Posted on 10/26/2025 7:56:43 AM PDT by Red Badger
R.C. and Annia Carter survey their ranch near Ten Sleep, Wyo., on Oct. 14, 2025. The Carters have practiced regenerative or holistic agricultural practices to cultivate their pastureland. John Fredricks/The Epoch Times
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TEN SLEEP, Wyo.—The alfalfa weevil, scourge of Western ranchers, appears when the frost melts, skeletonizing leaves and profits. There are ways to limit its damage—early harvest, livestock grazing, and intercropping alfalfa with grass—but most growers opt for insecticides.
R.C. Carter, a third-generation rancher in Northern Wyoming, recalled a realization he had while using a 1.5-gallon container of concentrated pesticide to spray a 60-acre alfalfa pasture.
“I was pumping this chemical to kill these alfalfa weevils, and it says don’t get it on your skin. And somehow I got it under my armpit. And then on my eyelid. And this stuff burned, it burned for three days, and water didn’t help, you couldn’t wash it off,” he told The Epoch Times at his ranch.
Historically, alfalfa growers used arsenic-based insecticides, which have been mostly phased out, and DDT, now banned for its bio-accumulative and carcinogenic impacts.
In recent years, the pests’ resistance to newer generation chemicals has proven challenging for ranchers.
R.C. Carter’s wife, Annia, herself a fifth-generation Wyoming rancher, remembered the smell. “I thought, ‘this is going to make you sick when you’re older.'”
Soon after, they learned about health risks associated with glyphosate, the most widely used herbicide in the United States, which early studies found can persist in certain soil conditions for up to 22 years.
“That means even if it’s just put on the soil for the first year, there will still be residual,” Annia Carter said. “It leaches into everything. It doesn’t disappear.”
The experience was a turning point for the Carters, who have since pivoted to “regenerative” or holistic agricultural practices to cultivate pastureland where they graze more than 1,400 cattle, focusing on regrowing native grasses and building soil health without chemical pesticides, fertilizers, tilling, or monocropping.
R.C. Carter dips down into bright, tall grasses and alfalfa to reveal fat slugs and nubby worm castings.
This “bug life” is exciting to him; it signals progress, as do signs of water infiltration. The Carters routinely test the fields for organic matter and say they’re seeing increases where they’ve grazed cattle and then let the land rest and rebound.
Their 7,000-acre ranch near the tiny town of Ten Sleep—named, as legend goes, for being 10 “sleeps” or nights by horseback, a halfway point, between historic Sioux camps—is a speck in the verdant arterial valleys intersecting parched badlands at the foot of the Bighorn Mountains.
“We used to participate in all the normal commodity agriculture. We didn’t know any better,” he said. “Then we were like, this is wrong. And we started looking for—what’s the off-ramp?”
Figuring that out has alienated them from their community, and caught them between critics on both ends of a roiling debate—ranchers who use conventional practices on one side, and conservationists who argue “regenerative” is a buzzy greenwashing of harmful practices.
All of that, the Carters say, stems from misunderstanding.
‘Before the Fences’
Tromping through vibrant pastures, leapfrogging around fresh piles of cow dung and drawing curious stares and a symphony of groans from the 700 or so Black Angus heifers, the Carters called out for one in particular—Stacey. “What’s up, good looking?” R.C. Carter said as she sidled up for pets. A “bum,” rejected by her mother, the Carters and their three sons took turns bottle-feeding her for a summer while she lived at their ranch. A yard cow.
“That’s the spot!” he said, scratching hard on her hind quarters as she demurely lifted a back hoof in appreciation.
In addition to their own lands, the Carters have rights to graze on 32,000 acres managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), which puts them at odds with conservationists determined to reduce the number of livestock on public lands.
Critics on both sides of the debate who have accused them of overgrazing don’t understand the process or the vision, they said.
“People were calling the BLM, saying this is ruining the land, this should be illegal, it looks terrible,” R.C. Carter said. “But they just don’t understand the strategy, which is a long-term approach.”
