Day: October 3, 2026

In #Colorado, the majestic ponderosa pines are dying: A historic #drought, #ClimateChange and a tiny beetle put 600,000 acres of Ponderosa pine at risk. Already, their gray skeletons line the highways — Jennifer Oldham (capitalandmain.com)

Pine trees killed by mountain pine beetles cover the hillside on Tuesday, May 12, 2026 near Foxton, Colorado. Ponderosa pine forests in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains are experiencing elevated mortality rates from the pine beetles as their populations expand in part due to a warming climate and drought conditions. (Photo by Michael Ciaglo/Capital and Main/LightHawk)

Click the link to read the article on the Capital & Main website (Jennifer Oldham):

September 30, 2026

The white Cessna banked right to reveal dense forests of Douglas fir, pines and quaking aspen in varying shades of green bathed in the early morning light. Yet secreted under the layered bark of some pines is a pest whose upcoming flight places Colorado’s highest concentration of real estate and infrastructure values at risk. 

Damage wrought by the mountain pine beetle is already evident in thousands of dead and dying red-needled ponderosa pine knitted throughout these stands. Their gray skeletons line highways, heighten already elevated wildfire risk and threaten watersheds that millions of residents rely on for clean drinking water.

On some mountain properties about 40 miles west of Denver most every pine is dead. Many residents cannot afford to remove the infested century-old ponderosas. One quote ran $15,000 an acre. The growing price tag to mitigate the damage and protect high-value trees from the next onslaught presents a quandary for local, state and federal agencies.

An historic drought weakened ponderosa pines, allowing the beetles to chew their way through hillsides of trees bordering mountain towns at the gateway to popular ski areas and hiking trails. Impacted acreage increased 148% to 5,544 acres in 2025, when compared with 2024, alarming foresters, communities and lawmakers.

This year, the breadth of the insect’s footprint and the intensity of its attack is expected to expand exponentially. At stake: More than 600,000 acres of ponderosa pine forest woven throughout areas where about 4 million people live in nine counties on both sides of the Rocky Mountains.

“We anticipate there to be anywhere from twice as much, to three times as much, activity as we saw last year,” Dan West, an entomologist with the Colorado State Forest Service, told Capital & Main in June.

“That is startling.” 

A U.S. Forest Service map of the endemic pest’s potential to spread through 2030 is equally startling: Dark red blotches indicating infestation intensity cover forests at every latitude from Boulder, north of Denver, to the Black Forest, where high-end suburbs hug Colorado Springs, to areas behind Pikes Peak to the south. The counties most at risk contain thousands of acres of ponderosas. Some of the pines sit just outside the state’s Capitol.

To minimize the spread, foresters are prioritizing early detection and response. It’s no easy task. Forests harbor twice as many trees as those better able to resist a beetle outbreak. A century of fire suppression and more intense and extreme weather caused by heat-trapping emissions from expanding oil and gas extraction in Colorado and elsewhere contributed to the dire outlook. 

Across the country, climate change is ravaging ecosystems, bringing more robust storms, rising sea levels, record-setting conflagrations and fatal heat waves. In Colorado, the staggering die-off of the majestic pines is difficult to stomach.

To track the outbreak, West regularly hikes to infected stands to inspect last year’s broods. What he found this spring surprised him: Females who burrowed into large green trees in 2025 laid double the number of larvae the scientist observed in previous infestations. The lack of sub-zero temperatures this winter — which marked the state’s lowest snowpack on record — ensured their survival.

Peeling the bark off ponderosa pines with his hatchet, West counted between 60 and 120 larvae coming off each female pine beetle. The insects tunnel their way into the trunk, impeding the tree’s water and nutrient supply and killing it within a year. During wetter years, trees are healthier and can more easily repel the beetle with sap. This year, many are defenseless against the rice-sized insect’s relentless assault.

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Mountain Pine Beetle kill via USGS.

