In a twist that few expected during the height of hunting season, outdoor enthusiasts in southern New Mexico are facing an unfamiliar obstacle—military occupation of public lands. As the U.S. Department of Defense expands its control over swaths of rugged terrain along the U.S.-Mexico border, longtime hunters like Ray Trejo are asking: “Will I get shot just for carrying a rifle?”
This new reality, brought on by an emergency declaration and military land transfer, is sending shockwaves through communities that rely on public land access, not just for sport, but for tradition, sustenance, and identity.
🛡️ From Wildlife to Warzone: A Sudden Shift in Land Management
When President Trump declared a national emergency citing an “invasion” of migrants, it wasn’t just a rhetorical shift—it triggered an unprecedented handover of over 100,000 acres from the Department of the Interior to the Department of Defense. The National Defense Area (NDA) created is seven times the size of Manhattan and includes wildlife-rich corridors in Dona Ana, Luna, and Hidalgo counties.
For generations, this vast borderland has been a cherished destination for deer hunters, birdwatchers, backpackers, and local ranchers. But with military vehicles patrolling the backcountry, the landscape has taken on a starkly different tone.
What once was a domain of coues deer and desert cottontails is now patrolled by armed soldiers, creating uncertainty about the safety and legality of even stepping foot there.
🎯 The Disappearing Right to Hunt
Hunting in New Mexico isn’t a casual pastime—it’s a cultural pillar. For Ray Trejo, a county commissioner and avid outdoorsman, pulling a coveted hunting tag is a moment of joy. But that joy is now eclipsed by fear.
“If I’m out there in camouflage with a gun, am I going to be mistaken for something I’m not?” Trejo asks.
The Department of Defense has so far provided no clear public guidelines on whether hunting, camping, or even hiking will be permitted within the new military zone. The New Mexico Department of Game and Fish offers only a vague mention of permissions being required for hunting on military reservations—yet no process exists for the NDA, leaving hunters in bureaucratic limbo.
Without updated maps, signage, or regulatory clarity, local hunters like Garrett VeneKlasen fear being caught between federal policies and personal peril.
🏞️ Fragile Land, Fragile Access: What Happens to Wildlife and Trails?
The land under military management includes a significant portion of the Continental Divide Trail, a sacred route to thru-hikers stretching 3,100 miles from Mexico to Canada. Its southern end now lies within the newly designated NDA, making public access uncertain.
Moreover, the region is home to over two dozen endangered species, many of which are found nowhere else on Earth. Conservationists like VeneKlasen worry that the military's goals may clash with efforts to preserve delicate habitats.
Meanwhile, other public-use areas—like the 63-mile strip along the Rio Grande that was previously open for dove and quail hunting—have already had hunting rights rescinded. The U.S. International Boundary and Water Commission confirmed that it no longer administers the land, effectively locking out hunters overnight.
👥 Divided Stakeholders: Ranchers Welcome, Hunters Left Out
While hunters and conservationists express alarm, some ranchers have welcomed the military’s involvement. To them, the increased presence promises relief from illegal border crossings, which they say have affected their livelihood.
“Finally there is some relief,” said rancher Stephen Wilmeth, referring to the challenges of securing large tracts of leased federal land.
But this contrast in reception only highlights a broader issue: the lack of clear and consistent policy. While ranchers may continue grazing (if water and forage allow), hunters are left with questions, not access.
⚠️ A Call for Clarity Amid Camouflage and Confusion
Senator Martin Heinrich has stepped in, pressing the Department of Defense for answers. His letter underscores the urgency: “Are other recreational uses, including hiking, camping, and off-road vehicle use, still allowed?”
As of now, there are no responses from federal authorities. The absence of transparency has only heightened the anxiety among outdoor enthusiasts.
For VeneKlasen, the concern isn’t just personal. He worries especially for friends with darker skin, who may face added risk in an area patrolled by soldiers trained to respond to threats. “That terrifies me,” he says.
The military zone doesn’t yet appear on most digital hunting maps, a dangerous gap in information. For now, hunters like Trejo and VeneKlasen are in a holding pattern, unsure whether they’ll be allowed to step onto the lands they’ve loved—and fought to protect—for decades.
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