ben's blog

I was raised by an Apsáalooke/Crow matriarch who also came from strong, independent Apsáalookbia/Crow women. Apsáalooke people are a matrilineal and, traditionally, an egalitarian society. It is innately known that we have three mothers: the earth, our homes, and our birth mothers. We are taught that we must respect all three mothers and do what we must so that they stay protected. Our mothers are our first teachers and have taught us much of what we know as Apsáalooke people. We were taught the stories of Hisshiishduwiia/Red Woman, the Chíilapsahpua/Seven Sacred Big Horn Rams, rock medicine, and old man coyote stories. In particular, it was the stories of Hisshiishduwiia/Red Woman and the seven sacred rams that struck a distinct chord with me. Both of these stories remind me of the inherent responsibility I have to protect all that has provided. I know that I only play a small role in protecting but I hope that role has a much larger impact than I can imagine.

It is said that when the last duck succeeded by bring mud to the water’s surface that Iichiikbaalia/First Maker created the earth and Biluke/Our side (referring to strictly Crow people) from those ground materials. After land was created, it was the feminine power who brought about the lifeline  that it was Hisshiishduwiia/Red Woman who created waterways. Apsáalooke elder, George Reed, states, “Red Woman appeared and pulled out her root digger and started scratching the earth and made the springs, creeks, and rivers. As the water flowed from the riparian areas, plants started to grow. Red Woman said . . . ‘If you are sick take the roots of the plants and eat and you will be healed’”(Bull Chief 2016). It was the might and doings of Red Woman that allowed water to flow in the land that we live on. It is now the duty of Awakkulé/Little People, because they “make sure that the rivers flow and the grass grows . . . [and] they take care of the Crows” (Grant Bulltail 2018).

Photo 1.  Location where I was raised and favorite swimming spot along the Little Bighorn River on the Crow Reservation. Courtesy: JoRee LaFrance (2019)

It is our duty, as Apsáalooke people, to pray for and give gifts to Awakkulé and to protect the land that we are merely borrowing from our children. We are also reminded of the time when Uuwaatisaash/Big Metal was saved by the Chíilapsahpua/Seven Sacred Big Horn Rams, and he was eventually raised among them. Uuwaatisaash/Big Metal became a prominent leader amongst Apsáalooke people, and we were taught that the rivers that flow through our home must always be named after the sacred seven rams. These rivers represent our identity as Apsáalooke, and our ancestors have taught as various ways that we must take care for the river. We are told to feed the river our finest meats when the cotton first falls, to jump in the freezing water after a sweat lodge ceremony, and to always respect water and Bimmuummaalakoolé/water beings that make their own in our shared waters.  I believe that the water is reflection of who we are because our sole identity as Apsáalooke people depends on this very life-source.

As a result of broken promised and inhumane federal policies, the Crow Reservation which is home to the various bands that make up Apsáalooke people decreased to a fractional size of 2.5 million square acres. Gratefully, we still live along the Big Horn and Little Bighorn Rivers and we have water rights to surface and groundwaters to sustain our people. I grew up along the Little Bighorn River and that flowing water is all I have ever known. We still rely on this river for domestic, municipal, tribal, individual, cultural, and spiritual uses. We still have the teachings of our ancestors and our language is still spoken. We are teachers, lawyers, scientists, health professionals, ranchers, descendants, caretakers, and the future of Apsáalooke people. I believe that is our time to act and to draw on our teachings to ensure our security as strong, resourceful, and thriving people.

