End of an era: Point Reyes ranchers and workers exit

On April 8, a total of 12 ranches on the Point Reyes National Seashore had officially shuttered their operations and permanently vacated the federally protected land after years of contested leases, litigation and environmental campaigns that sought to prioritize habitat protection over cattle operations.

The National Park Service, environmental groups and the Nature Conservancy settled with ranch owners for about $30 million, although for now two ranches remain. Ranch workers — largely excluded from talks — received significantly smaller payouts and have been displaced.

This series describes the events that led to this relocation and looks at the impact on ranchers and ranch hands.

We follow three-generation rancher Kevin Lunny as he leads one of his final cattle roundups.

We hear William Nunes, great great grandson of his ranch’s founder, describe the hardship of operating a family dairy as rising costs, regulatory uncertainties and, ultimately, litigation cause him to relocate.

We tell the stories of Marco Alcantar and Rosa Rodriguez who, along with dozens of other ranch hands and tenants, were left out of settlement talks and are scrambling to find new work and new housing.

The cessation of most ranching at the Point Reyes National Seashore returns thousands of parkland acres to their natural state — a victory for environmentalists and for tourists who visit. But 167 years of ranching tradition and local livelihoods are now coming to an end.

PART 1 | Ranchers’ time up as deal returns grazing land to park

ON SEPT. 13, 1962, President John F. Kennedy signed a bill establishing the Point Reyes National Seashore to “preserve and make available to a great number of people the outstanding scenic and recreational characteristics of the area.”

Roughly two-thirds of the ruggedly beautiful 100-square-mile peninsula, just one hour north of San Francisco, was — and remains — unspoiled by development. Preserving it as a park was widely seen as being in the best interest of the public.

But Point Reyes was also home to 14 cattle ranches, dairy and beef operations, some of which dated to the 19^th century. And from the moment the Seashore bill was signed, the clock for those pre-existing private ranches began to tick. An uncertain future lay ahead for the ranches, their owners and for dozens of ranch hands and their families.

In the 15 years following the bill’s passage, the National Park Service slowly bought up all the ranches with the understanding that it would lease the property back to the ranchers in the form of 20- and 25-year agreements. These leases permitted the livestock ranchers to continue their operations despite having relinquished ownership of the land — but it was only a matter of time before the ranchers would be asked to leave the seashore for good.

Now the clock has run out.

On April 8, the last of the affected ranches will have shuttered operations, their owners, along with dozens of employees, tenants and their families having moved off the land.

The preservation of the seashore’s longstanding agricultural traditions had always been conditional. Although the federal government initially reassured the ranchers that they would be able to continue working the land indefinitely, a 1978 amendment to the Seashore act clarified that the decision to allow private ranching on federal land came at the sole discretion of the Secretary of the Interior. And that wasn’t guaranteed. The ranchers had no legal claim to the land or its use beyond their lease agreements, which could be terminated or modified once they expired.

In 2021, the National Park Service amended its plan and asserted that ranching operations would continue, as they had, on one-third of the peninsula, the 25,000 acres that had long been designated “pastoral zones.”

But within just a few months of that announcement, in January 2022, three environmental groups joined forces to sue the federal agency. Together, the Resource Renewal Institute, Center for Biological Diversity and Western Watersheds Project challenged the National Park Service’s decision to allow beef and dairy operations to continue on the seashore, alleging that the policy did not prioritize the protection of the natural environment nor support the public’s use of the land.

The environmental groups asserted that ranching operations were significantly harming the environment, violating water quality standards, depleting groundwater sources, promoting invasive vegetation and causing conflict with local wildlife. In response, the ranchers formed an association to defend their operations and livelihoods.

After three years of private settlement talks, bound by nondisclosure agreements, 11 ranching families agreed to relinquish their leases voluntarily in exchange for a $30 million settlement financed by the nonprofit Nature Conservancy, which had joined the discussions on behalf of the environmentalist plaintiffs. The Conservancy invited each ranch family to participate voluntarily in an agreement under which the beef or dairy operators would cease all production, dismantle their agriculture business and depart the seashore indefinitely in exchange for payment. Eleven ranchers accepted those terms; two did not and remain on the Seashore for now.

But about 90 ranch workers who tended to the cattle, along with their families and some other tenants, were not represented in this process. The federal judge who presided over the case, Maxine M. Chesney of the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California, denied the ranch workers’ motion for representation as the settlement discussions were winding down.

In the agreement, ranchers, ranch workers and all tenants on the seashore were given 15 months to vacate the Point Reyes National Seashore, making April 8 of this year the deadline. This decision sent ripples throughout the community, displacing dozens of working-class families and potentially disrupting local schools and businesses.

