – Washington State has now formally overridden local opposition to Cypress Creek’s Carriger solar project after teeing up the decision in May.
It’s governor versus secretary of state, with the fate of the local clean energy industry hanging in the balance.
I’m seeing signs that the fight over a hydrogen project in Wyoming is fracturing the state’s Republican political leadership over wind energy, threatening to trigger a war over the future of the sector in a historically friendly state for development.
At issue is the Pronghorn Clean Energy hydrogen project, proposed in the small town of Glenrock in rural Converse County, which would receive power from one wind farm nearby and another in neighboring Niobrara County. If completed, Pronghorn is expected to produce “green” hydrogen that would be transported to airports for commercial use in jet fuel. It is backed by a consortium of U.S. and international companies including Acconia and Nordex.
One can guess why investors thought this rural Wyoming expanse would be an easier place to build: it’s an energy community situated in the middle of the Powder River Basin and the state’s Republican governor Mark Gordon has supported wind projects in the state publicly, not just with rhetoric but votes in favor of them on the State Board of Land Commissioners.
Wind is also often proposed on private land in Wyoming, which is supposed to make things easier. You may remember the Lucky Star and Twin Rivers wind farms, a pair of projects whose progress I’ve watched like a hawk because they’re tied to the future of wind permitting at the national level. As we first reported, the Trump administration is proceeding with potentially approving the transmission line for Lucky Star, a project that would be sited entirely on private land, and Twin Rivers received its final environmental review in the last days of the Biden administration, making it difficult for anti-wind advocates to curtail.
Unlike those projects, Pronghorn has created a fork in the road for wind in Wyoming. It’s because the people in its host community don’t seem to want it, the wind projects were on state land, and there’s politics at play.
Despite being considered an energy community, Converse and Niobrara are both areas with especially high opposition risk, according to Heatmap Pro, largely due to its low support for renewable energy, its demographics, and concerns about impacts to the local ranching economy. After Gordon and other members of the state land use board approved two wind facilities for the hydrogen project, a rancher living nearby sued the board with public support from the mayor of Glenrock and the area’s legislators in the statehouse. A member of the Converse County zoning board even published a “manifesto” against the project, detailing local concerns that are myriad and rooted in fears of overburden, ranging from water use and property value woes to a general resentment toward an overall rise in wind turbines across the county and state.
What’s probably most concerning to wind supporters is that this local fight is bubbling up into a statewide political fracture between Gordon and his secretary of state Chuck Gray, who is believed to be a future candidate for governor. Grey was the lone dissenting vote against the two wind projects for Pronghorn, saying he did not support the projects because they would be assisted by federal tax credits Trump is trying to gut. Gray then took to mocking the governor on social media for his stance on wind while posting photos of broken wind turbines. Gordon wound up responding to his secretary of state accusing him of being the “only member of the state land board to vote against individual property rights and Wyoming schools.”
“That is his prerogative to be sure, but it demonstrates his disregard for the duties of his office and a determination to impose his personal preferences on others, no matter the cost,” Gordon stated.
I’ve been reaching out to Pronghorn and its founder Paul Martin to try and chat about what’s happening in Wyoming. I haven’t heard back, and if I do I’ll gladly follow this story up, but there’s a sign here of an issue in Wyoming whether Pronghorn gets built or not – areas of Wyoming may be on the verge of a breaking point on wind energy.
I heard about the Pronghorn project in conversations this week with folks who work on wind permitting issues in Wyoming and learned that the Gordon-Gray feud is emblematic of how the wind industry’s growth in the state is making local officials more wary of greenlighting projects. Whether Gordon’s position on private property wins out over Gray taking up the mantle of the anti-wind conservative critic may be the touchstone for the future of local planning decisions, too.
At least, that’s the sense I got talking to Sue Jones, a commissioner in Carbon County, directly southwest of Converse County. Jones admits she personally doesn’t care for wind farms and that it’s “no secret with the county, or the developers.” But so far, she hasn’t voted that way as a commissioner.
“If they meet all our rules and regs, then I’ve voted to give them a permit,” she told me. “You can’t just say no to anything. It’s a good thing that we value private property rights.”
Jones said the problem in Carbon County and other areas of Wyoming is “saturation level.” Areas of the state where only a handful of landowners hold thousands of acres? That’s probably fine for wind projects because there’s a low likelihood of a neighbor or two having a genuine grievance. But as wind has grown into population-denser areas of the state the dissent is becoming more frequent.
My gut feeling is that, as we’ve seen in many other instances, this resentment will bubble up and manifest as sweeping reform – unless the wind industry is able to properly address these growing concerns head on.