Photo 2. Yellowtail Dam Reservoir also known as the Big Horn River Canyon. Near the location of where the seven sacred rams saved Big Metal. Courtesy: JoRee LaFrance (2019)

As I have acknowledged my role as a contemporary Apsáalookbia/Crow woman, I have found a way to braid my understandings of this world into a practical skillset that can provide my own efforts in protecting this way of being. With modern technology, I have been afforded the opportunity to take a closer look at the molecular level of what is happening in our water systems. As a second year PhD student in the University of Arizona Department of Environmental Sciences, I am researching surface water quality within the Little Bighorn River watershed. I aim to understand the impact on contaminant behaviors from the various water flows within the Little Bighorn River. The changing water flow occurs as a result of the changing seasons such as high flows in June when the snow is melted in the mountains, or the lowest flow of water in the winter when water is being stored in the ground and in snow-packs. I am working to identify contaminants such as heavy metals, pesticides, herbicides, and perfluoroalkyl substances better known as PFAS. These contaminants come from a variety of sources such as natural elements, mining activities, intense agricultural development, water treatment discharge points, and man-made products. I have taken it upon myself to determine what contaminants are elevated in the Little  Bighorn River to have a better understanding of its long-lasting impacts. I want to ensure that my people will always have access to clean, healthy water systems and that Bimmuummaalakoolé/water beings are always protected and respected Ultimately, I strive to support my tribe in their own efforts in setting their own water quality standards on the basis of cultural practices. This can be done under the Clean Water Act when a tribe is granted treatment-as-state status from the United State Environmental Protection Agency. This is absolutely crucial in the future of the quantity and quality of water on the Crow Reservation, home to Apsáalooke people.

Photo 3. During my first sampling campaign in the Little Bighorn River back in December 2019. Courtesy: JoRee LaFrance (2019)

As the seventh generation from Chief Pretty Eagle, the last principal chief of Apsáalooke people, it is my duty to do all that I can in order to protect the advancement and survivance of my people. It is the old stories and teachings that have informed the work that I do. As an Apsáalookbia/Crow woman, I take the teachings and independence from strong women like my mother, grandmothers, Biáwacheeitchish/women chiefs, and Hisshiishduwiia/Red Woman. If it had not been for the support, love, and teachings I have been fortunate to know such as those that come from Hisshiishduwiia/Red Woman and the Chíilapsahpua/Seven Sacred Big Horn Rams, I would not know where I would be. If it had not been for my family and people, I would not be where I am today. There is nothing more honorable than to have the opportunity to learn technical and professional skills to protect a being of water that has always provided for my ancestors, myself, and our future children. I know that the work that I do is much bigger than I am. I am forever grateful to be Apsáalooke and to come from our home. When my work inspires others to believe more in themselves that is when I know that I am fulfilling my purpose. My dream is that all Apsáalooke people can, unapologetically, be themselves and that I inspire the next generation of Apsáalooke scientists. 

Photo 4. Descendants of Chief Pretty Eagle along the banks of the Little Bighorn River. I am pictured with my grandfather, Joe Whiteclay, and my nephew. This is a four-generation photo. Courtesy: JoRee LaFrance (2019)

Over the past eight years, I have lived in five different states as I have been pursuing my dream of becoming an environmental microbiology and water quality research scientist.

As a native Floridian, I ventured to Michigan during my undergraduate degree and became interested in molecular genetics research. I focused on confocal microscopy analysis of tau protein in fruit flies to better understand potential drivers of Alzheimer’s disease and was a collegiate soccer player. After I graduated, I moved to rural Colorado to serve a term with AmeriCorps and work in a county public health office as a tobacco specialist. I provided math and literacy intervention to students in grades K-12 and ran an after-school program. While working in the county public health office, I was influential in changing the tobacco policy in the school district. I realized the importance of public health and headed to Louisiana for my MSPH.

It was during my time at Tulane University that I was introduced to microbial water quality and food safety. I began my research in the field with an evaluation of coliphage as a fecal indicator at recreational sites on Lake Pontchartrain to assess human health risk. My projects transitioned to an analysis of Vibrio spp. in oyster harvesting waters in Southeastern Louisiana. My masters work left me with a heightened interested in environmental drivers of water quality, Vibrio spp., oysters, and health.

