As Colorado approaches its pivotal vote next month on whether to amend the state Constitution by enshrining the right to hunt and fish, a fervent debate has engulfed hunters, conservationists, and legal experts alike, centering on the fundamental question of who — and which regions of the state — should predominantly shape its wildlife management policies. This upcoming ballot measure, known as Amendment 83, backed significantly by a well-funded, out-of-state interest group, has starkly illuminated longstanding divisions over the role of hunting in modern conservation efforts and the appropriate degree of political influence hunters should wield in a state where they constitute a demographic minority.

The "right to hunt and fish" movement, a growing trend across the United States, often seeks to elevate these activities from statutory privileges to constitutionally protected rights, aiming to safeguard them against future legislative or ballot-driven restrictions. Proponents typically argue that hunting and fishing are deeply rooted in American heritage, provide essential funding for wildlife conservation through license fees and excise taxes (such as those levied under the Pittman-Robertson Act), and serve as crucial tools for managing wildlife populations and ecosystems. Opponents, conversely, often express concerns that such amendments could enshrine outdated practices, limit the public’s ability to influence policy, and open the door to contentious legal challenges, potentially undermining science-based wildlife management.

Across the vast expanses of western Colorado, a region historically defined by its deep connection to the outdoors and reliance on natural resources, lifelong hunters find themselves profoundly divided over the proposal. Grant Kleeves, a seasoned mountaineer and hunting guide residing near Ridgway, champions the amendment, viewing hunters as an indispensable component of the state’s conservation policy. He underscores that the substantial revenue generated from hunting and fishing tags directly finances vital wildlife preservation initiatives. For Kleeves, Amendment 83 represents a crucial safeguard for this symbiotic relationship, providing a necessary counterweight to the burgeoning influence of urban voters, who he believes might otherwise dictate wildlife management policies without fully grasping the on-the-ground realities.

However, a different perspective emerges from figures like Gary Skiba, a retired wildlife biologist from Durango, who perceives the amendment as a direct challenge to the general public’s collective role in the conservation dialogue. Skiba warns that the measure could inadvertently unleash a torrent of lawsuits from hunters disputing state policies, potentially paving the way for the reintroduction of highly controversial hunting practices, such as the use of bait to attract black bears, which Colorado banned nearly a quarter-century ago. "It’s about limiting everybody else’s ability to influence wildlife management," Skiba asserted, encapsulating the core apprehension among opponents. This sentiment highlights a broader concern that codifying hunting as a constitutional right could shift the balance of power, granting specific interest groups disproportionate leverage over decisions affecting all citizens.

The underlying tension between Colorado’s urban Front Range and its more rural western slope forms a crucial backdrop to this debate. Proponents like Kleeves explicitly seek to check what they perceive as an overbearing urban influence. "Colorado is swayed so heavily by the Front Range," Kleeves observed, articulating a widespread rural grievance. "Where the Front Range goes, Colorado goes voting-wise, whether that reflects the on-the-ground reality of things or not." This demographic and political imbalance became glaringly apparent six years ago when Denver-area voters predominantly spearheaded the successful push for wolf reintroduction, a decision that overcame significant objections from much of rural Colorado and continues to color the contentious discussions surrounding Amendment 83.

The proposed ballot measure not only seeks to designate hunting and fishing as Colorado’s "preferred means" of wildlife management but also aims to establish Coloradans’ right to engage in these activities using "traditional methods"—language that opponents immediately label as both highly controversial and dangerously undefined. While proponents argue that the amendment incorporates safeguards designed to ensure that hunting regulations remain the purview of expert wildlife managers rather than the general public, opponents, including Democratic Governor Jared Polis, staunchly advocate for the continued inclusion of everyday Coloradans in these critical decisions. They voice profound concerns that the vague term "traditional methods" could be interpreted to sanction practices like bear baiting, which has been prohibited in Colorado since 1992, or even potentially trigger a wave of litigation from hunters challenging any regulations they deem unpopular or restrictive.

The specter of wolf reintroduction looms large in this debate, serving as a potent symbol of the rural-urban divide and the complexities of public-driven wildlife policy. On the western side of the Continental Divide, many hunters routinely cite the 2020 vote approving reintroduction as the pivotal moment they felt their voices diminishing. The program has indeed prompted widespread outcry from ranchers ever since wildlife managers released the first wolves nearly three years ago, leading to substantial economic burdens. Between April 1, 2025, and March 31, 2026, the state disbursed over $750,000 for direct and indirect livestock losses attributed to wolves. Concurrently, the state’s nascent wolf population faced significant challenges, with only about 61% surviving during the same period. Adding to the program’s complexity, Colorado Parks and Wildlife recently announced a temporary halt to routinely killing wolves that prey on livestock, driven by concerns that the state’s wolf population may not achieve expected growth this year. Many Western Slope residents, who largely opposed the reintroduction, feel disproportionately burdened by what they perceive as an ecological experiment largely championed by the Front Range. Adam Gall, an experienced elk and deer hunting guide based near Montrose, contends that the record of wolf reintroduction demonstrates that pro-wolf voters were "hoodwinked." This conviction has led Gall to believe that critical wildlife management decisions should no longer rest with the general public. "It sounds bad, but there’s just too many uninformed people that get swept up in the ideology or the emotion of something," Gall stated, echoing a sentiment shared by Gabby Strausbaugh, a hunter, rancher, and journalist in Gunnison, who agreed, saying, "I feel pretty strongly that the general public should not have a say in wildlife management."

