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Climate change made the West’s snow drought far more likely—but it’s still not the new normal

Last winter’s meager snowpack near Silverton, Colorado, on March 14, 2026. Researchers analyzed Western snowpack data from the next day, March 15, to assess the influence of climate change on the historic snow drought and to project how future warming could affect the likelihood of similar events. Photo: Mitch Tobin/The Water Desk. 

The American West’s historic snow drought in 2026 depressed skiers, heightened wildfire risks and constrained already scarce water supplies. 

Was this extreme event just a stroke of bad luck in a region where snowfall naturally varies from year to year? 

Or did the record-low snowpack bear the fingerprints of climate change?

A new study in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences concludes that global warming more than quadrupled the odds of the West’s snow drought when compared to the preindustrial climate, before human greenhouse gas emissions began heating the planet.

In the Upper Colorado River Basin, where snowmelt supplies most of the water in a river that serves tens of millions of people and irrigates millions of acres of farmland, climate change’s estimated influence was even greater. Researchers concluded the snow drought was about 14 times more likely, although that estimate is more uncertain because the event was so exceptionally rare, even in today’s warmer world. 

Looking ahead, scientists project that snow deficits as extreme as the West’s 2026 drought could become the norm by the end of the century if emissions continue to climb.

In the 2020s, a Westwide snow drought as bad as last season’s has about a 1-in-10 chance of occurring each year, so it’s still not the new normal. But the odds rise dramatically under the “moderately high” emissions scenario used in the study: the annual probability more than triples to about 1-in-3 by the 2050s and soars to nearly 9-in-10 in the 2090s. 

Hydrologist Adrienne Marshall. Source: Colorado School of Mines.

I spoke with the study’s lead author, Adrienne Marshall, a hydrologist and assistant professor at the Colorado School of Mines. Excerpts from our July 23 conversation are below, edited lightly for clarity and brevity.

“Where we are is serious,” Marshall said. But she emphasized that a West where profound snow droughts are routine is not a fait accompli, because future greenhouse gas emissions are not set in stone. 

“These are not predictions of what will happen in the future,” Marshall said. “I think this type of work is most useful if it is motivational and not discouraging.”

How would you summarize the most important findings of the study?

I think our most important findings here are that we were able to look at the extent to which this last year’s unusually low snow conditions were attributable to human-caused climate change. 

We found that across the Western U.S., the low snow conditions we saw were about four and a half times more likely because of climate change that we’ve experienced to date. That is equivalent to a water volume that’s about the size of Lake Mead. If we think about a rare event in a world without human-caused climate change and a rare event in the world we’re living in, the amount of snow we’re missing is about the size of Lake Mead. 

In the Upper Colorado River Basin, the snow drought was more extreme, so we find a higher “risk ratio,” meaning an increased probability due to human-caused climate change.

Did these findings surprise you?

The thing that surprised me was the magnitude. I wasn’t surprised to see that these events seemed to be attributable to human-caused climate change. I was a little bit surprised to see numbers that were quite as big as they were.

The study says that climate change made the snow drought about 4.4 times more likely. Could you explain that further? What exactly does that mean?

To dig into what that “more likely” means, people might have heard before of things like a 100-year rainfall event or a 100-year flood event, where we can say we would expect an event like this one to have maybe a 1% chance of happening each year. That would be a 100-year event. 

So we took that approach with unusually low snow conditions. We used some models that were run for the 1850 to 1900 period, so that’s our period without human-caused climate change. And we saw that, in that period, the snow conditions we had this year would’ve been about a 1-in-30-year event. Then when we use those same models for about a 20-year period encompassing the world we’re living in now, we see it’s about a 1-in-7 event. And then we divide those two numbers, so 30 divided by about seven, to get that approximately four and a half times more likely value.

Skiers at Purgatory Resort in southwest Colorado on February 8, 2026. Photo: Mitch Tobin/The Water Desk.

Why is climate change making snow droughts like this much more likely?

In the most basic sense, there are two things that can cause snow drought. One is warm temperatures, and then the other one is just not getting any precipitation at all. So when we have warm temperatures, we get precip that falls as rain rather than snow. 

When we think about the impacts of climate change, we have a lot of certainty about increasing temperatures. We have very good evidence that temperatures have increased, and models agree really well that they expect temperatures to continue to increase. That also aligns with our basic physical understanding of the Earth system. 

Precipitation is a lot more uncertain, so it’s harder to see clear trends in winter precipitation so far, and models tend to disagree more about how we think precipitation will change—at least in the Western U.S. So when we think about the impacts on snow, those warming temperatures giving us less snow are kind of a really clear climate signal while the uncertainty in the precipitation can muddy the waters, relatively speaking.

With this snow drought, it sounds like it was really primarily driven by temperature.

We haven’t quantified what was the contribution of temperature versus precip. But if we look at what was happening across the West this year, temperatures were really unusually high over much of the winter, with sort of an extraordinary heat wave in March. Precipitation was low, but not extraordinary across most of the Southwest. And then as we look up into the Pacific Northwest and British Columbia, we tend to see precipitation that was a little bit above average up there. Temperature: kind of extraordinary. Precipitation: more within a range of variability that we’re used to seeing.

Source: National Integrated Drought Information System.

The date you used was March 15. We often hear about people using April 1 as the key milestone for snow water equivalent (a measure of the snowpack’s water content). Why did you use March 15? 

We used March 15, in large part, because this year it looks like that was approximately peak snow water equivalent—when we sum up how much snow was sitting there across the West. We thought that was a useful indicator of how much snow does a water manager have to work with, even if it was earlier than usual. I think doing the same analysis with April 1 would be interesting, too. The statistics get a little bit more challenging for more rare events. Because of that March heat wave, I think that we would see that April 1 snow would likely have been even more extreme, which could make the statistics a little bit more challenging—increase uncertainty, essentially.

The study also looks specifically at the Upper Colorado River Basin. Could you explain what the findings were for that portion of the West?

In the Upper Colorado River Basin, this event was especially extreme. Snow was really particularly low. Our best estimate here is that, in the world we’re living in now, the snow conditions this year were about a 1-in-140-year event in the Upper Colorado River Basin, so quite rare. In the world without anthropogenic (human-caused) climate change, we think that it would’ve been maybe a 1-in-2,300-year event. Once we start estimating events quite that rare, we get big uncertainty ranges. Then when we divide those two, we see that in the Upper Colorado River Basin, we think that this event was about 14 times more likely because of human-caused climate change. But there our uncertainty is really large.

The Gold Mountain Fire burns near Ridgway, Colorado, on July 1, 2026. Photo: Mitch Tobin/The Water Desk. 

The study also looks ahead to the future and the climate continuing to warm. What should we expect going forward?

These results were quite sobering. We look at what we would expect to happen in a moderately high greenhouse gas emissions scenario. What we see is for the Western U.S., we estimate that an event this bad had about a 10% chance of occurring each year in the 2020s. By the time we get to the 2050s, that slightly more than triples. So every year we would have about a 30% chance of having snow at least this low. And then by the 2090s, that becomes 87% of years, so we would expect that most of the time the snow would be at least this low Western U.S.-wide. In the Upper Colorado River Basin, we also see increases, but because this event was so extreme, we never see it becoming the norm in the 21st century. 

The really important caveat here is that these are not predictions of what will happen in the future. These are our estimates of what we would expect in a particular greenhouse gas emissions scenario. And there are other greenhouse gas emission scenarios that are better. We could emit fewer greenhouse gases than this and do better than what these projections suggest.

It seems like pretty clear evidence for the benefit of reducing emissions for the snowpack.

The analysis I’d like to do is to look at the other scenarios and say, “OK, how much better would it be?” We don’t quite have the data to make exactly that apples-to-apples comparison at the moment, but there’s ways to pursue that . . . Based on our understanding of this system, I would strongly expect that if we look at a lower-emissions scenario, we would not see those probabilities climb quite so high.

We often hear the question, “Is this the new norm or is this the new normal?” These data suggest that it’s not right now. Western U.S.-wide, it could be by end of century. So I do look at that and think, “Let’s try to avoid that.” 

Low water at Blue Mesa Reservoir, along Colorado’s Gunnison River, on July 1, 2026. Photo: Mitch Tobin/The Water Desk.

What do you hope the public and decision-makers take away from this study and the projections?

There’s three big takeaways I have in mind. One is that I hope it’s clarifying in terms of where we’re at right now in terms of the impacts of climate change. It’s relatively new that we can look at a specific snow year and say, “Here’s how much this was caused by anthropogenic climate change.” 

The second impact is I hope it’s useful for adaptation so that individuals and utilities and water managers can look at this snow year and think seriously about what we might like to do to adapt to more snow years like this. 

And then the third thing is to help motivate us to see if we can push emissions trajectories downwards and do what we can to avoid having more snow years like this to the extent possible.

To learn more about the opposite of snow droughts—known as snow deluges—see my 2024 Q&A with Marshall about her research on California’s epic snowpack during the 2022-2023 winter.

This story was produced and distributed by The Water Desk at the University of Colorado Boulder’s Center for Environmental Journalism.

Peaches pay the bills for Western Colorado farmers, but prolonged drought makes their future uncertain

Bruce Talbott in one of his orchards in Palisade, Colorado. Talbott Farms is one of Colorado’s most productive peach growers. (Caroline Llanes / Rocky Mountain Community Radio)

On a warm morning in Palisade, Colorado, Bruce Talbott walks through his orchards, picking and discarding peaches he knows won’t sell. With just one look, he can tell how many days until a peach should be picked, whether its pit is split, and whether it will look good at the grocery store. 

“See those, they’ll pick both of those because that color, that orange color,” he explained, gesturing to a pair of peaches hanging from a nearby branch. “And that one’s a good, sound peach.”

