Publisher’s Note

About This Page

The following is Rick Owens’ complete written submission to LAInshore.com’s Where Fishermen Fit interview series.

It includes the background statement, five answers and closing thoughts he provided with his submission. The text is published in full and in its original order. Only clear typographical, spacing and formatting errors have been corrected.

Read the edited interview: Rick Owens on Leaving Louisiana Better Than We Found It.

Publication of this response does not imply endorsement by LAInshore.com.

Participant

Rick Owens

Role
Advocacy Director, Louisiana Wildlife Federation
Background
Retired Major, LDWF Enforcement
Credentials
U.S. Coast Guard-licensed charter captain
Interview Format
Written submission

Introduction

Before answering these questions, I thought I would give some background on where my perspective comes from.

As a lifelong resident of Louisiana, I have spent all of my adult life working around Louisiana’s fish and wildlife resources. I retired from the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries after more than thirty years in conservation law enforcement, finishing my career as an Enforcement Major responsible for statewide enforcement operations. Over those years I served as a field agent, district supervisor, regional supervisor, academy instructor, and legislative liaison. Along the way I worked with commercial fishermen, charter captains, landowners, hunters, anglers, coastal scientists, and just about every group that depends on Louisiana’s natural resources.

I’m also a U.S. Coast Guard-licensed captain and Louisiana saltwater charter guide. Some of my best days have been spent on Louisiana’s water seeing people experience our coast for the first time.

Today I serve as Advocacy Director for the Louisiana Wildlife Federation. My job changed, but my mission didn’t. Instead of enforcing conservation laws, I now work to improve conservation policy. I represent the Federation before the Legislature, state agencies, and serve on advisory groups including the CWD Legislative Task Force, CPRA Coastal Master Plan Citizen Advisory Team, Atchafalaya River Community Engagement Team, and the Gulf Council’s Coastal Migratory Pelagic Advisory Panel.

Those experiences let me see Louisiana from a unique perspective. I’ve worked marshes that no longer exist and I’ve patrolled waterways that have changed dramatically over three decades. I’ve watched fisheries decline and become harder to manage in many areas, and I’ve seen habitat disappear in places that once represented some of the best fisheries in the world.

I’ve also spent enough time at the Capitol to understand that managing Louisiana’s natural resources is rarely simple. Every decision affects someone’s livelihood, property, business, or way of life. That doesn’t mean conservation has to be secondary. If anything, it makes it more important.

For me, almost every natural resource discussion in Louisiana eventually comes back to the same question:

Are we leaving the resource better than we found it?

Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes it isn’t. That’s what shapes my perspective.

I don’t see conservation and economic development as opposing ideas. Louisiana needs jobs, industry, commercial fishing, recreational fishing, forestry, agriculture, energy, and tourism. Every one of those contributes something important. What concerns me is that we too often treat conservation as something separate from progress instead of something built into it.

Louisiana appears to be entering one of the most significant periods of economic investment in its history. Major LNG facilities continue expanding in southwest Louisiana. Companies like Meta and Hyundai Steel are making enormous investments here. Our ports keep growing. I think we should welcome that. But it’s fair to ask a simple question: if Louisiana is willing to provide tax incentives, infrastructure, permit certainty, and legislative support to bring these projects here, why aren’t we asking for more of them from a conservation standpoint?

Not to make projects harder. To make Louisiana better. Can a project improve nearby habitat? Restore marsh? Improve water quality? Help a nearby Wildlife Management Area or National Wildlife Refuge? Leave the landscape in better shape than it found it? Those seem like reasonable questions, and I don’t think we ask them often enough.

The same philosophy applies to our fisheries. For much of my career I’ve watched Louisiana debate commercial versus recreational, jobs versus conservation, industry versus environment. I’ve never believed those are the choices we should be making. The better question is whether we’re improving the resource itself—because if the resource improves, everybody benefits. Commercial fishermen, recreational anglers, communities, wildlife, and future generations all benefit.

These aren’t just my opinions as Advocacy Director. They’re observations formed over more than thirty years in Louisiana’s outdoors, followed by several years working on policy at the Capitol. I’ve seen Louisiana at its very best, and I’ve watched it change, sometimes for the worse. My hope is that thirty years from now, the next generation can still experience the same Louisiana that inspired me to spend my career protecting it.

Question One

What role do Louisiana’s commercial and recreational fishermen play in the identity, economy, and culture of this state?

I’ve never believed this should be a conversation about commercial fishermen versus recreational fishermen. Louisiana wouldn’t be Louisiana without either one.

