Lakes

USGS scientist Robert Baskin takes a boat out on the Great Salt Lake to conduct research
Courtesy USGS, Jennifer LaVista, Photographer
USGS scientist Robert Baskin takes a boat out on the Great Salt Lake to conduct research. Baskin is best known for his innovative research on Great Salt Lake, collaborating with the Scripps Institute of Oceanography and University of Utah to provide information vital for effective lake management.
Courtesy USGS, Jennifer LaVista, Photographer
I’m a lake person born in the Great Lakes region, land of Hiawatha’s “shining big sea waters”. Fishing, hunting, swimming, and boating were at the center of our culture.

Now having lived three fourths of my life in Utah, I’ve found it a well-watered desert with all descriptions of lakes from the intermittent, seasonal, inches deep Sevier Lake to the plunging depths of Bear lake. Utah’s Great Salt Lake has brought us international acclaim, more than any other physical feature, as the Great Lakes have to Michigan. Following the Jordan River a relatively short distance upstream from the Great Salt Lake, freshwater Utah lake glitters in the sun, once thriving with monster Bonneville cutthroat trout, coveted by native peoples and pioneers alike.

Aerial view of Bear Lake, USGS boat, and employees on a water-quality platform, Courtesy USGS, Jake Seawolf,Photographer, (Volunteer for USGS, full-time professional photographer for the US Army.
Aerial view of Bear Lake, USGS boat, and employees on a water-quality platform
Courtesy USGS, Jake Seawolf, Photographer, (Volunteer for USGS, full-time professional photographer for the US Army.

Fish Lake, Courtesy USDA Forest Service Fish Lake
Courtesy USDA Forest Service

Moving to our northern border the turquois Bear Lake beauty startles the senses. A tectonic, earth fractured lake over a quarter millennium old, it is uniquely different from our other naturally occurring lakes, which were created during the last ice age, many formed less than 12,000 years ago.

Heading south, you will find the dazzling Fishlake, our largest high-altitude lake, six miles in length, a mile wide, approaching 9000’ elevation.

Beyond these, our Uintah Mountains are dappled with a head spinning thousand plus glacial lakes, ranging in size from the 1200 acre Mirror Lake to the half acre Boulder tarn lake. (tarn: a small mountain lake) Most occur above 10,000 feet elevation.

“Gods eye” wrote Herny David Thoreau describing Waldon Pond. I often sense the same as I peer into the crystalline depths of our pristine glacial lakes.

Our many artificial reservoir lakes are the most highly visited providing endless pleasure and relief from summer heat. Often their beauty is unmatched for artificial lakes, Flaming Gorge, Lake Powell, Jordanelle, Pineview, Sand Hollow to name a few.

A bit of lake ecology. There are four major categories of lakes from the deep, cold, low productive Oligotrophic like Bear lake, to the highly acidic, dystrophic bog lakes found in the Uintah high country containing little aquatic life. Between are the mesotrophic- Pine View reservoir, Willard Bay, and the eutrophic, highly fertilizer enriched Utah Lake, often suffering from algae blooms, which are becoming more common with a warming climate.

Our deeper lakes enjoy a spring and fall phenomenon called “overturn”. Deeper lakes experience stratification, or stagnation, similar to our atmospheric inversions, with warmer water sitting on top, and colder, heavier water toward the bottom. This causes an oxygen deficit in lower layers, and nutrient deficiency in the upper layers. Once water reaches its highest density of 39.2 degrees Fahrenheit, which occurs during spring warm up and fall cool down, the surface water will sink, forcing nutrients from the depths upward, and bring oxygen from the surface downward. This mixing favors aquatic life from top to bottom of the water column, a joyous occasion!

This is Jack Greene for Bridgerland Audubon Society, and I am Wild About Utah’s Great Lakes.

Credits:

Picture: Great Salt Lake and Bear Lake, Courtesy USGS, Fish Lake Courtesy USDA Forest Service
Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/ and Anderson, Howe and Wakeman.
Text: Jack Greene, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/
Additional Reading: Lyle W Bingham, Webmaster, and Jack Greene, Author, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading:

Jack’s Wild About Utah pieces.