Its small stature belies its ability to wreak havoc. The last major outbreak, which spanned 1996 to 2013 and decimated about 82%, or about 3.4 million acres, of the state’s pine forests, is fresh in Coloradans’ minds. In some ski communities, such as Winter Park, entire mountainsides of trees perished, dramatically altering the landscape.

The Cameron Peak fire soon after it started on Aug. 13, 2020. By Sept. 11, the fire had grown to more than 102,000 acres (now >200,000 acres) and was not expected to be considered out until Oct. 31. Photo credit: InciWeb via The Colorado Sun
East Troublesome Fire. Photo credit: Northern Water

Dead lodgepole pines intensified the two largest wildfires in state history in 2020. The Cameron Peak Fire swept through 326 square miles of forest in Larimer and Jackson counties and Rocky Mountain National Park, along with 492 structures, while the East Troublesome Fire burned through Grand County and Rocky Mountain National Park, reducing to ash over 300 square miles and 500 structures and killing two.

The insects started to migrate from higher elevations to coniferous forests, but a historic 2013 rainstorm stopped their advance. Now, following the state’s warmest climatological spring on record, the beetles are poised again to expand their territory.

Left: Pitch tubes, small nodules of yellowish-red sap, are an external sign of a beetle infestation. Photo: Steve Rudolph, CSFS. Right: Bark removed from a lodgepole pine tree reveals burrowing mountain pine beetles. Photo: CSFS.

Their advance threatens Denver Water’s 2.5 million acre watershed — at least a quarter of which is covered with ponderosa pine. The utility has spent $96 million since 2010 to restore forests in this region, including spraying some pines in hopes of protecting them from infestation, said Madelene McDonald, watershed planning manager.

“The threat of high intensity wildfire is not theoretical — it’s one we’ve experienced,” she added. “High intensity fires lead to brown, sediment-laden water flowing into treatment plants, which is really expensive to treat.”

McDonald is among 39 people who sit on a Ponderosa Mountain Pine Beetle Task Force created by an executive order Democratic Gov. Jared Polis issued in December after West, the entomologist, and the state forester warned him to get ahead of the outbreak.

The governor stressed an urgent need to educate residents, protect high value pines and prioritize the removal of diseased trees that harbor broods. This work must be planned around the insect’s annual flight to find new trees between June and September. The task force is charged with quickly mobilizing resources to mitigate the infestation, which has overwhelmed residents and muncipalities alike.

“It’s hard emotionally as somebody who cares deeply about our forests — in areas of our district there’s not a tree left,” said Jess Moore, wildland project coordinator for Evergreen Fire & Rescue. “We encourage homeowners to reach out to contractors, arborists and foresters so they can get the best support they can to protect their current trees.” The “sheer volume of impact” has prompted some residents to take such steps, and to thin their trees, she said.

It’s expensive and time consuming. Just ask retired environmental science professor Harv Teitelbaum, who lives in Evergreen on a wooded property that’s long, narrow and hilly. He teaches people how to climb trees, including pines. Yet the infestation required him, with the help of volunteers and a tree care service, to remove 45 ponderosas from his land. The bill: $10,000. Another 40 or so are dead or dying.

“This has been a lot more devastating — in the past, you would have isolated trees here or there that were killed,” he said. “This is more widespread.”

A few years ago, Teitelbaum lost his favorite training tree, a ponderosa nicknamed “Gramps,” to the beetle. This year, to protect his remaining pines he stapled pheromone packets to their trunks and injected some with a chemical treatment. He hopes it works so he can continue to train new generations to climb on his property.

“Up there, you see a country you haven’t seen,” he said. “The tree is a living, breathing thing. You feel it swaying, and you’re breathing oxygen it’s giving off from its crown.”

About a dozen miles south near Conifer, Brad Huddleston used similar methods to protect pines on his property. The arborist founded Splintered Forest, a fire mitigation company, 22 years ago after losing his family home in a wildfire. He advises clients to inject large pines with insecticide before the tree’s green needles start to change color. The every-other-year treatment runs up to $300 per tree. Pheromone packets and spraying, which cost up to $25 a tree, are other alternatives. The pheromone treatments release a scent that tricks beetles into thinking a tree is full, causing them to go elsewhere.