Talbott’s family first began planting orchards in the Grand Valley in 1907. Now, Talbott Farms is one of the largest peach growers in Colorado. Their orchards in Palisade grow around 200,000 trees, and each year, they plant about 5,000 more as older orchards become less productive. All that is to say: Talbott knows a thing or two about peaches.

“Appearance sells the first peach, flavor sells the second peach,” he said with a chuckle. “So if it doesn’t taste good, they’re not getting another one.”

Bruce Talbott indicates a pair of peaches that will likely be picked in the next week or so. (Caroline Llanes / Rocky Mountain Community Radio)

But this has been an extraordinarily challenging year for Talbott, and his fellow Palisade fruit growers. There was virtually no snowpack in the headwaters of the Colorado River, the valley’s key irrigation water supply, which fills ditches and canals that run to its orchards. When March broke records for high temperatures, what little snow there was melted off fast.

Because of the fast melt, Talbott started picking peaches about a month earlier than usual. Now, he’s worried he may not have enough water to finish out the harvest in early September. 

“We have never had the canal shut off,” he said. “We’ve had some really tight years. ‘77 was tight. 2002 was tight, where it was nip and tuck on whether we would finish the season or not. Right now, there’s not water to do that.”

Losing water early will have impacts well beyond this season. A peach orchard is a long-term investment. The trees start off in nurseries, and farmers have to put in orders long in advance. Once they’re in the ground, Talbott says he won’t start pulling significant fruit off a tree to sell for four years. 

“With that kind of lead time, what next winter’s gonna be?” he said, shrugging. “I’ve already made my decisions for ‘27. I’ve made some decisions for ‘28 already. I can’t turn on a dime.”

Talbott draws water from Orchard Mesa Irrigation District’s canal system. (Caroline Llanes / Rocky Mountain Community Radio)

In the past, farmers like Talbott haven’t worried as much about water conservation, because there was enough to go around. Now, it’s a bigger consideration, because peaches are thirsty crops and demand for water is rising. Canals in the Grand Valley may go dry before the end of the growing season. Elsewhere in the Colorado River basin, water cutbacks are the focus of intense multi-state negotiations.

David Sterle, a research scientist at Colorado State University who studies tree fruit, estimates that it takes about 3 feet of water per acre to grow peaches each growing season—or just under a million gallons.

“So they’re fairly water intensive, especially compared to the amount of precipitation that we tend to get here, which I think on average is about nine inches a year, and lately has been about five or less,” he said.   

However, Sterle said most farmers think peaches are worth the water.

“The way I try to think of that is basically if you’re trying to calculate per gallon of water used, how much money can you make off of it?” he said. “What kind of economic impact can you have with that? And I think peaches are pretty high on that list.” 

He said peaches can bring in anywhere from $10,000 to 35,000 per acre—significantly more than other crops. Talbott estimates the return per acre-foot of water for peaches is ten to 20 times higher than alfalfa or corn.

“Peaches pay the bills,” Talbott said. “Peaches are consistent as anything we grow, and the markets are as consistent.”

Peaches from Talbott’s orchards pile up quickly as workers pick throughout the morning. (Caroline Llanes / Rocky Mountain Community Radio)

It’s why Talbott has invested so heavily in his peach orchards—and why he’s willing to go to such great lengths to make sure his orchards survive this drought. Talbott has started on contingency plans if his ditches run dry before September 1 to keep his trees from dying. 

“We will probably be putting water in tanks—it’ll be municipal water—and dig a basin around each plant,” he said. “And we’re going like you would (with) house plants, and keeping them alive, if at all possible.” 

In the longer term, Talbott knows that in the Colorado River Basin, there will be less water to go around for agriculture, as the climate continues to get hotter and drier. He’s hoping his high value peaches can withstand that seismic change.

But the uncertainty around water supplies is making that much more challenging.

“This industry can absorb a higher cost of water than a lot of your other crops can… as long as it’s there,” he said, as he gestured to his orchards. “If it’s just not there, then this has to go away as well. Hope we never go that far.” 

In the meantime, Talbott is hoping for monsoon rains to get him to the end of the peach harvest, but he’s not holding his breath.

Talbott Farms is one of Colorado’s biggest peach producers, with over 200,000 trees in their orchards. (Caroline Llanes / Rocky Mountain Community Radio)
Workers in one of Talbott’s orchards unload baskets of peaches into the truck. (Caroline Llanes / Rocky Mountain Community Radio)

This story was produced in partnership with The Water Desk at the University of Colorado Boulder Center for Environmental Journalism.

Copyright 2026 Rocky Mountain Community Radio. This story was shared via Rocky Mountain Community Radio, a network of public media stations in Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, and New Mexico, including Aspen Public Radio.

Canelo Hills ladies’-tresses grow only in the Southwest’s vanishing ciénegas. Can they be rooted there again?

Researchers Andrew Salywon, Luis Romero, Hope Brooks and Steve Blackwell and a volunteer plant orchids at Arizona’s Canelo Hills Cienega Preserve in April. Photo: Cassidy Araiza/High Country News

This article was originally published by High Country News on July 9, 2026, and is republished here by permission.

Arizona’s rarest orchid, when not in bloom, resembles a blade of grass. It vanishes easily in the lush greenery of the Canelo Hills Cienega Preserve — even to the eyes of the botanists who plant it.

On a mild April morning, after a decade of preparation, a group of scientists gathered at a desert wetland cradled in southern Arizona’s hills to reintroduce a federally endangered orchid. Aside from the researchers’ chatter, the only sounds were water trickling from a spring and boots squelching through mud.

Steve Blackwell, conservation biologist at the Desert Botanical Garden (DBG), ventured into the wetland, using tussocks of grass as stepping-stones. He wanted to see if a small test plot of orchids planted months before had survived. He returned at a run, fists pumping the air. “I found one!”

The rest of the team, made up of orchid experts from DBG and the North American Orchid Conservation Center (NAOCC), followed him to a soil moisture sensor stuck into the boggy ground. He pulled aside sedges and grasses to reveal a thin, grass-like leaf.

“We did it, guys,” NAOCC technician Hope Brooks said.

“Now we just gotta do 360 more,” Blackwell replied.

“DESERT WETLAND” sounds like a contradiction. Known regionally as ciénegas, they’re pockets of green in an arid landscape, fed by freshwater springs. They’re among the rarest habitats in the Southwestern United States, making up just a tiny fraction of the landscape but home to a vast array of species. 

The Canelo Hills ladies’-tresses, one of the most endangered orchids in the United States, contributes to that diversity. But only a few hundred remain in the wild, and none had been seen at the Canelo Hills Cienega Preserve, where the species was first documented in a scientific publication, since the early 2000s.

In 2020, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service asked DBG botanists whether they could grow the orchid from seed. “I’m like, ‘Yeah, sure I can,’” Blackwell said, chuckling at his own confidence. “I love getting these problems that are difficult and then trying to work through them.”

Ciénegas are among the rarest habitats in the Southwestern U.S., making up just a tiny fraction of the landscape but home to a vast array of species. 

The first challenge was locating the remaining wild orchids; there were only two known populations, both in southern Arizona. Canelo Hills ladies’-tresses bloom in late summer, sending up a stalk spiraled with white flowers. The rest of the year, they’re essentially invisible. The team had to recruit two specially trained “ecology detection” dogs to sniff them out.

The seeds are minuscule, optimized for wind dispersal. “They’re like dust,” said ecologist Melissa McCormick, who directs NAOCC. “They don’t have nutrients in them to support the developing seeds.” Instead, baby orchids draw their nourishment from a particular type of mycorrhizal fungus.

Enter the second challenge: cultivating the right fungus in a laboratory. Researchers at NAOCC, a program of the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center in Maryland, led this task. They scrubbed orchid roots with toothbrushes and shaved off tiny pieces under a microscope. “All the little balls of fungus pop out,” McCormick said, enabling researchers to cultivate them in petri dishes. The ladies’-tresses, grown in glass flasks, can germinate with a substitute supply of nutrients, but they sprout much faster with a dab of lab-grown fungus.

The scientists also checked for the presence of Sonoran bumblebees at the Canelo Hills to ensure the orchids would have a pollinator, and they conducted a prescribed burn to push back trees encroaching on the wetland. All these pieces had to come together to give the reintroduction a chance. But McCormick rejected orchids’ fragile reputation: “They can grow in really tough conditions.”

INCLUDING, apparently, underwater. The team was surprised to find one of the test orchids fully submerged and still green. Fine silt clouded the water as the researchers rooted around, feeling for the metal tags that marked the planting locations. 

Ultimately, the scientists located seven of the 20 orchids in the test plot; the others may have died, gone dormant or simply remained hidden. Reassured, the team set to work planting hundreds more, enough to test different restoration techniques. The first question: Can orchids thrive if they go straight from flask to ground, or do they need to spend some time potted in soil first?

Another variable is the fungus, which occurs naturally in some parts of the ciénega. This first batch of orchids was grown without the aid of the laboratory-cultivated fungus, which the plants need in the soil. The researchers placed fungus-inoculated cotton balls in the planting holes with some of the orchids. Others got cotton balls without fungus or nothing at all, to see whether the orchids grow better with a fungal boost. And they planted some orchids in a part of the wetland where tests didn’t turn up the right fungus in the ground. Would the fungus-spiked cotton balls open up new habitat for ladies’-tresses?

DBG conservation researcher Luis Romero lifted the first orchid out of its pot, brushed dirt from its roots, and put it on a scale. It was too light to register, so he counted the plant’s leaves and roots instead as a baseline to measure its growth later on. Brooks recorded the data while Romero improvised a pair of forceps out of charcuterie skewers and poked a cotton ball into the mud. The orchid sprout followed, and a peaty, plant-rot smell rose from the disturbed earth. It was the first of 15 orchids planted in a half-meter-by-half-meter square, all part of one experimental treatment.