Instead of grazing a smaller herd for a longer period on a piece of land, the Carters opt for high-intensity, low-duration grazing, meaning they sometimes move the animals every day or so, now with the help of virtual fencing.
The concept is based on a much older practice.
“We’re really just mimicking what the bison did, what was here before us, before the fences,” Annia Carter said.
Large ungulates such as bison and antelope have long populated the Great Plains; they grazed, fertilized, and trampled pastures, mixing soil and seed in the process.
Millions of bison and other herbivores roaming Western rangelands over millennia contributed to carbon-rich soil and diverse ecosystems—which ranchers such as the Carters hope to restore by building on the ancient blueprint.
“We need to create impact and mix the manure and plant the seeds with the cow’s feet,” R.C. Carter said.
Around Stacey’s neck, and those of her 700 or so brethren, is a collar with a solar panel charger, which pings to a satellite tower. An app on Carter’s phone shows exactly how many cows are in the field, and allows him to move the boundary with a swipe of an index finger.
It’s a shock collar, but not as bad as it sounds, Annia Carter said, explaining the animals may be zapped once when they reach the boundary, but are then quickly deterred by a warning.
“As the cow comes in and she gets close to the new imaginary boundary, she’ll feel a vibration. It’ll beep, and then you’ll see when the cows get close to it, they’re like, ‘Oh man!’ It’s like God’s speaking to ‘em. They’re like, ‘yeah, I’ve been struck down by lightning before!’” R.C. Carter said. “They respect it real quick.”
Controlling the collared animals via satellite has allowed the ranchers to “fine-tune” their footprint, directing them to mow down a whole pasture, devouring all the grass and alfalfa—and, potentially, invasive species—instead of grazing selectively.
“We’re using more cattle in less area—we’re really hitting it hard,” he said, “but we are resting longer. So we won’t come back to the same spot every year. You have to let that time for the land and the decomposition and all the lifecycles to happen for it to renew.”
The virtual fencing doesn’t eliminate property or fence lines, but the Carters say it gets them closer to those natural, historic migration patterns—and the model can be repeated on a smaller scale.
It’s also a lot easier on the ranchers. Running cattle on horseback and moving poly wire every day or so is a full-time job that takes the whole family. And if something or someone runs through it—more common than you might think, Annia Carter said—that’s another few days to fix it.
“There’s a lot of oil and gas development here, so the ‘weekend warriors’ would come out and be drinking and cruising through the fence, and you’re like, ‘Oh man, cows are out. All of them—again!’ It’s just days from hell where you ride until your hands are numb.”
‘Never Seen it Yet’
Conservationists say the claim that rotational grazing mimics migration patterns of native ungulates such as bison or antelope is an unproven anecdote at best—and at worst a harmful myth propagated by the cattle industry in an attempt to deflect from the damage livestock cause on public lands.
Regenerative grazing also requires 2.5 times more land than conventional grazing, according to the Center for Biological Diversity (CBD), which argues there is only enough pastureland in the country to support 27 percent of current production if everyone switched to grass-fed beef and regenerative practices.
The problem, according to CBD and others, is that, at current levels, no form of beef production can be sustainable as Americans consume four times the global average of beef, according to data from the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization.
Erik Molvar, a wildlife biologist with the Western Watershed Project, says it simply comes down to scientific evidence.
“We would accept livestock grazing that was fully compatible with maintaining healthy, vibrant native ecosystems,” he told The Epoch Times.
“We’ve just never seen it yet.”
What’s needed for true regenerative grazing, Molvar said, “is not one of these gimmicky rotational schemes. It’s fundamentally reducing the number of livestock on the landscape to very low densities.”
While a recent study from the University of Idaho showed “relatively decent” outcomes, Molvar said, they were based on a rate of 18 percent foliage utilization.
Molvar said the study misrepresented how typical the results were. “They used that study to greenwash all public lands grazing,” he said.
The 10-year study, which also involved federal and state agencies as well as industry groups, examined how livestock grazing impacts sage grouse populations—a major flashpoint for conservationists.