“A lot of homeowners take solace when I tell them that despite them seeing major beetle destruction along our two main corridors, their properties are not destined for the same thing,” he said. “We can turn the tide on individual trees.”

Fallen trees lay crisscrossing each other on the ground in a dense forest of mostly standing dead trees
Trees killed by mountain pine beetles crisscross the forest floor in Grand County. Photo: CSFS.

Huddleston’s company has been busy removing hazardous diseased trees near homes and access roads and thinning overgrown stands. The downed wood must be covered to smother the beetle, or hauled away to sites designed to handle infested timber, known as “hot logs.”

Such work increased this year. Jefferson County, home to both Evergreen and Conifer, collected 10.3 million pounds of slash, or woody debris, in 2025, up from 9.5 million in 2024. The response underscored the stakes — the region’s wildfire risk is 98% higher than that of counties nationwide, said Jefferson County Commissioner Lesley Dahlkemper, who is the Democratic nominee for lieutenant governor. 

“I went to a recent breakfast at the Conifer Chamber of Commerce, and the scale of the crisis and how its impacting constituents became crystal clear,” she recounted. “I asked who was dealing with mountain pine beetles on their land and every hand went up.” 

Little infrastructure exists statewide to accommodate the amount of wood now coming off properties. The dry winter prompted counties statewide to ban slash burning, which some rural landowners rely on in part to dispose of beetle-kill. This practice allows property owners to burn small piles of wood on their property, in some cases with a permit and during certain weather conditions.

Clear Creek watershed. Credit: Upper Clear Creek Watershed Association

In smaller counties, a reduced tax base provides officials no wiggle room for mitigation funding. About 24 miles northwest of Conifer in Idaho Springs, lawmakers are seeking funds to mitigate the damage and to take protective measures. Of major concern is the stability of the Clear Creek Watershed, which 450,000 people rely on for drinking water.

“We are kind of raising the flag — we just need more work, faster,” said George Marlin, a Clear Creek County commissioner. “It’s complicated to accomplish mitigation on interlocking federal, state and private land — we need all of these entities to have adequate funding to get it done.”

The challenge Marlin and his colleagues face is evident from the white Cessna’s window. Red and brown ponderosas crown hillsides ringing the former mining town. The mosaic prompted pilot Evan Anderman, a volunteer with LightHawk, a nonprofit that works with pilots who donate their time and aircraft for conservation causes, to bank his craft yet again.

What’s most worrisome is not yet visible from his aircraft. For every red tree, there are between 2½ and 10 green infested trees. In the early stages of infestation, these trees are only identifiable by sawdust at their base, sap on the trunk, or tunnels under the bark. West urges homeowners to prioritize these trees for removal.

Residents in Jefferson and Clear Creek counties are getting the message. People in both areas approved tax increases in 2025 for fire protection services. Identifying additional funding for wildfire mitigation is among action items Polis’ task force included in a June 30 work plan. The document identified numerous gaps in the current outbreak response. 

These included “fragmented public communication,” inconsistent coordination across governmental boundaries, a constrained workforce and “uneven community and landowner engagement.” It also contained a stark warning: “The outbreak will persist for a decade or more, trees will die at a visible scale, and fire risk will remain elevated.”

Keith McMillan knows how beetle-kill influences fire risk. The former fire captain worked 21 years with Breckenridge’s Red, White & Blue Fire Protection District. The ski town lost 90% of its lodgepole pines between 1999 and 2013. Fire risk is highest when red and brown needles remain on the pines — they can help speed a blaze through the canopy, he said.

McMillan, who today is the only fire mitigation specialist for a homeowner’s association in the West, is using his experience to encourage residents in Ken-Caryl Ranch, a 4,400-home Denver subdivision, to protect their ponderosa pines. 

The retired firefighter advises homeowners in what he calls an “urban forest” to spray or use pheromone packets on trees, or to remove them if they are too close to homes. It’s emotional work. People are attached to trees they planted when they moved in, or to celebrate a child’s birthday. And he doesn’t have enforcement power.

