Wild About Utah

November 9, 2026November 9, 2026

Desert Rain

San Juan River from Goosenecks State Park
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Rain in the desert heightens the senses.

My hands loosely grip the oars. My rain jacket is zipped to my beard, and my ball cap is pulled down tightly on my head. Standing on the floor of my raft, I lean gently on the oars, pushing the raft downriver on choppy, strong current. A gentle upriver breeze pushes against my face. Random raindrops pelt my cheeks. The sounds of the river sloshing and swirling fill the air. Wet rocks glisten and every hue is enhanced.

41000 CFS at Sand Island Boat Launch Courtesy & Copyright Brandt and Anna Hart, Photographers

The river is swollen and running heavy with sediment from monsoon rains that have arrived both in the form of violent, lightning-charged microbursts and broad, regional storms.

San Juan River Utilizing Its Floodplain Near Bluff Utah
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

The water smells pungently of dirt and is so heavy-laden with silt that it looks more like rusty sludge than water. Deposits of fine sediment remain everywhere water has splashed, coating the raft, our feet, and our clothing with grime.

San Juan River Flood Plain Near Bluff Utah
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

The swath of sky between the canyon walls is a steel-gray plate of mammatus clouds. It will be another wet evening in camp. I crane my neck and my eyes follow the edge of sky along the canyon rims. I am dwarfed by layers of limestone and shale that were laid down as sediment eons ago, then hardened to stone, then thrust upward by the unhurried, relentless forces of a continent in motion. All the while, the river cut through the uplift, eating away one grain of bedrock at a time, carving this canyon.

San Juan River In Mexican Hat At About 22000 CFS
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Beyond the clouds, I imagine billions of stars above—invisible in the daylight—and our vulnerable little planet traveling through the cosmos.

The pages of Lisa Kearsley’s San Juan River Guide, on the deck of my raft, have turned in the breeze. I could look up the geologic periods and names of the various layers—yet again. But right now, today, just being here, lost in the wonder and awe of this canyon, is enough. In the scope of geologic time, how did I get so lucky to be in this place, on this day, in this particular storm? This moment will be lost in the ages, but it is crystalized in time for me.

An ancestral Puebloan granary, concealed beneath an overhang, catches my attention. We drift past. No one else notices. A few bends later, a bighorn ram walks the edge of a ledge above the river. It pauses and turns its massive head to watch us drift along. People and creatures have inhabited this landscape for millennia. Each of us are just passing through.

Mexican Hat Boat Ramp with the river running 41000 CFS
Courtesy & Copyright Anna Hart, Photographer

That was between Bluff and Mexican Hat, September 16, on about 4,000 cubic feet of water per second—or CFS.

A month later, on October 23, the San Juan Country Sheriff closed the river due to extreme high water. The river had breached several sewer treatment plants upstream and local agencies were overwhelmed mitigating flood damage. On October 26, the river peaked at about 41,000 CFS—flow levels not seen since the 1970’s. The river dropped to about 5,000 CFS for a few days, then peaked again at 34,000 CFS on November 3. Two separate fifty-year flood events occurred in an eight-day span, isolating and inundating communities in three states.

Above the river, on the outside bend of the canyon near mile sixteen, century-old cottonwood tree trunks, weathered to dark gray, rest one hundred and twenty feet above the river bottom. They were once adrift.

Analysis conducted by Lynn Orchard, under the direction of Bob Webb at the University of Arizona in 1999, indicate these logs were deposited by a flood in 1911. By radiocarbon dating debris from past floods in the canyon, they calculated the 1911 flood likely produced the largest flows in the lower San Juan canyons during the past 4,000 years, with maximum flows around 150,000 CFS.

San Juan River Overflowing Its Banks
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

In an era of dams, diversions, and drought, watching the river overflow its banks and utilize its floodplain is a remarkable once-in-a-generation phenomenon. Every now and then the river rises up and reminds us that it has been here for eons, and will continue to run its course, carving its way through the canyons.

I am Eric Newell and I am wild about Utah and our wild rivers.