Commercial fishing helped build our coastal communities. It supports families that have worked these waters for generations and remains an important part of our economy and culture. Recreational fishing is equally important. It supports guides, marinas, hotels, restaurants, boat dealers, manufacturers, and thousands of small businesses—and it’s how many Louisianans first connect with the outdoors. I still remember the excitement of catching fish as a boy. I see that same excitement today when a child catches their first bass, redfish, or speckled trout. That’s where conservation begins.

One thing I’ve noticed over the last several years is that recreational interests don’t always receive the same consideration during major policy discussions. At the Capitol, conversations often begin with the economic value of commercial production. Jobs matter. Coastal communities matter. Seafood matters. But recreational fishing carries tremendous value too—billions in economic activity, thousands of Louisiana jobs, conservation funding through license sales and federal excise taxes, tourism, and the next generation of conservationists. Those values deserve to be part of the conversation from the beginning, not after the discussion has already shifted toward protecting commercial production and jobs.

The recent tarpon legislation is a good example. That bill wasn’t about adding new harvest restrictions; tarpon do not support a commercial fishery in Louisiana. The bill was about finally recognizing one of Louisiana’s premier sport fish and acknowledging the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries’ own science that the tarpon is a Species of Greatest Conservation Need, as defined in the Louisiana Statewide Action Plan. The Legislature recognized that, and the bill passed unanimously through every committee and floor vote. Governor Landry reached a different conclusion, and I respect his authority to do that. I also appreciated that he has since left the door open for further discussion, because the broader conversation about recreational fisheries in Louisiana is far from over.

Recreational anglers deserve an equal seat at the table. Not because commercial fishing is less important, but because both are using the same public resource. One lesson I’ve taken from more than three decades in conservation is that healthy fisheries don’t exist because we need jobs. Jobs exist because we have healthy fisheries. That distinction often gets overlooked.

If we start improving our estuaries, protecting habitat, following good science, and managing for the long term, commercial fishermen and recreational anglers will both benefit. If we don’t, everyone will continue to be competing over fewer fish, fewer opportunities, and fewer places that still resemble the Louisiana we grew up enjoying. To me, that’s what this is about. It’s not commercial versus recreational. It’s all of us leaving the resource in better condition than we found it.

Question Two

Why are Louisiana’s wetlands important to both working-water families and recreational anglers?

I’d answer that a little differently. To me, I would say it is more about healthy estuaries than just wetlands. Our estuary systems are what makes Louisiana truly different.

When people hear “estuary,” they sometimes think of a map or a definition. I think of places I’ve spent a lifetime working—marsh ponds at daylight, oyster reefs, submerged grass beds, tidal creeks, and places where freshwater and saltwater come together to produce some of the richest fisheries in North America. That’s where Louisiana begins. Those estuaries produce shrimp, oysters, blue crabs, redfish, speckled trout, flounder, menhaden, tarpon, waterfowl, and countless other species. They protect our communities from storms, improve water quality, and support migratory birds.

I’ve watched our estuaries change throughout my career. Some of those changes are natural. Many aren’t. I’ve seen marsh disappear. I’ve seen places that once held fish all year become harder to manage. I’ve watched water quality become a growing concern, and habitat slowly vanish one project, one shoreline, and one decision at a time. Those things don’t happen because of one industry or one policy. They happen because conservation too often becomes something we discuss after the important decisions have already been made.

That’s one of the biggest lessons I’ve taken from the Capitol. Louisiana has entered a period of tremendous economic growth—LNG in southwest Louisiana, major manufacturing, technology investment, expanding ports. That’s exciting, and I believe it can be good for our state. What I don’t understand is why we never ask these projects to become conservation partners. If Louisiana is willing to invest heavily to attract industry, why don’t we also ask a few common-sense questions? Can this project improve nearby habitat? Restore wetlands? Improve water quality? Support the refuge next door or the WMA down the road? Create public access where appropriate? Leave Louisiana better than it found it? Meta in Richland Parish continues to highlight their contributions to the local tax base and their contributions to education, local infrastructure, and the community. Why can we not incorporate conservation partnerships into the same processes that generate conservation based benefits to our local communities as well.

Those aren’t unreasonable expectations. They’re missed opportunities. And once a project is built, many of them are gone forever. That’s why conservation has to become part of Louisiana’s economic development platform, not something considered after construction is complete.

The same applies to our estuaries. For years we’ve debated individual species—shrimp, oysters, menhaden, speckled trout, redfish, tarpon. Every one of those conversations matters. But sometimes we lose sight of the bigger picture. Healthy estuaries produce every one of those fisheries. Improve the estuary and you improve every species that depends on it. Let it decline and eventually every fishery starts requiring more restrictive management, because the resource itself is no longer producing what it once did.