In July, the team will return to check the results. Blackwell, half-jokingly, said he dreamed of returning to “a field of just white flowers.” But Romero said he will consider the project a success even if only a few orchids survive. At this early stage, both failures and successes provide lessons for future attempts. He aims to develop a blueprint for orchid reintroduction: a protocol that can be adopted by other institutions.

Julie Stromberg, an Arizona plant ecologist who wasn’t involved with the reintroduction project, echoed Romero’s emphasis on good experimental design. That way, even if a project’s orchids don’t survive, she said, “at least you’re going to learn something about what’s driving the system and why it’s failing.”

Ciénegas face many threats, including climate change, drought, groundwater pumping, diversions of spring water, overgrazing and fire suppression. Trees have overtaken many places, consuming water that used to sustain wetland flora. Human developments, such as roads and culverts, also take a toll. “A lot of these ciénegas, as a whole, have blinked out,” Stromberg said.

Because ciénegas are so isolated, they’re all different. Each holds a unique mix of rare species. “When you lose one ciénega, you’re losing something that really can’t be replaced,” she said. 

TRACING THE causes of a ciénega’s decline is part science, part detective work. Upstream from the orchid-planting site, DBG botanist Andrew Salywon pointed out a roughly 10-foot-deep drop in a creek bed. It was a headcut, a site of dramatic erosion that would continue to carve its way upstream, deepening the creek as it goes. In a healthy wetland, water slows down and spreads out. A deep channel has the opposite effect.  

“Historically, this probably was all wetland vegetation,” Salywon said, gesturing at the tree stumps on the streambanks. Now, it’s an example of a dying ciénega.

Headcutting happens in natural cycles but is worsened by extreme rainfall, which is becoming more frequent in a climate-changed world. It may also be a sign of the preserve’s ranchland history: Long-abandoned culverts and berms still capture and channelize water, which can cause headcuts and other erosion.

“When you lose one ciénega, you’re losing something that really can’t be replaced.”

Years ago, while surveying for orchids, Salywon noticed the 10-foot headcut and decided to try to save this ciénega. Restoring fire, removing trees and remediating earthworks are all part of that rescue effort. But Salywon acknowledged this damaged area may never recover enough to support ladies’-tresses — at least, not in his lifetime. Restoration, he said, “can take a long time, but you just need to start the healing.”

The new orchids, if they survive, will help cushion shocks to existing populations. They are currently the only ones known to be living on protected land; the Canelo Hills preserve was purchased by The Nature Conservancy in 1969 and is now closed to the public.

The researchers hope one day to expand the project to surrounding ranchland. Light grazing, like fire, may benefit these orchids by knocking back competing vegetation.  

Curt Bernal, owner of the neighboring Z Triangle Ranch, said he welcomes opportunities to aid the restoration effort. For any rare plant, he said, “it’s incumbent upon us humans to do what it takes to make sure they continue to exist long after we’re gone.” 

We welcome reader letters. Email High Country News at editor@hcn.org or submit a letter to the editor. See our letters to the editor policy.

This article appeared in the July 2026 print edition of the magazine with the headline “An endangered desert orchid comes home.”

This article first appeared on High Country News and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

The Supreme Court shrunk clean water protections in the West. Colorado and New Mexico are restoring them

Abby Burk with Audubon Rockies examines a seasonal stream in the forest near Glade Park, Colo. Colorado’s new clean water permitting program aims to protect wetlands and streams left vulnerable after a 2023 U.S. Supreme Court decision. (Rachel Cohen / KUNC)

In dry, western Colorado, near the town of Glade Park, a high-elevation meadow is surrounded by aspens and firs. The grass is surprisingly bright green. That’s a clue, said Abby Burk: there’s water here. But at first, it’s not apparent.

“There are some wetland plants that are here that let us know – it’s kind of like being a sleuth,” said Burk, who works for Audubon Rockies, which advocates for birds and their habitats.

We comb through the brush, into a clearing and spot it. A tiny stream glitters in the sunlight. The trickle is barely audible over the buzz of a fly and birds chirping. It might dry up after more summer heat.

Burk, who lives not too far from this wetland, knows this place is more  than meets the eye.

“This is a pretty wet spot, and wildlife know that, as well,” she said. “They come here for their groceries if you will.”

But three years ago, places that look like this became more vulnerable. In 2023  the U.S. Supreme Court dramatically narrowed the 1972 Clean Water Act in Sackett v. EPA

In ruling in favor of an Idaho couple, Michael and Chantell Sackett, who sought to build a house on their property containing some wetlands, the court hollowed out protections for an estimated 63% of the country’s wetlands and nearly five million miles of streams, an EPA official told the Washington Post in 2023. 

A high-elevation wetland in the forest near Glade Park, Colo. (Rachel Cohen / KUNC)

Now, bulldozers could move in and pave over formerly protected waters for subdivisions, industrial parks or roads, without going through extensive federal “dredge-and-fill” permitting. 

“With a light switch decision, all of a sudden a tremendous amount of acreage was exposed,” Burk said.

The court decision said wetlands needed a “continuous surface connection” to a protected lake, river or stream to keep federal safeguards, and that protections only apply to waters that are “relatively permanent, standing or continuously flowing.” 

Burk said that language doesn’t reflect how water works in the arid West, where intermittent streams can run dry a bulk of the year and ephemeral streams fill only after storms. But, these temporary arteries support abundant wildlife and connect to more substantial waters downstream.

Hand off to the states

The Sackett ruling effectively shifted more clean water oversight to states. About half already had their own wetland protections on the books, according to the Environmental Law Institute. Arizona and Wyoming state laws provided some clean water protections. But in the rest of the Mountain West, states relied on federal law to limit pollution.

“Colorado kind of saw the writing on the wall,” Burk said. “Unless the state came together and created our own program, we could be at the mercy of pendulum swings in protections and in jurisdiction. And that creates uncertainty for everyone.”

So, Colorado stepped in. It became the first state after the Supreme Court decision to create a new permitting program for waters that lost federal protection.

But building this new state system wasn’t easy. There were two competing bills in the statehouse. Some business groups were worried that new state regulations would go beyond the old federal ones. Boulder water attorney Gabe Racz testified about those concerns on behalf of the Colorado Water Congress, a wide-range of water users.

“I think there was concern about an expansion of coverage,” he said. “That that could present difficulties for the state economy and development in the state.”

Colorado lawmakers eventually reached a bipartisan compromise in 2024. It includes expanded protections for isolated wetlands and requirements to offset harmful impacts, but also includes exemptions for agriculture. 

Rio Costilla in northern New Mexico, typically runs dry before it hits the Rio Grande. Clean water advocates in New Mexico believe it is likely no longer federally protected after the Sackett Supreme Court decision. (Courtesy of Jim O’Donnell / Amigos Bravos)

The Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment and the Colorado Water Quality Control Commission spent the next year writing the rules and held 48 public meetings. Parts of the permitting program launched in spring 2026, with more coming online later this year. Now, developers or organizations will need to go to the state if their projects will affect waters that were previously federally-regulated. 

The big question on Racz’s mind is whether the state has the capacity to take this on.

“We don’t know yet whether the program is adequately resourced in order to issue permits on the schedule that’s necessary,” he said. “I do think resources are going to be a big part of whether this is a successful program.”  

Filling the gap

Colorado’s new state permitting program is under the purview of Nicole Rowan, director of the Department of Public Health and Environment’s Water Quality Division.

Her agency is authorized to hire around five staffers to work on the permitting program and that the state legislature could adjust in the annual budgeting process. 

But Colorado’s workload could soon get bigger. Last year, the Trump administration proposed more Clean Water Act rollbacks that could leave even more wetlands and streams under the state’s responsibility. 

“I do think if it continues to shrink and shrink, then Colorado is going to have to take on more of the burden of permitting, and so it is a cost concern,” Rowan said.

Still, she said, Colorado’s new state program is designed to protect the state’s waters even as the federal landscape changes. And the idea is spreading. 

Jackie Corday, a natural resources consultant, examines a map of wetlands and streams near Glade Park, Colo. during a site visit for a potential restoration effort. Organizations proposing certain restoration or development projects now need to go to the state for permits to work in waters that were once covered by federal law. (Rachel Cohen / KUNC)

New Mexico’s legislature passed a law in 2025 to develop a permitting program that would set up a similar structure as Colorado, plus it would regulate pollutant discharges. About 96% of the state’s streams are intermittent or ephemeral, meaning a large portion lost protection after the Sackett decision. A state board aims to finalize the rules of the program by the end of the year. 

Portia Osborne, the executive director of the National Association of Wetland Managers, said she applauds the responses from these two western states. But she’s not surprised more states haven’t taken a similar path since the Supreme Court ruling.

“It takes political will, and it takes a big effort at the state level to go about getting the approval, putting funds in place to fund a program, and then all of the work of developing the rules, hiring and training staff, and building up a program,” Osborne said. “It’s a big ask.”

Osborne also said the federal government played an important role in enforcing Clean Water Act regulations and was able to coordinate protections under other federal laws like the Endangered Species Act.

“This patchwork of protections is never going to ensure as strong of a protection to our aquatic resources as a strong federal protection and program would,” she said.

A seasonal stream in western Colorado may dry up in the summer heat. Streams like this are common features of the arid West, but were left in a legal gray area after a U.S. Supreme Court decision three years ago that said only “relatively permanent” waters would keep federal protections. (Rachel Cohen / KUNC)

For Burk in Colorado, however, the work isn’t finished. 

“Is this a mic drop moment? I think we have come a tremendous way,” she said. “But we’re not done yet.”

Now comes the most important part, she said. Ensuring Colorado’s new permitting program delivers on protecting wetlands and small streams.

This story was produced in partnership with The Water Desk, an independent reporting initiative at the University of Colorado Boulder’s Center for Environmental Journalism.

This story was produced by the Mountain West News Bureau, a collaboration between Wyoming Public Media, Nevada Public Radio, Boise State Public Radio in Idaho, KUNR in Nevada, KUNC in Colorado and KANW in New Mexico, with support from affiliate stations across the region. Funding for the Mountain West News Bureau is provided in part by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.

