On an unseasonably hot July day, Jerrod Bowman peers into the water flowing through a box-like passage for endangered fishes, checking their route is clear. Bowman works as a fish biologist for the Navajo Nation, based west of Farmington, where the San Juan River borders the reservation. A small dam here forms a barrier to the seasonal migration of two rare fish species, the razorback sucker and the Colorado pikeminnow. On the south side of the river a narrow, rocky channel leading to a concrete bypass serves as a passage around the dam.
鈥淚鈥檓 just trying to give them the chance to move upstream,鈥� Bowman says.
Historically, Colorado pikeminnows traveled hundreds of miles through the free-flowing rivers of the Colorado River Basin, from Wyoming to northern Mexico. Razorback suckers also migrated seasonally to spawn through a similar range.
Today, after a century of dam-building and other human intervention, the fishes are restricted to 25% of their historical range. Both nearly became extinct in the San Juan River. Now, with climate change drying the river, the federal, state and tribal partners responsible for the fishes鈥� recovery are hopeful about a new opportunity to keep the water flowing.
At the dam, an olive-colored waterfall spills over a wide concrete weir. This diversion once conveyed 1 million gallons of water per hour uphill to cool the now-decommissioned San Juan Generating Station, a coal-fired power plant. Public Service of New Mexico (PNM), the utility that operated the plant, leased the water from the Jicarilla Apache Nation.
A landmark agreement signed last year means the water is being put to a very different use鈥攖o help the fishes. A novel partnership and a unique state program made the pivot possible, creating revenue for the Jicarilla Apache Nation, a potential solution to the state鈥檚 water obligations, and hope for a river and fishes on the brink.
For seven years, Bowman has been a biologist for the Navajo Nation, where he works to help native fish species get past the so-called PNM dam, while keeping nonnative fishes out. Formerly, biologists closed the passage, trapping the fish, then sorted native species from nonnatives before releasing them upstream. Invasive fishes like channel catfish are major predators for the endangered species throughout their range. Now water managers have opened the passage completely, letting the fish travel through on their own.
On this afternoon, Bowman is troubleshooting a new addition to the passage, an infuser that pumps additional oxygen into the water, 鈥渢rying to get them enticed to use the fish passage all the way up.鈥�
The Endangered Species Act requires state and federal river managers to address the fishes鈥� sharp decline over the last century, though the Fish and Wildlife Service proposed delisting the razorback sucker in 2021. Bowman and other biologists with the San Juan River Basin Recovery Implementation Program work on restoration and monitoring, as well as rearing fish.
Bowman uses underwater antennas that detect tiny tracking tags, among other methods, to monitor fish.
鈥淩ight now, our numbers have been some of the best numbers we鈥檝e had for a long time,鈥� he says.
It could be the opened passage or the oxygen infuser drawing the fish upstream. But the recent influx of water also makes a critical difference.
In June, a torrent of water surged out of the Navajo Dam into the San Juan River. Over several days, a spring pulse of over 24,000 acre-feet of water scoured the San Juan鈥檚 sandy banks and gravelly riverbed, mimicking natural snowmelt runoff.
The high flows washed out sediment and opened up secondary channels for fish to use for breeding, Bowman says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 been a long time since I鈥檝e seen water that high.鈥�
When he was a kid in Shiprock in the late 1980s, Bowman would swim in the deep, slow water of the secondary channels. 鈥淲e could go in there and swim all day,鈥� he says. 鈥淵ou didn鈥檛 even touch the bottom.鈥�
Then the channels dried up because of drought. With the spring water release, some of his old swimming holes are open again, he says.
The San Juan鈥檚 seasonal floods from winter snowmelt and summer monsoons ended once the Navajo Dam, finished in the 1960s, and other small dams built for flood control and irrigation were built. The dams here and elsewhere in the Colorado Basin forever altered the system鈥檚 ecology, ending the great migrations of the basin鈥檚 endemic fishes.
The reservoir behind Navajo Dam, about 50 miles upstream from the PNM dam, is popular for recreation by boaters, though its main purpose is water storage and flood control鈥攊ncluding as the location where the Jicarilla Apache Nation stores most of its apportioned water.
The water newly reallocated to replenish the river comes thanks to a historic partnership between the state of New Mexico and the Jicarilla Apache Nation. The tribe is leasing up to 20,000 acre feet of water per year to the Strategic Water Reserve, a state program that works like a savings account for water rights.
When PNM decommissioned the San Juan Generating Station, the Jicarilla Apache Nation was suddenly left without a client for most of their Colorado River Basin water rights鈥攁nd their revenue stream. At that time Daryl Vigil was the water administrator for the nation. He explains that per the tribe鈥檚 1992 settlement, the bulk of their water travels from the Colorado River Basin to Navajo Reservoir, located dozens of miles from the Jicarilla reservation, making it cost-prohibitive to pump there.
Instead, the tribe leases the water, which supports government operations, Vigil says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a huge amount of income.鈥� Yet rather than being put to a use that benefited the tribe, Vigil says for several years it was 鈥渏ust going down the river to prop up lake levels at Lake Powell,鈥� a large downstream reservoir on the Colorado River at the Utah/Arizona border.