Judd, Harry Lewis, Utah’s Lakes and Reservoirs, Inventory and Classification of Utah’s Priority Lakes and Reservoirs, Utah Department of Environmental Quality, January 1997, https://lf-public.deq.utah.gov/WebLink/ElectronicFile.aspx?docid=458257

Utah’s Priority Lakes and Reservoirs 1999: Watershed Management Program, Utah Department of Environmental Quality, https://deq.utah.gov/water-quality/watershed-protection/utahs-priority-lakes-and-reservoirs-1999-watershed-management-program

Utah’s 1982 Priority Lakes and Reservoirs List from “Judd” above.
Each lake name is linked to a Google map:

Anderson Meadow Reservoir
Ashley Twin Lakes
Baker Dam Reservoir
Barney Lake
Bear Lake
Beaver Meadow Reservoir
Big East Lake
Big Lake
Big Sand Wash Reservoir
Birch Creek Reservoir #2
Blanding City Reservoir#4
Bridger Lake
Brough Reservoir
Browne Reservoir
Butterfly Lake
[Zelph] Calder Reservoir
Causey Reservoir
China Lake
Cleveland Reservoir
Cook Lake
Currant Creek Reservoir
Dark Canyon Lake
Deer Creek Reservoir
DMAD Reservoir
Donkey Reservoir
Duck Fork Reservoir
East Canyon Reservoir
East Park Reservoir
Echo Reservoir
Electric Lake
Fairview Reservoir #2
Ferron Reservoir
Fish Lake
Flaming Gorge Reservoir
Forsyth Reservoir
Grantsville Reservoir
Gunlock Reservoir
Gunnison Bend Reservoir
Gunnison Reservoir
Hoop Lake
Hoover Lake
Huntington Lake North
Huntington Reservoir
Hyrum Reservoir
Joes Valley Reservoir
Johnson Valley Reservoir
Jordanelle Reservoir
Kens Lake
Kents Lake
Kolob Reservoir
Koosharem Reservoir
Labaron Reservoir
Lake Mary
Lake Powell
Little Creek Reservoir
Little Dell Reservoir
Lloyds Reservoir
Long Park Reservoir
Lost Creek Reservoir
Lower Bowns Reservoir
Lower Box [Creek] Reservoir
Lower Gooseberry Reservoir
Lyman Lake
Manning Meadow Reservoir
Mantua Reservoir
Marsh Lake
Marshall Reservoir
Matt Warner Reservoir
Meeks Cabin Reservoir
Mill Hollow Reservoir
Mill Meadow Reservoir
Miller Flat Reservoir
Millsite Reservoir
Minersville Reservoir
Mirror Lake
Mona Reservoir
Monticello Lake
Moon Lake
Navajo Lake
Newcastle Reservoir
Newton Reservoir
Nine Mile Reservoir
Oak Park Reservoir
Otter Creek Reservoir
Palisades Lake
Panguitch Lake
Paradise Park Reservoir
Pelican Lake
Pine Lake
Pineview Reservoir
Piute Reservoir
Porcupine Reservoir
Posey Lake
Puffer Lake
Pyramid Lake
Quail Creek Reservoir
Recapture Reservoir
Red Creek Reservoir
Red Creek Reservoir (Iron)
Red Fleet Reservoir
Redmond Lake
Rex’s Reservoir
Rockport Reservoir
Rush Lake
Salem Pond
Scofield Reservoir
Scout Lake
Settlement Canyon Reservoir
Sevier Bridge Reservoir [a.k.a. Yuba Reservoir]
Sheep Creek Reservoir
Smith and Morehouse Res
Spirit Lake
Stansbury Lake
Starvation Reservoir
Stateline Reservoir
Steinaker Reservoir
Strawberry Reservoir
Three Creeks Reservoir
Tibbie Fork Reservoir
Tony Grove Reservoir
Trial Lake
Tropic Reservoir
Upper Enterprise Reservoir
Upper Stillwater Reservoir
Utah Lake
Wall Lake
Washington Lake
Whitney Reservoir
Wide Hollow Reservoir
Willard Bay Reservoir
Woodruff Creek Reservoir
Yankee Meadow Reservoir

John Muir Didn’t Wear Tevas

Three Teens Returning from the Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Emma Mecham
Three Teens Returning from the Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Emma Mecham

Wasatch Rambling July 7, 1989 Dromedary Peak Summit Whitney Leary & Eric Newell Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Wasatch Rambling July 7, 1989
Dromedary Peak Summit
Whitney Leary & Eric Newell
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Morning Light Big Cottonwood Canyon July 7, 1989 Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Morning Light Big Cottonwood Canyon
July 7, 1989
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

My Journal, July 6, 1989 Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell My Journal, July 6, 1989
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

My Journal, July 7, 1989 Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell My Journal, July 7, 1989
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Our 15 year-old and two of her friends just returned from their first backpacking trip without adults. When she hatched the idea, my wife and I were supportive of this big voyage, knowing all the growth that happens when you venture out on our own into the wilds for the first time. We asked questions and provided all the support she and her friends asked for—but we didn’t overdo it. This was their adventure.