That concerns me. I think Louisiana continues to have a habitat problem as much as it has growing fisheries concerns. Habitat is something we have the ability to improve—if we’re willing to make it a priority of every major decision we make.

Question Three

What should Louisiana prioritize when balancing coastal restoration, fishery management, commercial livelihoods, recreational access, private property, and environmental protection?

To me, this is the question behind every natural resource discussion in Louisiana today. The answer isn’t choosing one interest over another. It’s finding a better balance than we’ve had in recent years.

I’ve spent enough time at the Capitol to understand why these conversations get difficult. Every bill has supporters. Every bill has opponents. Every decision affects someone’s business, job, or property. That’s representative government. What concerns me is when science gradually becomes something we casually acknowledge instead of something we follow.

One of the things I appreciate most about Louisiana is the quality of the work our biologists, fisheries scientists, foresters, and coastal experts produce. We invest millions collecting information that helps us understand how our resources are changing. That information should matter. Sometimes I leave committee meetings wondering why we spent so much money collecting data if we’re unwilling to let it guide the conversation once the discussion turns to economics.

The menhaden debate is a good example. Louisiana invested a million dollars in a bycatch study because we wanted better information. LDWF also completed a 2024 economic impact study showing that the overwhelming majority, 85% of total menhaden harvest, already occurred outside of a one-mile buffer zone. Those studies should have been the starting point. Instead, much of the discussion quickly shifted towards one message—protecting existing jobs. Jobs matter, no one disputes that. But science should help us find solutions, not simply become an afterthought in the debate.

Louisiana also needs to broaden how it measures value. Commercial landings and “harvest” are easy to measure. Processing jobs are easy to measure. But how do you measure the value of a father teaching his daughter to catch her first fish? The economic impact of a charter captain introducing visitors to Louisiana? The value of healthy public lands, wildlife watching, or simply having abundant wildlife available to future generations? Those values are every bit as real. They’re just harder to quantify.

That’s one reason the Federation spent so much time on the tarpon legislation. Tarpon represented something overlooked for too long—not because of harvest, because there isn’t any meaningful harvest of the fish, but because Louisiana has never recognized the value of one of the world’s premier recreational fisheries. The Legislature recognized it. The Governor reached a different conclusion. I respected his decision even though I disagreed with it, and I appreciated that he left the door open for future discussions. I hope we can continue that conversation, because recreational fishing, including tarpon, deserves an equal seat at the table. Not a larger seat. An equal one.

Louisiana has an opportunity to be a national leader in conservation efforts—not simply in economic development, by showing that the two can work together. If every major project that comes into Louisiana makes a commitment that leaves the local habitat stronger, if every fisheries decision begins with improving the resource, not how much can we take and still maintain the minimum for a species, and if every legislative discussion asks how we can leave Louisiana better than we found it, then twenty years from now we’ll realize we made some good decisions. That’s the direction I’d like to see us take.

Question Four

Are there any fisheries, access, coastal, seafood, or working-water issues you believe Louisiana residents should be watching closely?

If I had to encourage residents to pay attention to one thing, it wouldn’t be a single bill or one fishery. I’d encourage them to watch the overall direction we’re headed.

After more than thirty years around Louisiana’s natural resources, one thing is very clear to me: nearly every major issue we discuss today is connected. Fisheries management, coastal restoration, public lands, water quality, forestry, private property, carbon capture, industrial development, public access—they all eventually come back to the same question. What kind of Louisiana are we leaving behind?

Looking back over my career, it’s hard to think of many species that aren’t under greater pressure today than when I first started. Redfish are managed more closely. Speckled trout are managed more closely. Shrimp, blue crabs, and oysters continue facing significant challenges. Waterfowl numbers, as related to the ducks wintering in Louisiana, are in drastic declines. Coastal land loss continues. Water quality remains a concern in many watersheds. Those aren’t isolated issues. They’re symptoms of something larger.

For a long time, Louisiana has measured success by what we produce—how many fish, how many oysters, how many shrimp, how many jobs, how much investment. Those are all important. But I think we ought to start measuring something else: are we improving the resource itself? That’s a much harder question.

