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Discovery, Conservation, and the Wild

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Ted Turner: “We Must be First to Do the Most Difficult Work”

From the reintroduction of endangered red-cockaded woodpeckers in Florida to one of his final conversations with Ted Turner, Mike Phillips, Director of Turner Natural Resources, reflects on three decades of leadership, conservation, and the enduring responsibility to protect species facing uncertain futures.

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Ted Turner: “We Must be First to Do the Most Difficult Work”

I’ve been a member of Team Turner for more than 30 years. During that time, I experienced many moments of inspiration and instruction from Ted Turner. But one memory continues to shine brighter than all the others.

In 1998, we launched an ambitious effort on behalf of the red-cockaded woodpecker, a notoriously difficult endangered species to conserve in the southeastern United States. At the time, no private organization had attempted what we were about to do: reintroduce the species to Ted’s Avalon Plantation in Florida.

As we walked through the pine forest after Ted released the very first bird, I said to him, “Ted, no private organization has ever done what we’re doing.”

Without breaking his long stride, he replied, “Mike, we should always be the first to do the most difficult work. That’s how we’re going to lead.”

And he just kept walking.

That was Ted. Audacity was expected. Leadership was expected. Success in service of something larger than ourselves was expected.

And from that moment forward, Team Turner carried those expectations into every conservation effort that followed.

The reintroduction of the red-cockaded woodpecker helped influence how endangered species recovery efforts are approached under the Endangered Species Act and reinforced the important role private landowners can play in restoring wildlife populations.

Ted approached conservation the same way he approached life: with urgency, courage, and an unwavering belief that meaningful change was possible. And that people had a responsibility to act.

That belief shaped decades of wildlife restoration work across Turner lands, including efforts involving bison, Mexican wolves, prairie dogs, black-footed ferrets, and other imperiled species and habitats.

One of the final conversations I had with Ted brought all of that into focus.

We had gathered in Denver for a large Team Turner meeting hosted by Ted. It had been a long and emotional day, and despite being in poor health, Ted remained fully engaged, inspiring everyone around him with his attention and determination.

That evening, during dinner, he called me over to the table. Leaning in close, I heard him ask quietly, “Mike, we did okay, didn’t we?”

I told him, “Ted, we did exactly what we set out to do so long ago. From day one, Team Turner has been the most important private effort in the world to use endangered species reintroductions to restore viable wildlife populations as direct redress of the extinction crisis. Ted, we did exactly what we set out to do.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he asked one more question.

“And Mike, the wolves are doing okay?”

I told him, “Ted, the wolves are doing great.”

With that, he smiled and raised his hand for a high-five.

The wild world, especially those species facing uncertain futures, owes Ted Turner a tremendous debt of gratitude.

I do too. He was a great boss and a good pal. He inspired by giving voice to the voiceless and attention to the unattended.

The life that he chose to lead was a great gift to humanity.

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“Please, Call Me Ted”

Theresa King, Vermejo General Manager, shares a guest interaction that captured Ted’s unmistakable authenticity. For all he accomplished, Ted had a way of making people feel at ease, reminding everyone around him that genuine connection often leaves the greatest impression.

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“Please, Call Me Ted”

Simple Exchange, Lasting Impact

Over the years, I had many opportunities to watch Ted Turner interact with guests at Vermejo. No matter who they were or where they came from, Ted genuinely loved meeting the people who traveled here to experience these landscapes he cared about so deeply.

One memory has stayed with me more than any other.

One day, I introduced Ted to two women visiting Vermejo. They were clearly excited and a little nervous to meet him. After all, this was Ted Turner – a larger-than-life figure whose accomplishments in business, media, philanthropy, and conservation had touched so many corners of the world.

One of the women smiled and said, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Turner.”

Without hesitation, Ted replied, “Please, call me Ted.”

She looked a little startled and answered honestly, “I would be really uncomfortable if I called you Ted.”

And without missing a beat, Ted smiled and said, “I would be really uncomfortable if you didn’t call me Ted.”

I remember watching the look on her face shift instantly from nervousness to surprise and ease. In that moment, she realized what so many of us who worked alongside Ted already knew: Despite everything he accomplished, he remained deeply genuine and down to earth.

That interaction may seem small, but it said so much about who Ted was.

He never wanted distance between himself and other people. He wanted connection. He wanted conversations. He wanted people to feel welcome and comfortable, whether they were longtime colleagues, guests visiting for the first time, or someone meeting him unexpectedly in the middle of the New Mexico wilderness.

Ted had an extraordinary ability to make people feel included. He was curious about others, attentive in conversation, and fully present in the moment. Those qualities shaped not only the culture of our teams, but also the guest experience across Ted Turner Reserves.

Hospitality, for Ted, was never just about luxury accommodations or white glove service. It was about creating meaningful experiences and authentic connections in restored landscapes that, in turn, restore our spirits.

That simple exchange at Vermejo remains one of the most endearing memories I carry from my time with Ted. It serves as a reminder that some of the most lasting impressions are not made through grand gestures, but through kindness, humility, and the ability to make others feel at home.

Those qualities are part of Ted’s legacy too.

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A Lesson About Wealth from Ted Turner

Jade McBride, Ted Turner Reserves President, recalls a moment with Ted that reframed the way he thinks about true wealth. It is a lesson in presence, perspective, and a feeling that can’t be bought.

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A Lesson About Wealth from Ted Turner

What Money Can’t Buy

In the spring of 2022, I spent several days at Vermejo with Ted.

One morning, after breakfast, we got in a truck and headed out to drive the property, something Ted has always loved to do. I was driving, and Ted was in the shotgun seat. Ted always makes you drive slow, and I mean really slow. Just rolling along that dirt road with his window down, taking it all in.

