Rewilding Colorado: Wolves, Ranchers, and the Fight for Coexistence
An endangered gray wolf peers out from a snow-covered shelter. (Source: USFWS)
In November 2020, Colorado voters approved Proposition 114, mandating the reintroduction of gray wolves to the state. By December 2023, Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW) had released 10 wolves on the Western Slope. In January 2025, an additional 15 were introduced. While this marks progress, these 25 wolves are a drop in the bucket compared to the estimated 1,000 the state could support.
The return of wolves has reignited the battle over land, livelihoods, and deep-seated fears. Conservationists and ranchers, state and federal authorities, and old-school predator control advocates are clashing with modern ecological science—putting Colorado at the center of the West’s long-running war over wolves.
The wolf has always been more than just an animal. The Ancient Greeks tied them to Apollo, god of light and order, while the Romans saw them as warriors, linking them to Mars. Rome itself was said to be founded by twins raised by a she-wolf—proof that even the most powerful civilizations owed their survival to nature.
Indigenous cultures have long understood what the West forgot. The Plains tribes modeled their warrior societies after wolf packs. The Anishinaabe believed the first man walked alongside a wolf, learning how to survive. The Apache and Navajo saw them as guardians, while the tribes of the Pacific Northwest cast them as figures of transformation. These cultures knew the wolf wasn’t an enemy—it was a teacher.
Then came Medieval Europe, and with it, a shift from respect to eradication. Wolves became villains in folklore, symbols of darkness, witchcraft, and everything that needed to be destroyed. Paranoia led to bounties. Kings and nobles launched mass extermination campaigns. Superstition and expansion wiped wolves out of much of the continent. That fear lingers in Colorado’s anti-wolf lobby today, driving policy more than fact.
A perfect example of this war between perception and reality is Lobo, the legendary wolf of New Mexico. In the late 19th century, Lobo ran the Currumpaw Valley, outsmarting every trap, every hunter, every attempt to bring him down. Ranchers saw him as a menace. Hunters saw him as a trophy. But in the end, it wasn’t a bullet that made him famous—it was his story.
Naturalist Ernest Thompson Seton was hired to kill Lobo. He spent months tracking him, failing over and over. When he finally succeeded, he expected triumph. Instead, he was haunted. Lobo had been more than just prey—he was intelligent, loyal, and commanded respect. That realization changed Seton. He went from wolf hunter to conservationist, and his book Wild Animals I Have Known helped launch the modern wildlife conservation movement. Lobo’s death proved something no amount of propaganda could erase: wolves were never the problem—human fear was.
Not all Western states have learned that lesson. Wyoming classifies wolves as vermin, and they can be shot on sight. Montana still offers bounties and allows night hunting, stuck in the 19th century. Idaho takes it even further, handing out cash incentives for aerial gunning and trapping. These policies are not just outdated—they wreck ecosystems, triggering overgrazing, biodiversity loss, and disease outbreaks among deer and elk.
This map depicts watersheds where collared wolves in Colorado have been from January 21, 2025 – February 25, 2025. In order for a watershed to indicate wolf activity, at least one GPS position was recorded within the boundaries of the watershed. (Source: Colorado Parks and Wildlife)
Colorado has taken a different approach. Here, wolves are protected under both state and federal law. Killing one carries serious consequences. But protections are meaningless without enforcement. In recent months, two of Colorado’s newly introduced wolves, 2309-OR and 2307-OR, were shot—a direct violation of federal law. 2309-OR had fathered a litter of five pups before being killed, making the loss even greater. If poachers get away with this, they’ll keep doing it—just like they did in the early days of Yellowstone’s wolf reintroduction.
Back then, armed guards had to stand watch over penned wolves because of threats to kill them. While some wolves were shot after they wandered outside park boundaries, the Yellowstone reintroduction remains one of the greatest conservation success stories in American history. The fear was unfounded—just another example of humanity’s need to dominate what it doesn’t understand.
Many misconceptions exist. The claim that wolves will devastate Colorado’s ranching industry is unfounded. Data show that wolf predation accounts for less than 1% of livestock deaths; and predation by all predators, including domestic dogs, represents the least cause of death compared to all other factors impacting livestock survival.
Yet the fear of wolves persists, fueled by a small but vocal anti-wolf lobby. The same voices that call wolves an existential threat ignore the much larger role other predators and environmental factors play in livestock losses. And unlike those factors, wolves are a fully compensated risk.
Colorado’s Wolf Depredation Compensation Program reimburses ranchers for wolf-caused livestock losses, with payments of up to $15,000 per attack. That payout greatly exceeds standard market rates. Ranchers can even claim separate compensation for veterinary expenses, missing livestock, or reduced conception rates—something unheard of with other livestock losses.
Instead of resisting wolf reintroduction, ranchers have a chance to turn it into an economic advantage. Conservation easements offer financial incentives for predator-friendly ranching, and a shift in marketing could open new revenue streams. Ranchers and meat packers could embrace predator-friendly branding—“wolf-friendly” meat. Think of it as the next evolution of dolphin-safe tuna. Resisting change won’t stop it, but adapting could turn wolves into a financial asset rather than a liability.
A gray wolf fitted with a radio collar is released into the wild. (Source: USFWS)
The usual argument against wolves is that they threaten ranching. Reality says otherwise. Ranchers who adapt—using guard dogs, range riders, electric fencing, and night corrals—see far fewer losses than those who rely on killing wolves. The solutions are already in place.
But this fight isn’t just about money—it’s about the future of the West. Wolves are a keystone species. They restore balance, regulating prey populations, preventing overgrazing, and even influencing carbon sequestration. A study in the British Ecological Society Journal found that each wolf contributes to an annual carbon sequestration of 6,080 metric tons of CO₂.
Nature doesn’t struggle for balance—it creates it. The only question is whether Colorado will get out of its own way and let that process happen.
If Yellowstone’s success is any indication, wolf reintroduction will drive tens of millions in annual ecotourism revenue, proving once again that conservation and economic growth aren’t mutually exclusive. The wolf belongs here, just like the moose, elk, mountain lions, lynx, Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep, bald eagles, greenback cutthroat trout, and lark buntings.
It’s time to stop pretending otherwise.
Chad Hagan is an investor, author, philanthropist, and filmmaker with a long-standing commitment to rewilding and species reintroduction. Based in Atlanta, Georgia and London, England, he has been a seasonal resident of Breckenridge, Colorado, since the 1990s.