The clock is ticking for New Mexico to cut Rio Grande water use

Photos by Paul Ratje. Reporting supported by the Water Desk at the University of Colorado Boulder.

HATCH, N.M.—After 13 years, Texas and New Mexico have finally reached a settlement in a Supreme Court case over Rio Grande water management.

Now comes the hard part.

Texas sued New Mexico in 2013, arguing that its upstream neighbor was hogging water on the river that millions depend on for irrigation and drinking water. The settlement requires New Mexico to reduce the amount of water drawn from wells that deplete the flow of Rio Grande water to Texas.

The agreement also introduces a new accounting method to determine how much water New Mexico owes Texas. And for the first time, the volume of water flowing into Texas will be measured at the state line. Compliance will cost New Mexico upward of $150 million. If the state fails to meet the settlement’s requirements, it could face harsh penalties or another taxing lawsuit. 

New Mexico officials hope that buying water rights from farmers and shutting off their wells will be enough to comply. But if climate change continues to drive drier conditions in the Rio Grande basin, those initial voluntary measures will likely fall short. The state expects to have 25 percent less water in 50 years because of rising temperatures.

If New Mexico has to make further reductions to water use, the possibility of mandatory water cuts looms over the region. Behind closed doors, major water users, including farmers and the city of Las Cruces, are negotiating contingency plans. The Lower Rio Grande in New Mexico shows how difficult it will be to fairly reduce water use among farmers, industry and residents as the climate gets hotter and drier.

From Hatch to Anthony, New Mexico, farmers are contemplating whether to sell their water rights and turn off their wells permanently. Towns built on agriculture are asking what comes next in a future with more fallow fields. The settlement comes as a hyperscale data center begins construction in the basin, raising further questions about sustainability.

Norm Gaume, a former New Mexico Interstate Stream Commission director who now leads the nonprofit New Mexico Water Advocates, compared the Rio Grande to a company in bankruptcy. He likened the Supreme Court to the bankruptcy judge. 

“They’ve issued their recovery plan,” Gaume said in an interview. “And it’s going to be painful.”

The settlement “is going to change the way we view water and use water in the Lower Rio Grande in New Mexico,” he said. “It has huge consequences.”

People watch the arrival of waters at the Rio Grande in Las Cruces, New Mexico on Thursday, May 30, 2026. Water from Elephant Butte was released for the irrigation season, amid record low water levels at Elephant Butte lake, which is a major reservoir for the Rio Grande. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

When hydrologists and climatologists reviewed the impacts of climate change on Western water for a 2015 paper in Ecological Applications, they identified the Rio Grande as “the best example of how climate-change-induced flow declines might sink a major system into permanent drought.”

The prognosis hasn’t improved. 

Snowmelt runoff, the primary water source for the Rio Grande basin in New Mexico, has decreased 17 percent since 2000. The federal Bureau of Reclamation projects that temperatures in the basin will increase by another four to 10 degrees this century, increasing evaporation and the amount of water needed for crops.

People wait for water to arrive in the dry riverbed of the Rio Grande in Las Cruces, New Mexico on Thursday, May 30, 2026. Water from Elephant Butte was released for the irrigation season, amid record low water levels at Elephant Butte lake, which is a major reservoir for the Rio Grande. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

Hard times in Elephant Butte

The farmers in the Elephant Butte Irrigation District (EBID) had just received their first deliveries of irrigation water when they met for a board meeting in Las Cruces on June 10. The mood was one of excitement as they worked long hours to harness the water flowing into irrigation canals after the dry season. But board secretary Randy Garay opened the meeting on a somber note with an invocation. 

“Help us with our watershed this coming year,” he said, head bowed. “We desperately need it.”

EBID water resources consultant Phil King was blunt when he presented the monthly water report to the board. 

“It’s a phenomenal water year,” he deadpanned. “And not in a good way.”

Elephant Butte Irrigation District board members John Clayshulte, Preston Colquitt III, Henry Ludwig and Legal Counsel David Lutz listen to engineering advisor Dr. Phil King discuss the drought situation for the Rio Grande at their monthly board meeting in Las Cruces, New Mexico on Wednesday, June 10, 2026. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

The district relies on Rio Grande water stored at Elephant Butte Reservoir. That supply is shared by southern New Mexico, far West Texas and Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. Two decades of drought in the Southwest have left the reservoir at a fraction of capacity. After a winter with little snowpack in the Colorado headwaters, the reservoir was roughly 13 percent full in May. 

The Rio Grande downstream of Elephant Butte and Caballo reservoirs began to fill with water when the floodgates were opened in late spring. Starting on May 30, muddy, foamy water flowed past the towns of Hatch and Las Cruces before making its way to the Texas and international borders. After the water was released, Elephant Butte fell to 3 percent capacity. 

Waters of the Rio Grande arrive in Mesilla, New Mexico on Thursday, May 30, 2026. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

Farmers in the Elephant Butte Irrigation District are entitled to three acre-feet of water per acre—enough to cover each acre in water three feet deep. But this year they only got four inches of water. Pecans, the biggest crop in the district, need between 4 and 5 acre-feet of water, more than 12 times what they received from the river this year.

Farmers make up the difference with well water. But those wells are the root of Texas’ Supreme Court case against New Mexico.

After the Compact, recurring droughts

The Rio Grande Compact governs how water is shared between Texas, New Mexico and Colorado. The compact was adopted in 1938 after years of disputes.

Not long after, a deep drought fell over the Rio Grande basin. During the 1950s, water levels at Elephant Butte plummeted. Farmers who had planted chile peppers and pecan orchards along the Rio Grande drilled wells into the aquifer. 

Eventually the rains and snowpack returned. The aquifer, depleted during the drought years, replenished. Many good years followed. Cities and towns in the region grew. Cities gradually used more water, but agriculture still consumed the lion’s share.

But drought returned in 2002 and hasn’t left since. With years of low reservoir storage, groundwater pumping has once again depleted the aquifer. The aquifer is now siphoning water out of the Rio Grande that should be flowing to Texas and drawing it underground.

Texas took notice and sued New Mexico for allegedly violating the Rio Grande Compact. Colorado and the United States later joined the suit. 

Last August, the three states and the federal government reached a final settlement in the case. The Supreme Court approved it this May. New Mexico will have to reduce groundwater pumping to allow more water to reach Texas.

The problem isn’t limited to New Mexico. A 2025 paper in Discover Water by lead author Brian Richter found that 52 percent of water consumption in the entire Rio Grande basin, across the United States and Mexico, is causing depletion of reservoirs, aquifers and river flows. 

Implementing the settlement

The day the Supreme Court approved the settlement, some two dozen farmers and local residents gathered at a community college in Anthony, New Mexico, to understand what comes next. It was the first of a series of meetings hosted by the Office of the State Engineer, which regulates New Mexico water.

Ryan Serrano, Lower Rio Grande Basin bureau chief, dove into the details of the settlement package. Serrano explained that New Mexico has 10 years to reduce groundwater pumping by 18,200 acre-feet annually in the basin between Caballo Reservoir and the Texas state line. That’s roughly 6 to 7 percent of all groundwater use in the basin, or enough to fill about 9,000 Olympic swimming pools every year. Between 2021 and 2024, more than 80 percent of groundwater used in the basin went to agriculture.

“We’re on the clock now, May 2026,” Serrano said. “We have until May 2036 to get this done.”

He explained that farmers who are actively using their groundwater rights would be eligible to sell those rights to the state. The state would permanently retire the water rights and let the land go fallow. A study was underway to determine fair market price.

Fallowed fields in Hatch, New Mexico on Tuesday, June 10, 2026. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

New Mexico already has $150 million allocated for the voluntary water rights purchase program. Officials acknowledge there will be further costs to comply with the settlement. But they say it is a better outcome than if the case had gone to trial. Attorneys for the United States were arguing for even steeper cuts to groundwater use than what was ultimately agreed to.

“We really see the state’s investment in this settlement—and it will be expensive—as an investment in the long-term future of the region,” Hannah Riseley-White, New Mexico’s Interstate Stream Commission director, said in an interview.

“We’re very committed to gathering community input on how to shape a program that’s as responsive as possible to community needs and concerns,” she said.

In Hatch, concern over fallowed fields

After Anthony, the agency hosted subsequent meetings in Hatch and Las Cruces.

Victoria Franzoy, the chief financial officer at Chile River Farms, attended the public meeting in Hatch. She worried that the nascent water rights purchase program will hurt the local economy.

“Up here, farming is a deep family tradition,” she said on a warm afternoon at Chile River’s office and processing plant near Hatch. Victoria’s daughter Lexi, who has her own farm, sat across from her.

People enjoy the arrival of waters at the Rio Grande in Las Cruces, New Mexico on Thursday, May 30, 2026. Water from Elephant Butte was released for the irrigation season, amid record low water levels at Elephant Butte lake, which is a major reservoir for the Rio Grande. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

Franzoy’s great-grandfather Joseph Franzoy emigrated to Hatch in the early 20th century from Austria. He grew chile peppers to sell at nearby mining camps, eventually becoming the area’s first commercial chile farmer and the patriarch of a large clan of local farmers. 

Onions, pecans, alfalfa and cotton are also grown locally, but chile peppers put Hatch on the map. The Hatch Chile Festival each Labor Day brings thousands of visitors to the small town, which pronounces itself the Chile Capital of the World on signs along the interstate.  

New Mexico already runs a voluntary groundwater conservation program in which the state pays farmers to temporarily leave their fields fallow. A higher proportion of land in the Hatch area is enrolled in the fallowing program than further downstream in the Mesilla Valley.

Pecan orchards dominate in the Mesilla Valley. Pecan trees must be watered for years to reach maturity, so irrigation cannot be suspended from year to year without jeopardizing pecan production. Meanwhile, farmers in Hatch who grow vegetables have more flexibility to shift production annually.

