Eventually, the Park Service ended<\/a> the nightly landfill shows: feeding wild animals human food wasn\u2019t just dangerous, it was unnatural<\/a>. Bears, ecologists argued, should eat berries, nuts, elk \u2014 not leftover Twinkies. In 1970, the park finally shut down the landfills for good. <\/p>\n By then, though, grizzlies were in deep trouble. As few as 700 remained<\/a> in the lower 48 states, down from the estimated 50,000 that once roamed<\/a> the 18 Western states. Decades of trapping, shooting, and poisoning had brought them to the brink<\/a>. The ones that clung to survival in Yellowstone National Park learned to take what scraps they could get and when they were forced to forage elsewhere, it didn\u2019t go so well. <\/p>\n More bears died<\/a>. Their already fragile population in the Yellowstone region dipped to fewer than 250, though one publication says the number could have been as low as 136, according to Frank van Manen<\/a>, who spent 14 years leading the US Geological Survey\u2019s grizzly bear study team and now serves as an emeritus ecologist.<\/p>\n The Yellowstone bears had been trained to rely on us. And when we cut them off, their population tanked.<\/p>\n In 1957, Yellowstone tourists often got a little too close for comfort \u2014 like this driver, who leans out the window to snap a photo of a mother bear and her cubs. Today, this kind of wildlife encounter would be a big no-no for safety reasons. Corbis via Getty Images<\/p>\n And so in 1975, the US Fish and Wildlife Service placed<\/a> grizzly bears on the endangered species list, the country\u2019s most powerful legal mechanism to stave off extinction. <\/p>\n The grizzly\u2019s place on the list afforded them some important protections under the Endangered Species Act (ESA). Hunting was off limits, as was trapping or poisoning, and the listing included rigorous habitat protections. Grizzlies slowly came back.<\/p>\n Today, more than 1,000 grizzly bears<\/a> live in and around Yellowstone alone, and tourists who visit the park by the millions every year<\/a> can observe the bears \u2014 no longer desperately feeding on trash but lumbering in and out of meadows with their trailing cubs, or sitting on their haunches feasting on elk carcasses. <\/p>\n The recovery effort was a major success, but it\u2019s brought a whole new slate of issues. <\/p>\n In recent years, grizzlies have spilled out of their stronghold in the Greater Yellowstone ecosystem \u2014 a broad swath of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming \u2014 and into human territory, where coexistence gets messy. In 2024 alone, more than 60 grizzlies were killed<\/a> in Wyoming, most of them lethally removed by wildlife officials after killing cattle, breaking into cabins and trash cans, or lingering in residential neighborhoods.<\/p>\n It\u2019s the classic species recovery paradox: the more bears succeed and their populations expand, the more trouble they get into with humans. <\/p>\n And now, a controversial debate rages<\/a> over whether or not to delist the grizzly bear. No species is meant to be a permanent resident on the Endangered Species List. The whole point of the ESA is to help species recover to the point where they\u2019re no longer endangered. A delisting would underscore that the grizzlies didn\u2019t just scrape by in the Yellowstone area \u2014 they exceeded every population requirement in becoming a thriving, self-sustaining population of at least 500 bears<\/a>.<\/p>\n But to remove federal protection would mean grizzly bears would face increasing threats to their survival at a time when some biologists argue the species\u2019 recovery is shaky at best. <\/p>\n The stakes here are bigger than just the grizzly bear alone \u2014 what happens next is about proving that the ESA works, and that sustained recovery is possible, and that ESA protection leads to progress. Because if a species like the grizzly, which has met every biological benchmark, still can\u2019t graduate from the list, then what is the list for?<\/p>\n \u201cThe [ESA] is literally one of the strictest wildlife protection laws in the world\u2026but in order for people to buy into it, they have to have respect for it,\u201d says Kelly Heber Dunning<\/a>, a University of Wyoming professor who studies wildlife conflict. \u201cIf it starts to be seen as\u2026part of the culture war, that buy-in will go away.\u201d<\/p>\n What\u2019s the Endangered Species Act for anyway?<\/strong><\/p>\n Since President Donald Trump has taken office, the Republican Party\u2019s assault on the Endangered Species Act hasn\u2019t been subtle<\/a>. <\/p>\n The Fix Our Forests Act<\/a> \u2014 which sounds like it attempts a wildfire and forest health solution \u2014 actually<\/a> fast-tracks large-scale logging at the expense of fragile ecosystems and imperiled species. Trump allies in Congress, like Colorado Rep. Lauren Boebert with the Pet and Livestock Protection Act<\/a>, flagrantly prioritize political agendas over science<\/a>, according to the nonprofit National Resources Defense Council. The House Natural Resources Committee has also suggested weakening<\/a> the Marine Mammal Protection Act with an apparent intent to unravel protections for species like the North Atlantic right whale and the Gulf of Mexico Rice\u2019s whale. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum has called to remove \u201cburdensome regulations\u201d<\/a> standing in the way of Trump\u2019s desire to unleash America\u2019s energy potential. Project 2025, the conservative playbook, even explicitly<\/a> calls to delist<\/a> the grizzly bear. <\/p>\n But ironically, to prevent a full unraveling of one of the world\u2019s most powerful protections for wildlife and wild places, conservationists need to grapple with the mission creep of the ESA.