The four-legged conservationists keeping Snake River, Teton County, healthy

KHOL | By Dante Filpula Ankney

Published September 24, 2025 at 3:21 PM MDT

Fenton, a border-collie mix, found a home with Working Dogs for Conservation in Missoula, Montana, after missing the cut to become a disaster search dog in California. He wears goggles from Rex Specs, a business founded in Jackson Hole, to protect his sensitive eyes.

Aimee Hurt and Kelsey Mitchell are bushwhacking through willows on the banks of the Snake River in western Wyoming in late August.

They’re moving in a criss-crossed pattern, similar to a grid search, stopping periodically to check a GPS and listen for the faint ring of a bell.

They’re tracking an 8-year-old speckled grey and brown mutt named Fenton, clad in an orange harness with an antenna and dangling bell.

Huddled, Hurt says he’s stopped ahead. He’s found something.

In a minute, Hurt finds Fenton perked up, tail-wagging beside a couple perennial pepperweed plants. Hurt knows how to spot a patch, but Fenton can sniff out even a small bunch.

Kelsey Mitchell, a biologist at Teton County Weed and Pest, points to the flowering on a perennial pepperweed plant Fenton found. Fenton is also trained to sniff out invasive Salt Cedar, however, it’s a lot more rare to find.

“Good job, Fenty,” she celebrates in a sing-song tone as she hugs Fenton, “It’s really not a patch. It’s just… three plants here? Good boy. Good boy, Fenton.”

Hurt co-founded Working Dogs for Conservation in Montana 25 years ago. The group partners with land managers around the world for conservation, from sniffing out invasive species like weeds and mussels in the Rocky Mountain West, to helping law enforcement track down white rhino poachers in Africa.

They’ve been working with Teton County Weed and Pest for five years.

Kelsey Mitchell works for the special district. She’s on the raft oars, rowing Hurt and Fenton down about 14 miles of river from Moose to Wilson.

When Fenton finds bad seeds, Mitchell bags them immediately and logs the location. In the coming days, a team will come and spray the spots.

Mitchell says the dogs sniff out about 75% more invasive weed species than a human. And quicker, too. A job that would take a crew all summer, a couple pups do in two weeks.

“The dogs give us confidence that we are finding far, far more of these [weed] patches,” Mitchell said, “This is just a couple of individuals [so] we can take care of them early.”

Perennial pepperweed is a slender shrub that can grow up to 6 feet tall, with bright green leaves and white flowers. It’s a prolific seed spreader. An acre of the plant could produce up to 6 billion seeds.

“We’re preventing that acre from happening,” Mitchell said, “We’re preventing anywhere close to an acre.”

If untreated, dense stands could outcompete native plants that provide forage for a variety of wildlife, from birds, to elk, to hay for cattle.

And dog patrol is working, according to Erika Edmiston, who leads Teton County Weed and Pest. She said the creative program has helped put them ahead, along with others like drones that spray for insect larvae, keeping mosquitoes and their viruses at bay.

Overall, in the battle of human vs. weeds and pests, “we’re winning,” Edmiston said.

But it’s not a guarantee. Last legislative session the state cut most residential property taxes by 25%. It takes a shot at what sets Wyoming’s weed management apart from other western states.

Each Wyoming county here has its own program funded by local property taxes, some state money, grants and partnerships with private land owners and federal land agencies.

Surrounding states like Idaho and Montana don’t have that local boost.

“For now, we are OK,” Edmiston said, “I’m going to keep my fingers crossed.”

Teton County’s program feels some uncertainty with the future of federal funding after grants were frozen, then unfrozen, earlier this year. Now, Edmiston is searching for new grants and relying on the high property values. The Jackson Hole Report listed the median single-family home sold for $3.4 million in 2024.

“We are probably a little bit better poised to weather the storm with some of these cuts than some of the other counties because our real estate market is so strong,” Edmiston said, “I’m really concerned about some of my other colleagues in the state that have smaller tax bases.”

The highest compliment for Edmiston is if nobody notices their work. It means the problem has been taken care of before anyone has noticed there’s a problem.

But back on the river, Fenton is not keeping a very low profile, he’s still celebrating his find with a squishy yellow ball.

Fenton’s reward for a job well done is a squishy yellow ball he places at the feet of anyone willing to give it a toss. But his colleague, Aimee Hurt, said not too far. The river rock hurt his feet.

“[He’s] trying to do a victory lap but these rocks are hard on his feet,” Hurt said, “He’s like, ‘Maybe I won’t run a big fat victory lap I’ll just drop the toy for somebody to throw it for me.’”

Hurt lives with Fenton and describes him as “independent.” In other words, he’s a bit of a diva.

After the final stop, he curls into the bottom of the raft to nap, still wearing dark sun goggles. Hurt reapplies sunscreen across his nose and fans out a pink umbrella to give him some shade.

Most dogs in the program were rescued from the shelter and live at the Working Dog for Conservation facility. But not Fenton. He lives with Hurt. More than five years ago, before he became a “conservation expert,” he was auditioning as a disaster searchdog. He didn’t make the cut.

After this day-long patrol of the Snake, he gets a day off. The 14-mile stretch of riverbank will take him, and his buddy, Ace, a mini pitbull, about two weeks. And, funding dependent, he’ll be back next summer.