“We are trying to stay ahead of it — my No. 1 challenge is public perception” of public safety risks that accompany large tree die-offs, McMillan said. “We are just on the edge of the mountain pine beetle epidemic making it to our land.”

A young Ponderosa Pine at the Dolores Canyon Overlook September 16, 2026.

#Utah is paying farmers to conserve #ColoradoRiver water. Is it working? — The Salt Lake Tribune #COriver #aridification

The Colorado River flows through seven states and provides water to 40 million people. Photo credit: USBR

Click the link to read the article on The Salt Lake Tribune website (Brooke Larsen). Here’s an excerpt:

September 30, 2026

Utah is betting that voluntary conservation like this can help protect the state as the Colorado River shrinks and the seven states that depend on it fight over who should use less. 

“We want to develop a block of water in Powell with Utah’s name on it, so if we have to do mandatory curtailment, that’s the first block of water that we have to use to meet that demand,” [Kent] Stilson said…

Those states — Arizona, California and Nevada — and Upper Basin states — Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming — have been in tense negotiations about how to share the diminishing Colorado River. With no deal reached, the Bureau of Reclamation moved forward with a plan that requires the Lower Basin to conserve 1.25 million acre-feet of water next year, with steeper cuts possible in the future.  The plan includes no mandatory cuts in the Upper Basin, just a goal to conserve 200,000 acre-feet per year. Given the Upper Basin’s limited conservation in the past, that’s a “very ambitious goal,” said Eric Kuhn, retired manager of the Colorado River Water Conservation District. The burden of conservation has been a major sticking point among the states: if the Lower Basin has to take cuts, those states want the Upper Basin to commit to measurable conservation. But Utah and its neighbors argue that Mother Nature already forces shortages in dry years. If states can’t agree, the Lower Basin could sue the Upper Basin over the Colorado River Compact in an attempt to force cuts to water use. So Utah is preparing. By paying water users to temporarily send water downstream, it’s hoping to bank credit to pay for future cuts.

#Drought has decimated #Colorado’s biggest reservoir, and the livelihoods of those who depend on it — Colorado Public Radio #GunnisonRiver #COriver #aridification

Blue Mesa reservoir seen in August 2026 at about 21% full. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM

Click the link to read the article on the Colorado Public Radio website (Stina Sieg). Here’s an excerpt:

September 30, 2026

Anyone can see that something is deeply wrong at Blue Mesa Reservoir on the Western Slope. It’s historically been the biggest body of water in the state. But not anymore.  The deep, long-lasting drought has shrunk it so much it lost that title to Lake Granby up north. Now it looks like someone’s opened the drain on a gigantic, rocky bathtub, with only a bit of shiny blue water pooled at the bottom…For 60 years, Blue Mesa Reservoir has stored water that flows to communities and generates electricity. It’s also a popular recreation spot, a 20-mile-long lake sandwiched between Montrose and Gunnison. Growing up on the edge of this vital water source, Riser has watched decades of visitors bobbing on their motorboats and jet skis, with their coolers and kids, dogs and music…Del Piccolo said he’s never seen algae “that blue and vibrant.”[…]The neon-blue algae is like a warning sign of just how bad things are at Blue Mesa. There are actual warning signs posted, too, saying the water is now dangerous to people and pets. Sonja Chavez, executive director of the Upper Gunnison River Water Conservancy District, thinks it’s the worst Blue Mesa has ever looked…

Colorado SNOTEL basin-filled map May 31, 2026.

Blue Mesa is not a naturally occurring lake but instead is man-made, designed by the federal government to store water for downstream communities, farms and ranches. It also generates electricity and is federally mandated to release water that provides habitat for threatened and endangered fish, including the native razorback sucker and humpback chub. Federal officials take all of that into consideration when they determine how much water to discharge. This year, they were faced with an abysmal snowpack — that accumulation of snow that builds up throughout the winter. Chavez believes the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation, which controls how much, and when, water flows out of Blue Mesa, needs to adjust more quickly to lean water years like this one.

