A week ago Friday, I ventured to Bloomington to partake in what could be considered the biggest natural resources meeting of the year: the DNR Roundtable.
“What the heck is a ‘DNR Roundtable’?” is a reasonable question.
Unless you’re plugged into Minnesota’s outdoor media or work for a conservation organization, it’s probably never been on your radar.
Katie Smith, director of ecological and water resources, described it to me as “a forum for us and our conservation partners, to share information and perspectives on important natural resource issues. It really provides a time and space to refresh relationships, to meet new people, space for partners to be heard, and really just to capitalize on the opportunity to discuss significant and timely natural resource issues together.”
That’s a lot of explanation without much context. Here’s a rough outline of how it’s gone recently.
The day officially starts with an opening session. There is a featured speaker, and usually remarks from the governor and DNR staff.
After that follow two time blocks, when attendees choose between one of four smaller concurrent sessions. Topics are offered from a range of natural resource issues. Panelists (a blend of DNR and others) talk about their work pertaining to the topic at hand, then conduct a Q&A with the audience.
Lunch is served, then the afternoon is spent in “candid conversations,” much like the panel discussions from the morning.
A closing session puts a bow on the day, then time and space is provided for attendees (including DNR personnel) to talk, follow up on previous conversations, etc.
Simple enough.
The event has been going on for decades, and gathers hundreds of people from conservation nonprofits, watershed districts, government agencies, natural resource advocacy groups and more, once a year.
It’s kind of a conservation juggernaut in this state, and is ever-evolving. I’ve attended the last four.
My preference is to arrive a good hour or more before things get going in the morning, which I did again this year. I learned at my first Roundtable that if you’re looking to meet people and dig up stories, you’ll want every extra minute for networking.
So, I set up with coffee and a couple pastries and read name tags as people walked by. Within minutes I’d greeted several of my native-fish friends, and touched base with a guy I met last year who is on a mission to take 10,000 school kids ice fishing.
I also met a representative from the Minnesota Forestry Association and scarfed the best chocolate muffin of my entire life.
The opening session was a bit more focused than in past years. I’d barely finished my second round of coffee when it broke up — 30 minutes shorter than last year.
Glancing at the program, I noticed the morning (and afternoon) sessions would be longer than before. Smith would later tell me that was a development based on feedback from previous years.
Depending on the topics, history has shown that the concurrent sessions were almost always too short. Sometimes woefully so.
The first I attended this time, “Motivating Environmental Stewardship,” was packed with engaged audience members. On one hand, it was a good, substantive discussion. On the other hand, it felt like we only scratched the surface.
The same could be said for one of the afternoon sessions, “People-Powered Science: How Minnesotans are Informing Fish and Wildlife Management.”
Again, it was practically standing room only, for a discussion about how ordinary folks contribute to scientific knowledge, and the benefits and implications of that. Each panelist probably could have run an entire separate session on their own, given the level of interest in the room.
No doubt Roundtable planners hope every discussion grabs the public like those two did.
In talking to Smith, it sounded like they try to land on issues that will resonate.
“We really don’t want it to be all about DNR sharing information; we want these to be conversations,” she said. “So we choose the topics based on the biggest issues of the day, where we want more input and feedback on certain topics.”
Like the opening session, the closing session was noticeably shorter than it had been in the past. I assumed that was to accommodate for longer afternoon conversations.
Frankly, I consider those to be the best part of the day, so it was worth making an adjustment.
The commissioner spoke again briefly, and we heard light updates from a couple division directors about some major projects that are in the works. There was no general Q&A, unlike in the past, and no big unveilings or announcements.
For somebody like me who would like to hear meaty bits of news, Roundtable 2025 seemed a bit thin. My impression was that DNR officials elected to spend less time giving updates in favor of more time for sessions and making connections among ourselves.
Yes, department leadership was available throughout the day for one-on-one discussions in the common areas, which is a relatively new development and a good idea.
However, I think it’s safe to say the audience at large probably craved more substantive information on things like the new (and long in coming) electronic licensing system. Or chronic wasting disease and avian influenza.
Heck, just within the realm of fisheries, there are myriad pressing issues I never heard referenced one time.
Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate the model of a roundtable. It’s meant to be a discussion.
Nobody is necessarily at the head of the table with more importance, and that’s genuinely the atmosphere that has been curated around this event.
But if the table gets any rounder, we won’t expect much information from the DNR.
If it keeps heading in its current direction, pretty soon the commissioner might hold a ceremonial opening, then say something like, “I’m headed back to St. Paul. Shut the lights off when you leave.”
So, next January, I’m hoping the evolution of planning and priorities will bring back more top-down announcements. Maybe even some big surprises or hard truths.
Some straight talk would be appreciated.
I’ll be sure to work it into my feedback when they send me the survey. That, and beg for more of those chocolate muffins.
Roy Heilman is an outdoorsman, writer, and ethnic Minnesotan. His adventures take him all over the map, but he’s always home at neveragoosechase.com.