In the grand tradition of well-meaning coastal busybodies, a fresh battalion of animal rights activists is set to storm Colorado’s wildlife bureaucracy later today. This time, however, the well-to-do will go without pesky ballot initiatives seeing as how that route got them curb-stomped by Denver voters twice in 2024, which included one failed attempt at a statewide ban on big-cat hunts. Rather than letting the voters decide for themselves, this time they’re trying the quieter, more elite play of a citizen petition to the appointed Colorado Parks and Wildlife Commission, begging eleven gubernatorial picks to do what the people twice refused—ban the commercial sale of furbearer pelts from bobcats to coyotes to otters.

In what’s being touted as the Great Fur Heist Bypass (at least around here), the Tucson-based Center for Biological Diversity and their fellow travelers have pivoted to regulatory capture which includes whispering sweet nothings about “ecological intrinsic value” and “data gaps” into the ears of a commission that doesn’t answer to voters. Because nothing says “science-based management” like letting out-of-state activists rewrite rules for rural trappers who’ve kept populations stable for generations.

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Their insatiable pitch is familiar: commercialization bad, overharvest looming, public values evolving. 

"Furbearers shouldn't be sold for commercial value but should rather be valued for their ecological and intrinsic value," said Samantha Miller, CBD's senior carnivore campaigner and former leader of the failed "Cats Aren't Trophies" campaign behind 2024's Proposition 127.

Unfortunately for Sam, the reality in Colorado is that furbearer numbers are healthy, CPW’s own staff and director are recommending a flat denial, and the whole thing reeks of the same emotional moralizing that got laughed out of Colorado ballot boxes in the fall of 2024.

Notably, the measure does not ban trapping or hunting outright, but opponents, including Coloradans for Responsible Wildlife Management, the Sportsmen's Alliance, and Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, see it as a Trojan horse anyway. 

"It's an emotional ploy aimed at a commission with little connection to hunting and trapping," said Blake Henning of the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation. 

They warn of economic ripple effects on rural trappers, fly tiers, and the North American Model of Wildlife Conservation, which emphasizes sustainable use. Many fear this could be the first step toward broader restrictions, gradually eroding the regulated harvest system that has long funded wildlife management and kept populations healthy.

Today’s meeting showdown in Westminster is shaping up to be a powder-keg session. CPW is already reminding attendees to leave weapons at home and that fact alone tells you exactly how civil this debate over dead coyote pelts is about to get.

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The commission is set to hear public comment, weigh the petitions (including a pro-data counter from actual trappers), and could muster a vote today or opt to punt the decision to May. Either way, this isn’t solely about fur sales; it’s about who gets to decide how Coloradans steward their wild places: the people who live and work among them, or a handful of appointed idealists channeling distant activist dollars.

In a state that still remembers what real frontiers look like, the smart money says the commissioners will tell these pirates to shove off rather than surrendering to the next wave of ballot-box-avoiding nonsense.

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