If you would like to contribute support for flood victims in and around Bluff, Utah, please consider https://bluffcommunityfoundation.org

Credits:

Images: Courtesy & Copyright Anna Hart and Copyright Eric Newell
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright © Friend Weller as well as J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin
Text: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Lab School, Utah State University, https://edithbowen.usu.edu/
Voice: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Lab School, Utah State University, https://edithbowen.usu.edu/

Additional Reading

A comprehensive look at the flooding, Explorer Vault, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmxiGbdl0mQ

San Juan River Flows Near Bluff, Utah, USGS, https://waterdata.usgs.gov/monitoring-location/USGS-09379500/#dataTypeId=continuous-00065-0&period=P30D&showFieldMeasurements=true

The 1911 Four Corners Flood: Could it happen again? KUST, Four Corners Public Radio, https://www.ksut.org/history/2023-10-01/the-1911-four-corners-flood-could-it-happen-again

Orchard, Kenneth Lynn, Paleo Flood Hydrology of the San Juan River, The University of Arizona, https://repository.arizona.edu/items/b62d9d40-aede-4d19-9fc2-e837124bf4b6

October 26, 2026October 26, 2026

Search and Find

Man Training Dog, Courtesy & Copyright Mary Heers, Photographer — Man Training Dog
Courtesy & Copyright Mary Heers, Photographer

A few years ago, I agreed to take care of my cousins’ dog Molly while they went on a trip. When they dropped Molly off, they mentioned she was “ball crazy.” They took out a tennis ball and threw it over the house. Molly took off like a shot. Two minutes later she came trotting back and dropped the ball at my feet. “Again?” she seemed to ask. Searching and finding that ball all day long couldn’t have made Molly any happier.

As far back as the Middle Ages, monks in the Saint Bernard monastery in the Swiss Alps discovered how helpful their dogs could be searching for travelers who had become lost in the mountains. In the 17th century, one of their specially bred St. Bernard rescue dogs, Barry, was credited with saving over 40 lives. By 1909, NYC police added a German Shepard, Max, to their search and rescue team.Now, in Cache Valley, there are 4 certified volunteer search and rescue dogs and their handlers working with the local law enforcement.

I was lucky to meet one of these four teams last weekend. Glen Gantz and his dog Moki were training at an empty outdoor lot in Logan. Glen had put a small tin can loaded with a bit of scent on the gravel covered ground. He then kicked enough gravel over the can to hide it from view.

Moki was raring to go. The command to search came from Glen and Moki took off. He circled the perimeter with his head up, and soon caught the scent. A few more seconds and Moki was lying down, his front paws and head pointing at the tin can. Glen acknowledged the successful find with a BIG shout out, “Good Boy!” Moki jumped up and came racing over to Glen for an extra round of praise and a small tasty treat. Then Glen pulled out Moki’s favorite toy and the two played their beloved game of tug of war.

I felt a bit honored to get this close up view of how much enjoyment a dog and his handler could get from working together as a team. I had once talked to a man whose dog would go into the forest with him to find truffles. The dog could smell these tasty fungi growing among the tree roots under the ground. The dog would paw the ground exactly where the man should dig. In the past, truffle hunters had used pigs to sniff out the truffles. The pigs were very good at locating the truffles and digging them up. The problem was preventing the pigs from eating them. He said you used to be able to identify a truffle hunter by how many fingers they were missing. The dogs were a much better team-mate.

A dog’s nose is said to be as much as 100,000 times as sensitive to smell as a human. A human has about 5 million scent receptors . A dog has over 125 million. When it comes time for a search for a lost person, nothing works better than a dog’s nose.

So when a 16 year old was reported missing in Hyrum, Glen and Moki were called in to help. Moki was given his scent and followed the trail. Four hours later, the trail ended at the edge of Hyrum Dam. Sadly, the boy was not found alive, but the family was able to retrieve the body, which meant a great deal to them.

So for our listeners who love to hike in our beautiful mountains, be careful. But know, should you need help, there are 4 certified search and rescue dog teams in the valley that are constantly training to improve their skills. They will come looking, and they will find you.

This is Mary Heers and I’m Wild About Utah.