In 2018, I started my PhD studying Environmental Health Science with a focus on microbial water quality and quantitative microbial risk assessment (QMRA) through the Mel and Enid Zuckerman College of Public Health. The interconnectedness of microbial water quality and human health from my MSPH research intrigued me to the point of taking the next step. The primary focus of my dissertation is to expand scientific knowledge of the interactions between shellfish, microbial water quality, environmental factors, and public health. Globally, there is no consensus on the interactions between oysters, Vibrio, and environmental parameters and I am leading a study to represent this state using GIS and comprehensive literature review. The current FDA policies on oyster harvesting are based off Atlantic Oysters from studies performed on the East and Gulf Coasts. Therefore, I will target my oyster research in Southern California, a geographic area increasing oyster production but with limited health risk information from Vibrio spp. I will identify implications for human health by coupling oyster research in Southern Californian estuaries and in simulated marine environments with QMRA using qPCR, FDA culture-based methods, and statistical analysis to evaluate the prevalence and persistence of pathogenic Vibrio from oysters harvested in Southern California. My laboratory findings will influence a QMRA model and assess regulatory standards.

This work is a collaboration with Southern California Coastal Water Research Project (SCCWRP). The collaboration between the University of Arizona and SCCWRP provides a platform for groundbreaking Vibrio research on the West Coast and the ability to influence current oyster harvesting policy in Southern California. I will use my research to evaluate existing policy to reduce human health risk from exposure to pathogenic Vibrio. The opportunity to impact the community was influential in my choice to pursue a PhD in Environmental Health Science.

I hope to use the culmination of environmental health, ecology, microbiology, and risk assessment skills and knowledge to have a career focused on microbial water quality and human health. I hope my career allows the opportunity to continue to do research with microbial pathogens.

December Precipitation and Temperature: December precipitation was variable across the Southwest, although temperatures were more consistently average to above average. Precipitation in Arizona was mostly below average to average with small areas of above average in the southeastern and northeastern corners of the state (Fig. 1). In New Mexico, precipitation was average to above average across most of the state (Fig. 1). Temperatures ranged from normal to above normal across Arizona and New Mexico.

Seasonal Precipitation and Temperature: Three-month precipitation totals reflect the much-wetter-than-average October, in conjunction with some December storm activities, with most of the Southwest receiving above-normal to much-above-normal precipitation since Oct. 1 (Fig. 2). Temperatures over the same period ranged from mostly normal to above normal in Arizona and mostly normal to below normal in New Mexico.

Drought: The Jan. 8 U.S. Drought Monitor (USDM) captures some of the improvements in drought conditions in the Southwest, particularly along the US-Mexico border in Arizona and New Mexico, even while persistent drought conditions remain in the Four Corners region (Fig. 3). Drought in the Southwest poses a challenge in mapping different timescales and intensities of drought on a weekly basis. In a region already characterized by dry conditions, where accumulated precipitation deficits build over seasons and years, these drought characterizations can struggle to capture all of these inputs. Twelve-month precipitation rankings identify areas with accumulated precipitation deficits on an annual timescale (Fig. 4), while the 36-month standardized precipitation index (SPI) for the Southwest (Fig. 5) highlights overlapping areas experiencing drought and precipitation deficits on an even longer timescale.

Snowpack & Water Supply: Snow water equivalent (SWE) has seen an uptick with recent storm activity (see an extended discussion of snowpack in the Dec. 2018 CLIMAS Southwest Climate Podcast), although current SWE values in Arizona and New Mexico remain generally near or below average as of Jan. 13 (Fig. 6). Reservoir storage remains a persistent concern, as water levels have been impacted by long-term drought and accumulated precipitation deficit. Most of the reservoirs are at or below their long-term averages, and a few of the Rio Grande reservoirs are especially low (see Arizona and New Mexico reservoir storage).

El Niño Tracker: The seemingly imminent El Niño event looks a little less certain at this point (see El Niño Tracker). Sea-surface temperatures (SSTs) remain above average, but are closer to normal compared to last month, and there still has not been the definitive coupling between oceanic and atmospheric conditions that would more clearly delineate El Niño conditions. The forecasting community has been discussing the role that the Madden Julian Oscillation (MJO) might be playing in hindering the development of more definitive El Nino conditions, but forecasters continue to look to spring as the mostly likely period of increased coupling. A weak El Niño event remains the scenario with the highest probability, but it is far from the seemingly sure thing of last month, with forecasted probabilities now ranging from 60 to 80 percent.

