The crisp September morning started with promise. Bulls were bugling in the pre-dawn darkness, their calls echoing across the rolling hills and sand dunes northeast of Casper, Wyoming. Mark and three companions had positioned themselves carefully on a small piece of state land, accessible only through a narrow strip of Bureau of Land Management property. After several difficult days of hunting, everything was finally coming together.
Then the sound of an engine changed everything.
"As soon as the sun cleared the horizon, we saw a plane in the sky," Mark recalled. What happened next would spark a heated dispute about public land access, ranching operations, and where the line gets drawn between legitimate livestock management and wildlife harassment.
When Cattle Operations Meet Elk Season
According to Mark, the small blue-and-white single-propeller aircraft began making repeated passes over the area where elk had gathered. Shortly after, three all-terrain vehicles arrived on the scene. "One pinned down—surrounded—as the plane made pass after pass on the elk," Mark said, describing how one member of his hunting party found himself trapped as the operation unfolded around him.
From the hunters' perspective, the coordinated effort between the aircraft and ATVs appeared designed to push elk off public land and onto adjacent private property. The hunt they'd planned and saved for was over.
Peter Nicolaysen, co-owner of Cole Creek Sheep Company, explained the situation differently. The plane wasn't there for elk at all. "Perhaps the hunters only saw a few cows due to the topography, but over three hundred pair were moved out of the pasture, and probably a third were in the vicinity of the hunters that morning," he said.
The ranch had hired a private pilot to help locate cattle spread across their holdings—a practice they'd employed for roughly ten years. The rolling terrain, with its draws and depressions between sand dunes, makes spotting livestock from the ground nearly impossible. The plane circles overhead to pinpoint cattle locations, then communicates with ranch hands on ATVs below.
A Tense Encounter on Public Ground
Frustrated and empty-handed, the hunting party began their trek back to their vehicles. They'd snapped photos and videos of the aircraft, documenting what they believed was harassment of wildlife during legal hunting season.
They didn't make it out unnoticed.
"While leaving, we were shadowed by one of the four-wheelers, which eventually confronted us for recording and taking pictures," Mark said. Soon a second ATV appeared, following at a distance. The plane continued circling overhead. Then a third four-wheeler arrived, driven by Jon Nicolaysen, co-owner of the ranch.
What happened next depends on who's telling the story.
Mark and his companions described the encounter as confrontational and intimidating. They said Jon accused them of attempted poaching, hunting out of season, and threatened them with trespassing charges. This despite standing on public land with valid archery elk tags in their pockets.
Jon remembered the interaction quite differently. "I felt like the interaction was positive," he told investigators. "It was like, 'Hey guys, I was just checking to see where you were, and sorry, we're moving all these cows.' And I guess maybe that's not how they thought it was, but I certainly wasn't trying to intimidate. I felt like it was a friendly encounter."
He acknowledged potentially being confused about recent changes to elk tag regulations in the area, but insisted he never demanded to see licenses—something that wouldn't be his responsibility anyway.
According to Jon, the hunting party's concern about cattle proximity didn't match reality. "In the video, you can see and hear, clear as day, a cow in the immediate vicinity of the hunters," Peter noted. The hunters maintained they saw only a few cows that morning, despite regularly seeing cattle in the area during previous days of hunting.
The Complications of Shared Land
The incident highlights tensions that simmer across the West, where public and private lands often exist in a patchwork that complicates both ranching and recreation. The Cole Creek operation holds grazing leases on public land adjacent to their private holdings, giving them legal authority to manage livestock across a complex landscape.
Jon explained his position: "We have never done anything like use an airplane to harass or herd wildlife. And harassing hunters, that is not at all what we were doing. Now, I acknowledge that it might have ruined their hunt. But if you have elk and cattle in the same 100 yards or whatever, and we're relying on the airplane to help us find the livestock, then, you know that's kind of the way it goes."
He added that because boundaries aren't separately fenced and ownership is split, he has the right as a private landowner to verify people are where they're supposed to be—especially when his pilot reports people on the ground.
The cattle move had been scheduled long in advance, Jon said, and ranch operations couldn't be adjusted for hunters in the area. Mark and his party confirmed they'd enjoyed several days of good, uninterrupted hunting in the same spot before September 18th.
Aftermath and Accusations
What might have ended as an unfortunate but understandable conflict between land users took another turn that afternoon. One of the ranch hands recognized someone in the hunting party as a prominent local community member and reported this to ranch management.
