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PRECIOUS WATER
“When the well’s dry, we know the worth of water.” — Benjamin Franklin
Author braving the narrows.
July 2023
There is little to no cell service. No trails. No map. And—here’s the biggie—you probably aren’t welcome there. Landowners stay on the lookout for anyone stepping foot on private land.
In a field of brickellbush, hundreds of monarch butterflies move with the grace of a Disney fairy waving a wand. They circle back and forth in figure eights all around us, flashing black and orange wings dotted with white, as they fly from stem to stem undisturbed. My guide, Jim, and I take off our hats while my wife, Vanessa, takes out her camera. We stand there, spellbound.
Vanessa Hartman, Jim Wigginton, and Bobby Alemán cross a swallet-like depression on a Blanco riverbed.
It’s only later that I realize the scene was likely a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But maybe our whole trip was. We were there last October to find a place called the Narrows. This limestone gorge on the Blanco River has hidden, almost tropical pools where honeycombed rock walls, skirted with maidenhair fern, shimmer with the water’s reflection—a Texas oasis like no other. After hearing about the Narrows several years ago and finding pictures online, I dreamt about seeing it for real. But there was another reason for my interest. I had just learned about Josephine Mandamin, an Anishinaabekwe First Nation woman who had popularized the concept of a “water walk.” Undertaken in Canada 20 years ago, hers was an act of defiance against those polluting her community’s water. I felt compelled to commemorate the anniversary of her noble effort.
A water walk is just that: a mindful walk by water. While some consider it an act of resistance or even a spiritual exercise—a feat of reverence to our most precious resource—others approach it as a journey to trace water’s route from sea to source to better understand how it makes its way to our drinking taps. For most of my life, I’ve only ever thought about water in terms of its absence—drought and the aftereffects. I intended to learn more about where it comes from and how it’s threatened.
A water walk is just that: a mindful walk by water. While some consider it an act of resistance or even a spiritual exercise—a feat of reverence to our most precious resource—others approach it as a journey to trace water’s route from sea to source to better understand how it makes its way to our drinking taps. For most of my life, I’ve only ever thought about water in terms of its absence—drought and the aftereffects. I intended to learn more about where it comes from and how it’s threatened.
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“Water is the one substance without which no plant or animal can survive,” says Andrew Sansom, founder of The Meadows Center for Water and the Environment, a research and education center for water issues at Texas State University. “It’s essential to all of life. And if we deplete it, we’re going to be in a world of hurt—and we’re on the way to doing that.”
To many hikers in Texas, the Narrows is the Holy Grail, hidden somewhere on the Blanco between the triangle of Henly, Blanco, and Fischer. The trip offers hikers the two things they always pursue: a challenging hike and the promise of an unparalleled view. The gorge, about a quarter-mile long, looks like a place where the earth has split open, with bedrock pulled apart to reveal spring-fed pools. Ask anyone in the hiking community about getting there and you’ll hear these refrains: It’s hardly accessible, fiercely guarded, and a punishing march even on a good day. The hike is 14 miles with water crossings. There is little to no cell service. No trails. No map. And—here’s the biggie—you probably aren’t welcome there. Landowners stay on the lookout for anyone stepping foot on private land. Watch for purple paint sprayed on rocks or brushed on fence posts as a warning and boundary line. |
A t-post marks a private property line.
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A friend of mine, who tried to hike it in the summer of 2022, went the wrong way and returned to her car to find every one of her stem valves ripped out. All her tires were flat. After hours of trying to get a tow truck, three nearby residents helped get her back on the road, visiting with her afterward over beers. She shared all the stories she’d heard about unfriendly locals and listened as they told her most weren’t that way. But they admitted some believe visitors don’t respect the land.
That’s why Vanessa, my constant hiking companion, and I weren’t going to hike it alone. We wanted to go with someone who had done it before. We chose the fall to avoid the heat. Our chaperone for the trip was Jim Wigginton, a software developer and amateur drone photographer from Austin. He had made the trek himself once before, alone.