They were giddy as they shouldered their packs at the Logan Canyon trailhead and set foot towards a popular lake for two nights. When my wife picked them up three days later, they had stories to tell.

When they are old, like me, they won’t remember the TikTok videos or Instagram reels they might have watched during that span. But they will remember trying to stay warm in their hammocks, sleeping by a mountain lake under a trillion stars, the crispness of the air, and that feeling of being out there on their own and all the uncertainly and joy that goes with it.

When I was sixteen—after finishing another of John Muir’s many books, Wilderness Essays—I decided that if John Muir only took a loaf of bread, an overcoat, and a wool blanket with him into the Sierras, that I could do the same. Certainly John Muir wasn’t—to use a John Muir word—”hardier” than I was. This wasn’t my first backpacking trip without adults, but I learn my lessons the hard way. After all, good judgement comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgement.

So I took a wool blanket from the closet in the basement and left a perfectly good sleeping pad and twenty-degree sleeping bag at home. My friends and I only wore Teva sandals when we hiked or backpacked at the time and I didn’t pack any socks. It was July after all.

Now, I am certain John Muir did not wear Teva’s. He wore socks and boots—even in July. He also built big fires and cut pine-boughs for sleeping on that would insulate him from the cold ground. Wanting to leave no trace, I did neither of those things.

That was a rough night next to a lake in Big Cottonwood Canyon. Aside from shivering on cold, hard bedrock in the darkness, I was constantly under attack from swarms of mosquitos because I couldn’t fit both my head and my bare feet under the small blanket at the same time. I also learned that if you only eat a loaf of French Bread from the Albertsons bakery for dinner, you get a lot of gas.

It turns out John Muir was much “hardier” than I.

I got “out” of my wool blanket well before dawn that morning to move my body and warm up. I watched the light show on the 11,000 foot peaks above and the reflection in the dead-calm lake below.

After breakfast, I spotted a couple of mountain goats on a pass above the lake and we scrambled up to have a closer look. When we arrived at the saddle we decided that since we had come this far, we might as well continue on and figure out the tricky and exposed route to the summit of Dromedary Peak—in our Teva’s.
I’m glad my parents weren’t there to save me from my own naiveté.

It is often hard for parents to let go and give their teens the chance to venture out into Edward Abby’s “back of beyond” to be responsible for themselves and to learn from their own mistakes. But I’m glad my parents were willing, and I have found satisfaction supporting my children, and other people’s children, on their own adventures.
Edward Abbey said it well, “It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and…mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space.”

The average 18 year-old high school graduate today has spent approximately four-years of their lives on screens. Four years. Four years of childhood that they will never get back. Our children need wildness now, more than ever.

Maybe our public lands will save us from ourselves—if we don’t sell them off to the highest bidder.

I am Eric Newell, and I am wild about Utah and our wild public lands.

Credits:
Images: Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Shalayne Smith Needham & Courtesy & Copyright © Anderson, Howe, Wakeman
Text: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University
Additional Reading: Eric Newell & Lyle Bingham

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah Pieces by Eric Newell

Love nature? There’s an app for that

Painted Schinia, Schinia volupia, Courtesy & Copyright Mark Brunson
Painted Schinia
Schinia volupia
Courtesy & Copyright Mark Brunson
We hear a lot these days how people spend too much time with their electronic devices. The internet is full of advice on how to get kids away from their screens to enjoy nature, and that’s great. But for me, as someone who has always loved natural spaces, I’m finding that a screen can actually enhance my time outdoors.

My iPhone is packed with apps that help me connect to nature. One lets me identify birds by their song. Another recognizes constellations in the night sky. I’ve got several plant identification apps. But my favorite nature app is called iNaturalist. When I see a plant or animal in the wild, I can snap a photo, and the app’s artificial intelligence will help me identify what species I’m seeing. Then I can upload the photo and its GPS coordinates so others can see what I found and where I found it. In doing this, I help scientists learn where species are found and how common there are. And if the AI turns out to be wrong – which does happen – experts who use the app can tell me what they think I really saw.