Precipitation and Temperature Forecast: The three-month outlook for January through March calls for increased chances of above-normal precipitation in much of Arizona and northern Mexico and nearly all of New Mexico (Fig. 7, top). The three-month temperature outlook calls for increased chances of above-normal temperatures in northern Arizona and New Mexico (Fig. 7, bottom).

Online Resources

• Figures 1-2,4-6 - Western Regional Climate Center - wrcc.dri.edu
• Figure 3 - U.S. Drought Monitor - droughtmonitor.unl.edu
• Figure 7 - International Research Institute for Climate and Society - iri.columbia.edu

Please Note: Due to the U.S. government shutdown, some federal data and resources are unavailable or are not updating.

The conflict over the City of Los Angeles’ extraction and export of water from California’s Owens Valley has long captivated the public and policymakers alike. However, narratives about the Owens Valley water conflict, chronicled in Mark Reisner’s Cadillac Desert and sensationalized in the movie Chinatown, have often fixated on the demise of the agricultural economy at the hands of the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power (LADWP) in the early 20th century. Though often described as an act of theft and lawlessness, Los Angeles’ acquisition of 95% of the valley’s land and water was in fact authorized under the law and facilitated by the federal government in the name of “the greatest good of the greatest number in the long run.” But, over the 105 years since the Los Angeles Aqueduct was completed, notions of what constitutes the greatest good – and the long run, for that matter – have shifted, opening plenty of space for contention and debate in what once seemed a simple calculus.

Figure 1: The Los Angeles Aqueduct flowing south through Owens Valley

I came to the Owens Valley to get beyond the famous ranchers-versus-city narrative, aiming to understand how conflicting interests within and outside the Owens Valley have been negotiated and reconciled over time in the context of shifting laws, policies, and environmental conditions. Coincidentally, I arrived in Owens Valley just as fresh conflict was flaring up among the ranching community in response to the LADWP cutting irrigation to ranch leases. As expected, there has been a flurry of media coverage eager to capture this ranchers-versus-city rerun. But, in the background, the debate is much more complex, with many more actors and issues at play.

Figure 2: Abandoned grain silos outside of the town of Bishop

The plight of the Owens Valley ranchers in the early 20th century is so well known it may be surprising to hear there are any left in the valley today. In 1927, the Sacramento Union newspaper published an article with the dramatic message “We, the farming communities of Owens Valley, being about to die, salute you!” However, nearly as soon as LADWP finished buying up private property, it began to lease ranch lands back, though without the water rights. Ranchers were told, in “handshake agreements,” that they would be able to manage the land as if it were their own and would be supplied with irrigation water.

Over the ensuing decades, the relationship between LADWP and the ranchers was a good one – it was understood that LADWP had the ranchers’ back and they in turn had LADWP’s. However, that began to change around 2015, when LADWP began limiting irrigation deliveries and changing the terms of the lease agreements. Then, in the spring of 2018, LADWP announced that it would no longer be delivering irrigation water to about 6,000 acres of land in Mono County that they have leased to ranchers for more than 70 years.

Figure 3: Cattle on a small ranch lease in the Bishop area

Confronted by climate change impacts and court mandates that commit more water to environmental mitigation projects, LADWP is zeroing in on any “inefficiencies” in the system. Flood irrigation on ranch leases has become an easy target. LADWP ratepayers have argued that providing water to the ranchers is taking a public asset, giving it to a private interest, and then passing the bill to Los Angeles ratepayers. Because LADWP is a municipal utility and, thus, a public entity, it must manage its land and water in the public interest. Lucky for the ranchers, today there are many members of the public arguing that the ranch leases are serving the public interest.  

