Last week we talked about how Arkansas is already halfway to doubling its outdoor recreation economy, and that the growth is putting real pressure on who pays to keep this state wild.

Hunters, hikers, and mountain bikers are all fighting for the same land, and someone has to pay for the upkeep.

This week, Katherine Andrews and Becky Flynn from the Office of Outdoor Recreation came back to answer that question.

In this week's edition:

Let's get to it.

A few headlines from the around the Ozarks that caught our eye this week:

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Millions of people enjoy outdoor activities across Arkansas’s public lands every year, from hunting, fishing, cycling, climbing, hiking, paddling, and more.

That wear on the land requires upkeep.

Yet, hunters and anglers carry most of the weight on conservation funding in this state, through license fees and excise taxes on guns and tackle.

Even a modest decline in hunter numbers over the next ten years would be a real blow to a budget that's already stretched, and most signs suggest hunter numbers are already sliding.

Yet, with the very funding it depends on at risk, Arkansas is actively trying to get even more people out onto the land.

That brings up a lot of questions for me. Like…

A lot of folks feel that Arkansas’s intensified efforts to grow outdoor recreation and tourism feels like we’re just running faster towards the problem.

I feel that to a degree myself.

It’s hard for tourism and recreation not to sound like pure consumerism that will only fragment and degrade the habitat faster.

But…

These last two conversations with Katherine Andrews and Becky Flynn from the Office of Outdoor Recreation have me reconsidering the unique role a growing outdoor economy can play in protecting the places we love.

They certainly have an economic incentive to protect the land the recreation depends on.

Here are four initiatives the OOR is taking to move Arkansas towards a better model of stewarding the land we love.

I get why the recent WMA permit headline landed rough.

Starting July 1, 2026, hikers, paddlers, and campers without a hunting or fishing license need a $10.50 WMA and Lake Conservation Permit on state land.

People who've used public land for free are now being asked to pay, and that can read as a loss of liberty or an overreach on land that's supposed to be everyone's. That reaction is fair.

But the principle underneath is that conservation funding shouldn't rest on hunters and anglers alone.

Everyone using the land gets a hand in paying for it.

This one sounds backwards at first. If hunting license dollars are the problem, why is the fix getting more non-hunters into the woods?

Katherine and Becky's said they want to move people towards gateway activities. For instance, someone floats Crooked Creek, watches a guy pull smallmouth off the bank, so he buys a rod and a fishing license on the next trip. He went from casual user to contributing member.

Some people never pick up a rod at all, but they buy a hunting and fishing license every year anyway, like several birdwatchers and hikers Katherine knows. They don’t intend to hunt, but they do it because they understand what that money funds.

Falling in love with a place tends to turn into taking measures to protect it.

This has implications near and far.

Nationally, it's the case for real money: Arkansas is sitting on $240 million in deferred maintenance across its parks, forests, and refuges, and Katherine testified before Congress this year in support of the America the Beautiful Act, which passed the House and would start chipping away at that backlog.

Locally, it's towns of three hundred people sitting next to some of the best outdoor recreation resources in the state. When a town like that understands what it's actually sitting on, protecting the creek or the trail isn't just the right thing to do, it's tied to whether that town has a future.

Recreation creates opportunity to connect groups. Here are two examples.

Different user groups: Plunkett and I saw this last summer in a series of episodes covering the tension between cycling and rural communities. It got heated, but what came out of it was seeing that both sides wanted roughly the same thing: to spend time outside with people they care about. Having hard conversations led to better understanding. It’s not us vs them. When a gravel cyclist and a farmer both love the land, they share responsibility to protect it.

Different departments: A great example of this is the Delta Heritage Trail. It runs past wildlife management areas and a US Fish and Wildlife refuge, so State Parks, Game and Fish, and federal land managers are now sitting at a conference table figuring out signage and safety together. Shared infrastructure creates shared responsibility.

It bears repeating: Shared land means shared responsibility.

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It’s not perfect. Growth is hard.

Some people will only consume and never care enough to conserve. But I’m glad folks like Katherine and Becky are out there thinking about this and trying to steer things the right direction.

Hope you’ll give this episode a listen!

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We’ll be back next week with more stories from the Ozarks.

Til then,
The Ozark Podcast