TerraQuest

On the broad, rolling plains of eastern Wyoming, where the Laramie River joins the North Platte, a historic military post endures—Fort Laramie. It is not just a relic of frontier days; it was a laboratory of innovation in military construction, particularly in the use of concrete in Army buildings

Discover the Rocky Mountain elk—North America’s antlered powerhouses—thriving in Colorado’s high country and beyond. Learn about their seasonal eating habits, the challenges climate change brings to their migrations and survival, how they differ from other elk subspecies, and why getting too close in Rocky Mountain National Park can turn dangerous fast. Stay safe, respect the 75-foot rule, and appreciate these wild icons without risking injury.

The Cache la Poudre River in northern Colorado is more than a scenic waterway—it’s a river shaped by frontier history, rugged canyons, and vital water rights. Named by French trappers who once cached gunpowder along its banks, the Cache la Poudre flows from the Rocky Mountain peaks through dramatic canyons into the Colorado plains.

Wyoming is primarily known for Yellowstone National Park but nestled far from the bustling crowds that make their way to Yellowstone National Park each year, the tranquil vastness of Medicine Bow National Forest beckons with a pristine allure that remains untarnished by the masses. This expansive forest unfolds across the picturesque terrain of the Medicine Bow Mountains and the Snowy Range, offering a captivating array of landscapes that seamlessly transition from lofty alpine meadows to secluded and densely wooded enclaves.

The American Avocet (Recurvirostra americana) is one of those birds that doesn’t sneak into a wetland; it arrives with grace and purpose — stilt-legged, black-and-white wings flashing, its elegant upturned bill slicing through the shallows. It’s a bird built for margins where land surrenders to water. When avocets thrive, wetlands are healthy. When they vanish, the system is failing.

The modern recovery of wolves in North America began with a bold experiment. In 1995 and 1996, biologists captured and relocated 31 gray wolves (Canis lupus) from Canada to Yellowstone National Park, holding them briefly in acclimation pens before setting them free. Fourteen wolves were released the first winter and seventeen the next. It wasn’t just the return of an absent animal — it was the return of a missing force of nature: predation, restored on a landscape grand enough for the entire nation to witness.

The American mink is not a rare animal across its native North American range. It is still considered secure overall, though local declines can and do occur when wetlands are drained, river corridors are simplified, or water quality is compromised. “Common” can fool us; these animals are elusive by nature. You can walk a stream for years and never see one.

In the rugged high country of the Rocky Mountains — from the snow-crusted drainages to wind-scoured alpine basins — a lean, ghostly predator roams. The coyote (Canis latrans) is at home here, from subalpine forests to alpine meadows and ridgelines above 7,000 feet. Though smaller than wolves, coyotes’ adaptability makes them one of the most successful carnivores in North America.

The Lindenmeier Site in northern Colorado is one of North America’s most important Paleoindian archaeology discoveries. Here, Ice Age hunters of the Folsom culture crafted fluted spear points, sewed hides with bone needles, and hunted Bison antiquus on the windswept plains long before history was written. The site’s dramatic evidence — a Folsom point embedded in bone — challenged early Smithsonian archaeology skepticism and helped prove humans lived in prehistoric Colorado during the Pleistocene. Today, visitors to Soapstone Prairie Natural Area north of Fort Collins can walk the same open shortgrass prairie where these early people once camped and hunted.

The American bison — from the edge of extinction to their powerful return across North America. Once reduced to just a few hundred animals, bison now roam public lands, Tribal nations, and private ranches thanks to decades of conservation and rewilding efforts. This in-depth feature explores their history, near-eradication, genetic legacy after early cattle crossbreeding, and the modern movement to restore wild, free-ranging herds while balancing ecology, culture, and ranching.

I first visited Garden of the Gods with a camera slung over my shoulder and more enthusiasm than skill. Over the years, I’ve returned countless times, chasing changing light, dramatic skies, and that sense of quiet awe the park inspires.

Discover the rare Blowout Penstemon (Penstemon haydenii), one of North America’s most endangered wildflowers, found only in Nebraska’s Sandhills and parts of Wyoming. Learn how relentless winds, shifting dunes, and fragile blowout habitats shape its survival, the threats it faces, and ongoing conservation efforts to protect this unique prairie survivor.

Discover the hidden richness of the Great Plains and the crucial role of the black-tailed prairie dog in sustaining biodiversity. From western Nebraska’s towering buttes to Montana’s shortgrass prairies, learn how this keystone species supports hundreds of wildlife—from burrowing owls to bison—and why habitat loss, poisoning, and unregulated eradication put the entire ecosystem at risk. Explore conservation solutions, community involvement, and how protecting prairie dogs means safeguarding America’s grasslands for future generations.