Louisiana has become extremely successful at attracting industry, and I believe that can be a positive thing. But we’re missing opportunities. When a major company comes here, we negotiate tax incentives, infrastructure, permitting certainty, utility capacity, and legislative protections—sometimes over months or years. Yet surprisingly, no time is spent asking what conservation improvements could become part of those agreements. Imagine if every major project also committed to restoring marsh, improving water quality, expanding public access, enhancing a nearby WMA or refuge, or supporting fisheries research. Those investments would be small compared to the overall size of many of these projects, but over time they could have a tremendous impact. That’s the kind of thinking I hope we begin embracing. Not conservation instead of economic development—conservation as part of it.

I also hope residents keep paying attention to public access. Traditional places to hunt and fish continue disappearing. That makes our Wildlife Management Areas, National Wildlife Refuges, Kisatchie National Forest, state forests, and public waterways more important than ever. Those places belong to every citizen. They create opportunity regardless of income, introduce children to hunting and fishing, and support birdwatchers, hikers, paddlers, photographers, and campers. They don’t just provide recreation—they help define who we are as Louisianans.

Finally, I hope people keep paying attention to something that often gets overlooked: young people. If we don’t keep introducing the next generation to the outdoors, every conservation discussion eventually gets harder. Young hunters become future conservationists. Young anglers become future advocates for clean water. Young people who grow up exploring public lands become adults who understand why those places matter. None of that happens by accident. It happens because someone took the time to introduce them to Louisiana’s outdoors. That’s worth protecting.

Question Five

What message would you like to share with Louisiana fishermen, seafood workers, guides, anglers, and coastal families trying to protect both their livelihoods and traditions?

After more than thirty years in conservation, I’ve learned that most people want exactly the same thing. Healthy resources. Good jobs. Opportunities for their children. The chance to continue the traditions they grew up with.

Commercial fishermen want healthy fisheries. Recreational anglers want healthy fisheries. Guides want healthy fisheries. Biologists want healthy fisheries. Those goals aren’t very different. Where we sometimes struggle is deciding how to get there.

I don’t think we should have to continue down the road of having to choose between being a Working Coast and being the Sportsman’s Paradise. We ought to be able to be both. The Working Coast exists because of Louisiana’s natural resources. Sportsman’s Paradise exists because of those same resources. One shouldn’t replace the other. They should be able to coexist and strengthen one another.

One of the biggest lessons of my career is that conservation shouldn’t be viewed as something that slows progress. It should improve progress. States like Florida do a great job of recognizing this balance and getting it right. When Louisiana recruits a major industry, we should begin to ask how that project can also improve wildlife habitat. When we manage fisheries, let’s begin with the long-term health of the resource. When we restore our coast, let’s think beyond one species and remember that healthy estuaries benefit everything. When we invest in public lands, let’s remember those lands belong to every Louisiana family. Those ideas shouldn’t be controversial. They’re common sense.

Louisiana has extraordinary natural resources, remarkable people, world-class fisheries, and tremendous economic opportunity. I don’t think we have to continue deciding between supporting industry or supporting conservation. I think our biggest challenge is giving the support required so that they can exist together. If we start asking every major decision to leave Louisiana better than it found it, we’ll look back years from now and realize we made some good choices. That’s what conservation has always meant to me—making sure it’s still worthy of the next generation.

Closing Thoughts

I appreciate the opportunity to answer these questions, because conversations like this matter. Too often we only come together after disagreements have already developed. I’d rather spend more time talking about where we want Louisiana to be twenty or thirty years from now.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. Like everyone else, I’m still learning. But after a lifetime in Louisiana’s outdoors, there are a few things I’m certain of. Healthy habitat matters. Healthy estuaries matter. Good science matters. Public access matters. Conservation matters. Not because those ideas belong to one organization or one group of people, but because they’re the foundation that supports everything we value.

When I retired from law enforcement, I never imagined I’d still be spending so much time on these issues. But whether I was wearing a badge or working on policy, the responsibility never really changed. It’s always been about trying to leave Louisiana a little better than I found it.

That’s what I hope we’re able to do. If thirty years from now another generation can still experience the same marshes, forests, public lands, wildlife, and fisheries that inspired me to spend my career protecting them, then I think we’ll know we got it right.

Publisher Context

Sources and Context

This page preserves Rick Owens’ complete written response. Statements of opinion, interpretation and policy preference belong to the participant.

LAInshore.com reviewed public records and agency materials concerning Owens’ professional background, the 2026 Atlantic tarpon legislation and Louisiana’s menhaden bycatch research. Readers can review those materials through the links below.

The 85 percent menhaden figure is preserved as part of Owens’ original response. It concerns where harvest occurred and should not be read as a finding of the LGL menhaden bycatch study.

Return to Rick Owens on Leaving Louisiana Better Than We Found It.

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