Colorado has a storied history of addressing wildlife issues through ballot measures, a practice that highlights the state’s direct democracy traditions but also its capacity for deep public division on complex environmental topics. Beyond the 2020 wolf reintroduction, Coloradans voted to ban bear baiting in 1992 and outlawed most forms of traditional trapping four years later. However, not all such initiatives succeed; a 2024 proposal to prohibit hunting mountain lions, bobcats, and lynx failed in the November election, demonstrating the electorate’s nuanced, and often unpredictable, stance on wildlife management. Justin Marceau, a professor specializing in animal rights law at the University of Denver’s Sturm College of Law, acknowledges this long tradition: "There’s no question that it’s part of Colorado’s history. There’s a very long history of that practice, and reasonable people debate how great it is to have this done at the ballot box."

The "right to hunt" movement extends beyond Colorado, with wildlife-related ballot measures showing mixed electoral records across the American West. Montana voters, for example, rejected a trapping ban in 2017. Wyoming, Idaho, and Utah have successfully enshrined the right to hunt and fish in their state constitutions. Conversely, a similar measure failed in Arizona, where critics argued there was no genuine threat to the practice, indicating that the perceived necessity of such amendments can significantly sway public opinion. Amendment 83 stands as the only "right to hunt" measure on the ballot in the West this fall, part of a broader national effort. Approximately 20 other states have already adopted similar constitutional amendments, many with the robust backing of the International Order of T. Roosevelt, a powerful Wisconsin-based conservative advocacy group. This organization, whose CEO, Luke Hilgemann, previously held the same position at the conservative group Americans for Prosperity, has contributed over $1.5 million to the pro-Amendment 83 campaign, according to state campaign finance records. The group actively pursues its goal of establishing a constitutional right to hunt in all 50 states, having previously thrown its considerable weight behind successful campaigns in Florida, South Dakota, and Ohio, among others.

Dan Gates, a longtime Colorado pro-hunting activist, described himself as integral to the "infantry ground game" for the pro-83 push, with the Order of T. Roosevelt providing the formidable "air support, and the sea support — and maybe the guerrilla warfare support." Gates frames Colorado’s recent electoral history on wildlife issues as a disheartening string of defeats, punctuated only by occasional narrow escapes, such as the failed attempt to ban hunting big cats. For him, Amendment 83 represents a strategic counter-offensive, designed to preempt similar future ballot initiatives and shift hunters onto the electoral offensive. "You’ve got to take the ball away from them," Gates declared during an August podcast appearance, referring to anti-hunting advocates. "We have now." This aggressive stance underscores the deep-seated political struggle for control over wildlife policy.

Opponents of Amendment 83 harbor serious concerns that its passage would effectively open the floodgates to future lawsuits, contending that wildlife management decisions could be challenged as infringements upon a newly enshrined constitutional right. Their primary focus of apprehension lies in the amendment’s undefined language regarding "traditional methods" of hunting and fishing. Justin Marceau, the University of Denver law professor specializing in animal rights law, points out that Colorado law offers virtually no precedent to help interpret this vague term. "They’ve invoked this kind of historical origin story, but not with any frame of reference. Are they referring to the frontier days? To the days before Colorado was a state?" he questioned. "I have no idea."

Colorado Hunters and Anglers for Sensible Wildlife Conservation, the primary opposition group, explicitly cites the significant potential for future litigation aimed at reinstating controversial hunting practices like bear baiting. Skiba, a former member of the Colorado Parks and Wildlife Commission and a key figure in the anti-amendment push, dismisses the notion that hunting is currently under threat as "ludicrous" and firmly rejects the idea of elevating it beyond a privilege. "It isn’t a right. It shouldn’t be a right, any more than the right to paddleboarding should be a right," Skiba asserted, emphasizing his belief that the amendment would empower hunters to legally challenge any policies they find unfavorable. He warned, "Putting this as a right in the Constitution would give them the legal standing to challenge anything, and the litigation could go absolutely bonkers." Marceau concurred, labeling the amendment a "litigation time bomb" that would fundamentally shift the debate over hunting regulation "away from the democratic process and into the courts," with potentially far-reaching and unpredictable consequences.

Even among some hunters who generally favor the amendment, reservations persist, primarily regarding the ambiguous language. Gabby Strausbaugh acknowledged that the "vagueness" surrounding the definition of "traditional methods" gives her pause, a sentiment echoed by the Colorado chapter of Backcountry Hunters and Anglers, which stated that concerns about the precise meaning of the language "should not be dismissed." However, other legal experts offer a contrasting view, suggesting that the very lack of clarity could, paradoxically, strip the amendment of any significant legal effect. Mike Pappas, an environmental law professor at the University of Colorado Boulder, posited that the proposed language fails to provide courts with clear direction for future litigation. "It’s not at all clear to me how, in five years’ time, if someone files a lawsuit trying to vindicate a right under this, how any hypothetical case comes out," he explained. Pappas concluded, "The proposed language gives a vibe, but it doesn’t give clear guidance," suggesting that its constitutional force might be more symbolic than legally actionable. This ongoing debate underscores the profound philosophical and practical divisions within Colorado, illustrating the complex intersection of tradition, conservation, and modern governance in the stewardship of the state’s cherished natural heritage.