On February 4, 2026, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife set in motion a bold and controversial plan: to eliminate nearly every mule deer on Santa Catalina Island. This decision, part of a sweeping ecological restoration effort led by the Santa Catalina Island Conservancy, has sparked heated debate both on the island and far beyond its shores. With a timeline stretching to 2032, the project aims to kill and sterilize roughly 2,200 mule deer, returning the island’s ecosystem to a more natural state and giving native plants and animals a fighting chance. But not everyone is convinced this is the right path.
The roots of the current dilemma trace back nearly a century. According to LAist, a small herd of mule deer—just about a dozen—was introduced to Catalina in the 1920s and 1930s. The goal? To provide sport for locals and wealthy visitors during the island’s early days as a tourist retreat. Over the decades, with no natural predators and plenty of food, the population exploded to around 2,000—roughly half the number of people who call the island home.
Now, the Conservancy, which owns about 88% of the island, argues that the deer are wreaking havoc on Catalina’s unique flora. Their voracious appetite for native plants has, in the eyes of conservationists, tipped the ecological balance. The larger restoration project, dubbed “Operation Protect Catalina Island,” includes not just deer removal but also the reintroduction of native plants, removal of invasive vegetation, and efforts to boost populations of species like the island fox and the Catalina shrew. As Lauren Dennhardt, Senior Director of Conservation at the Conservancy, told the LA Times, “Nobody wants to kill animals, but we know what’s at stake here, and it’s important for us to essentially do the right thing to make sure that this island stays and gets even better for the future.”
The plan is nothing if not ambitious. Professionals will deploy drones, thermal technology, and trained dogs to detect deer, primarily hunting at night. Some animals will be captured, sterilized, and released with tracking collars, a strategy intended to help locate any remaining deer. The initial idea—using helicopters and sharpshooters—was scrapped after residents raised safety concerns. Instead, 10 to 12 professional hunters will carry out the task on foot, starting as early as September 2026. This fall is expected to be the last hunting season for locals hoping to bag a mule deer on the island.
Once the deer are killed, their bodies will not go to waste. The Conservancy plans to donate carcasses to the California Condor Recovery Program, which rehabilitates the endangered birds, and to nearby tribal partners. A handful of deer will be sterilized and released, serving as trackers to help ensure the eradication is thorough.
Supporters of the plan point to successful precedents elsewhere in California’s Channel Islands. On Santa Rosa Island, for example, the removal of Roosevelt elk and mule deer in 2011 allowed native flora to bounce back. Similarly, when cows, sheep, and pigs were eliminated from Santa Cruz Island by 2007, the endangered Santa Cruz Island fox made a remarkable recovery. “Catalina is a treasure that will rebound much like the other Channel Islands as a result of restoring native habitats and removing the pressure from invasives like mule deer,” Dennhardt said in a press release. “It’s one of the most important investments we can make in Catalina’s future.”
Yet the plan has no shortage of critics. Animal welfare groups and many island residents have voiced strong opposition, arguing that the deer have become a beloved part of Catalina’s landscape. In a letter to the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, Los Angeles County Supervisor Janice Hahn condemned what she called the “systematic slaughter” of the deer, emphasizing the “deep public connection to these animals.” For some, the deer are not just invaders but neighbors—creatures whose presence has shaped island life for generations.
Concerns extend beyond sentimentality. Los Angeles County Fire Chief Anthony Marrone has warned that removing the deer could inadvertently increase the risk of catastrophic wildfires. His reasoning? Without deer munching on flammable vegetation, the island could see a buildup of dry brush, making it more susceptible to devastating blazes. “While the Catalina Island Conservancy is concerned about the deer eating native plants, the fire chief claims that they help reduce the amount of flammable vegetation which can quickly turn a small spark into a major issue,” reported Men’s Journal.
Outside California, the plan has raised eyebrows among hunters and wildlife enthusiasts. A Montana hunter writing for a local outlet expressed disbelief, likening California’s approach to “using a chainsaw to trim your hedges.” He questioned why lethal force should be the first option instead of the last, suggesting that relocation or other less drastic measures might be more appropriate. “Maybe there’s a better approach than ‘eradicate first, ask questions later,’” he wrote, reflecting a broader unease about the ethics and necessity of such drastic interventions.
Relocation, however, is not without its own challenges. Past attempts to move deer off Catalina, such as the failed 1948 effort, have proven logistically daunting and often unsuccessful. The Conservancy maintains that hunting and natural predation are simply insufficient to control the current population, and that restoring the island’s delicate balance requires more decisive action.
This isn’t the first time Californians have grappled with the consequences of introducing non-native species. The story of the mule deer on Catalina is just one chapter in a larger narrative about how human interventions—however well-intentioned—can have far-reaching, sometimes unintended, effects on fragile ecosystems. The debate over what to do next is as much about values as it is about science: Should the priority be preserving native biodiversity, or respecting the new ecological realities created by a century of human activity?
For now, the plan is moving forward, with professionals preparing to begin the cull later this year. The Conservancy insists that the short-term pain will yield long-term gains, not just for native plants and animals, but for the island’s overall resilience. Opponents, meanwhile, vow to keep fighting, hoping to sway public opinion—and possibly policymakers—before the last mule deer is removed from Catalina’s rugged hills.
The future of Santa Catalina Island hangs in the balance, caught between competing visions of restoration and coexistence. Whether the deer remain or disappear, the outcome will shape the island’s identity for generations to come.