For generations, flood irrigation has sustained lush meadows and wetlands that few are willing to see dry up. In fact, if you were to have walked blindly into the recent public scoping meeting hosted by LADWP and listened to the public comments, you may well have missed the fact that the issue involved ranchers at all. Climate change, ecological mitigation, habitat protection, recreational and aesthetic values, tribal sovereignty, and environmental justice: the range of concerns demonstrate that what is at stake is much more than a simple weighing of urban and agricultural water needs.

Figure 4: View across the flood-irrigated meadows of one of the ranch leases now affected by the irrigation cut-off

Environmental groups have raised the alarm about the need to protect certain meadow areas that provide critical habitat for the bi-state sage grouse. Residents of neighboring towns are concerned that a drier landscape will increase risk of wildfire. Tourism and recreation groups are worried about impacts to the scenic beauty of the area for travelers along Highway 395. Mono County representatives cite the potential impacts to the local economy, which is almost entirely based in agriculture and tourism.

Many locals also raise concerns about the loss of the cultural heritage of the area, standing behind the multi-generational ranch families as the “traditional stewards of the land.” Representatives from the local Paiute (Nüümü) tribes are quick to point out that the cultural heritage of the area stretches far beyond ranching. For millennia, the Nüümü have stewarded this land they call Payahüünadü, ‘the land of flowing water,’ a vast territory stretching roughly from Mono Lake to Owens Lake. Though the tribes are now confined to small reservations, they demand formal government-to-government consultation with the City of Los Angeles about decisions impacting their ancestral territory. As one Nüümü woman put it, "the plants, the animals, we are their relatives and we need to speak for them.”

Figure 5: Ranchers and tribal representatives discuss the potential impacts to leased lands

LADWP officials argue that, by cutting irrigation, they would be returning the area to its “natural state.” However, stakeholders have been quick to point out the ambiguity and irony of that statement, given LADWP’s decades of surface water diversions and groundwater pumping that have severely impacted natural meadows. Some see the irrigated meadows as a form of mitigation for the native meadows that were inundated under Crowley Lake reservoir. Indigenous activists object to notions of a “natural state” that fail to acknowledge their presence on the land since time immemorial. Long before ranchers began irrigating the valley, the Nüümü were spreading water across the land. But these traditional irrigation practices were displaced, first by settlers and then by LADWP. Today, many Nüümü oppose cutting irrigation to the ranch leases so that water may continue to be spread in Payahüünadü.

Figure 6: View over Crowley Lake. Green pastureland around its edge is another area now subject to the irrigation cut

Mono County and several environmental groups have now sued LADWP for “dewatering” the ranch leases without first conducting an environmental impact assessment, alleging a violation of the California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA). With that action, nearly every bit of LADWP land in the Eastern Sierra is now subject to some sort of litigation or settlement agreement conditioning the terms of its management. To the north, in the Mono basin, LADWP’s diversions of water were curtailed by a 1983 court decision maintaining the water levels needed to protect Mono Lake ecosystems. To the south, in Inyo County, the terms of the 1991 Inyo-L.A. Long Term Water Agreement require monitoring and mitigation of the impacts of groundwater pumping as well as maintaining irrigation water for ranch leases. At the terminus of the Owens River basin at Owens Lake, dry since the 1920s, LADWP was forced by court order to mitigate dust emissions, costing billions. Similar forms of litigation, mitigation, and monitoring are likely in store for the ranch leases in Mono County.

Figure 7: Sprinkler system used to control dust with shallow flooding and managed vegetation on Owens Lake

Ultimately, these ongoing conflicts in recent decades have demonstrated that the “greatest good” is no longer as simple as “the greatest number.” LADWP now reckons with decades of environmental regulations and with environmental and indigenous movements advocating for the public interest in environmental protection. Now, with climate change pressures, there is increasing emphasis put on the last, and often forgotten, part of the philosophy of “the greatest good of the greatest number in the long term.” As indigenous leaders so often point out, “the long term” can no longer be seen as the next decade or the next 50 years but rather the next seven generations and beyond.

