The males appear each spring before the Wyoming basin is completely illuminated. Dozens of them emerge from the sagebrush in the dark, puffing their white chest feathers into an almost theatrical appearance and spreading their spiky tails wide. Their yellow throat sacs make a rhythmic pop when they expand and contract; researchers have found that this sound can travel almost a mile across an open space. It’s among the most amazing things one can see on this nation’s public land. Additionally, it is occurring less frequently than it formerly did.
Since 1965, the two-foot-tall greater sage-grouse, a symbol of the American West, has lost about 80% of its male population. The fact that almost half of that loss has occurred in the last 20 years is more difficult to comprehend because most people thought the bird was at least being observed, if not actively protected, during that time. Observing the numbers gives the impression that the window of opportunity to take meaningful action is smaller than it seems from a distance.
The sage-grouse story is unique in part because it almost had a different conclusion. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service determined in 2015 that the bird did not require official protection under the Endangered Species Act following years of litigation and negotiation. Many saw that ruling as a success, demonstrating the viability of voluntary state-led conservation efforts in conjunction with federal land managers. Core habitat protections had already been implemented in Wyoming. 50 million acres of regional plans were being drafted by the Bureau of Land Management. Through the Sage-Grouse Initiative, USDA had made over $400 million in investments. The bird appeared to be stabilizing cautiously.
Then, as is often the case, the political environment changed, and the structure that kept those protections in place started to deteriorate.
The Trump administration unveiled draft plans in late 2025 that would allow increased mineral and energy extraction on about 50 million acres of sage-grouse habitat. Conservation organizations reacted swiftly and with genuine concern. Advocates for greater sage-grouse cautioned that the plans would undo ten years of work, especially in states like South Dakota and Idaho where habitat fragmentation is already severe. Although the exact extent of the rollbacks in their final form is still unknown, the direction is clear.
The bird has always been under ecological pressure. Large tracts of sagebrush steppe have been overtaken by non-native grasses like cheatgrass, changing wildfire cycles in ways that make recovery more difficult. The grasses that the grouse need for their courtship leks are being displaced by pinyon pine and juniper, which are spreading throughout areas they were previously left alone. For a bird that migrates up to 100 miles seasonally and nearly completely avoids human disturbance, roads, power lines, and fences—items that appear insignificant on a map—are effectively walls.
In the regulatory back and forth, it’s easy to forget how precisely the sage-grouse needs everything to survive. In the winter, it consumes sagebrush, and in the spring, it builds its nest beneath it. Every year, it goes back to the same leks. It doesn’t find a way around the loss of cover or adapt to edge habitat. It is sometimes referred to by biologists as a flagship species for the sagebrush ecosystem, which means that many other species suffer when the grouse disappears.
The politics surrounding land use are not straightforward. For decades, this issue has been discussed by ranchers, energy companies, state governments, and conservationists, all of whom have valid claims. However, it’s difficult to ignore the fact that significant advancements, such as the 2015 non-listing ruling, the BLM habitat plans, and the NRCS easements, occurred at the exact moment when all those interests had to be present in the same room. Acreage is no longer the only thing being walked back. The political viability of bird protection was initially made possible by the architecture of compromise.
In any case, the males will go back to the leks the following spring. The current federal strategy doesn’t seem particularly eager to address the question of whether enough of them survive to fill those clearings the way they once did.