“Hatch is going to be impacted hard,” Franzoy said. “All the businesses are built around farming in this community.”

The Rio Grande flows through Hatch, New Mexico on Tuesday, June 10, 2026. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

Franzoy said that local businesses will suffer if more land around Hatch is left fallow. She said that it shouldn’t just be farmers who are asked to cut back.

New Mexico officials are considering putting a cap on the volume of water rights that could be sold in the Hatch area to address the disparate impacts.

“We are hearing loud and clear,” Riseley-White said. “And doing a lot of thinking on our end about how to support the lands from which these rights are being acquired to be viable and valuable to the community.”

In the Mesilla Valley, managing with less water

EBID general manager Josh Smith lamented that drought has become “the ordinary” in southern New Mexico. 

“We’re in year 24 of a severe drought,” he said. “At this point, most people are used to these dry conditions.”

He said that each water right holder is going to have to evaluate their situation and decide whether to take the state’s offer. Farmers with large properties could choose to retire groundwater rights on only a portion of the farm. Others who are struggling to make ends meet could sell all their water rights. The state has not yet determined the payment per acre.

“Statistically, there are going to be people for whom it makes sense,” he said.

Elephant Butte Irrigation District General Manager Josh Smith poses for a portrait at EBID headquarters in Las Cruces, New Mexico on Thursday, June 25, 2026. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

Smith hopes that the farmers in his district start to have more certainty in their water supply now that the Texas v. New Mexico case has settled. But he acknowledged that challenges could continue, and didn’t rule out future lawsuits.

“The primary concern is that if our water situation doesn’t change and we don’t receive snowpack in Colorado and northern New Mexico and get flows, we’re going to have big problems,” he said.

Downstream in the Mesilla Valley, pecan farmer Rafael Rovirosa is sober about the challenges facing the region. In the 1930s, his great-grandfather Deane Stahmann was the first local farmer to commercialize pecans, which are native to the Mississippi River basin. He founded Stahmann Farms, which now extends over 3,200 acres. 

Rovirosa grew up on the farm and took over as director of operations in 2017. He has managed the farm through a decade of drought, currently as the vice president, and is preparing for more dry years to come.

“I think we need to plan for a future that’s more similar to what we’re seeing now than what we had before,” he said.

Rovirosa has installed soil moisture sensors in his orchards to improve irrigation efficiency. By measuring the soil moisture, he is able to irrigate only when necessary. He is experimenting with growing pistachios, which require less water than pecans. But he said more research is needed to identify alternative crops that could do well in the area.

“It’s going to take years to really understand,” he said. “If a more economically feasible crop appears, then people will transition. But we’re not there yet.”

He pointed out that not all of the water diverted for agriculture ends up depleting the aquifer. A portion of that water seeps back underground. “That water is not gone, it hasn’t been depleted,” he explained.

Despite the challenges, Rovirosa still sees agriculture playing an important role in the Mesilla Valley for decades to come.  

“Our constraint is not going to be accessible water,” he said. “What’s going to limit our water use is the legality and the constraints that the government puts on it.”

Meanwhile, a new water user is setting up shop in the basin, worrying conservation advocates.

The Project Jupiter data center, backed by Oracle and OpenAI, is under construction in the town of Santa Teresa, within the Rio Grande watershed. The 2.5-gigawatt data center has sparked controversy because of its water demands and massive energy needs. The developers purchased existing water rights that are currently being used by a sod farm. 

State officials have said that no new water pumping rights will be issued in the Lower Rio Grande. New water users, whether data centers or any other industry, will have to obtain existing water rights.

New Mexico seeks a collaborative water management

In early June, irrigation canals have once again filled with water and residents enjoyed the brief window when the Rio Grande flows through their communities. But they sense what’s coming. 

Both to comply with the Supreme Court settlement and to assure long-term sustainability, New Mexico will have to reduce water consumption on the Lower Rio Grande. More cuts will be needed if the voluntary water purchases come up short.

States across the West use a prior appropriation system, included in the New Mexico constitution, which protects the rights of those who first put water to beneficial use above those who began using water later. Under this system, known as priority administration, those who started using water more recently would be cut off first. 

The Rio Grande flows through Rincon, New Mexico on Tuesday, June 10, 2026. (Paul Ratje for InsideClimate News)

New Mexico has another tool in its toolbox known as alternative administration, or active water resource management. Riseley-White of the Interstate Stream Commission said this allows the state to decide with stakeholders “how the cuts are made and in what order and with what water users.”

“We’re really lucky that we have that statute here in New Mexico because it allows us to work with communities on plans that more align with their values and concerns,” she said.

The agency is working with major water rights holders to determine what happens if the state needs to curtail water use beyond the voluntary purchase program. The confidential mediation includes EBID, the city of Las Cruces and New Mexico State University, all of which hold extensive water rights. The parties have until October to reach an agreement. New Mexico also has to submit a Rio Grande management plan within two years as part of the settlement.

Amanda Wyatt, a spokesperson for the university, confirmed that it is participating in confidential discussions about water administration but declined to comment further. The city of Las Cruces declined to respond to questions, citing the confidentiality of the negotiations.

The university, Las Cruces and EBID were also amici, or friends of the court, in the Texas v. New Mexico case, which allowed them to file briefs. 

“All water users in the [Lower Rio Grande], including the New Mexico Amici, have a direct

interest in how New Mexico will administer water to comply with the Compact Decree and Groundwater Settlement Agreement,” wrote state engineer Elizabeth Anderson in a brief last year. “My hope is that the New Mexico Amici, New Mexico, EBID, and the United States will agree to a plan for alternative administration.”

“The 18,200 acre-feet is only the beginning,” said Gaume, of New Mexico Water Advocates, referring to the amount of water usage New Mexico must reduce over the next decade. 

Gaume worries that New Mexico, without presenting a comprehensive plan at the outset, will allow more deficits from groundwater pumping to add up in the meantime. He said the threat of priority administration can be a powerful motivator to get stakeholders to reach a collaborative agreement for reduced groundwater pumping.

“A good outcome in October would be to work together on a plan instead of continuing to litigate their differences,” he said.

Forget Western water war: local managers choose partnership

The Arizona Canal cuts through Phoenix. Photo: Brett Walton/Circle of Blue

This story was originally published by Circle of Blue on July 7, 2026.

The Colorado River, from one viewpoint, is a mess.

The iconic waterway, fundamental to the region’s modern existence—its desert metropolises, its high-tech industries, its agriculture, and its recreation economy—is on the verge of crashing. A two-decade drying trend, aided by carbon pollution in the atmosphere and water use that exceeds supply have nearly drained the basin’s liquid savings accounts.

Nature is now threatening to overwhelm human interventions. Lake Powell is 28 percent of its capacity. Lake Mead, just 24 percent. Climate pressures abound in these hot, dry times. A March heat dome obliterated temperature records. Snowpack was the worst on record. At least five fires larger than 25,000 acres are currently burning in the parched basin.

The basin’s seven states, unable to find consensus on how to live with a shrinking supply, are deadlocked after four years of attempting to negotiate the river’s management rules. State and federal authorities are deciding how much less Colorado River water will be available, anticipating that the reductions will hurt. Knowing that water enables economic growth, they don’t want to be viewed as selling out their constituents.

Look closer, however, and the narrative of warring factions fades a bit. At the local level, water managers are collaborating to ensure residents and businesses have adequate water supplies. They are signing multiparty deals and pursuing joint projects to share resources and keep water flowing to homes and businesses. Such dealmaking is not a remedy to all that ails the basin. But it is viewed as essential in a time of deep climate uncertainty and anxiety.

In June, six water suppliers in Arizona, California, and Nevada signed a memorandum of understanding with the Bureau of Reclamation, a federal agency, to facilitate interstate exchanges of desalinated and recycled water for Colorado River water. The exchanges, taking advantage of spare treatment capacity on the California coast, would introduce new water into a depleting basin.

Earlier this spring, Phoenix, Tucson, and other Arizona water users announced a venture to create an emergency reserve of water for cities facing shortages and to simplify voluntary water transfers in the state — “an easy button” to move water to where it is needed, said Max Wilson, Phoenix’s water resources management adviser.

On Colorado’s Western Slope, home to the river’s headwaters, irrigation districts are taking less water this summer than they are permitted in order to share with towns that would have faced supply cuts.

And in New Mexico, Santa Fe’s water utility is in early talks with neighboring pueblos about joint infrastructure for storing water underground, recycling water, and sharing water between systems in case wildfire pollutes a water source and renders it unusable.

“Cities have the ultimate responsibility to make sure there’s tap water,” said Kathryn Sorensen of Arizona State University and the former director of the Phoenix water utility. “And that means they have to be constantly vigilant and constantly innovate and constantly find new arrangements and new supplies.”

These arrangements, while not a new development, have taken on greater significance as the American West struggles through record heat and aridity this year that is an indicator of worsening water supply challenges in the drying region. Based on a decades-long track record, these arrangements also illustrate that neighbors helping neighbors can be a cost-effective form of climate adaptation.

“It makes sense to me that this happens at the local level because that’s where the risk is,” Sorensen said. She cited the Central Arizona Project, or CAP, as another example. CAP delivers Colorado River water to Phoenix, Tucson and other customers in the state’s populous midsection.

“The risk to the CAP of there not being water in the canal is that the CAP doesn’t deliver water to its contractors and subcontractors,” she said. In other words, a contractual failure.

But for the cities who hold those contracts? A failure to deliver water would hasten a public health and economic crisis. “The risk to a city is there’s no tap water,” Sorensen said. “And that’s just a totally different level of risk. So you see these types of innovations happen at the level where the risk exists.”

Collective action

Partnerships do not happen spontaneously. They are the product of months and years of discussion, negotiation, and relationship building.