That’s why Vanessa, my constant hiking companion, and I weren’t going to hike it alone. We wanted to go with someone who had done it before. We chose the fall to avoid the heat. Our chaperone for the trip was Jim Wigginton, a software developer and amateur drone photographer from Austin. He had made the trek himself once before, alone.
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IN 2000, JOSEPHINE, an Anishinaabekwe grandmother from Thunder Bay, Ontario, attended a Three Fires Sun Dance in Pipestone, Minnesota. She listened as a wise ogimaa, the Grand Chief Eddie Benton-Benai, issued a warning to all those gathered. He told them that in 30 years an ounce of water is going to cost as much as an ounce of gold, according to published interviews with Josephine.
Josephine felt like he was talking to her. In her culture, women were considered protectors of the water. The chief looked out on the crowd and asked them, “What are you going to do about it?” Three years passed before Josephine, along with seven other grandmothers, pledged to do something incredible in response. On Easter Monday, they set off to walk the 1,300 miles around the entirety of Lake Superior as a prayer ceremony of reconnection and devotion to the water. Josephine started in Wisconsin. She was in her 60s and had a limp, but she shuffled with a fast pace around the lake while carrying a copper pail of water weighing 30 pounds. The pail was a symbol of their prayers, good intentions, and responsibility to the water. |
Trekking underneath a bluff near the Narrows.
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“The more you spend time with that water and care for that water, you start to get an understanding of what that water is going through,” says Regina Mandamin, the daughter of Josephine, who died in 2019.
Josephine wore long, colorful skirts and boxy tennis shoes and could be heard singing or praying just under her breath. She held an eagle staff with feathers in one hand. She carried semaa, sacred tobacco, that she and the other grandmothers presented to the water as an offering. This journey was the first Mother Earth Water Walk, as two Canadian newspapers referred to it, of many for the group of women. Rising before dawn, they averaged 30 miles a day.
“Every step is a prayer,” says Fort William First Nation elder Sheila DeCorte, who partook in Josephine’s last walk, a 3,197-mile trek over 97 days in 2017. “It’s to bring healing to the water so that we will not only have water for our generation, but future generations to come.”
Josephine wore long, colorful skirts and boxy tennis shoes and could be heard singing or praying just under her breath. She held an eagle staff with feathers in one hand. She carried semaa, sacred tobacco, that she and the other grandmothers presented to the water as an offering. This journey was the first Mother Earth Water Walk, as two Canadian newspapers referred to it, of many for the group of women. Rising before dawn, they averaged 30 miles a day.
“Every step is a prayer,” says Fort William First Nation elder Sheila DeCorte, who partook in Josephine’s last walk, a 3,197-mile trek over 97 days in 2017. “It’s to bring healing to the water so that we will not only have water for our generation, but future generations to come.”
Wading in the Blanco.
THE ONLY WATER I CARRY TO THE NARROWS is inside my CamelBak. It weighs a mere 8 pounds. And the only staff I hold in my hand is a hiking stick I purchased at Lost Maples. I don’t sing on the way, but I do pray. For the first time I can remember, I am thinking about water in a real way. Instead of believing drought is the reason Texas waterways are dry, I start to question whether other factors are at play.
It’s a little after 2 p.m., about 5 miles in, when we encounter our first deep-water crossing. In chest-high water, we go from tiptoeing on uneven rocks to sinking in sand, often knocking our knees against unseen boulders underwater. I grimace and notice the cliffs around me changing from linear faces and edges to bulbous shapes. At the top of the cliffs are rows of bare sotol stalks. Occasionally, a butterfly trails us, flirts with us, then quickly flies away. Vanessa and I carry boat seat cushions as flotation devices. Although awkward to haul, they hold us up when we slip while crossing the river.
I hear a motoring sound and look up to see a Robinson helicopter fly over us and disappear behind the cliffs. When I look down, I realize we are close. The cliffs to my left and right are narrowing in, as if they know we are coming and are trying to hide the pools from us. The water changes colors, too, from blue to lime green. We see a few inches below to the rock bed, which is covered with a thin line of sludge. No one warned us about how slick it is. Vanessa and I both slip and fall back into the water, popping our necks against our backpacks like air bags that swallow the splash. Vanessa breaks a hiking stick on a fall. When she lifts the stick out of the water, we see it is ruined, bent into an L shape. She laughs; I try to.