Although the ranchers and dairy farmers received an estimated $2 million to $3 million apiece, that amount wouldn’t pay for a new operation in West Marin County. Some moved out of the county, some out of state and some gave up ranching altogether.

Meanwhile, the ranch employees, many of whom had spent decades of their lives running operations on the Seashore, were suddenly without work or shelter. These employees received payments in the range of $70,000 to $100,000 — a significant amount but again not enough to secure long-term housing in West Marin. Most workers have left the county. Other families and individuals were able to find housing in the community thanks to the work of CLAM, the Community Land Trust Association of West Marin, which worked to create a temporary housing development in Point Reyes Station, acquired new properties and established a Neighbors for Neighbors program where displaced ranch tenants can find housing in West Marin at no cost or very low cost.

Although two ranches declined the settlement and continue operating for now on the Point Reyes National Seashore, multiple generations of ranching and over 150 years of history have largely come to an end. Cattle roaming the grasslands, climbing up and down the vast rolling hills, are no longer a common sight in the national park.

The undeveloped National Seashore has been expanded — an unspoiled scenic park enjoyed by an estimated 2.4 million visitors a year. It is a victory for environmentalists and, many would say, for the public as a whole.

“We have programs that focus on natural land conservation,” said Chance Cutrano, program director at the Resource Renewal Institute, a party to the Point Reyes settlement, “ensuring that public lands are managed for the common good and not for any one special interest — especially any one economic interest that could be privileged over and above the natural environment.”

But the victory, as victories often do, comes with a cost.

Nearly 100 people have been displaced from their jobs and their homes.

And the working landscape, filled with ranch operations, blue-collar families and their bovine neighbors, is now a shadow of its former self.

PART 2 | Way of life ending for three generations of Lunny family

ON A CHILLY BUT DRY WINTER WEEKEND in January 2025, Kevin Lunny, surrounded by family and long-time friends, set out on a routine round-up to herd roughly 100 head of cattle from the grasslands along the Point Reyes Seashore coast back into corrals at Historic G Ranch.

The property, spanning 1,400 acres of coastal grasslands, streams and rolling hills, sits across the road from Drakes Estero, nestled between the Pacific Ocean and Abbotts Lagoon. For most of the year, the cattle roam the hunter-green pastures, grazing on plentiful vegetation and wandering freely until they reach the fine sands of the shoreline.

The winter roundup had become second nature for Kevin, with dozens of roundups under his belt from working on the ranch over the years, as his father and grandfather had done before him.

But this year’s roundup came with a sense of foreboding. The Lunnys knew their days roaming the peninsula’s pastures alongside their herd were coming to an end. Under terms of a settlement with the Nature Conservancy and an environmental coalition, they and 11 other ranches were to vacate Point Reyes by April 8 of this year.

On this January weekend, Kevin led a convoy of two side-by-side all-terrain vehicles and two dirt bikes as the group crossed the untamed grasslands, soggy and vigorously sprouting. The column scattered, covering as much ground as needed to rein in all the cows, steers, heifers, calves and yearlings.

A simple whistle and a few words of encouragement were enough to guide the herd back into the corral. There, the yearlings were separated from the rest of the herd to be tagged, castrated and vaccinated.

It was a ritual that went back to 1869, when the Historic G Ranch was established on this site. Over the years, the property changed hands multiple times, being acquired at one point by the Radio Corporation of America, with some land partitions involving the U.S. Coast Guard.

In 1947, Kevin Lunny’s grandfather Joseph Lunny Sr. took over the operation, and it’s been the family business since then, switching from dairy to beef production in 1975.

In the January 2025 roundup, Kevin’s 94-year-old dad Joe Jr. worked in the corral alongside his great granddaughter, Isabella Mata, age 6. Joe held a mug that read, “Weird being the same age as old people.”

Nancy Lunny, married to Kevin, maintained the ranch’s comprehensive records, accounting for every head in the herd. Her journal bore the kind of wrinkles and creases that only come with time.

But now, as one of the 11 families who had accepted the $30 million buyout financed by The Nature Conservancy in exchange for relinquishing their lease, the Lunny’s were required to empty out every structure on the property, vacate their World War II army barracks-turned-home and either sell off or relocate their herd elsewhere per settlement terms.

Although all parties to the settlement are bound by a non-disclosure agreement, the widely reported amount received by each cattleman and dairyman was $2.5 million to $3 million for their seashore leases. This figure is not nearly enough to establish a ranch in Marin County, so the ranchers went elsewhere. For the Lunnys, it meant selling the business and relocating to Auburn, where Kevin still owns four cows.

Most ranchers go through life thinking their children and grandchildren will one day take up the family cattle ranch, and Kevin had been no different.

Watching each generation come together had always made him smile.