“The biggest challenge is communication, understanding the needs of your partners and clearly their sensitivities,” said Bill Schneider, the Santa Fe water resources manager.

Schneider is part of discussions with four pueblos in the Santa Fe area on joint water infrastructure projects, including water recycling and underground storage.

One clear possibility is that Santa Fe could connect its water system to the Pojoaque Regional Water System, which will serve Pojoaque, Nambé, San Ildefonso, and Tesuque pueblos with Rio Grande water.

Connecting neighboring systems is a form of insurance, Schneider explained. Wildfires are a perpetual risk in the watersheds of northern New Mexico. If a severe wildfire sends ash and debris into the Rio Grande, the polluted water could force water systems to shut off their river intakes. It has happened before on the Rio Grande. The Albuquerque Bernalillo County Water Utility Authority had to close its intake for two months in 2011 after the Las Conchas fire. With an interconnected system, water could be delivered to the pueblos from Santa Fe’s other sources, which include the Santa Fe River and groundwater.

Due to the high cost of building infrastructure, system interties and similar partnerships make financial sense, Schneider said. “It means you don’t have to go out and build an entirely new system.”

Wildfires are an annual risk to water supplies in northern New Mexico. Photo: © Pablo Unzueta for Circle of Blue

These infrastructure arrangements already exist in many places, but especially in Arizona. Nevada, for instance, has banked part of its Colorado River allocation underground in Arizona for more than two decades.

A decade ago, when Sorensen was the director of Phoenix Water Services, Phoenix and Tucson signed a trailblazing water deal. It allowed Phoenix to bank some of its Colorado River water underground in Tucson. When the water is needed, Tucson will be able to pump the groundwater and, in exchange, Phoenix will take some of Tucson’s share of Colorado River water. The deal, which has not yet had to be exercised, makes the most efficient use of the water treatment capabilities and infrastructure in the two cities.

That agreement, Sorensen said, paved the way for other exchange partnerships in central Arizona. Mesa, in a project completed this year, provides treated wastewater to the Gila River Indian Community in exchange for 8,000 acre-feet of Colorado River water. (An acre-foot —326,000 gallons — can supply about 3.5 households in urban Arizona for a year.)

In Sorensen’s view, dealmaking is fundamental for utility leaders.

“They’re good horse traders, right?” she said. “That’s part of the job. ‘How can we make a win-win exchange or trade here that makes everyone happy and maximizes the resource?’ The water managers are really good at that.”

The latest iteration is the Secure Water Arizona Program, or SWAP, that Phoenix and Tucson are developing with other central Arizona cities.

Details are still being finalized, but the program will have three components. One is an emergency reserve of water that cities can tap as a last resort. A second piece is facilitating water exchanges between willing sellers and willing buyers. The third element is what Wilson calls “the sandbox” — a forum for collaboration on the next generation of central Arizona water projects.

The idea, said Max Wilson, the Phoenix water adviser, is a form of mutual aid. “At its core, the assumption of the SWAP is that water users shouldn’t be letting other water users go dry.”

Even with the benefits, Wilson acknowledged that collaboration needs to be carefully calibrated.

“People don’t want to see water being forcibly reallocated, for sure,” he said. “People don’t want to see their water going to uses that they necessarily wouldn’t see as beneficial. But when people have legitimate needs, I’ve been really impressed by how the water user community has come together and been willing to say, ‘Let’s talk and let’s figure out what a potentially mutually beneficial solution to those needs could be.’”

This article first appeared on Circle of Blue and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

As data centers flood Wyoming, water pollution fouls good faith

A Microsoft data center in Cheyenne’s Business Parkway on June 8, 2026. (Ryan Dorgan/WyoFile)

This story was originally published by WyoFile on July 15, 2026, and has been updated to include Meta’s appeal of the Cheyenne Board of Public Utilities violation notice.

The contamination of a Cheyenne water system by a Meta data center underscores the worries residents have about more than two-dozen data centers that are and could be consuming Wyoming’s energy, water and landscape.

Water officials announced in June that they had traced an unusual and dangerous bacterium called Cupriavidus gilardii, which can sicken people, to an industrial user first identified by the Wyoming Tribune Eagle as a contractor for a Meta data center.

Pinpointing the source of contamination came months after the discovery of the bacterium in late February. The pollution forced the city to stop irrigating sports fields and parks with recycled sanitary sewer system water, drain and disinfect the system and use drinking water for irrigation instead.

Although it took months to find the source, Cheyenne eventually “immediately and permanently terminated” discharge privileges, the city utility office said. U.S. Rep Harriet Hageman demanded answers from Meta Platforms CEO Mark Zuckerberg while the International Business Times howled “Meta’s ‘Good Neighbour’ Image Crumbles.”

On Monday, Meta appealed the city’s violation notice, requesting more information on the testing and data used to identify the source, the Wyoming Tribune Eagle reported

As Wyoming communities grapple with a surge of rural zoning changes to enable construction of data center computer warehouses and offices, the pollution raises questions about developers’ and tech companies’ assurances.

Thirteen miles east of Wheatland, a proposed data center on 5,344 acres has “taken my family by surprise,” said Kathryn Stevens, who moved from Washington state to her family’s property several years ago seeking a rural lifestyle.

“These companies are taking advantage of rural communities that don’t have regulations in place for these facilities,” she told WyoFile.

Developers in Cheyenne, Casper, Evanston and Wheatland tout water-friendly closed-loop cooling systems, on-site power sources, jobs, money and more. But the pollution that snuck up on a city of roughly 66,000 required “significant remediation,” Cheyenne water officials said, and underscores what can go wrong in semi-arid Wyoming.

Wyoming’s capital, for example, can’t even slake its own thirst. Cheyenne obtains through diversions and a paper swap half its water from the far side of the Continental Divide — 115 miles away — where the Colorado River Basin itself is troubled and oversubscribed.

“Water for irrigation, like that in the reuse system, is a precious resource that cannot be wasted or taken offline,” Hageman wrote Zuckerberg. “I am even more concerned that this contamination seemingly came from your facility’s closed-loop cooling system, a technology that is marketed as being a solution to high data center water consumption rates.”

Info slow in coming

The Cheyenne Board of Public Utilities and the EPA this week declined to comment on the responsibilities each may have for overseeing the sanitary sewer system. The utility said it expects to release more information this week.

Meantime an organization called Data Center Map counts 31 completed or planned data centers in four markets in Wyoming, not counting the one recently proposed east of Wheatland.

About an hour’s drive south, Microsoft plans to purchase more than 3,000 acres of ranch land owned by the family of Wyoming’s U.S. Sen. Cynthia Lummis for its data center expansion plans south of Cheyenne.

On the other side of the state, Prometheus Hyperscale is working with the town of Evanston and Uinta County to build the company’s flagship data center on a 4,100-acre ranch. “Project Torch” would have up to 1.2 gigawatts of power by the end of 2029, enough electricity to power somewhere between 500,000 and a million homes at any given time, according to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.

The latest proposal to rezone 5,344 acres for the Wheatland project drew more than 400 comments when described on the Wheatland News and Events Facebook page. The Site Layer 4 project there is proposed by a New York firm on the Lazy V Six ranch that seeks a change from the ranching/agricultural/mining zone to an industrial classification. The proposal is scheduled for an Aug. 26 hearing before the Platte County Planning and Zoning Commission.

Comments such as “We don’t want it,” “Look at the current water crisis,” “Put in NY,” typified some of the opposition. New York Gov. Kathy Hochul decreed this week the nation’s first statewide moratorium on new hyperscale data centers. But some commenters on the Wheatland project see promise; “No one wanted the power plant [but] Wheatland grew tremendously instead of dying off,” one poster said.

It would be one thing, Stevens said, if industry was patient, if developers asked a community if it could be ready in a year to accept a zone change application.

But the issue “has been jammed down our throats,” Stevens said, “before we can make regulations [or] know what’s safe or what’s not.”

The proposed Platte County zone change would “enable the highest and best use of land” and result in $26 billion in investments in Platte County, the application states. The development would accelerate innovation, strengthen cybersecurity, support allies “and counter China,” Site Layer 4 states.

Public worries across the state prompted action by Gov. Mark Gordon. In early June he signed the executive order “Data Centers the Wyoming Way” to establish a framework for development.

“The order sends a clear message,” the governor said in a statement. “We welcome technological innovation, but it will be done on Wyoming terms.”

Candidates weigh in

Gubernatorial candidates are weighing in. Republican candidate Brent Bien called for repeal of a 2010 bill he said gave “significant tax cuts” to AI data centers.

“Large corporations should not receive tax cuts that are unavailable to small businesses,” he said in WyoFile’s Election Guide 2026.

He would oppose new development of AI data centers “particularly on state and agricultural lands through the [State Loan and Investment Board],” he wrote.

GOP candidate Eric Barlow said proposals should be decided locally. “The state’s role is to protect water resources from misuse, prevent higher electricity rates, and help communities get truthful information if needed to make decisions,” he wrote.

Megan Degenfelder, another Republican candidate for governor, said developers should not build if their projects would increase rates for residents. She called for closed-loop cooling systems, Wyoming workers, workforce education and accommodation by the local community.

A data center worker checks operations in Casper. (Dustin Bleizeffer/WyoFile)

Democrat Kenneth R. Casner and Republican Curt Blake did not answer the survey.

Developers liken data centers to contemporary fast-access libraries where somebody can ask a question and readily get an answer. They do much more, however, housing complex computer programs and networks that would be difficult to replicate at a home or even business.

Contemporary computer needs — things like word processing, spreadsheets, cellphone videos, photography albums and digital image editing programs — are housed and supported in data centers. Warehouses of networked computers, whose functions are backed up and always available, are the foundation of these modern communication and lifestyle tools available from virtually anywhere.

Data centers are where your streaming movies are kept, waiting for you to click “play.” They are “the cloud” that is home to webpages from which you order your new puffy jacket and niece’s birthday gift, where you store the photograph of your granddaughter that you show off at work.

