Protecting Pumas

For more than 40 years, people have asked me, “Why mountain lions?”

From an early age, I felt a deep connection to animals and the natural world. Growing up with a father who served in the California Assembly, I was drawn to the intersection of policy and conservation. But it was animal protection that stirred something deeper in me.

In 1984, I met California appeals court judge Bill Newsom, who was a staunch environmentalist. At the time, he was concerned about powerful sportsmen’s groups that were pushing legislation to overturn a 1972 moratorium protecting mountain lions. If passed, it would mean the lions could again be hunted for sport in California.

As activists know, the work is rarely ever finished.

Newsom shared a chilling scenario that altered the trajectory of my life. “Picture this,” he said. “A pack of dogs, wearing radio collars, is released to chase a mountain lion until it’s exhausted and forced to take refuge in a tree. Hours, or even days, later, the hunter arrives and shoots the lion point-blank. The animal crashes to the ground, sometimes falling 60 feet — killed for nothing more than a trophy on the wall.”

That was all I needed to hear.

From that moment on, I poured everything into protecting these big cats.

Along with other dedicated wildlife advocates, I helped lobby for pumas in the legislature, engaged and activated grassroots communities, and fought legal battles. But, after repeatedly losing to powerful special interests, we turned directly to the people. In 1990, millions of Californians passed Proposition 117, a groundbreaking measure that made mountain lions a specially protected species in the state, banned killing them other than in situations where they were an immediate threat to public safety or livestock, and secured $30 million annually for 30 years for wildlife and wildlands conservation.

It was a profound victory — the first in the nation — but relief was short-lived.

Mountain lions were still overhunted in other states, and throughout their range they faced grave threats: habitat loss, vehicle strikes, disease, rodenticides, poaching, and widespread misunderstanding of their ecology and behavior. These challenges revealed a critical gap in conservation — groups lacked the time and resources to debunk misinformation about these large cats.

To protect lions at scale, we needed educational tools and materials that could be shared widely. Which is why, in 1994, I launched WildFutures to help wildlife conservation organizations and agencies by building these tools.

Photo by Toby McLeod

WildFutures filled an important niche. We partnered with leading lion biologists and government and nonprofits to develop cost-effective, science-based media and educational tools, including myth-busting films, training programs, and coexistence strategies. Through this approach, we helped organizations save time and resources and build a more resilient movement for carnivore protection.

As activists know, the work is rarely ever finished. Today, a dangerous anti-predator backlash is spreading across the United States. Driven by fear, misinformation, and political pressure, many state agencies are rolling back protections for carnivores.

Recently, at age 66, I reflected on my decades of deep hope and profound grief over what we’re doing to these magnificent cats. Does my work really matter at this time in the world?

Then I went to Yellowstone.

Walking through that vast, wild landscape — home to mountain lions, grizzly bears, and wolves — I felt something shift. The beauty of the place brought me solace and a sense of well-being I hadn’t felt in a long time. Every doubt about my purpose fell away. The wild reminded me why this work is needed, why it matters.

Today, a growing body of research reveals how crucial mountain lions are in shaping ecosystems, regulating prey, influencing plant communities, and boosting biodiversity. As climate change puts increasing stress on landscapes and human and wildlife communities, their role has become more vital than ever.

But I’ve come to see mountain lions as far more than just apex predators maintaining balance in ecosystems. For many of us, there’s something powerful in simply knowing they’re out there — wild and free. They have a right to exist, not just because of the important ecosystem roles they play, but because their lives matter on their own terms.