Credits:
Picture: Courtesy Mary Heers, Photographer
Audio: Courtesy & © Anderson, Howe, and Wakeman
Voice & Text: Mary Heers
Additional Reading:

https://utahsheriffs.org/resources/search-and-rescue

October 19, 2026October 26, 2026

Insects

A meadowhawk dragonfly, with dew on its wings, rests on a big sagebrush seedstalk
Courtesy US FWS, Tom Koerner, Photographer

Our lovely fall cricket symphony finally went silent as temperatures dropped, an indicator that winter isn’t far off.

I must confess that I have a love/hate relationship with insects. Early years in Michigan exposed my tender flesh to a full suite of biters and stingers- black flies, deer flies, no-see-ums, gnats, horse flies, and clouds of mosquitos that would darken the sky! My dear farmer friend succumbed to a swarm of yellow jackets he angered while driving his tractor through a field, and I’m aware of insect vectors that inoculate us with wretched diseases- from the plague to malaria. Aside from this house of horrors, how often do we humans really appreciate these amazing beings?

Throughout history, insects have markedly shaped human culture—from serving as valuable sources of food, pigment, and fiber, to inspiring our greatest feats of engineering, art, and design. We have much to learn from their abundant wisdom.

They fuel life on Earth through their roles as pollinators, predators, and prey. Insects serve as foundational elements in almost every terrestrial environment, acting as both consumers and providers of essential services. Their presence ensures that energy flows efficiently through various trophic levels, supporting biodiversity from the smallest microorganisms to large vertebrates.

Hummingbird Moth and Monarch
Butterfly on Showy Milkweed
Courtesy US FWS, Tom Koerner, Photographer

As pollinators, insects facilitate the reproduction of more than 75% of crop species and 85% of wild flowers. Many species provide natural biological control by preying on or parasitizing other insects that would otherwise destroy crops or local vegetation. Beyond their daily roles in nutrient cycling, insects act as guardians of environmental health. Their sensitivity to pollutants and habitat shifts makes them invaluable tools for assessing the overall resilience of natural landscapes.

Approximately 90 percent of bird species rely on insects for food at some point in their lives. Terrestrial birds that depend on insects have experienced a dramatic decline over the last 50 years. When insect availability drops, birds often struggle to meet the energy demands required for their daily survival and the strenuous needs of raising offspring.

Aerial insectivorous birds have seen a 32 percent population reduction since 1970, with groups like swifts, swallows and nightjars struggling as their primary food source vanishes. Because they rely almost exclusively on capturing insects in flight, they are uniquely sensitive to the health of the broader invertebrate community. Their inability to switch prey types effectively means that even short-term drops in insect activity can have catastrophic effects on nestling growth and adult survival.

Migratory birds face a compounded crisis from their breeding territories to their nonbreeding grounds and essential stopover points. Long distance species are particularly hard hit, as they often arrive after the short, critical peak in insect availability, leading to reproductive failure that residents and short-distance migrants avoid. Spring arrival dates often fail to align with the peak emergence of essential insect prey, a mismatch increasingly caused by shifting seasonal temperatures.

Industrial agriculture replacing vast swaths of biologically diverse natural systems with a few plant species and use of pesticides combined with extreme weather are primary causes in insect loss

This is Jack Greene for Bridgerland Audubon Society and I’m wild about Utah’s bugs, even the biting ones!

Credits:
Picture: Courtesy US FWS, Tom Koerner, Photographer
Audio: Courtesy & © J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin and Anderson, Howe, and Wakeman
Voice & Text: Jack Greene, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/
Additional Reading: Lyle W Bingham, Bridgerland Audubon Society, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading:

Jack Greene’s Postings on Wild About Utah, https://wildaboututah.org/author/jack/

The following references were accurate as of the date of publication or most recent update.

October 12, 2026October 12, 2026

The Return of the Juncos Signals Fall Bird Feeding Time!

Northern Flicker on a window-mounted suet feeder
(Colaptes auratus)
Courtesy & Copyright Hilary Shughart, Photographer

The distinctive calls of the Northern Flicker announce the arrival of fall here in northern Utah, and on cue, to too does the arrival of at least five subspecies of Dark-eyed Juncos. I’m always a little sad to see the last of what I think of as the bird-friendly coffee plantation birds of summer – the Black-chinned Hummingbirds, Lazuli Buntings, Western Tanagers, and Bullock’s Orioles, but I welcome the winter guests, and appreciate the drama they bring to my window feeders.

