Opinion: Wolves don’t stand a chance in Utah

This blog post presents a recent op-ed written for The Salt Lake Tribune that reflects on the recent killings of wolves in Utah and what real coexistence can look like instead.

When three gray wolves wandered south out of Yellowstone National Park and into Utah this winter, they were doing what wolves have always done: dispersing, exploring and following instinct rather than invisible lines on a map. For that, Utah killed them.

The state’s decision to lethally remove these wolves was not only unnecessary, it was a stark reminder of how aggressively some states are still willing to act when given even the smallest opportunity. In this case, the wolves wandered into an area of the state where they are not protected by federal law because of the delisting of the Northern Rockies population. This leaves wolves in this area unprotected in a narrow corner near the Idaho border.

Wildlife, of course, does not understand these arbitrary boundaries. Wolves don’t know when they’ve crossed from a national park into a state or from protected status into a kill zone. What Utah’s action makes clear is that, while wolves are slowly reclaiming parts of their historic range on their own, some states remain committed to thwarting that recovery at every opportunity.

This response is especially troubling because it flies in the face of what decades of on-the-ground experience has shown: coexistence between wolves, ranchers and their livestock is not only possible, it is already happening.

Across the Northern Rockies and the West, conflict between wolves and livestock is far lower than public perception suggests. In states like Montana, confirmed livestock losses from wolves have been trending downward, even as wolf populations remain stable. This success is not accidental. It is the result of ranchers, wildlife professionals and groups like my own — Defenders of Wildlife — working together to prevent conflict before it occurs.

Nonlethal deterrent tools — such as range riders, guard animals, carcass removal, fencing modifications and sound or visual deterrents — have proven to be highly effective when used proactively and correctly. These tools don’t just protect livestock; they reduce stress on ranching operations, decrease the need for lethal control and help keep wolf packs intact and stable.

Defenders of Wildlife and other organizations have spent decades supporting ranchers in implementing these strategies. The results are clear: When nonlethal tools are in place and properly maintained, depredations drop dramatically. These aren’t lucky outcomes. They are the product of experience, science and a shared commitment to making coexistence work.

Against this backdrop, Utah’s choice to kill three dispersing wolves looks less like management and more like eradication. There were no reports that these animals had killed livestock. There was no imminent threat to public safety. There was only an opportunity — and the state seized it.

Wolves play a vital ecological role, helping to keep prey populations healthy and contributing to resilient ecosystems. They also carry immense cultural and economic value. Wolf-related tourism in the Greater Yellowstone region generates tens of millions of dollars each year, drawing visitors from around the world who hope to glimpse these animals living freely on the landscape.

More fundamentally, wolves are part of our shared natural heritage. Their slow, tentative return to places like Utah is not a threat to be stamped out, but an opportunity to demonstrate that we have learned from the mistakes of the past — when fear, politics and convenience drove predators to the brink of extinction.

Utah has vast swaths of suitable wolf habitat where the species remains protected under federal law. Rather than undermining natural recovery through aggressive and unnecessary killing, the state could choose a different path: one grounded in science, respect and coexistence. That means investing in nonlethal conflict prevention, supporting ranchers who want practical solutions and allowing wolves the space to reestablish naturally, not thrusting them into an impossible game of Frogger in which there is no way to move through an unprotected region of the state.

We don’t need to choose between ranching and wolves, or between working lands and wild ones. The success stories across the West prove that balance is possible and sentiment is shifting. More ranchers and communities are choosing to collaborate with groups like Defenders to ensure all life on the landscape may thrive. And that demonstrates a remarkable willingness to move beyond outdated playbooks rooted in fear.

The three wolves Utah killed were not symbols or statistics. They were animals reclaiming a fraction of their historic range. Their deaths should prompt serious reflection — and a renewed commitment to policies that prioritize coexistence over cruelty, and science over loopholes.

That’s not radical. It’s responsible stewardship of a landscape we all share.