<\/p>\n Interior Secretary Doug Burgum, left, and Energy Secretary Chris Wright deliver remarks outside the White House on March 19, 2025, in Washington, DC. Kevin Dietsch\/Getty Images<\/p>\n When Republican President Richard Nixon signed the Endangered Species Act in 1973<\/a>, the country\u2019s wildlife had been in a century-long nosedive. After decades of habitat destruction, unregulated hunting and industrial expansion, federal officials had already flagged more than 70 species at risk of extinction<\/a> \u2014 with many more lining up behind them.<\/p>\n In the decades that followed, the ESA proved to be one of the most powerful conservation tools in the world. More than 50 species<\/a>, including the Canada goose and bald eagle, thrived with their newfound federal protections and were later delisted; another 56 species were downgraded from endangered to threatened. But others, like the black-footed ferret<\/a>, Houston toad<\/a> and the red wolf<\/a>, for example, remain endangered \u2014 even after almost 60 years of federal attention.<\/p>\n Today the act protects more than 2,300 plant and animal species<\/a> in the US and abroad. And still more wait in line, as overworked federal biologists triage petitions<\/a> amid dwindling resources, aggressive layoffs and budget cuts<\/a>. <\/p>\n But when it comes to the grizzly bear, the debate has become bigger than just biology \u2014 it\u2019s become a referendum on what the Endangered Species Act is for, says David Willms, a National Wildlife Federation associate vice president and adjunct faculty at the University of Wyoming. <\/p>\n \u201cThe ESA is a science-based act,\u201d he says. \u201cYou have a species that is struggling, and you need to recover it and make it not struggle anymore. And based on the best available science at the end of the day, you\u2019re supposed to delist a species if it met those objectives.\u201d<\/p>\n Animals in the political crosshairs<\/p>\n The Endangered Species Act is at odds<\/a> with President Donald Trump\u2019s plan to \u201cunleash American energy.\u201d His administration has even proposed to rescind<\/a> the definition of \u201charm\u201d under the ESA. But as broader attacks on the law play out, consequential battles are being waged on individual species. Read the following stories to learn more:<\/p>\n The trouble begins when species linger on the list indefinitely, not because they haven\u2019t recovered but because of what might happen next, out of fears of possible future threats. <\/p>\n But the ESA was only meant to safeguard against \u201creasonably foreseeable future threats,\u201d Willms argues. Congress has the ability to protect species indefinitely \u2014 like it did for wild horses under the 1971 Wild and Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act or for numerous species of birds under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. But those were specific, deliberate laws. <\/p>\n \u201cIf there are other reasons why somebody or groups of people think grizzly bears should be protected forever, then that is a different conversation than the Endangered Species Act,\u201d he says. <\/p>\n But this power works in the opposite direction, too. If grizzly bears stay on the list for too long, Congress may well decide to delist the species, as lawmakers did in 2011<\/a> when they removed gray wolves from the endangered species list in Montana and Idaho.<\/p>\n Those kinds of decisions happen when people living alongside recovered species, especially the toothy, livestock-loving kind, spend enough time lobbying their state\u2019s lawmakers, says Dunning, the wildlife conflict researcher<\/a>. <\/p>\n When Congress steps in, science tends to step out. A political delisting doesn\u2019t just sideline biologists, it sets a precedent, one that opens the potential for lawmakers to start cherry-picking species they see as obstacles to grazing, logging, drilling, or building. The flamboyant lesser prairie<\/a> chicken has already made the list of legislative targets. <\/p>\n \u201cRight now, the idea of scientific research has lost its magic quality,\u201d she says. \u201cWe get there by excluding people and not listening to their voices and them feeling like they\u2019re not part of the process.\u201d<\/p>\n And when people feel excluded for too long, she says, the danger isn\u2019t just that support for grizzly bears will erode. It\u2019s that the public will to protect any endangered species might start to collapse.<\/p>\n The case for delisting the grizzly<\/strong><\/p>\n For Dan Thompson<\/a>, Wyoming\u2019s large carnivore supervisor, the question of delisting grizzlies is pretty simple: \u201cIs the population recovered with all the regulatory mechanisms in place and data to support that it will remain recovered?\u201d he says. \u201cIf the answer is yes, then the answer to delisting is yes.\u201d<\/p>\n That\u2019s why Thompson believes it\u2019s time to delist the grizzly. And he\u2019s not alone. The Greater Yellowstone ecosystem population is \u201cdoing very well,\u201d says van Manen. In fact, grizzlies met their recovery goals about 20 years ago. <\/p>\n Getting there wasn\u2019t easy. After the landfills closed and the bear population plummeted, it took a massive, decades-long effort from states, tribes, federal biologists, and nonprofits to bring the grizzlies back. The various entities funded bear-proof trash systems for people living in towns near the national parks and strung electric fences around tempting fruit orchards. They developed safety workshops for people living in or visiting bear country, and tracked down poachers. <\/p>\n And little by little, it worked. Bear numbers swelled, and by the mid-2000s, more than 600 bears roamed the Yellowstone area.