Major obstacles kept the tribe from quickly finding a new lessee for its water. For example, laws governing the river made it impossible for the tribe to market water across state lines or participate in conservation programs, Vigil says.
Once Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham took office in 2019, Vigil says the state became interested in working with the tribe to lease the water using a little-known state tool called the Strategic Water Reserve. Created in 2005, the reserve allows for leases and purchases of water rights for two purposes: complying with interstate compacts and meeting Endangered Species Act obligations.
Despite the interest from the state, the deal took years to complete, and faced significant technical and legal challenges. The state had never entered into an agreement with a tribal nation in this way before. 鈥淚n terms of a sovereign-to-sovereign transaction in the state of New Mexico,鈥� Vigil says, 鈥渨e could not find a template for one.鈥� The lease is also the first of its kind on the San Juan River and the largest amount of water ever leased to the reserve.
That record amount of water required a large payment, another complication. The Nature Conservancy stepped in as a key partner, providing technical expertise and fundraising to add to the state鈥檚 contribution so the nation received market value for its water, Vigil says. In the end, the tribe received a total of $1.76 million for the lease, with the state paying $650,000 and the Nature Conservancy $1.1 million.
The lease also represents a major new opportunity for New Mexico tribes. Vigil has been working on water issues with tribes in the basin for years, and currently is co-facilitator of the Water and Tribes Initiative. He says tribes have been left out of negotiations on the management of the Colorado River, despite holding over 20 percent of the basin鈥檚 water rights.
The new lease could have a ripple effect. 鈥淗opefully, it sets the structure and model for other tribes to take advantage of鈥� opportunities for water transactions, or other agreements, he says.
And according to Vigil, the lease to the reserve connects to the Jicarilla Apache Nation鈥檚 values. Replenishing the river is 鈥渏ust perfect,鈥� he says, since the nation was a 鈥渇ounding participant鈥� of the recovery program for the endangered fishes.
A few miles from the PNM dam, the Navajo Nation rears razorback suckers in a collection of ponds fed by San Juan water. It鈥檚 an oasis of cottonwoods and bulrushes buzzing with dragonflies and flycatchers, surrounded by irrigated fields and scrubland. The nation and its recovery partners grow larval fish to maturity here, then implant them with tiny tracking tags before releasing them into the river.
Biologists reintroduce fish at several sites, including one downriver from the PNM dam. In the shadow of the imposing Hogback ridge and below Route 64鈥瞫 steady traffic, a small diversion carries water to Navajo farmers who cultivate corn, melons and alfalfa. The diversion was first built in the early 1900s, with a series of improvements made over the century since. Alongside the concrete dam, a deeper channel lined with boulders allows fish to bypass the barrier. Coyote willows line the sandy banks. And across the river, bright green cottonwoods and invasive Russian olive trees shade a heron fishing in the current.
鈥淗istorically, the San Juan River was a wide, slow, shallow river,鈥� says Diego Araujo, FWS biologist.
The sharp-keeled razorback sucker and the silvery Colorado pikeminnow evolved over millions of years along the sandy meanders and deep canyons of the river. Toothless pikeminnows could live up to 50 years and grow at least 5 feet long while razorback suckers reached lengths over 3 feet, with life spans up to four decades.
The warm backwaters and eddies on the San Juan鈥檚 historical floodplain were critical nurseries for both species, where young fish could feed and mature away from large predators.
鈥淭hrough manmade constructions and settlement, it has become narrow鈥� and channelized, with colder water and plants crowding the river鈥檚 banks, Araujo says.
June鈥檚 spring pulse of high water served as an important cue for the fish, simulating seasonal flooding from snowmelt, to 鈥渋nitiate their historical cues to migrate upstream,鈥� he says.
Yet despite efforts by the recovery partners, only a couple wild self-sustaining populations of either species in the greater Colorado Basin remain. Biologists have documented one small razorback sucker population with fish spawned in the wild consistently reaching adulthood, and one population of wild Colorado pikeminnow reaching adulthood in high numbers.
The razorback sucker 鈥渁re still effectively extinct in the wild in the upper basin,鈥� says Taylor McKinnon, southwest director for the Center for Biological Diversity.
McKinnon says increased river flows aren鈥檛 enough to save these two endangered species, but they are a 鈥渟tep in the right direction.鈥� While the fishes are adapted to desert rivers, he says, 鈥渢he relatively sudden onset of aridification and declining river flows really pose challenges鈥� to species vulnerable from habitat fragmentation and predation.
The long-term outlook for the Southwest is bleak; the region is in the grip of a two-decades-long megadrought. Some scientists argue that, unlike a traditional drought, it鈥檚 not temporary. They say the process of aridification, with increased temperatures that dry soils and reduce river flows, marks a transition to a new environment of greater water scarcity.