Colorado water officials announce creation of state-run conservation program

This field in the Uncompahgre Valley Water Users Association district has been fallowed this season due to a lack of water. Colorado officials say the amount of water the state can contribute to a conservation program will depend on hydrology. (Heather Sackett/Aspen Journalism)

In the culmination of a process that has been years in the making, Colorado officials Wednesday announced the creation of a state-run water conservation program.

In what officials are calling a “near-term contribution program,” the Upper Basin states (Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming) will pay water users to voluntarily cut back in 2027 and 2028, using $100 million in promised funding from the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation. Colorado will now join Utah and Wyoming in setting up a conservation program within their respective states. 

The noteworthy, long-expected announcement came at the regular July meeting of the Colorado Water Conservation Board, where board members considered the criteria for the program. A draft list says the program must, among other criteria, avoid negative community impacts; encourage contributions from across the state and water-use sectors; incentivize environmental benefits; encourage tribal participation; and build local drought resiliency. The board is scheduled to finalize the program criteria at its September meeting.

These types of conservation programs have traditionally targeted agricultural water users, often seen as the low-hanging fruit for water savings because they use the majority of Colorado River water. But officials are hoping this program will have participation across all water-use sectors, including municipal and industrial.

“I love that it is called a contribution program because that kind of imagines broader participation and engagement,” said board member Taylor Hawes. “So I think that is good. I think the more flexibility we can have, the better in a program like this.”

But details were scant on exactly how much water Colorado will contribute to the program and how the saved water would be used. And although some experts have begun calling for permanent reductions in water use, it remains — for now — a temporary, short-term program.

“We cannot guarantee a certain amount of water will be conserved in a given year because we don’t know how much water our water users are going to get,” said Amy Ostdiek, interstate section chief at the CWCB. “We have been clear that we just can’t do that.” 

This field in the Uncompahgre Valley Water Users Association district has been fallowed this season due to a lack of water. The state of Colorado announced Wednesday that it will set up a conservation program using federal dollars, which means more fields on the Western Slope could soon look like this. (Heather Sackett/Aspen Journalism)

In a May letter to federal officials, the Upper Colorado River Commission said it has a goal of saving 100,000 acre-feet by the end of September 2028, which marks the end of water year 2028, but only if sufficient federal funding is available and hydrologic conditions allow. Colorado’s share of the Upper Basin’s allocation is 51.75%, meaning Colorado could be on the hook for 51,750 acre-feet over the next two years. 

But Ostdiek said they are not at this time discussing a specific target that Colorado or the Upper Basin would have to contribute in exchange for the $100 million from the Bureau of Reclamation.

“We have felt confident that we can generate up to 100,000 acre-feet by 2028,” Ostdiek said in a Q&A session with the media after her presentation to the CWCB. “But really, what we’re going to be focused on is getting robust participation.” 

It’s also unclear exactly how the saved water will be used. Officials said it’s not meant for use by the Lower Basin (California, Arizona and Nevada); it will be for the benefit of the Upper Basin. The water will need to have a home in Upper Basin storage buckets — Lake Powell, Navajo, Blue Mesa or Flaming Gorge reservoirs — but how it will fit into broader reservoir operations is unknown. 

“I think that is going to be the subject of ongoing discussion, exactly how this water is used and characterized,” Ostdiek said. “I think what we know is that it needs to be credited to or subject to the discretion of the Upper Division states in some way.”

Conservation concept is not new

These types of programs that pay water users to cut back are not new to Colorado, and officials said they are incorporating the lessons learned from previous demand-management studies beginning in 2019, stakeholder input and pilot programs. The state participated in the 2023 and 2024 System Conservation Pilot Program, as well as an earlier version that ran from 2015 to 2018. 

But conservation programs remain controversial. The Grand Valley Water Users Association, one of the largest irrigation districts on the mainstem of the Colorado River, did not allow its members to participate in SCPP for fear of negative impacts to other water users in the district.

All of the projects enrolled in SCPP involved agricultural water users on the Western Slope, a potentially risky situation, according to the Colorado River Water Conservation District. The Glenwood Springs-based agency, which represents 15 counties across the Western Slope, had tried to influence the creation of criteria for participation in SCPP to avoid negative impacts to rural agricultural communities. 

Ultimately, only the Upper Colorado River Commission determined who got to participate in SCPP. Now, it seems state officials are taking to heart the River District’s recommendations. River District General Counsel Peter Fleming thanked Ostdiek for including some of the criteria that the district had set forth in its principles about how to create a conservation program.

Fleming encouraged the board members to adopt variable pricing to account for the difference in the value of relatively cheap water on the Western Slope versus more-expensive water on the Front Range. Pueblo Water had wanted to participate in SCPP, but the $509 per acre-foot offered in 2024 to Colorado participants was too far below market value. 

“You can see the variable economic values of the water assigned there and the need to have variable pricing in order to encourage widespread participation,” Fleming said. 

The River District’s position is that the entire burden of a conservation program shouldn’t be borne by the Western Slope, but must also be shouldered by Front Range water providers, who collectively deplete the Colorado River basin by about 500,000 acre-feet a year.

He added that a program should also have a strong element of local control.

“The River District obviously would like to stay involved in this process,” he said.

The Colorado River flows into the upper reaches of Lake Powell, one of the Southwest’s largest reservoirs. Storage in Powell is set to reach record lows, prompting some state leaders to seek out new conservation programs. (Alexander Heilner/The Water Desk)

The creation of a conservation program for Colorado comes at a critical time for the basin, which remains locked in the grip of a historic drought, with combined storage in Lake Powell and Lake Mead at an all-time low since the reservoirs began filling. Although the Upper Basin has argued that it has never used its entire allocation granted by the 1922 Colorado River Compact (and therefore shouldn’t have to cut back), in the face of dwindling flows and calls for conservation from its downstream neighbors, the four states can no longer avoid reducing their water demand.  

The Colorado River basin is also in the midst of a management crisis, with the seven states that share the river still unable to find agreement on a new framework after more than two years of failed negotiations. The current guidelines for how shortages are shared and how reservoirs are operated expire this year, and the feds are poised to step in with their own management plan, expected later this month. 

The Upper Basin would need separate parallel agreements with Reclamation alongside the federal management plan to account for and get credit for water saved through the contribution program. 

In her presentation, Ostdiek gave a preview of Reclamation’s expected plan, which could allow for a pool in Lake Powell to store up to 3 million acre-feet conserved by Upper Basin states. But board chair Barbara Vasquez worried about overestimating the amount of water that could be contributed given the recent historically dry conditions. Farmers and ranchers across Colorado are now experiencing the fallout from the worst snowpack on record in the form of shortages and fallowed fields.

“So prior programs, we spent a lot of money for very little water conserved. I worry that next year may be even worse than this year, and it’s not willingness, but ability,”  Vasquez said. Given the water that’s available, she said, “that might disappoint expectations on the part of the negotiators at the table for the Colorado River.

Aspen Journalism is a nonprofit, investigative news organization covering water, environment, social justice and more. Visit aspenjournalism.org. 

A New Mexico town is running dry. An immigration detention center is its biggest water customer.

Last year, the town of Estancia, N.M., asked residents to conserve water because its wells were not producing adequately. Credit: Town of Estancia

This article originally appeared on July 1 on Inside Climate News, a nonprofit, non-partisan news organization that covers climate, energy and the environment. Sign up for their newsletter here.

Following years of drought, the wells in Estancia, N.M., are running dry. 

After declaring a water emergency last week, the small town in Torrance County is hauling in water to fill its pipes. Estancia has also reduced water sales to the Torrance County Detention Facility, a federal immigration detention center run by the private contractor CoreCivic. The detention facility, Estancia’s largest commercial water customer, has resorted to trucking in water. 

In the midst of the crisis, Estancia Mayor Runnel Riley has taken a leave of absence. During a Board of Trustees meeting Tuesday evening, Estancia’s elected leaders passed a vote of “no confidence” in the mayor. The state has provided funding to drill a new well, and Estancia will be opening the 30-day bidding process this month.

Dozens of residents attended Tuesday’s meeting in person or virtually to voice their frustration about the water problems and delays in drilling a new well. When asked by a reporter for the Mountainair Dispatch, board trustees said they did not have data available on what proportion of the city’s water goes to the detention facility. Estancia is home to 1,400 people, and up to 800 people can be detained at the facility.

Ryan Gustin, senior public affairs director at CoreCivic, said the company implemented contingency plans once it learned of the water emergency. He said that the Torrance County Detention Facility has brought in additional water supplies, and the water emergency has not impacted its operations.

“Drinking water is always available within our housing units and bottled water has been provided in addition to the readily available drinking water containers,” Gustin said.

Roy Hubbard, Estancia’s deputy clerk, told Inside Climate News that the town is meeting with CoreCivic on Wednesday to discuss next steps. The detention facility has been the subject of complaints about sewer and water problems in the past.

A detention center, a drought and years of delay

The current water shortage is not Estancia’s first. 

Last year, Estancia asked residents to conserve water because its wells were not producing adequately. In 2024, the town issued a similar call.

Overpumping has caused significant declines to the groundwater level in the Estancia Basin aquifer, which the town relies on, according to the New Mexico Groundwater Alliance. The Office of the State Engineer, which regulates water rights in New Mexico, closed the Estancia Basin to new water rights. However, the office predicted that if existing water rights remain in use, the groundwater level will continue to decline.

New Mexico, including Torrance County, is experiencing severe drought. State officials expect groundwater supplies to further diminish because of higher temperatures and changes in precipitation patterns due to climate change.

Estancia elected Runnel Riley to replace the incumbent mayor in November 2025 by a mere five votes. However, Riley stopped attending trustee meetings as the town’s water problems became more severe.

State Rep. Stefani Lord, a Republican who represents Torrance and Bernalillo counties, said at Tuesday’s meeting: “I called the mayor in January. He has never returned my phone calls.” 