Chavez thinks the BoR was releasing too much water too early in the season, which drove Blue Mesa into crisis.  In an email statement, the agency said it does work from 24-month forecasts of how much water will melt into reservoirs, but that it also adjusts water releases as conditions change.

“Moving forward, Reclamation is already working with our forecasting partners and water users on ways to improve modeling for dry year water use, enhance forecasting … and review historic operations to identify opportunities for increased drought resiliency,” said Bart Deming, BoR Western Colorado Area office manager.

Aspinall Unit dams

What if? What would a #ColoradoRiver Compact Call mean for #Colorado? A significant Compact tripwire may hit next month and the Lower Basin States might take the Upper Basin States to court — Ken Neubecker (Ken’s Substack) #COriver #aridification

Photo credit: Ken Newbecker

Click the link to read the article on Ken’s Substack (Ken Neubecker):

September 16, 2026

Walter and I frequently walk along the Colorado River in Glenwood Springs’ Two Rivers Park, where the Roaring Fork joins in. The Colorado has been running reddish brown lately due to some intense rain and blowouts from small tributaries upstream, gullies that normally are dry. Not this summer. The Roaring Fork runs clear, creating a distinct division between the flows, a narrow ribbon of clear cold water that runs alongside the warmer and muddier stream for a long ways before they mix.

Both streams and most others are extremely low, even for late summer. Many of the USGS gauges have exclamation points next to them on the map, meaning “extremely below average”. There are rocks exposed to the air that I’ve never seen before. What little monsoon rain we had didn’t do anything, not even for the dry soils that will likely soak up much of the snow melt next spring before it can reach the rivers.

Years ago when I’d go to water meetings and conferences, back when people referred to our current situation as an unusually long drought, there was some talk about the Colorado River Compact’s requirement that the Upper Basin not cause the river flow to drop below 75 million acre feet (maf) over a ten year running average. Oh, we’ll see that train wreck coming with plenty of time to do something, they all said. That train wreck is now happening. The engine is sliding over the cliff as the States argue about the menu back in the dining car. All that really happened was serious can kicking along the tracks.

The first Upper Basin “tripwire” of 82.5 maf, the 75 maf plus 7.5 maf for Mexico could come as soon as next month. Now the can being kicked is full of lawyers.

So, what does the 1922 Compact actually say? The meat is in Article III:

This is what each basin could expect every year.

This is where the additional 1.5 maf per year, split as 750,000 acre feet due from each basin comes in. There was no agreement on Mexico’s share of the river in 1922, or in 1928 when the Compact was finally ratified. That came in 1944 with a formal treaty regarding Mexico’s share in both the Colorado and Rio Grande Rivers. The Compact negotiators anticipated such an agreement, hence paragraph (c). What they didn’t anticipate were decades of no “surplus”. That’s another story.

The more serious tripwire comes next:

October 1, 2026, may well see the flow at Lee Ferry cross the first line in the sand of a dry riverbed if the ten year running average drops below 82.5 maf for the first time since Lake Powell began filling. Back then water was held in the new reservoir to fill it. Everyone was OK with that. The Colorado River flows upstream were still quite robust on average and Lake Mead had plenty to satisfy the Compact requirements for the Lower Basin and Mexico as Powell filled.

Not anymore. Powell is shrinking rapidly. As of this writing the reservoir is at just under 22% full, and only about 27 feet from the elevation where the dam can no longer run water through the power plants penstocks. And the outflow is still about twice the inflow.

The monsoon rains turning the river reddish brown in Glenwood won’t help.

So what happens if that 82.5 maf tripwire is triggered and one or more states of the Lower Basin place a Compact Call?

It’s complicated.

It would mean a lawsuit between the states, which would go straight to the US Supreme Court. No lower courts would be involved, and it could take years to resolve. The last time there was a lawsuit about Colorado River apportionment it was between Arizona and California. The case was filed in 1952. The Court appointed a Special Master to work it out and recommend a solution. That took ten years. The case was finally argued in the Court in 1963, with a final decision handed down in 1964. That decision finalized the legal structure for allocations in the Lower Basin, based on the 1928 Boulder Canyon Act.