Later that day, one hunter received a text from Peter Nicolaysen requesting the names of everyone in the hunting party and questioning why they'd reported the incident to Wyoming Game and Fish Department. The exchange, which was reviewed by investigators, left the hunters feeling targeted.
Peter's account of the texts differed significantly. He said their employee had been "visibly shaken from the event" and was able to identify Mark. "I wanted to understand whether the employee had reported the information to me accurately and since I had Mark's cell number, I texted him and asked to see the video he took to make sure everything went as reported," Peter explained. "There was never any request for contact information and certainly nothing was stated to suggest an intent to intimidate or even contact the individuals."
Two Wyoming game wardens and a BLM law enforcement officer visited the ranch to investigate. While the Wyoming Game and Fish Department declined to comment on the matter, Jon confirmed that no citations were issued to anyone involved.
A Pattern or an Isolated Incident?
For Mark, the September 18th encounter wasn't an isolated problem. He hunted the area approximately 20 to 25 days that fall and estimated seeing aircraft overhead about 95% of the time. From his vantage point, "the elk were under that plane or darn close to it every time." Other hunters using public land in the area shared similar experiences, he said.
The ranch disputed any connection to most of those flights. "This was not our plane (we don't have any aircraft)," Peter clarified. "The pilot was not our employee, and he doesn't coordinate with us when or where he flies." According to ranch records, the contracted pilot assisted with cattle gathering only three times between August and October—once in the pasture where the confrontation occurred and twice in adjacent pastures.
"If the plane was in the vicinity above our ranch on other occasions, it had nothing to do with us, and we were not and are not aware of it," Peter stated.
Where Communication Breaks Down
Mark's frustration extended beyond the disrupted hunt. "Threatening hunters on public land and harassing them is beyond okay," he said. "Harassing wildlife is another disgusting practice as well. Making excuses, trying to find hunters that are involved, and possibly attempting to intimidate them…that doesn't work for me."
Jon suggested the entire situation could have been avoided with simple communication. While acknowledging that hunters don't need permission to access legally available public land, he argued that a courtesy phone call would have made a difference.
"It would be kind of nice if somebody is like, 'Look, I got four guys, we saved up all this time and money to hunt, this is the day we're going to go out there, this is the week we want to go out there,'" Jon said. "I mean, I'm easy to find. I could have said, 'Hey, I am so sorry, but I've got this airplane and we're moving 600 cows and we're going to be in and out of there. If you can do it like the day before or the day after, it'll probably be a much better hunt.'"
Competing Truths in Open Country
What actually happened on that misty September morning remains a matter of perspective. The hunters saw their carefully planned hunt destroyed by what appeared to be deliberate interference. The ranchers saw legitimate livestock operations that unfortunately coincided with recreational activities on the same landscape.
Both sides have valid points rooted in their legal rights and practical realities. Ranchers depend on efficient cattle operations to survive economically, and using aircraft to locate livestock across vast, difficult terrain has become standard practice. Hunters depend on access to public lands that become increasingly scarce as private holdings expand and access points narrow.
The confrontation afterward, regardless of intent, poisoned any chance of mutual understanding. Whether the interaction was friendly or threatening, the subsequent texts seeking hunter identities and the involvement of law enforcement transformed a bad day hunting into something that felt more sinister to those involved.
Small Town, Big Tensions
Casper remains a small community where everyone involved—hunters, ranchers, and law enforcement—could reach each other with one or two phone calls. While no ongoing investigation appears to be active, the incident raises uncomfortable questions about behavior and ethics when different users share the same landscape.
The mutual respect that typically guides interactions in the field broke down completely. Hunters felt harassed and intimidated on public land they had every legal right to use. Ranchers felt accused of wrongdoing while conducting necessary business operations they had every legal right to perform.
Neither side seems entirely wrong or entirely right. The hunters had legitimate grievances about their disrupted hunt and the confrontational aftermath. The ranchers had legitimate reasons for their cattle operations and may have genuinely intended no hostility toward the hunting party.
What's missing is the middle ground—the acknowledgment that sharing landscapes requires more than just legal rights. It requires communication, consideration, and the recognition that public lands belong to everyone, while private operations deserve respect too.
The September morning that started with bugling bulls ended with damaged relationships and lingering resentment. In the West, where public and private lands intertwine like threads in a rope, finding ways to coexist isn't optional. It's essential for everyone who depends on these landscapes, whether for livelihood or recreation.
The question isn't who was right or wrong on that particular day. The question is whether people who share the same ground can find ways to avoid these confrontations in the future—before the next hunt gets ruined, the next text gets sent, or the next game warden has to drive out to sort through competing versions of what happened under an open Wyoming sky.
