Vail Petition Accuses CPW of Using Taxpayer Funds for Political Ads

Aspen —The air in the Vail Valley is crisp, but the temperature inside the Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW) office is dropping fast. It’s not about the weather; it’s about a document filed on Sept. 10 that has turned a routine bureaucratic process into a shouting match over money, politics, and what folks around here call “cowboy culture.”

Eric Washburn, president of Colorado Hunters and Anglers for Sensible Wildlife Conservation, didn’t mince words. He filed a petition with the CPW Commission, alleging that the Colorado Wildlife Council — a marketing and education arm of CPW — misused funds to influence wildlife and hunting ballot measures. Specifically, he’s pointing fingers at the 2024 election cycle. Washburn wants an independent investigation into alleged violations of the Fair Campaign Practices Act. That act is pretty clear: state agencies shouldn’t spend taxpayer money to “urge electors to vote in favor or against” statewide issues. Simple enough, right? Not when the money starts flowing toward ads that look suspiciously political.

The petition isn’t just Washburn’s voice. It’s co-signed by conservation advocates Charles Seymour and Brett Ochs, adding weight to the claim that the council is “electioneering.” They’re asking the commission to freeze the council’s budget for the upcoming November midterms and, ideally, write a permanent rule so this doesn’t happen again. It’s one of three active petitions Washburn has submitted this year, he’s clearly not letting up. There’s also one on chronic wasting disease and another on science-based management, but this one feels personal.

Parks and Wildlife Director Laura Clellan reacted quickly, though perhaps not quickly enough. On Sept. 16, she sent a letter to the council, pausing the release of all advertising and promotional materials until after the election. She called it a “conservative determination,” a phrase that sounds careful but feels defensive. She’s trying to protect council members from liability, sure, but it also freezes the agency in place while the public waits. When Travis Duncan, the public information officer, was pressed for details, he said the agency “needs more time to evaluate the petition and to develop a response.” That’s standard PR talk. It buys time, but it doesn’t answer the question: Did the council cross the line?

Then, on Oct. 15, Clellan took a bigger step. She requested an advisory opinion from the Secretary of State. This is a formal legal ask. She wants to know if the council’s previous videos and ads actually violated the Fair Campaign Practices Act. More importantly, she wants guidance for the future. It’s a smart move. If the state’s top elections official says yes, the agency has a precedent. If no, they can breathe. But until that opinion lands, the tension stays.

The story gets more complicated because it’s not just about Washburn. An Oct. 2 letter from the Center for Biological Diversity, a nonprofit focused on endangered species, landed on the desks of Gov. Jared Polis and Dan Gibbs, the executive director of the Colorado Department of Natural Resources. They’re asking for an investigation, too, but their list is longer. They cite reports of a “cowboy culture” at CPW that may have created an unhealthy workplace for women. They mention retaliation and bias against those who pushed for changes to wildlife policy. It’s a broader critique, one that ties the financial allegations to a cultural one. And that matters because it suggests the problem isn’t just one bad ad campaign. It’s a pattern.

Stand there long enough and you start to see the cracks. The part everyone skips past is the timeline. The petition was filed in September. The pause on ads happened days later. The legal opinion was requested in October. Each step was reactive. No one is leading; everyone is dodging. The community is left watching the ball bounce between the commission, the secretary of state, and the governor’s office. Who is actually deciding?

The stakes are high, but the picture is still blurry. We know there’s a dispute over funds. We know there’s a request for a legal opinion. We know there are complaints about workplace culture. What we don’t know is whether the council actually broke the rules. Until the Secretary of State weighs in, the agency is operating in a gray zone. For locals, this means uncertainty about how their tax dollars are being spent on wildlife messaging. For the agency, it means a loss of control over its own narrative.

The investigation is ongoing, and the next move belongs to the Secretary of State. But for now, the silence is loud. The “cowboy culture” comment sticks in the throat because it’s hard to quantify. Is it a joke? A hierarchy? A dress code? The letter doesn’t specify, but it implies a system that favors certain voices over others. That’s a serious charge. It suggests that the people making the decisions aren’t necessarily the ones with the best data, but the ones with the loudest hats.

In the end, it comes down to trust. Do the folks in the valley trust CPW to spend their money wisely? Or do they think the agency is playing favorites? The petition is a test of that trust. If the investigation finds violations, the confidence drops. If it finds nothing, the agency survives, but the scar remains. The “cowboy culture” label is a brand, and brands are hard to shake.

The scene closes with the letter sitting on the desk. The paper is white. The ink is black. The date is Oct. 2. The signature is at the bottom. The room is quiet. The clock ticks. The next page is blank.