It's a silent sentinel — a low mesa rising above the western Nebraska plains, weathered by wind and time, hiding layers of human occupation. Signal Butte, perched above Robidoux Pass, is more than a landmark. It’s one of the most important archaeological sites in the Central Plains. Its bones, hearths, and tool fragments whisper of people who lived here long before settlers crossed in wagon trains.

We think of Great Blue Herons (Ardea herodias) as solitary — one bird standing still and alone on a sandbar. But when it’s time to raise young, they gather. These gatherings are called rookeries, and on Colorado’s Front Range they form wherever water, fish, and old cottonwoods still exist. What I stumbled upon that day wasn’t an accident; it was the result of generations of birds returning to a site that works.

In the rugged high country of the Rocky Mountains — from the snow-crusted drainages to wind-scoured alpine basins — a lean, ghostly predator roams. The coyote (Canis latrans) is at home here, from subalpine forests to alpine meadows and ridgelines above 7,000 feet. Though smaller than wolves, coyotes’ adaptability makes them one of the most successful carnivores in North America.

In the rugged high country of the Rocky Mountains — from the snow-crusted drainages to wind-scoured alpine basins — a lean, ghostly predator roams. The coyote (Canis latrans) is at home here, from subalpine forests to alpine meadows and ridgelines above 7,000 feet. Though smaller than wolves, coyotes’ adaptability makes them one of the most successful carnivores in North America.

The Lindenmeier Site in northern Colorado is one of North America’s most important Paleoindian archaeology discoveries. Here, Ice Age hunters of the Folsom culture crafted fluted spear points, sewed hides with bone needles, and hunted Bison antiquus on the windswept plains long before history was written. The site’s dramatic evidence — a Folsom point embedded in bone — challenged early Smithsonian archaeology skepticism and helped prove humans lived in prehistoric Colorado during the Pleistocene. Today, visitors to Soapstone Prairie Natural Area north of Fort Collins can walk the same open shortgrass prairie where these early people once camped and hunted.

Archaeologists have traced the act of piercing back to at least 2500 BCE. Ancient Sumerians buried their dead with earrings. Egyptian royalty pierced their ears as status symbols — King Tutankhamun’s mummified remains still display stretched lobes. In South America, the Maya and Aztecs pierced their septums and tongues, offering blood in rituals that symbolized communication with the gods.

When dementia or cognitive decline is involved—the victim isn’t acting out of foolishness. They’re being subjected to targeted psychological tactics designed to override reason and create obedience. Scammers have mastered the art of conditioning their victims to respond instantly to threats and to ignore anyone who tells them otherwise.

Scottsbluff, Nebraska — a small town of about 14,000 people. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, rumors travel fast, and most work revolves around agriculture. There’s little to do beyond going to church on Sunday, finding the one club in the area, visiting your favorite bar — of which there are many, eight or more — and meeting up with friends or strangers to listen to country music while loud-mouthed cowboys talk about calving season or the latest hailstorm that wrecked their crops. In short, it’s nowhere special unless you like those kinds of things.

Fifty years ago, tattoos in America carried a heavy social price. They were marks worn primarily by sailors, bikers, convicts, and those who lived life outside the “respectable” edges of society. In the eyes of many, they weren’t art — they were warning labels. Parents cautioned their kids that tattoos were for troublemakers. Employers saw them as unprofessional. In the polite company of middle America, they were something you kept covered up, if you had them at all.

TerraQuest Magazine is growing. Over the past few weeks, we’ve added new stories stretching from the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific Northwest. We’ve refined our website, streamlined how our unique and authentic articles are presented, and continued to showcase stunning photography from new writers and photojournalists across the country.

TerraQuest Magazine has been in the works for a long time, but today marks a major step forward. We’ve secured a new domain and started migrating stories from the Trails West Magazine website to this new home.

The first time I hiked the trail that skirts Devil’s Backbone, just west of Loveland, Colorado, my camera felt almost too small for the scene. The rock stretched for miles — a jagged, tilted wall that looked like some ancient beast’s spine rising from the foothills. Since then, I’ve returned again and again, chasing early light, dramatic clouds, and that quiet satisfaction that comes when a landscape slowly reveals its story.

When I first moved to western Nebraska from Colorado, I carried with me the...

In the world of photography—where sharpness and precision are often prized above all else—there exists a rebellious technique that throws convention to the wind. Intentional Camera Movement, or ICM, is an approach that embraces blur, motion, and abstraction, transforming everyday scenes into painterly works of art. Instead of freezing a moment in time, ICM captures the feeling of a moment—fluid, unpredictable, and alive.