I have been up for 24 hours now, my nerves keeping me awake the night before. When I begin licking my lips uncontrollably, I know I am getting sick. I feel faint and start to shake. Hiking in direct sunlight after drinking too much water has depleted my reserves. But Jim is prepared. He grabs a packet of electrolytes from his backpack. I mix the powder into my water bottle and chug it down. Twenty minutes later, I feel a little like my old self again.
It has taken five hours, but we finally arrive at the mouth of the Narrows. I stand on its pebble shore and watch as Jim jumps in and begins to swim. Natural staircases on each side are marked with purple paint. Vanessa picks a spot to sit down and snack, swinging her feet back and forth like a kid in a highchair. I don’t get in yet. I still have chills running through my body like the onset of the flu. I find a seat under a cliff and, with trembling hands, aim my phone’s camera at the gorge.
We are the only ones there, which quickens my senses. I can hear everything. Every breeze. Every leaf fall and lap of water against the rocks. I feel like I often do when I’m deep in the woods and come across a deer that doesn’t know I’m there. I’m looking behind the curtains of our natural world. I see the oasis ahead. The cliffs look like islands, rock towers covered with ferns dipping and dripping into the river, hiding pools and coves at every bend. I think of Josephine and her feat of eventually walking around every one of the Great Lakes—one a year through 2007.
It’s a little after 2 p.m., about 5 miles in, when we encounter our first deep-water crossing. In chest-high water, we go from tiptoeing on uneven rocks to sinking in sand, often knocking our knees against unseen boulders underwater. I grimace and notice the cliffs around me changing from linear faces and edges to bulbous shapes. At the top of the cliffs are rows of bare sotol stalks. Occasionally, a butterfly trails us, flirts with us, then quickly flies away. Vanessa and I carry boat seat cushions as flotation devices. Although awkward to haul, they hold us up when we slip while crossing the river.
I hear a motoring sound and look up to see a Robinson helicopter fly over us and disappear behind the cliffs. When I look down, I realize we are close. The cliffs to my left and right are narrowing in, as if they know we are coming and are trying to hide the pools from us. The water changes colors, too, from blue to lime green. We see a few inches below to the rock bed, which is covered with a thin line of sludge. No one warned us about how slick it is. Vanessa and I both slip and fall back into the water, popping our necks against our backpacks like air bags that swallow the splash. Vanessa breaks a hiking stick on a fall. When she lifts the stick out of the water, we see it is ruined, bent into an L shape. She laughs; I try to.
I have been up for 24 hours now, my nerves keeping me awake the night before. When I begin licking my lips uncontrollably, I know I am getting sick. I feel faint and start to shake. Hiking in direct sunlight after drinking too much water has depleted my reserves. But Jim is prepared. He grabs a packet of electrolytes from his backpack. I mix the powder into my water bottle and chug it down. Twenty minutes later, I feel a little like my old self again.
It has taken five hours, but we finally arrive at the mouth of the Narrows. I stand on its pebble shore and watch as Jim jumps in and begins to swim. Natural staircases on each side are marked with purple paint. Vanessa picks a spot to sit down and snack, swinging her feet back and forth like a kid in a highchair. I don’t get in yet. I still have chills running through my body like the onset of the flu. I find a seat under a cliff and, with trembling hands, aim my phone’s camera at the gorge.
We are the only ones there, which quickens my senses. I can hear everything. Every breeze. Every leaf fall and lap of water against the rocks. I feel like I often do when I’m deep in the woods and come across a deer that doesn’t know I’m there. I’m looking behind the curtains of our natural world. I see the oasis ahead. The cliffs look like islands, rock towers covered with ferns dipping and dripping into the river, hiding pools and coves at every bend. I think of Josephine and her feat of eventually walking around every one of the Great Lakes—one a year through 2007.