As we made our way up the Vermejo River Valley, the landscape shifted around us. At times we were tucked down along the river, and at others we climbed higher, where the views began to open up.

At one particular point, we reached a rise where everything came into view at once.

I stopped the truck.

Below us, the Vermejo River moved quietly through the valley. In the distance, Culebra Peak, the highest summit of the Culebra Range within the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, rose snow-covered against the horizon.

We stayed in our seats, looking out through the windshield.

Then he added, “Money can’t buy this.”

A few minutes later, I turned to him and said, “You know, Ted… money did buy this. Your money bought this land. You made this possible.”

He paused and said, “I wasn’t talking about the land. I was talking about the way we felt in that moment.”

That response has stayed with me.

Because he was right.

The land can be purchased. It can be protected. It can be restored.

But the feeling we experienced in that moment cannot be bought.

The feeling of stopping long enough to truly see something beautiful.

The feeling of sharing that moment with someone else.

The feeling of gratitude that comes from recognizing it in real time.

That is something entirely different.

It requires presence.

It requires perspective.

It requires a connection to something bigger than yourself.

That moment reshaped the way I think about wealth.

True wealth is not found in what we own.

It is found in what we are able to feel.

The ability to slow down.

To recognize beauty.

To connect with the land, with each other, and with ourselves.

That is the kind of wealth that matters.

And that is what we have the opportunity to create every day through the work we do.

All seasons

How I Learned to Fly Fish One of the World’s Rarest Trout

In the heart of northern New Mexico’s high country, a historic restoration project has brought one of North America's rarest fish back from the brink. Follow along as Nina Boys explores the sprawling wilderness of Vermejo to experience the thrill of fly fishing for the native Rio Grande cutthroat and discovers how luxury eco-tourism is fueling vital conservation efforts.

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How I Learned to Fly Fish One of the World’s Rarest Trout

Without thinking I flick my wrist quickly to the right, feeling the pull on my rod and the adrenaline of setting the barbless hook. The taut fishing line zigzags across the silvery creek, which meanders below snow-covered peaks in the verdant Costilla Valley of Vermejo, a Ted Turner Reserve.

Following my guide’s calm instructions, I slowly coerce the invisible catch closer, until its metallic body breaks the stream’s glassy surface and launches into a dramatic display through the air. Far from being a seasoned fly-fishing angler, I feel a surge of pride in the brief moments spent admiring the Rio Grande cutthroat trout’s shimmering pink-tinged body and spotted tail, before quickly releasing it back to its clear water abode.

A Conservation Comeback

This is no everyday catch; but rather it marks one of North America’s greatest conservation comeback stories.

Rio Grande cutthroat trout – a native subspecies of New Mexico - are as integral to the land’s history as its ecosystems. Likely fished by the ancient Anasazi civilization, they were also the first trout to be identified in the New World by early explorers. Today, they are a rare bucket-list catch for fly fishermen, and an exciting challenge for novices like me, seeking a weekend escape into nature at Ted Turner’s Vermejo.

Straddling the border of New Mexico and Colorado, at more than half a million acres of forests, meadows, mountains, lakes, and streams, it’s like having a national park all to yourself. Think Yellowstone without the crowds.

Until recently, the survival of the Rio Grande cutthroat trout was anything but secure. Native populations were in steep decline as more aggressive and invasive trout species were introduced into their shrinking and warming habitat. The Rio Grande cutthroat was well on its way to being next in line for the endangered species list when Ted Turner and his dedicated team of field biologists intervened.

Restoring the Rio Grande Cutthroat Trout

Together with the New Mexico Department of Game and Fish, an ambitious rescue project was undertaken to systematically remove all the introduced brown, brook and rainbow trout – non-native species that were responsible for the cutthroat’s disappearance.

All together, more than 60 miles of stream and 18 lakes in the Costilla Watershed were treated and restocked with native Rio Grande cutthroats.
In a world of growing conservation concerns, the restoration of the Rio Grande cutthroat has been celebrated by environmentalists and fly fishermen alike. Today, Vermejo is among the only places where you can fish for them exclusively - making my catch even more of a thrill.

Ted Turner’s Conservation Legacy

It should come as no surprise that the man who launched the popular Captain Planet and the Planeteers cartoon series about a superhero who helps children save the planet would himself embody a superhero mission to “save everything”.

Vermejo has a long legacy of conservation, led by Turner’s commitment to protecting nature - including the free-roaming herds of North American Bison that, once faced with near extinction, now thrive in Vermejo’s steep hills and valleys.

A Retreat Rooted in Sustainability

My long sunny days in Vermejo’s high country seem to slip by as quickly as the cutthroats dart away after another successful catch-and-release. But as the majestic Sangre de Cristo mountains are illuminated by a late afternoon glow that signals it’s time to pack our gear, I am excited to return to Costilla Lodge – a hidden gem overlooking lush landscapes where elk roam and mule deer graze.

At 10,000 feet, the grand eight-bedroom log retreat is both a LEED certified model of sustainability, constructed from ranch materials and powered by solar energy, and an ecotourist’s dream with striking vistas from every window.

Seated around the central stone fireplace, guests exchange tales of their day’s adventures over hors d’oeuvres while the chef prepares a multi-course meal inspired by seasonal ingredients. I find myself drawn to the outdoor porch overlooking Vermejo’s natural kingdom as the sinking sun paints the sky with fiery watercolors.

Reflecting on my stay, I wonder where else in the world I could freely fish for a Rio Grande cutthroat trout in my own private stream before retreating to a luxury ecolodge far from the distractions of cell phones and the 24/7 news cycle.

The answer is a simple one: nowhere.