But now, five generations of family history and 150 years of ranching on the site had come to an end, leaving only impressions on the topsoil where corrals and loafing barns once stood.

PART 3 | Dairying made money, but the business grew tougher

RUNNING A DAIRY RANCH is not for the faint of heart.

The job is demanding, requiring a near 24-hour rotation as the first milking session begins at 2:30 a.m. Until it ends around sunrise at 6:30 a.m. Then cattle are let out to graze while their pens are cleaned, and fresh alfalfa bales are brought in via tractor loads.

At the Historic A Ranch on the Point Reyes National Seashore, the Jerseys and Holsteins spent the days grazing the rolling hills while waves crashed nearby, only to be herded back into corrals as the sun set. Dusk marked the beginning of the second milking session which carried into the night.

The Historic A Ranch was established as a dairy in 1859 when Rufus T. Buell arrived on the peninsula with 13 cows. Through acquisitions and leases, the ranch changed hands repeatedly, and the Nunes Family took over the business after George Nunes married the daughter of the then-ranch owners in 1932.

The dairy was operated by the Nunes family for almost 100 years, until the permanent closure of 12 dairy and beef cattle operations at Point Reyes was announced in January 2025. That left William Nunes, great-great-grandson of George, as the last of his family to work the peninsula’s grasslands.

William took over the family business in 2019 after returning from California State University, Chico at just 22 years old. He ran the 866-acre dairy with his sister Lianne Nunes-Taverna.

For most of that time, it’s been a very successful enterprise. The grasslands of Point Reyes have long been known as one of the nation’s leading dairy regions, with organic certifications and partnerships across the industry. Its area has contributed mightily to Marin County’s local economy, as well as to California’s total milk output, which represents more than 20 percent of the nation’s total production and more than any other state.

It’s been a tougher business in recent years, however. In 2025, 17 California farms filed for bankruptcy according to the American Farm Bureau Federation, citing rising costs and financial pressures. Drought periods, stringent environmental regulations and rising costs of feed among other operating expenses have strained dairy farmers, pressuring them to relocate or close altogether. This decline has particularly affected smaller family operations.

But the closure of the Nunes family ranch is due to litigation, rather than economic decline.

In 2022, the Resource Renewal Institute, Center for Biological Diversity and the Western Watersheds Project filed a lawsuit against the National Park Service for allegedly violating federal law by permitting commercial agriculture operations within the Point Reyes National Seashore. The suit alleged that the policy did not prioritize the protection of the natural environment nor support the public’s use of the land.

A total of 14 ranches were targeted by the lawsuit, including the Nunes Family Ranch. After years of negotiations and a financial subsidy from The Nature Conservancy, 11 families that operate 12 ranches agreed to a $30 million buyout in exchange for voluntarily relinquishing their leases.

Now, just two beef cattle ranches will remain on the Point Reyes National Seashore: the Niman Ranch, which holds a rare lifetime lease and the D. Rogers Ranch, a small family cattle operation. (Ranching was also permitted to continue on a part of the peninsula outside the park borders).

As residents and ranch workers departed the Nunes Family Ranch, William was tasked with deconstructing the operation one building at a time. Now, he hopes to continue the family business in Sonoma or Marin County, but high property prices may well prove cost prohibitive. Nunes admits he may have to relocate as far north as Washington, leaving California behind altogether.

On some level, the culmination of his contentious time on the Seashore comes with some level of relief for Nunes, who compared the leases with the National Park Service to a poisonous love affair.“

Having to deal with the Park Service is like being in a toxic relationship,” Nunes said. “It might seem great in the moment, but once you move on you realize you are better off.”

He said several factors made him decide to take the buyout. The uncertainty over the future of agriculture in the park had frustrated Nunes’ attempts to improve his operation. The short-term nature of current leases for the land that his family once owned, coupled with a statement from the National Parks Service that said that the federal agency was not interested in being landlords, also convinced him to look elsewhere.

“Why invest $125,000 to $175,000 on the equipment I need to upgrade the dairy when they can take it away at any moment?” Nunes asked.

The uncooperative nature of the federal agency managing the seashore left ranchers in an unfavorable position, he continued.“

This is one of the nicest places in the world,” William said, as he studied the horizon from his all-terrain quad. “Look across here. Do you see that? That’s San Francisco. You can see the city from here.

“But,” he added, “I am tired of not being able to move forward.”

PART 4 | Displaced ranch hands pay price for park’s expansion

WHEN THE OWNERS OF 12 RANCHES agreed in 2025 to shutter their operations on the Point Reyes National Seashore, they were joined at the table by the Nature Conservancy, three other environmental groups and the U.S. National Park Service.