Twelve years for a resolution. We don’t have that much time for any new case on the Colorado River, especially with how the Upper Basin might comply with Article III, paragraph (d), and Mexico’s share thrown in.

In 2018 and 2019 the Colorado River Conservation District (River District) commissioned a risk study to look at how flows might augment storage in Lake Powell as well as what might happen should Lake Powell ever reach a level where Compact deliveries dropped to a point where the 82.5 maf over ten years wasn’t met, causing a Compact Call. It was, in light of today’s situation and the worsening hydrology, a tad optimistic. The first point in the Executive Summary’s Takeaway states:

The critical low level used for the analysis was 3525 feet, the Bureau of Reclamations critical low as well. Today, September 16, 2026, the elevation at Glen Canyon dam is just under 3517. It continues to drop every day, counting down to October 1.

If the Lower Basin states place a Compact Call it very well could be “catastrophic” for water users in the Upper Basin. But there are scenarios where it could be less so. At the very worst all diversions junior to November 24, 1922, or possibly June 25, 1929 when the Boulder Canyon Act was signed, would be curtailed, cut off, until the Compact deficiency is resolved. But that truly is a worst case scenario.

Curtailment would likely be based on what the flow deficit is at Lee Ferry when the call is placed and what increase through Upper Basin curtailment might make up the deficit. Diversions could be cut on a sliding scale, with the most junior taking the biggest hit, going back from today to that date in 1922 or 1929. We wouldn’t probably notice much at first as October 1, the start of the new water year, coincides pretty closely with the end of the irrigation season for most.

Colorado transmountain diversions via the State Engineer’s office

The River Districts study looked at various scenarios for Colorado, based on appropriation dates, river basins vs entire West Slope, and amounts of water that might be needed to satisfy the deficiency at Lee Ferry. The biggest hits would be in the Colorado River mainstem, especially with the large trans-mountain diversions taking water to Eastern Slope cities and farms. The Front Range cities, where most of Colorado’s population resides and who rely on as much as 50% or more of their water supply coming from the Colorado River, along with the significant agricultural areas along the South Platte and Arkansas Rivers, could see some pretty significant cuts regardless.

The State, through the Colorado Water Conservation Board (CWCB) and Attorney General’s office did a Compact compliance study some years ago but is keeping that confidential. I can’t blame them. It could become a basis for court arguments and negotiations should a compact call become a reality. The River District study could be as well. It’s worth a read if you are really interested in all this, and anyone who uses water in Colorado, East or West, to fill a tea pot from the faucet, flush a toilet or raise crops should be. They River District study can be found here or on their website.

Monsoonal moisture is still floating water laden clouds over us today, and some have dropped a good bit of rain. But that won’t help much. We are facing a “super El Nino” this winter, which may or may not provide a healthy snowpack. Anything would be better than last winter, except a repeat of that dry season. In any case it will take many years of “normal” snowfall to begin to refill the reservoirs. Given the trend of aridity and climate warming that is not something we should be counting on.

Perhaps, hopefully, the most important part of the compact written at the beginning will be called upon:

Of course the rub here will be in how “equitable division” is defined, and I imagine this could take much of the courts time in a Compact Call. In 1922 that meant an equal share of the rivers water for each basin. Now it could hinge on where the greater “value” is, and what that means. Back in 1922 “beneficial uses” were pretty straight forward. Now there are many more uses of the river deemed “beneficial”.

The needs and values today are quite different from what they were 104 years ago. The Tribes, the environment, recreation, local economies and traditions. All were either excluded in 1922 or covered by broad undefined ambiguity. Climate change wasn’t heard of, even though some scientists at the time had warned about it.