It reported that “properly managed” grazing had no negative impacts, but could in fact benefit the species by reducing invasive grasses and building robust habitats.
Molvar does allow a cautious optimism about the “cutting-edge” virtual fencing technology used by the Carters.
“There is a lot that we all have to learn about how that can be employed in terms of livestock management and whether it is effective at moving cattle where they’re supposed to be,” he said.
Certainly, it’s better than fragmenting the landscape and obstructing migratory corridors with barbed wire, he said.
And virtual fencing may allow more cattle into areas they normally wouldn’t have grazed in the past—easing up on “heavily hammered areas” such as along stream corridors or at springs.
“You might be able to show some real gains there,” Molvar said.
The Carters say they are already doing this.
R.C. Carter acknowledged that natural water points are always an area of high impact, “so we try to spread those around to limit disturbance. With the use of the collar, we’re able to access areas the cattle wouldn’t typically go, increasing their [positive] impact.”
Still, Molvar suspects any major improvements are more likely from reduced overall grazing density combined with high-intensity, short-duration programs—not the latter alone.
Ecological Health
Conservationists consider native bunch grasses—and how well they rebound after grazing—a key indicator of ecological health.
Areas decimated by livestock grazing in the past, including large areas of the Bighorn Basin, have been converted to cheatgrass “wastelands,” Molvar said, referring to the aggressive invasive species that outcompetes native bunch grasses and increases fire hazard.
Once an area converts to cheatgrass, “you can do all you want in terms of soil organic matter,” but the wildlife habitat will be “incredibly poor” until native bunch grasses are reestablished, he said.
R.C. Carter reports that where he is grazing livestock, native bunch grasses are increasing in health and numbers. And, he adds, “Cheatgrass biomass is decreasing, and we can show ecological succession.”
The pastures on his ranch are mostly a mix of varieties considered grazing tolerant or moderately so when managed in rotation, and the mix of grass and alfalfa or other legumes helps keep the pasture moist and growing, he said.
Molvar acknowledges that quick, intense grazing facilitated by virtual fencing introduces something novel.
Asked whether one day of intense grazing on pastureland can really irreparably wipe out a field, he said, “It’s a good testable hypothesis.”
The other part of the equation, he said, is that native wildlife also needs to feed on the same lands.
Under their current management strategy, the Carters say there is plenty of foliage to feed on.
“[BLM] is telling me I can take 700 cows up onto the mountain and I can stay there for two-and-a-half, three months,” R.C. Carter said.
“We did that, and we only grazed less than half of the entire ranch. So we’re fitting into the box they need us to be in. But if we were to transition how we’re managing, we can double the amount of cows.”
Molvar said there is still a need for legitimate science that’s not tainted by industry interests.
“When the livestock industry is funding studies that conclude grazing is harmless or even beneficial, it raises all kinds of red flags because all you have to do is follow the money,” he said.
“Across the West and repeatedly, we see claims that a certain kind of grazing in a certain location is environmentally sustainable. And when we go and look, it’s just as disruptive as everywhere else. That has made us a little cynical.”
Soil and Nutrition
In the past five years, the Carters say they’ve increased organic matter in some of their pastureland to around 5 percent, up from 1.1 percent, a level that had remained more or less stable for the past 60 years, until they started tinkering with it.
Hoping to standardize such efforts, they founded a nonprofit that offers certification for regenerative ranching through third-party testing for components including soil organic matter and carbon sequestration practices, vitamin and fatty acid levels, as well as heavy metals and other contaminants.
Resulting food scores reflect both soil health and nutrient density. The idea is to give independent ranchers access to premium markets, and give consumers a window into how their food is produced, and what is ultimately in it.
R.C. Carter says that such a system may be more useful than organic certification. He’s thinking of moms trying to navigate labeling—“is it grass-fed? Grass finished? What does it mean?”
People will pay more for meat that doesn’t have antibiotics in it, or was raised on pasture, he said. “But would you rather trust words, or do you want empirical evidence?”
Advocating for such a paradigm shift, he says, puts him between two sides that don’t necessarily welcome change.
