In the glorious Empire of Trumpius, the wilderness is finally about to become wild enough again.
At least that is the decree of Imperator Donaldus Magnus Trumpius Caesar, First of His Name, Defender of the Prairie, Conqueror of Bureaucracy, Protector of the Pickup Truck, and Supreme Keeper of the Imperial Hunting License.
For Caesar has identified yet another terrible injustice afflicting the American people:
There is nature.
There is wildlife.
There is federal land.
And yet, somehow, an American citizen cannot simply walk everywhere with a fishing rod, a bow, a rifle, three coolers, and the confidence of a man who has never read the regulations.
This, according to the imperial doctrine, can no longer stand.
Trumpius Caesar therefore proclaimed that American hunters, anglers, and landowners are among the greatest conservationists the world has ever known.
Possibly the greatest.
Maybe greater than conservation itself.
Because in the Trumpius philosophy of nature, the surest way to prove your love for wildlife is apparently to make absolutely certain there is enough wildlife available for future generations to pursue.
It is conservation with a very practical ending.
The Bureaucrats Have Been Hiding the Wilderness
For years, Caesar declared, federal regulations have oppressed the sporting citizen.
Rules.
Restrictions.
Permits.
Access policies.
Maps.
Possibly signs.
Perhaps even laminated signs.
All the terrifying machinery of the administrative state has allegedly stood between patriotic Americans and the majestic experience of walking into the woods before sunrise carrying equipment worth more than a used sedan.
No more.
Under the new imperial hunting doctrine, federally managed lands are to operate under a grand assumption:
Access first. Questions later.
Unless, of course, the law says otherwise.
Or another regulation says otherwise.
Or Congress says otherwise.
Or the land is excluded.
Or somebody discovers an endangered species standing exactly where Caesar wanted the parking lot.
But apart from that, freedom.
The Imperial Forest Gates Swing Open
Selected federal lands and monuments are to see expanded hunting opportunities, while Caesar’s ministers begin examining where additional access might be granted.
The Praefectus Interiorum, Forestium et Magnificent Deer, together with his fellow imperial administrators, must search the realm for unnecessary restrictions.
If a gate can be opened, it should be considered.
If a road can be repaired, it should be considered.
If land can become easier to reach, the empire wants to know why it still requires hiking.
For what is the American frontier, after all, if not a remote wilderness ideally located within reasonable driving distance?
Infrastructure shall therefore be improved.
Access shall be expanded.
Trails shall become more practical.
And the rugged untamed wilderness shall, with sufficient federal coordination, become considerably easier to enter.
Nothing says “untamed frontier” quite like improved transportation infrastructure.
Traditional Ammunition for Traditional Greatness
The decree also gives special attention to traditional lead ammunition and fishing tackle.
Because in the Empire of Trumpius, the word “traditional” possesses enormous mystical power.
If something has been used for generations, then it automatically enters the sacred imperial category of Things That Must Never Be Questioned Without Causing a Three-Hour Speech.
Naturally, the decree remains subject to law, regulation, appropriations, agency authority, environmental rules, and reality.
But those are details.
The important thing is that Caesar has declared tradition victorious.
Raise the Children of the Bow
Trumpius Caesar is also deeply concerned about the next generation.
Schools may receive clearer guidance concerning federal funding for archery and hunter education.
At last, education policy addresses the issue that has troubled American classrooms for decades:
Not enough arrows.
Reading?
Important.
Mathematics?
Probably.
Science?
Fine.
But can the child hit a stationary target at twenty yards?
Now we are talking about educational outcomes.
Young Americans and veterans are also to receive greater opportunities to participate in hunting and fishing traditions.
Thus emerges the ideal citizen of the Trumpius Empire:
patriotic, outdoorsy, resourceful, able to identify wildlife, and fully prepared to explain at Thanksgiving dinner why buying several thousand dollars of equipment was absolutely necessary to obtain forty dollars’ worth of venison.
Caesar Reorganizes Nature
The imperial decree does not stop with people.
No.
Trumpius Caesar has also turned his administrative attention toward the animals themselves.
Game populations are to become stronger.
Habitats are to be improved.
Invasive species are to be reduced.
Wildlife corridors are to be protected.
Predators and competing species may be managed.
Prescribed burns, vegetation management, grazing, water development, agriculture, and other habitat tools may be used.
In other words, the American ecosystem has received a strategic performance plan.
Somewhere in a federal office, a deer may soon be assigned measurable annual growth objectives.
Predators should prepare for a difficult quarterly review.
Make America Venison Again
Then comes perhaps the most unexpected feature of the imperial program:
meat donation.
Wild game, particularly from abundant deer populations, may increasingly find its way to food banks and schools through state-supported programs.
And thus the hunting decree achieves something truly Trumpius:
It combines conservation policy, federal land management, school programs, veteran initiatives, sporting culture, and lunch.
The new unofficial imperial motto practically writes itself:
Make America Venison Again.
For in the Trumpius Empire, no policy is truly complete until it can somehow be connected to dinner.
The Legal Scroll at the Bottom
Naturally, no majestic imperial proclamation would be complete without several paragraphs explaining that the majestic imperial proclamation is limited by existing law, agency authority, funding availability, and legal procedure.
This is where the glorious trumpet music fades and the attorneys enter the room.
Caesar commands.
The agencies review.
The lawyers insert commas.
The budget office looks concerned.
And somewhere deep inside the Department of the Interior, one employee discovers that the department must even pay for publishing the order.
Such is government.
Even imperial greatness has printing costs.
And so Trumpius Caesar once again rides across the political landscape, this time wearing metaphorical hunting boots, opening access, defending tradition, expanding recreation, strengthening wildlife populations, and reminding America that bureaucracy must never stand between a citizen and the wilderness.
Unless, of course, the bureaucracy has already issued a permit requiring it.