<\/p>\n Given this success, the US Fish & Wildlife Service proposed delisting the grizzlies for the first time in late 2005<\/a>. Environmental groups sued, arguing bears needed continued federal protection as whitebark pine, an important food source, diminished. Bears could starve, groups maintained<\/a>, and their populations could plummet again. But a subsequent federal study of what, exactly, grizzly bears eat, found<\/a> that while grizzlies do munch whitebark pine seeds during bumper years, they don\u2019t depend on the trees to survive. In fact, grizzlies consume no fewer than 266 species of everything from bison and mice to fungi and even one type of soil<\/a>.<\/p>\n \u201cGrizzly bears are incredibly opportunistic and use their omnivorous traits to shift to other food sources,\u201d says van Manen. So losing one food \u2014 even a high-calorie one \u2014 did little to change the population.<\/p>\n The move to delist them paused as the federal government addressed the federal court\u2019s concerns, including researching the grizzly bear\u2019s diet. <\/p>\n And bear numbers kept climbing. In 2016, the Fish and Wildlife Service \u2014 under President Barack Obama \u2014 updated delisting requirements<\/a> including more expansive habitat protections, stricter conflict prevention, and enhanced monitoring. The agency then proposed a delisting. The following year \u2014 under Trump \u2014 it delisted<\/a> the grizzly bear. <\/p>\n This time the Crow Indian Tribe sued<\/a> and \u2014 determining in part that delisting grizzlies in the Yellowstone region threatened the recovery of other populations of grizzlies \u2014 a federal judge overturned the government\u2019s decision to delist the bears and placed them back on the list<\/a>. In 2022, Wyoming petitioned<\/a> the Fish and Wildlife Service to delist bears in the Yellowstone region. The service took a few years to analyze the issue, and then this January, days before the Biden administration ended, it issued a response to that petition: Grizzly bears would stay<\/a> on the Endangered Species List. <\/p>\n All of these years of back and forth reflected the change in how the federal government viewed the grizzly population, largely a result of the bear\u2019s own success. The Yellowstone region\u2019s bears, they argued<\/a>, are no longer distinct from bear populations in northern Montana, Idaho, and Washington. And because northern populations haven\u2019t met the recovery benchmarks yet (with the exception of a population in and around Glacier National Park), the species as a whole is not yet recovered.<\/p>\n But the goalposts for delisting grizzlies keep moving, Thompson told Vox.<\/p>\n Grizzly bears would still be managed even after a delisting. States would be responsible for them, and \u2014 miracle of miracles \u2014 state and federal agencies actually agreed on how to manage grizzlies after ESA protections end<\/a>. <\/p>\n Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana are committed to maintaining between 800 and 950 grizzly bears if the creature ever leaves the endangered species list. And states like Wyoming know how to manage grizzly bears because for years, under the supervision of the feds, they\u2019ve been doing the gritty, ground-level work<\/a>. Wyoming\u2019s wildlife agency, for example, traps and relocates conflict bears (or kills problem bears if allowed by the Fish and Wildlife Service), knocks on doors to calm nervous landowners, hands out bear spray, and reminds campers not to cook chili in their tents. <\/p>\n Despite all that, \u201cnobody trusts us,\u201d said Thompson, with Wyoming\u2019s state wildlife agency. \u201cThere\u2019s always going to be a way to find a reason for [grizzlies] not to be delisted.\u201d<\/p>\n A grizzly bear cub forages for food on a hillside near the Lake Butte overlook in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. Jonathan Newton\/Getty Images<\/p>\n Delisting now might be the right decision. It would still be a gamble<\/strong><\/p>\n Even though grizzly bears may be thriving in numbers, they\u2019re not ready to go it alone, says Matt Cuzzocreo<\/a>, interim wildlife program manager for the Greater Yellowstone Coalition. <\/p>\n The Greater Yellowstone Coalition has spent millions of dollars over the past few decades helping bears and humans more successfully coexist. But whatever comes next needs to build on the past 50 years of working with locals. As bears expand into new territory, they\u2019re crossing into areas where residents aren\u2019t used to securing garbage and wouldn\u2019t know how to respond to 600-pound predators<\/a> ambling down back roads or into neighborhoods. <\/p>\n Simply removing bears from the list and handing management to the states, which is the default after a species delisting, isn\u2019t enough, says Chris Servheen<\/a> \u2014 not when so much is still in flux. Servheen, who led the Fish and Wildlife Service\u2019s recovery program for 35 years, helped write the previous two recovery plans. He says a delisting could leave them dangerously exposed. <\/p>\n \u201cPoliticians are making decisions on the fate of animals like grizzly bears and taking decisions out of the hands of biologists,\u201d Servheen says. <\/p>\n Montana and Idaho, Servheen points out, already allow neck-snaring and wolf trapping just outside Yellowstone\u2019s borders \u2014 traps that also pose a lethal threat to grizzlies. And now, the Trump administration has slashed funding for the very biologists and forest managers tasked with protecting wildlife.<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/06\/GettyImages-615228974.jpg\"\/)
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