“An organic guy tells us you can’t improve on organic, which is the same thing that the guy across the road is telling me—‘that’s the way we’ve always done it,’” he said, referring to conventional ranching.
“The game has changed because we have access to the technology. It’s cheaper and it’s way less fallible. And it’ll be easier for people, a low-barrier entry if people want to change.”
‘They’re Absolutely Listening’
For the Carters, the path to regenerative agriculture has not been easy or lucrative. “Any extra money we’ve had, we’ve put into this,” Annia Carter said. “We live very simply.”
But their efforts are converging with increased global focus on soil degradation and ensuing threats to biodiversity, climate change, and global food security.
They’re also operating during a time when they feel—perhaps for the first time—that people in powerful places are listening.
R.C. Carter was among a group of ranchers who met with Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins in August, and the administration has signaled support, not just for increased grazing on public lands, but for regenerative practices.
“I’ve always thought politics wasn’t worth my time; it’s just talk,” he said. “But with this experience, I’m like, ‘holy smokes!’ They’re absolutely listening.
“We asked Rollins about regenerative agriculture, and she’s like, ‘We love it. We don’t know anything about it. How do we do it?’”
Rollins’ office did not respond to questions from The Epoch Times about anticipated policy, regulatory, or legal changes related to regenerative practices or rangeland management issues in the West.
Small family producers face an escalating crisis: heavy consolidation, aging rural populations, layered economic pressures, and the continued decline in farmland has left them increasingly vulnerable.
The Carters know how difficult the transition is and that they’ll need to inspire confidence.
“Most producers, they’re not going to transition because the system is so rigged against you, you can’t afford to make a $50,000 mistake,” R.C. Carter said.
“It’s so tight that they’re trapped. Somebody has to volunteer and say, ‘I’ll go make the mistakes. We’ll prove this model works, and then we’ll share the information.”
They envision a network of regional hubs, including their own ranch, where people can come and “learn from our mistakes.”
Annia Carter added, “It doesn’t matter your topography or location or the area. You just work with what you have.”
Currently, she said, the incentives are in all the wrong places, focused on extraction—and, for small family ranchers, survival—rather than sustainability.
“You have to make money to survive, but that comes at the expense of human health. We can do both. If you graze reciprocally, you aren’t just extracting. You’re giving back to the soil, back to the land,” she said.
Investing in a high-tech, holistic approach, she said, may help ensure longevity.
“Show them a new way, and maybe more children would want to hang out on their ranches,” she said. “We want to leave it better than we inherited it; that feels like our responsibility as landowners, to educate the next generation so it will continue.”
Recently, the Carters applied for a National Geographic grant. They plan to lease 400 acres of land, about 25 miles west of Ten Sleep, that was used to grow conventional commodity crops—sugar beets, corn, barley.
“We’re going to do this study, the goal is to build the organic matter, using cows as a tool to transition row crop farmers back to something that is sustainable. And we can build the water quality, organic matter, and show it is a viable economic model to the row crop farmer,” R.C. Carter said.
This particular land has been treated with chemical fertilizers, pesticides, and glyphosate to grow genetically modified monocrops.
They plan to bring third-party scientists to test the soil and keep a record of progress.
“Then we’ll come in and plant. We’ll put cows on it. We’ll do what we do around here,” R.C. Carter said.
They’ll experiment with a variety of plants to help replace missing nutrients, testing, watching, and adjusting.
“It will probably take several years, but you’ll see improvement within the first year,” he said.
If that can become the new normal, he said, perhaps it can also be monetized.
“That should be an incentive for the ranchers. If you are actually improving your land, your water quality, your runoff, you should be rewarded for that,” he said.
“That way, you can make a little wave, and your little splashes will make a big wave eventually.”
“ Part of the problem is the accidental introduction of invasive species that cattle won’t eat and are harmful to ruminants and the bison did not have to contend with”
Exactly why the South is covered in kudzu.
Well, considering how violent Bison are to other species, they are just intolerant bigots.