It’s a brave new world we are entering. Business as usual based on a 104 year old piece of paper and the other paper agreements founded on it won’t help us adapt to that world, nor will wishful thinking and other optimistic dreams based on hope. As Brad Udall noted during a recent PBS Newshour Tipping Point presentation, we need to re-think the whole thing. It won’t be easy, but as Udall pointed out it could be good. We need to rethink both what the river can provide and the reality of adapting to that. We also need to rethink the “values” we base our water needs on. It’s not just about endless economic growth anymore. Throwing lawyers at each other only enriches lawyers while it impoverishes us.

Meanwhile Walter and I will continue our ramblings with the river. We’ll also stop by the River District offices to say hi to the many friends there, to add some stress relief and try to keep their heads from graying any faster than they already are.

Map of the Colorado River drainage basin, created using USGS data. By Shannon1 Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0

Toxic algal blooms are spreading across the West: #ClimateChange is increasing the frequency of the blooms. Here’s what you need to know — Christine Peterson (High Country News)

Sand island on a cloudy day on the Columbia River in September 2026. Evan Benally Atwood

Click the link to read the article on the High Country News website (Christine Peterson):

October 2, 2026

By the time Tanya Bachman noticed something was wrong with her border collie, Jax, it was too late.

She and her family had taken their boat and two dogs out on the Columbia River near Portland, Oregon, in August 2024 to celebrate her birthday, a summer ritual as important to them as fireworks on the Fourth of July. That afternoon, Bachman let the dogs loose on an island beach to play. When Jax returned, his tail drooped.

As Bachman tried to attach Jax’s leash, he vomited, began convulsing and then lost consciousness. Bachman screamed for her husband, and the couple raced the dog to a veterinarian. It was no use; less than an hour after Bachman noticed Jax’s droopy tail, he was dead.

“It was just so shocking,” she said.

The veterinarian told them that Jax had likely ingested a toxic, algae-like microorganism called cyanobacteria, or blue-green algae, from a benthic bloom, a phenomenon scientists began documenting in the West about five years ago. Benthic blooms, which resemble globs of snot, form on stream bottoms or submerged logs or rocks, sometimes breaking free and rising to the surface. They are less familiar to Westerners than planktonic blooms, which form on the surface of lakes and reservoirs and look more like floating grass clippings or spilled green paint.

The cyanobacteria that cause planktonic and benthic blooms have existed in Earth’s waters for billions of years. Excess nitrogen and phosphorus from agricultural fertilizers or air pollution can cause them to proliferate. Research suggests that climate change is also contributing to more frequent and widespread blooms as warmer water stagnates during hot, dry years like this one, said Hannah Bonner, a professor and water scientist at Brigham Young University who studies benthic cyanobacteria.

It’s a cruel twist: As the West warms, once-inviting cool-water refuges may become a threat not just to pets, but to people and wildlife.

Cyanobacteria in both benthic and planktonic blooms can secrete toxic chemicals that irritate human skin, or, if consumed, cause nausea or even liver damage. The same toxins can kill any pets, livestock and wildlife that drink the contaminated water or lick their wet fur. No backpacking water–filtration systems can removecyanobacteria toxins.

Most Western states only began tracking planktonic blooms — which are easier to spot and monitor than benthic blooms — in response to health concerns in Eastern waters. In 2014, toxic cyanobacteria blooms in Lake Erie shut down Toledo, Ohio’s drinking water system. Wyoming began monitoring blooms in 2018, first with satellite imagery and then, starting in 2021, with on-the-ground water sampling. Utah ramped up monitoring in 2016. California and Oregon’s programs, which are among the oldest in the West, started about 20 years ago.

Benthic Cyanobacteria. Photo credit: USGS

Results from those and other programs suggest that planktonic blooms are popping up earlier in the season in more lakes and reservoirs and are lasting longer into the fall. Some experts believe the reported increases could be the result of more monitoring. But a nationwide Environmental Protection Agency study published in 2021 found that increased nutrients like nitrogen and phosphorus are combining with the warming and drying effects of climate change to create more and longer-lasting blooms.