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THE HEADWATERS OF THE BLANCO RIVER begin as springs near the Gillespie-Kendall county line. And the springs themselves originate from bodies of water below the earth called aquifers. In Texas, aquifers may consist of permeable gravel and sand deposits in some parts or cavernous geologic formations in others, both of which collect and hold groundwater over time. Rainfall that pools in natural playa lakes or drains into fractures in the earth seeps down into aquifers, where it saturates the earth or moves underground through a network of caves and passageways to issue back out as springs. These springs then feed everything: our creeks, streams, rivers, and aquatic habitats. They also supply an important part of our Texas heritage: swimming holes.
Seventy-five percent of our drinking supply comes from that groundwater, pumped out by wells. But in many of those aquifers, we are pumping out far more water than is going in. In the Great Plains, from the Texas Panhandle to Kansas, the Ogallala Aquifer supplies drinking water to 2 million people and irrigation for crops. But it may have just two decades left until depletion. This ancient water source could run out in roughly 20 years, experts say, which means depletion of this segment of the aquifer would occur after a total of just about 100 years of pumping. Scientists estimate it would take 6,000 years to recharge it through rainfall. |
Maidenhair fern growing on limestone
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“There’s not enough firm yield water to meet our needs coming up in the future,” says Charles R. Porter, author of Sharing the Common Pool: Water Rights in the Everyday Lives of Texans. “If you start tracking the graph of our population—and more demand on water supplies—we’ve got a problem by 2030, 2035.”
Making matters worse are frequent droughts, which lead to more pumping to compensate for the lack of rain. And the history of how groundwater has been governed in Texas makes it difficult to manage the resource. Groundwater in Texas has been inexorably tied with property rights for over 100 years. Beginning in 1904, with a decision by the Supreme Court of Texas, all the “percolating” water under a landowner’s land was deemed no different than the soil, and therefore, real property. It could be pumped at the landowner’s discretion. This is called the “rule of capture.” But the rule of capture also made it easy for a landowner to become a bad neighbor. Landowners with a bigger pump and a deeper well can cause neighboring, shallower wells and springs to draw down or even dry up—without any liability to those affected. This unfettered property right can also lead to what Todd Votteler, editor-in-chief of the peer-reviewed Texas Water Journal, calls “gross misallocations” of water. Votteler shares a story with me about Ronald Pucek, a businessman who bought a property near San Antonio as an investment opportunity. Advised to start a catfish farm, he proceeded drilling wells in 1991. |
The narrows' pools await
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The first was unremarkable, but the second one he drilled shot 30 feet in the air and became the largest artesian well in the world. But because the well pumped from the Edwards Aquifer, the primary source of water for countless stakeholders in the area, tensions flared. The amount was enough to supply a quarter of the San Antonio population—then just over 1 million—but it was used to raise catfish to sell to restaurants. The water was so clear, Votteler tells me, the fish got sunburned. The catfish farm was eventually shut down for not having a permit to discharge water carrying fish waste, and the San Antonio Water System ultimately acquired the water rights of Pucek’s farm.
“But the catfish farm was a great service to the region and to the state,” Votteler says, “because it showed with one well the cumulative impacts of more and more pumping out of that aquifer.”
“But the catfish farm was a great service to the region and to the state,” Votteler says, “because it showed with one well the cumulative impacts of more and more pumping out of that aquifer.”
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The legislature did pass a district groundwater bill in 1949, from which local governing bodies, now called Groundwater Conservation Districts, emerged to tamp down waste and manage groundwater. But as of January 1999, only 45 districts, which largely follow county lines, had been established. They currently issue permits with pumping limits based on what are referred to as “desired future conditions.” But most GCDs are underfunded, which affects their ability to operate full time, and most do not require meters on wells to monitor use. Currently, GCDs only cover about two-thirds of the state, leaving the rest in “white zones,” where the rule of capture operates without oversight.
“Unless a district really goes out and monitors and ensures that you’re using only the amount of water you’re authorized in the permit, then compliance is uncertain,” says professor Ronald Kaiser, former chair of Water Management and Hydrological Science at Texas A&M University. |
Josephine Mandamin's water-filled copper pail weighed 30 pounds.