This is the new story of Owens Valley, Payahüünadü, and, in many ways, the West. Far more complex than a ranchers-versus-city battle, it is a story of persistent struggle to reconcile diverse and conflicting interests in water amidst social, political, and environmental change. It is about the delicate balancing act required to meet the needs of the communities at either end of the aqueduct, as well as the needs of the environment, so that all may continue to thrive for many generations to come.

Figure 8: Fall colors along Bishop Creek Canal

The fan made it difficult to hear, but the room was hot. Attendees were seated in tightly spaced rows, shoulder-to-shoulder. It was the Southeast Arizona Citizen’s Forum—a public meeting of the International Boundary and Water Commission that brings together stakeholders interested in water resources in the U.S.-Mexico border region. From my seat near the back, the rows of attendees looked like a motley assortment that together resembled a patchwork quilt—their clothing of various colors and styles—some wore suit jackets, others plaid shirts. There were cowboy boots, slacks, jeans, dress shirts, cardigans and work boots. As each person stood up to introduce themselves the diversity of stakeholders became even more apparent—representatives from U.S. Senator’s offices, state agency scientists, water utility professionals, local farmers, citizen activists, NGO employees, and concerned residents. Each raised their voice to be heard above the din of the air conditioner. They gathered to discuss water—each bringing a unique perspective.

In southern Arizona and along the border with Mexico, communities and industries are highly-dependent on groundwater. Yet, when people talk about water, they often focus on other things: “stream flows were so low this year”; “the pollution in the stream is getting worse”; “vegetation in the riparian area is suffering”; “this year’s monsoon was drier than normal”. Whether or not it is stated, all of these observed conditions can also affect groundwater, particularly shallow aquifers.

In the Upper Santa Cruz watershed—a transboundary basin that encompasses the border cities of Nogales, Sonora and Nogales, Arizona—water dialogues revolve around transboundary wastewater. Overflows of wastewater from Nogales, Sonora are transported via pipeline to be treated at the Nogales International Wastewater Treatment Plant, 10 miles north of the border. Many are concerned about the pipeline’s reliability and longevity as leaks contaminating the Nogales wash have been observed for years. At last fall’s Southeast Arizona Citizen’s Forum meeting, stakeholders questioned how repairs would be made—and who would pay for them. But this surface pollution could potentially also affect shallow groundwater—the main water source in this region.

Groundwater can be closely connected to surface water. In the Upper Santa Cruz basin, shallow aquifers are recharged from streams that flow only periodically during the year—the streams are fed by episodic rainfall mostly during the monsoon. Because surface water is scarce, riparian vegetation in the Upper San Pedro watershed—east of the Upper Santa Cruz—relies on groundwater to survive. And, recent studies suggest that reduced rainfall—an expected result of climate change—will likely also diminish the amount of recharge to aquifers in this region. Yet despite these intricate physical connections, groundwater and surface water—and their quantity and water quality—are managed, and often perceived, separately.

This is due in part to the fragmented and overlapping landscape of agencies that monitor, manage and regulate water. Federal laws address aspects of surface water quality, yet groundwater is regulated by the state and only in designated Active Management Areas. Monitoring of groundwater is the purview of the Arizona Department of Water Resources (ADWR), but the Arizona Department for Environmental Quality (ADEQ) takes the front seat on addressing pollution—which also affects groundwater. Thus, groundwater information is distributed across and used by multiple stakeholders.

In recent years, global efforts have shed light on the importance of groundwater resources and the need to better manage them for sustainable, long-term use. In 2016, the Global Environmental Facility identified a “Shared Vision for Groundwater Governance 2030” consisting of five principles that specifically include the need to integrate groundwater management with surface water management. The effort also identified the need for better information about groundwater resources and more effective use of scientific information groundwater planning and policies.

In southern Arizona, the state’s groundwater regulations go a long way to address these challenges, yet the roles, responsibility and scope of work among different actors remain both fragmented and overlapping—various organizations address a limited scope of groundwater concerns, stakeholders approach issues from different perspectives, and multiple agencies collect and compile groundwater data. This research seeks to examine the threads that connect scientific information and people’s perceptions of groundwater challenges—and between science and policy—to help us see groundwater management more clearly.