The San Juan River Basin Recovery Implementation Program established flow targets to sustain the river and keep fish alive, but Fish and Wildlife Service Program Coordinator Melissa Mata, says 鈥渢hey鈥檙e getting harder to meet when we鈥檙e in these arid drought conditions.鈥� She says the reserve could be a tool to help achieve flow goals. But not all years will be like 2023, with high water due in part to record snowpack and natural flows from undammed rivers like the Animas, which joins the San Juan in Farmington. Under drought conditions, she says, instead of creating replenishing floods, the water from the lease would support base flows, the minimum amount of water needed to maintain fish nurseries.
The expense of water leases and purchases presents a major challenge for the reserve, especially in high-demand river systems like the San Juan and the Rio Grande, where water purchases and leases can run into the millions of dollars.
Yet state lawmakers have underfunded the Strategic Water Reserve, according to the New Mexico Water Policy and Infrastructure Task Force, a group convened by the Office of the State Engineer last year.
Interstate Stream Commission Director Hannah Riseley-White says the lack of consistent funding from the Legislature means the reserve is underutilized.
鈥淚deally, the state would have a big pot of money that we could use that we could depend on,鈥� Riseley-White says.
鈥淣on-reverting鈥� money, that can鈥檛 be clawed back by the Legislature in tough economic times, 鈥渨ould allow us to negotiate significant water rights purchases in other basins, including the Middle Rio Grande. Those efforts take time,鈥� she says.
That means the state has missed out on opportunities. Riseley-White told a legislative committee in February she had to turn down an offer for coveted pre-1907 Middle Rio Grande water rights because of a lack of funds.
In the 2023 legislative session, Sen. Liz Stefanics, D-Cerrillos, introduced a bill to provide $25 million to the reserve. The bill did not advance; instead the reserve received a $7.5 million budget appropriation.
鈥淚t sounds like a great amount of money to the public,鈥� Stefanics says. 鈥淏ut it鈥檚 really not when you think of all the water settlements and needs that we have in our state.鈥�
Conflicts over the major interstate compacts have proven extremely complex and costly. New Mexico is awaiting approval of a settlement resolving a years-long dispute with Texas regarding the Rio Grande Compact. And while a historic agreement was struck earlier this year between the states of the Colorado River Compact, officials are still negotiating the details.
鈥淕iven increasing water scarcity due to climate change, it鈥檚 going to be increasingly difficult for New Mexico to comply with our interstate obligations,鈥� Riseley-White says. But the reserve gives the state more control over water deliveries to help meet those requirements, she says.
Adrian Oglesby, director of University of New Mexico鈥檚 Utton Center, a natural resources research center, says the reserve provides the state with much-needed flexibility when it comes to responding to crises like the current heat season.
鈥淒oing a water transaction to try to move water someplace where we need to protect something, in the face of these incredible temperatures, that鈥檚 just not practical,鈥� he says鈥攊t takes years to negotiate water leases. But once water is banked in the Strategic Water Reserve, the state can 鈥渕anage it creatively.鈥�
Despite being created 18 years ago, the reserve lacks recognition, and not just by the public.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 believe that many legislators either understand what the Strategic Water Reserve fund is about, or they鈥檙e not prioritizing it, when they look at all the needs of the state,鈥� Stefanics says.
Stefanics says the reserve 鈥渉as never been fully appropriated.鈥� Legislators have funded it inconsistently since its creation in 2005, some years allocating zero appropriations. The state clawed back funds three times, and according to a recent analysis by Think New Mexico, by the end of 2022 (prior to this year鈥檚 appropriation) the reserve had just $300,000 in available funds.
The term of the state鈥檚 lease with the Jicarilla Apache Nation spans 10 years but so far is only funded for one year. Celene Hawkins, Colorado River Tribal Partnerships Program Director for the Nature Conservancy, says they will continue to support fundraising 鈥渢hrough the life of this agreement.鈥� The 2023 appropriation only applies to the current year, which means Riseley-White will return to the Legislature next year for funding to keep supplementing the San Juan鈥檚 flows.
Since hopes for a good monsoon evaporated under the summer鈥檚 relentless heat, the river鈥檚 spring infusion of water may prove even more critical.
鈥淭he future of water in New Mexico is just less water,鈥� Oglesby says. 鈥淎 lot less water.鈥� That future includes hotter temperatures, which New Mexicans have felt acutely this summer. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 going to impact our watersheds and our fire regimes and our ability to maintain any kind of instream flows鈥� to support rivers, 鈥渓et alone water deliveries,鈥� to farmers and cities, he says.
Tribes must be included in the state鈥檚 conversations about water, Vigil says, not least because the Jicarilla Apache Nation and the Navajo Nation are two of the largest water rights holders.
But their contributions go beyond the material. 鈥淲e can add some of these nuances,鈥� he says, 鈥渋n terms of the spiritual aspect of how we think about water.鈥�
Plus, the state can鈥檛 solve its water conflicts on its own, Vigil says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 going to take the state sovereigns to be involved in it, and in a partnership role.鈥� The question, Vigil says, is, 鈥淗ow are we going to collectively build this water future together?鈥�
This story was published in partnership with the and funded by a grant from The Water Desk, a project of the Center for Environmental Journalism at the University of Colorado Boulder. waterdesk.org