The seasonal changes in backyard birds is as exciting as the rare bird sightings because it is these changes and outliers which keep us alert, in tune, and connected to the world around us.
I often take breaks from supplemental feeding for by backyard birds over the summer, especially whenever there’s visitors with avian pox, but when the snowbirds return, it’s time to
fill the feeders with Black Oil Sunflower seeds, and this seasonal task is a way to stay grounded in a busy and sometimes unsettling world.

Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) Courtesy & Copyright Hilary Shughart, Photographer — Black-capped Chickadee
(Poecile atricapillus)
Courtesy & Copyright Hilary Shughart, Photographer

Though I live at the edge of town in the Wildland Urban Interface, I mostly enjoy the typical backyard songbirds such as the House Finch, American Goldfinch, Lesser Goldfinch, and Pine Siskins. Black-capped Chickadees come and go, as do Mountain Chickadees, and as others have been observing, there appear to be more higher elevation species coming to town for food – people are reporting Clark’s Nutcracker as a first in 17 years, as well as Steller’s Jays, and Woodhouse’s Scrub Jays.

Woodhouse's Scrub Jay, Aphelocoma woodhouseii, Courtesy & Copyright Hilary Shughart, Photographer — Woodhouse’s Scrub Jay
(Aphelocoma woodhouseii)
Courtesy & Copyright Hilary Shughart, Photographer

My most unusual sightings in the past few years have included a Red-headed Woodpecker, which I really doubted, knowing we are well out of their range, but when I found that there had been a number of sightings in Logan Canyon over the years, I stopped doubting myself, especially since there is no other bird which even remotely resembles that bright red head, white belly and black back. Another rare bird sighting was the White-headed Woodpecker, but, again, there’s just no other species with that solid white head, red nape patch, and black wings with white wing bar. For my backyard feeders, though, the Northern Flicker is the only woodpecker which returns and hangs around, sometimes for hours working on the suet, black oil sunflower seeds, and even the white millet.

For those new to bird watching, I highly recommend checking whether there’s a local Audubon chapter or other bird watching group with an annual wild bird seed sale fundraiser, and if nothing else, to consider providing water year round, and especially through the winter.

Canada Goose in my backyard, (Branta canadensis), Courtesy & Copyright Hilary Shughart, Photographer — Canada Goose in my backyard
(Branta canadensis)
Courtesy & Copyright Hilary Shughart, Photographer

Don’t forget to keep an eye out for the birds which may visit your garden if not your feeders – during migration there may even be the distinctive rattle of an overhead herd of Sandhill Cranes, or the honks from a flock of Canada Geese. This was the first time in 15 years I had a Canada Goose in my backyard, and I was recently visited by a Sage Thrasher, which are ground foraging insectivores, and when the light catches them just right as evening approaches, I can see small groups of Tree Swallows, busy aerial insectivores, catching their dinner on the wing.

I’m Hilary Shughart with the Bridgerland Audubon Society, and I am Wild About Feeding Utah’s Backyard Birds!

Credits:

Images: Courtesy & Copyright Hilary Shughart, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections/kevin-colver
Voice & Text: Hilary Shughart, President, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/
Additional Reading: Lyle Bingham, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading:

WildAboutUtah pieces by Hilary Shughart, https://wildaboututah.org/author/hilary-shughart/

Procure Bird Seed from local Audubon Chapters:
Great Salt Lake Audubon
Bridgerland Audubon
Other Statewide Birding Groups

Shughart, Hilary, To Grow Your Own Bird Food, Native Plants Are Key!, Wild About Utah, April 12, 2021, https://wildaboututah.org/native-plants-are-key/

Kervin, Linda, Bird Feeding, Wild About Utah, November 25, 2008, https://wildaboututah.org/bird-feeding/

Kervin, Linda, Cane, Jim, Feed the Birds, Wild About Utah, December 1, 2011, https://wildaboututah.org/feed-the-birds/

Liberatore, Andrea, Dark-eyed Juncos, Wild About Utah, January 12, 2012, https://wildaboututah.org/dark-eyed-juncos/