“Just get the well finished. That is the short-term problem,” she said. “There are all kinds of things we can do in the future. But for this moment, we just have to focus on getting this done.”

State Rep. Stefani Lord addresses the Estancia Board of Trustees during a June 30 public meeting. Screenshot: Torrance County webstream

During the meeting, the trustees also voted to prohibit fireworks over the 4th of July weekend. The town still plans to hold a fireworks display, but private citizens will not be allowed to set off fireworks because of the ongoing drought and the risk of fires during the water emergency.

Hubbard, the deputy clerk, said that as of Saturday, trucks had delivered 116,700 gallons of water to the town. He said that water supply to CoreCivic will “gradually be turned back on” when there is more water available. According to reporting in the Mountainair Dispatch, more than 80 percent of the town’s water goes to commercial customers. However, town officials have not clarified how much of that share goes to CoreCivic.

During Tuesday’s meeting, in response to questions from a Mountainair Dispatch reporter, Mayor Pro Tem Albert Lovato said that providing up-to-date information on the town’s water supply is difficult because of the fluctuating population at the detention center. “Our population goes up and it goes down because of CoreCivic,” he said.

The detention center has been a source of controversy for years. 

The Department of Homeland Security’s Office of the Inspector General documented unsanitary conditions at TCDF in 2022, including “clogged toilets, broken sinks, inoperable toilets, water leaks, and mold.” The Innovation Law Lab, an immigrant and refugee rights organization, has also documented complaints from detainees at TCDF about sewage overflows and restricted access to water.

“There have been no sewage issues at TCDF because of this situation, nor were there any sewage issues in 2025 related to any water supply issues,” said Gustin, the CoreCivic spokesperson. “At no point have those in our care been without drinking water.”

The New Mexico Environment Department (NMED) enforces health and safety regulations at TCDF. Agency spokesperson Drew Goretzka said that, following a 2025 inspection, TCDF has addressed potential deficiencies with the sewer system.

“NMED is supporting the Town of Estancia through emergency response coordination, including requesting assistance from other state agencies to provide alternate water sources,” Goretzka said. “The Department is in communication with the Town and its contractors to resolve the immediate water shortage issues.”

Immigration and Customs Enforcement deferred questions about the facility to CoreCivic. 

The federal agency has expanded its detention capacity under the Trump administration. ICE purchased numerous warehouses around the country to open new detention facilities this year for immigrants who are in deportation proceedings. ICE has been detaining an increasing number of people with active immigration cases seeking to stay in the country. Many residents in these communities, from Texas to Pennsylvania, have raised concerns whether local infrastructure could support the increased water demand from detention centers.

Western Slope lawmakers take Colorado River managers to task

The main boat ramp at Wahweap Marina was unusable due to low water levels in Lake Powell in December 2021. Water levels are projected to soon fall even lower than this at the nation’s second-largest reservoir. Credit: Heather Sackett/Aspen Journalism

This story was originally published by Aspen Journalism on June 30, 2026.

Western Slope lawmakers had harsh words for water managers at a state committee hearing last week, questioning whether Colorado has done enough to avoid a lawsuit with its downstream neighbors.

Colorado Sen. Dylan Roberts, a District 8 Democrat who represents several Western Slope counties, including Eagle, Grand, Garfield, Routt and Summit, asked Colorado’s lead negotiator, Becky Mitchell, whether the people of Colorado should have confidence that negotiations among the seven states that share the Colorado River have put the state in the best possible position. The states have been at an impasse for more than two years without a deal for future management as reservoirs continue to decline to record-low levels.

“My constituents just see fighting and intransigence,” Roberts said. “And it’s concerning to me, especially as a Western Slope lawmaker … that the strategy is just ‘Let’s hire more lawyers; we’re going to court no matter what.’ That doesn’t give me confidence, because I don’t think Colorado fares well when we go to court against Arizona and California and Nevada, throwing our fate to the nine justices on the U.S. Supreme Court.”

The remarks came at Thursday’s meeting of the state Water Resources and Agriculture Review Committee in Denver. Along with Mitchell, in the hot seat were state engineer Jason Ullmann and Amy Ostdiek, interstate section chief at the Colorado Water Conservation Board. The three are employees of the state Department of Natural Resources and have the backing of the Attorney General’s office in negotiations.

Roberts’ line of questioning seemed prompted by recent projections that show river flows dipping below a threshold that could trigger litigation. The Lower Basin states (Arizona, California and Nevada) believe that the Upper Basin states (Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming) are bound by the 1922 Colorado River Compact to deliver 82.5 million acre-feet of water over a 10-year rolling average. According to the Upper Colorado River Commission, the 10-year average will dip later this year to about 81.3 million acre-feet because of persistent drought. 

Some experts believe that this amounts to a “tripwire” that could trigger a lawsuit from the Lower Basin states (Arizona, in particular, has been openly preparing for litigation) that could result in mandatory cuts in water use for the Upper Basin. Upper Basin water managers don’t subscribe to this interpretation, saying their states are only required not to deplete the river’s flows by more than 75 million acre-feet over 10 years.

Mitchell was reluctant to share details of Colorado’s legal strategy in a public forum, but she answered “absolutely” that her team’s work was putting Colorado in the best position. She said cutting back prematurely just to satisfy the Lower Basin’s interpretation of the century-old agreement would be bad for the state.

“If we initiate curtailment now, that is worse for Coloradans,” Mitchell said. “I think that is an important thing to remember.”

Wracked by drought, climate change and a management crisis, the situation on the river has never been more dire. The current management guidelines expire this year, and in the absence of a seven-state deal to share shortages and operate the nation’s two largest reservoirs, Lake Powell and Lake Mead, the feds are poised to step in. The U.S. Bureau of Reclamation plans to release a more detailed, short-term plan to manage the river for the next two years by mid-to-late summer.

State Rep. Julie McCluskie, a District 13 Democrat, said communities in her district have been living with the incredible angst, anxiety and pain of no snow and low reservoirs. 

“The frustration I hear in my community is that we have missed multiple deadlines; they are becoming a funny joke,” McCluskie said. “There is such a fear about the lengthy litigation process, the fear of an outcome that is far worse for Colorado than a compromise that we have some control over.”

Conservation conversation is the ‘bare minimum’

Lawmakers also had strong words for state officials regarding conservation, saying legislators must be involved in the creation of any program.

Colorado has dabbled with pilot conservation programs in the past, but traditional programs that pay farmers and ranchers to temporarily cut back on water use remain controversial. This is especially true on the Western Slope, which has long been the target for these types of programs, and where some worry that they could harm rural communities if not done carefully. After two years of exploring how the state could set up a temporary, voluntary and compensated conservation program, officials shelved the idea in favor of focusing on drought-resilience initiatives.

“Other states out of the seven have very clear and actionable roles for their general assemblies, their legislatures,” McCluskie said. “We have less so, and yet the stakes are so high. So I beg of you, decision-makers, that it is essential that we be a part of those next steps.”

Ostdiek said that any program would need to start slow and make sure it incorporates input from people throughout the state.

“I think that we can continue to assess as we go what we might need from you all, and what a program like that might look like,” Ostdiek said. “I think what we can certainly commit to is continuing this dialogue and continuing the discussion about what we might need to make this a success.”

In 2023, Colorado lawmakers tried to force stakeholders to come up with recommendations on conservation programs by creating a statewide task force, which met 10 times over six months. But the group failed to find a consensus, with some saying it was “premature” to create a conservation program.

As part of a post-2026 framework, the Upper Basin states plan to create a “contribution” pool in Lake Powell, which could be used to help stabilize the system, keeping water levels above critical thresholds to protect hydropower at Glen Canyon Dam and acting as an insurance pool against forced cutbacks. In a May 22 letter to federal officials, the Upper Basin states said they have a goal of saving 100,000 acre-feet by the end of water year 2028, but only if sufficient federal funding is available and hydrologic conditions allow.

Three Upper Basin states have different methods for contributing to this pool: Utah has its own demand management program; Wyoming lawmakers passed a law this year allowing for a conservation program; and New Mexico plans to release water from Navajo Reservoir. 

But precisely how — and how much — Colorado would contribute to this pool is unclear. The state’s share of the Upper Basin’s allocation is 51.75%, meaning Colorado could be on the hook for 51,750 acre-feet. 

And ensuring that saved water actually gets into a pool in Lake Powell remains part of the problem. Currently, conserved water that stays in the river can just be picked up by a downstream user, with no net gain to Lake Powell. Colorado officials say they do not have the authority to “shepherd” water past other water users to the state line unless it is specifically for compact compliance. 

Last year, some Delta County ranchers asked lawmakers to take up the issue and pass a law that would address this issue, allowing water users to conserve and get credit for contributing water to a Lake Powell pool. But legislators did not take up a bill in the 2026 session.

Colorado officials told lawmakers they were continuing to explore what a program might look like and whether legislation would be needed.

Roberts said conversations with the legislature should be the bare minimum if Colorado is going to have a conservation program. 

“If the department or any agency of the state were to pursue a conserved consumptive use program or demand management program that used state tax dollars to pay for it and did not go through the legislature in a formal process, I imagine that all of us on this panel and many of our colleagues would raise holy hell about the unilateral decision-making coming from Denver about programs impacting all parts of the state,” Roberts said. “So, please, let’s just cut that off at my recommendation. Let’s work together on this.”

Officials opened the hearing by highlighting the impacts of this year’s severe drought on Colorado’s farmers and ranchers, noting how even some of the most senior water users will experience shortages as streamflows dwindle. Orchards in the North Fork Valley and row crops in the Uncompahgre River Valley already have unprecedented shortages. 

In response to Roberts’ concerns about the failure to find a compromise among the seven states, Mitchell posed a high-stakes rhetorical question: “I would ask, ‘What else do you think we can give?’”

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