“We’re affecting so much of the land surface and creating disturbances and introducing nutrients,” said Theodore Dreher, a microbiology professor emeritus at Oregon State University. Unlike climate change, where one continent’s emissions can affect the climate of another, nutrient pollution’s sources are often localized and can be more easily regulated. Utah, for example, has implemented regulations requiring improvements at places like wastewater treatment plants. It’s also created voluntary incentives for treating agricultural runoff and restoring floodplains. The combination has helped stem nutrient flow into Utah Lake, near Provo, where blooms were once so bad that people sold T-shirts with the slogan “Ski the Scum.”

In order to address the causes effectively, however, officials need to collect water quality data, not just monitor for blooms. Unfortunately, not enough are doing so, said Justin Hayes, Northern Rockies conservation director with American Rivers. “States need to take this really seriously and start trying to solve it rather than just warning people.”

Researchers are also still struggling to understand why recent blooms are turning up in unusual places. Planktonic blooms in high-elevation lakes far from septic systems and feedlots are becoming more common, possibly because of runoff from melting glaciers or atmospheric deposition of nitrogen and phosphorus from dust and air pollution, Bonner said. And benthic blooms may become more common as snowpack declines and produces less snowmelt. At the same time, parts of the West are seeing fewer monsoon rainstorms that can flush algal mats away.

“I was just in the mountains last weekend, in a pristine creek, and they were everywhere,” she said.

Bonner doesn’t think people should stay home to avoid blooms, but said they do need to know what to look for. A benthic bloom “is like a big ball of snot,” she said. “Find a stick, poke it, lift it up, and if you see hairlike strands or fibers, most of the time it’s not cyanobacteria or toxic. If it is a boogery consistency, it likely is.”

Meanwhile, more states are installing signs, sending email alerts, and posting public-health advisories that warn recreationists about toxic blooms.

And Bachman keeps talking to local and regional media, hoping Jax’s death will save someone else’s pet. “Everything upstream flows downstream,” Bachman said. “Just because you have a patch of it upstream doesn’t mean it won’t move down to you.”

Reporting for this story was supported by the Mighty Arrow Family Foundation.

Toxic Algae website from the Colorado Department of Health and Environment.

The Benefit of Generating Power Locally

by Robert Marcos

There’s a growing shift toward locally generated power, sometimes called Distributed Energy Resources (DER) or Non-Wire Solutions, (NWS). While its far from replacing large privately-owned utilities, it represents one of the fastest-growing movements in energy policy and technology.

America’s power grids are not only expensive to build and to maintain, they’re also highly vulnerable to extreme weather events and even terrorism. One obvious solution is to generate power where its used instead of using a vast network of high-power transmission lines to convey power to where its needed.

1. Why Centralized Power is More Expensive

• Massive Infrastructure Overhead: Building and maintaining thousands of miles of high-voltage transmission lines, long-distance towers, and step-down substations requires hundreds of billions in capital expenditure—costs passed directly to ratepayer electric bills.

• Line Losses (Energy Wasted in Transit): Moving power over long distances dissipates 5% to 10% of total generated electricity as heat. Consumers pay for power that burns off before ever reaching their meters.

• Surging Interconnection Costs: Connecting a new massive utility-scale plant to the main regional grid often requires costly regional grid upgrades and takes 5 to 7 years in utility review queues.

2. Why Centralized Power is More Vulnerable

• Single Points of Failure: A single downed transmission line (from wildfires, storm winds, or physical attacks) or an issue at a regional substation can instantly sever power to hundreds of thousands of homes at once.

• Cascading Grid Outages: Interconnected long-distance grids are susceptible to wide-area blackouts when an unexpected surge or fault trips neighboring circuit breakers across entire state lines.

• Extreme Weather Exposure: High-voltage lines run through unpopulated, exposed terrain, making them far harder to monitor, protect, and quickly repair during major severe weather events.

3. How Local Power Resolves Those Issues

Locally generated power (such as rooftop solar, microgrids, and local battery storage), generates electricity close to where its needed. This obviates the need for long-distance transmission infrastructure, increases reliability, minimizes heat-loss waste, and allows local micro-grids to stay powered up even when the main regional grid goes down.