But conspicuously absent from the private negotiations that would dictate both the future of agriculture in the national park and of their livelihoods were the ranch workers, their families and the other tenants who made those ranches tick.

It’s not that they hadn’t sought a seat at the table.

In January 2025, U.S. District Court Judge Maxine M. Chesney had rejected a motion by the non-owner residents for representation in the settlement discussions. Meanwhile, those settlement negotiations had been taking place over a three-year period, with all parties bound to non-disclosure agreements as they decided the fate of 14 Seashore ranches.

Judge Chesney’s decision brought grief and frustration to the predominantly Spanish-speaking community, who felt silenced by her dismissal.

“We have no clue what’s truly going on,” said Marco Alcantar, a 20-year-old graphic designer who was born and raised on a dairy in the park. “There’s no true communication to what is going on.”

In response, Alcantar created a graphic — an illustration of a man in a Tejano-style hat with tape covering his mouth and the words “We want our homes” written in boldface.

He said it expressed the collective frustration he shares with his neighbors.

“It is his voice, and we should listen,” said Socorro Romo, the former executive director of West Marin Community Services, a social welfare nonprofit organization serving Spanish speakers in the area. “The same thing this photo says, the residents have said to me.”

For decades, the concerns of the Spanish-speaking community living on the seashore ranches went largely unnoticed. And when housing is contingent upon employment, speaking up against the interests of an employer poses risks to both livelihood and housing. Fear of retaliation and persecution led to self-censorship and acceptance for many, Alcantar said.

The need to keep food on the table can preclude civic engagement, he added.

But in weighing the consequences of speaking out, Alcantar asked himself, “If I don’t do it, then who will? Who is going to save us? I am tired of seeing minorities get walked over.”

The residents who tend to the cattle and live on the ranches had been left with little-to-no information about the status of the negotiations and the agreed upon outcome that would directly impact their lives.

Eventually, they were told that 12 beef and dairy cattle operations would be shuttered and that their time living on the seashore was limited. More than 25 households faced displacement and loss of income. Approaching the hard deadline of March 1 this year, they began exiting the national park, seeking work and lodging elsewhere.

“In reality, we are on land that is not ours, and maybe they are right,” said Rosa Rodriguez, who also lived on a dairy ranch in the park. “But really what we should do is think: ‘Am I doing the right thing? Should I remove this bandage from my mouth and yell to the world that I am here? Or should I continue in silence?’” 

Rodriguez is a member of the Committee for Housing Agricultural Workers and Their Families. The organization has brought together county officials, farmworkers, ranchers, tenants, foundation donors and affordable housing advocates since 2018. In the fall of 2024, it published an important study of West Marin’s difficult housing conditions for working-class people.

The ranch hands’ legal fight didn’t immediately end with Judge Chesney’s initial ruling.

Andrew Giacomini, an attorney representing the ranch residents, filed a separate lawsuit against the park service, as he pursued every legal avenue to secure his clients’ right to remain in their homes.

Nearly one year later, Judge Chesney granted the defendants — the National Park Service, the Department of Interior and the Nature Conservancy — a motion to dismiss Giacomini’s suit, leaving the ranch residents with no other option than to vacate their homes by March 1, 2026. The dismissal was decided on Jan. 23 of this year, forcing residents who had hoped for a last-minute miracle to accept the cold reality.

Affordable rentals are scarce in West Marin. If a significant number of people move away from the coast and over the hill, it affects local businesses and schools.

Community steps up with temporary housing

In an effort to stem the departure of working-class families, the Community Land Trust Association of West Marin (CLAM) took advantage of Marin County’s emergency housing ordinances to obtain expedited approval for temporary shelters to house residents who are being displaced from the ranch closures. A community of tiny homes located in Point Reyes Station is expected to be completed in late April, offering 14 temporary housing units until a more permanent solution can be reached.

CLAM has also acquired additional properties in West Marin to immediately house displaced families who wish to remain in the community. So, the situation is not entirely hopeless.

Alcantar, meanwhile, is a student at Sacramento State University, studying graphic design. He was one of 14 students across the nation selected by the United States Department of Agriculture to work on public-facing visual materials in Washington, D.C. last summer. The internship is only offered to students with agricultural backgrounds, and Alcantar was the first in the program to receive an offer to stay on once the internship ended. Cabinet members and visitors entering the Department of Agriculture headquarters are now greeted by graphic displays created by Alcantar.

But while he’s found a life outside, Alcantar still speaks wistfully about his history in the park, recounting climbing over fences and chasing cattle as a boy.

For tourists, Alcantar said, the ranches on the seashore were just part of the scenery.

But for residents, the roots of their family trees are intertwined with ranching, making it difficult to separate their stories from every bend and curve in the landscape. This park was their world, and for some, it is all they know and love.