I’m outdoors a lot, and I use iNaturalist a lot. It’s almost an obsession. But this obsession helps me learn to see nature in new ways. Here’s an example: Earlier this year, my wife and I were walking along a cattle trail near Canyonlands National Park. It was early May, and we were delighted to see wildflowers blooming in the desert. And of course, I took photos as we went. At one point, I happened to see a bright yellow, daisy- shaped flower with a red center. I knew it was a red dome blanketflower, closely related to the bright red and yellow Gaillardia plants that many Utahns grow in their waterwise gardens.

But when I knelt to take a closeup photo, I saw something I hadn’t noticed. Feeding on nectar from some of the flowers were small, brightly colored moths, their wings a deep red with white stripes in a pattern like a woven blanket, their heads a vivid orange. iNaturalist told me I’d found a group of painted schinia moths – a species I’d never encountered or even heard of before.

Intrigued, I wanted to know more. I learned there are at least five species of painted schinia moth in the U.S. Southwest, each of which feeds only on a particular kind of blanketflower. This sort of plant-insect specialization is common. It benefits the plants, because as moths move from flower to flower, they carry pollen with them, and a specialist pollinator won’t bring its pollen load to a species that can’t use it. And it benefits the insects. As they adapt to the unique chemical and physical features of their host plants, they can gather and use food most efficiently. And – as I learned when I had to look closely to even see my painted schinia moths – they can evolve to use camouflage to avoid predators.

Of course, the downside to specialization is that if something bad happens to the host plant, it also endangers their insect specialist. Luckily for the painted schinia moth, blanketflowers are abundant in late spring in the southeast Utah desert. That’s lucky for us humans, too, as we enjoy the brilliant color they bring to red rock country – even more so if we take time to kneel down, snap a photo, and examine them more closely.

I’m Mark Brunson, and I’m Wild About Utah.

Credits:

Images Courtesy & Copyright Mark Brunson, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections
Text: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/
Additional Reading: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/ & Lyle Bingham, Bridgerland Audubon Society

Additional Reading

Mark Brunson’s archive: https://wildaboututah.org/?s=brunson

Loarie, Scott. The surprising power of your nature photos. TED talk, April 2025.
https://www.ted.com/talks/scott_loarie_the_surprising_power_of_your_nature_photos

Southwest Desert Flora. Gaillardia pinnatifida, Red Dome Blanketflower.
https://southwestdesertflora.com/WebsiteFolders/All_Species/Asteraceae/Gaillardia%20pinnatifida,%20Red%20Dome%20Blanketflower.html

Painted Schinia Moth, Schinia volupia, iNaturalist, https://www.inaturalist.org/guide_taxa/1565242
Photos of Painted Schinia Moth Schinia volupia, iNaturalist, https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/230575-Schinia-volupia/browse_photos

Falconry

Falcon on Forearm Courtesy and Copyright Mary Heers, Photographer
Falcon on Forearm
Courtesy and Copyright Mary Heers, Photographer
In 1962, Rachael Carson rocked the bird watching world with her book Silent Spring. She identified the commonly used pesticide DDT as the culprit responsible for declining populations of eagles, falcons and hawks. Rachael was able to prove that once DDT got into the food chain, it fatally weakened the eggshells of these birds. DDT was banned the following year.

Would the raptor populations be able to respond? The answer to this question was spearheaded by Hawk Watch International. They recruited volunteers to camp out near Mendon Peak which overlooks a major flyway for migrating birds in the fall.

Armed with pencils and paper, these volunteers checked off each raptor that flew by. It was a tough camp, because once the snow melts, any water on top had to be carried up there. Sometimes my family and others would hike up and give them oranges. Every year the news got better. The raptor populations were rebounding. In 1999 they were officially taken off the endangered species list.

At this time, for most people in Utah, getting a close look at a raptor required a trip to the Hogle Zoo to see the bird show. COVID shut down these shows. But luckily, a young volunteer at the zoo, Nick Morris, stepped up, got the licensing needed to own raptors, and created a traveling show called Long Wing Inc.