As an East Coaster it amazes me how the fertile soils of my birth state have been polluted and forever ruined by the unceasing advance of condos and housing units for section 8 and H1bs.
We’re really just mimicking what the bison did, what was here before us, before the fences,” Annia Carter said.
Large ungulates such as bison and antelope have long populated the Great Plains; they grazed, fertilized, and trampled pastures, mixing soil and seed in the process.
Yes, goats can clean a place up but they can be hard to contain needing a change in fence from just 4 to 6 strand barbed wire. There is also limited market for them when you are done. The cabrito demand is dwindling.
Rent them out to other ranchers and the State to clear infected lands...............
ARRRR! That’s the spirit!!
I have a nephew who is a park ranger. As part of managing a park that he was in charge of, he contracted with a local goat farmer who would bring in a number of goats to clear areas of invasive species. Don’t know for sure, but I think the farmer was the one who took care of the temporary fencing.
All of our crop land is rotated on an annual basis. The only 'fertilizer' used is composted cow manure. Our crops are absolutely amazing! Farmer Dan really knows what he is doing and he is training Junior Farmer Ryan (Nephew) in all of this. He will most likely take over the crop land production in the future.
And since we're in 'The Driftless' we are nothing but hills, so contour planting is the only way to go to stop the soil erosion.
Along with composted cow, mule and chicken manure, my own garden beds are filled with LUSH soil from way down in our pasture - the stuff that washed down there eons ago. You can safely eat it with a spoon if you're so inclined, LOL!
Seriously, the Old Ways are almost ALWAYS the Best Ways. But she's right these days about going broke trying to prove it! Beau has been through a number of 'renters' through the years and a lot of them did not 'get it.' We are so blessed to have Farmer Dan and crew caring for our land. I tell him every time I see him! :) Also, I send a prayer UP to thank Him that I'm no longer the one on the tractor, LOL!
It kind of makes you DIZZY when viewed from above - but it really is gorgeous at ground level.
Rides - I just pinged you to this because you are a Rancher/Farm Gal/Wisconsinite at heart!
“. The cabrito demand is dwindling.”
Uh no the demand for goat in the USA is 160% of domestic supply we import the rest my guy.
If you are being racist and suggesting the deportations is having any affect on demand it’s slight. Texans, especially Tejanos who are 14-17 generation Texans eat a crap ton of barbacoa which should always be goat.
A real South and Central Texan would have a barbacoa brick lined pit in the ground specifically for goat barbacoa this 15th gen Texian / Tejano does, know the differences from a Texan, Texian and Tejano most of the old skool TJ’s are Basque and Islenos(Canary Is) from the early 1700s at that.
As for weeds my two pet nubians Frick and Frack keep the grass trim and there are zero weeds they demolish any green shoots of virtually anything that comes up dandelions area fav.
https://agrilifetoday.tamu.edu/2024/04/30/demand-for-meat-goats-continues-to-grow/
You know who else eats lots kg goat Indians it’s on every teal Indian menus and every authentic buffet too. ICE is not grabbing perm rez or H1B already here near by Frisco is virtually India already I assure you goat demand is up not down. Same for Africa , Africans they eat goat for days every Rwandan, Cameroon, South African I know quite a few in the oil industry field all get down on goat in fact one of the last family cookout I went too was a whole roasted goat at my South African buddies homestead I brought barbacoa for breakfast they did the Braai which is very much like a Cajun boucherie but goat vs hog.
There is pretty decent money in goats they breed fast, are not picky eaters and taste great with a solid demand in the cities where you have Indians,Africans, Arabs or Hispanics & Tejanos or Cholos like South Los Angeles who are native born just like Tejanos are. Don’t leave out New Mexico either. The desert SW indigenous get down on goat too.
I’ve just relocated to Wyoming from “The Ranch” in Texas. If there’s a Wyo ping list, please add me to it.
None that I know of. I just use Cowboy State Daily from time to time because it has interesting articles..............
Thanks!
You sound both serious and emotional about goat. We just don’t see much of it around here.
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