When I was able to meet Nick on his home turf, he told me that in Shakespeare’s time, most every man owned some kind of raptor. The kings owned eagles. The nobility owned falcons. It was no accident that talk of falcons worked its way into the spoken language.

For example, falconers kept ankle bands on the bird’s legs attached to short study strings. Before flying their birds, falconers held these strings in a tight fist with their thumbs pressing down hard. This is why we say we keep things “under our thumb.”

Falcons were always easier to handle while being transported with a hood slipped over their heads. This led to our saying today that when someone does not see something clearly, he is “hood winked.”

Morning chores were underway when I showed up at Nick’s house. He carried each bird out into his driveway and put a piece of quail on a sawhorse. The bird was happy to hop over and eat it. Nick then put a piece of quail down the driveway on top of his fence. This was a chance for the bird to spread his wings and fly to the treat. Everything was going to plan until one bird took off and settled on the roof of the house. There were a few tense minutes. Nick admitted to me he had once had to chase a runaway bird all the way to Evanston.
Shakespeare captures a moment like this when Juliet is on her balcony and Romeo has walked away.

Juliet says, “Oh for a falconer’s voice to lure this tassel-gentle back again.” Once we know that a “tassel” is Shakespeare’s word for a male falcon, we can see that Juliet is seeing Romeo as a noble and beautiful creature. Juliet sees herself as the falconer, hoping that Romeo will return and possibly be tamed by her.
Just as Romeo ran back to Juliet, Nick’s bird came down from the roof.

Nick explained how falcons were not pets in the traditional sense. Falconry is an ancient sport going back thousands of years. In Shakespeare’s time, it was a way of putting food on the dinner table.

This is Mary Heers and I’m Wild About Utah

Credits:
Photos: Courtesy and Copyright Mary Heers,
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Mary Heers and Anderson, Howe and Wakeman.
Text: Mary Heers, https://cca.usu.edu/files/awards/art-and-mary-heers-citation.pdf
Additional Reading: Lyle Bingham, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah, Mary Heers’ Wild About Utah Postings

The Story of Silent Spring, Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC), August 13, 2015, https://www.nrdc.org/stories/story-silent-spring

The Wellsvilles Hawkwatch Site, Bridgerland Audubon Society, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/our-projects/the-wellsvilles-hawkwatch-site/

Utah’s Hogle Zoo, https://www.hoglezoo.org/

Tracy Aviary at Liberty Park, https://tracyaviary.org/liberty-park/visit/programs/daily-programs-activities/

Falconry, Utah Division of Wildlife Resources, Utah Department of Natural Resources, https://wildlife.utah.gov/hunting/main-hunting-page/falconry.html

Falconry terms in the English Language:

  • Bate: In falconry, “bate” refers to a hawk’s attempt to fly off its perch while still tethered. This has become “bated breath” in common English, meaning to be in a state of nervous anticipation or anxiety, according to Wingspan Bird of Prey Centre.
  • Fed up: A falcon that is well-fed has no incentive to hunt, leading to the term “fed up” meaning to be bored or uninterested.
  • Haggard: A “haggard” hawk is one caught from the wild as an adult, often difficult to train. In common usage, “haggard” describes someone looking exhausted or unwell.
  • Under his thumb: In falconry, this refers to the way a falconer holds the jesses (straps) of a hawk to control it. In general usage, it means being completely under someone’s control.
  • Hoodwinked: Originally, a “hood” was used to calm a hawk by covering its head. “Hoodwinked” means to be deceived or tricked, often subtly.
  • Rouse: A “rouse” in falconry is when a hawk shakes its feathers. This has evolved into the general meaning of shaking or awakening.
  • Pounce: A falcon’s “pounce” is its claws, used to seize prey. The word has entered common usage to describe a sudden, forceful movement.
  • Gorge: In falconry, a hawk “gorges” itself when it eats to capacity. This has become the general term for eating to excess.
  • Sources for Falconry terms in the English Language:
    Evans, Andrew, How falconry changed language, BBC. February 24, 2022, https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20170111-how-irish-falconry-changed-language
    The Language of Falconry, Wingspan Birds of Prey Trust, https://www.wingspan.co.nz/falconry_language.html
    Amy, Falconry terms in common language, Powered by Birds, February 26, 2010, https://www.poweredbybirds.com/falconry-terms-in-common-language/
    Assembled by Google AI https://ai.google.com

    Utah Falconers Association, https://www.utahfalconers.com/