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IT’S ONLY 3 P.M., but we are getting ready to head back after reaching the Narrows. We began our hike at 10 a.m., and Jim wants to make sure we have plenty of daylight for our return. A riverbed full of ankle-breaking rocks is not a place anyone wants to hike at night. But before we leave the mouth of the Narrows, I stop to survey the cliffs one last time.
Somewhere on higher ground, a mile away, stands an unlikely work of art. An 18-foot-tall bronze statue of Christ with outstretched arms towers over the Hill Country. Cast at Fonderia Battaglia, a famous foundry in Milan, Italy, the statue was created by prominent Austin sculptor Charles Umlauf.
In 1962, the Schlameus family, who originally owned much of the land bordering the Narrows, sold their ranch to the Wessendorff family of Houston. One announcement for the sale in The Austin American said the ranch had been in the Schlameus family since 1887 and had been “a tourist attraction since horse and buggy days.” Loise D.H. Wessendorff wanted to buy the ranch to build a spiritual retreat. She commissioned the sculpture, insisting on the statue’s pose, against Umlauf’s recommendations, and chose the overlook on the private land where it now stands. Countless guests have visited the retreat, but there is one strict rule every invited guest must heed: Photos are not to be shared on social media.
If only we protected our water the way we do scenic spots on private land.
“There’s almost no water in the Blanco today, particularly above Wimberley,” Sansom says. “It’d be very difficult to run it in a canoe or kayak today.” He says our cherished swimming hole, Jacob’s Well, the artesian spring fed by groundwater from the Trinity Aquifer, has stopped flowing. Sansom suggests we address this water crisis by being more efficient with our water use at work and at home. He also recommends we teach children how to fish or swim.
“They must understand that water is fun, and it’s got a spiritual value,” Sansom says. “But they’ve also got to take responsibility for it going forward.”
THE WARM SUN is beginning its descent behind the cliff. We have about two miles left to go. We are about to cross the fork of the Blanco and Little Blanco rivers—each of the riverbeds totally dry. Just before we reach the field of butterflies, a live spring comes into view, with clear water gently bubbling out of the bedrock. Life teems all around the small pool in the form of mossy stones, dripping ferns, darting minnows, and dragonflies.
I wonder what we would do if this was the last flowing spring in Texas and whether we would be so quick to use it all up. Or would we honor future generations by conserving it, carefully filling copper pails with respect for the water as Josephine did?
Somewhere on higher ground, a mile away, stands an unlikely work of art. An 18-foot-tall bronze statue of Christ with outstretched arms towers over the Hill Country. Cast at Fonderia Battaglia, a famous foundry in Milan, Italy, the statue was created by prominent Austin sculptor Charles Umlauf.
In 1962, the Schlameus family, who originally owned much of the land bordering the Narrows, sold their ranch to the Wessendorff family of Houston. One announcement for the sale in The Austin American said the ranch had been in the Schlameus family since 1887 and had been “a tourist attraction since horse and buggy days.” Loise D.H. Wessendorff wanted to buy the ranch to build a spiritual retreat. She commissioned the sculpture, insisting on the statue’s pose, against Umlauf’s recommendations, and chose the overlook on the private land where it now stands. Countless guests have visited the retreat, but there is one strict rule every invited guest must heed: Photos are not to be shared on social media.
If only we protected our water the way we do scenic spots on private land.
“There’s almost no water in the Blanco today, particularly above Wimberley,” Sansom says. “It’d be very difficult to run it in a canoe or kayak today.” He says our cherished swimming hole, Jacob’s Well, the artesian spring fed by groundwater from the Trinity Aquifer, has stopped flowing. Sansom suggests we address this water crisis by being more efficient with our water use at work and at home. He also recommends we teach children how to fish or swim.
“They must understand that water is fun, and it’s got a spiritual value,” Sansom says. “But they’ve also got to take responsibility for it going forward.”
THE WARM SUN is beginning its descent behind the cliff. We have about two miles left to go. We are about to cross the fork of the Blanco and Little Blanco rivers—each of the riverbeds totally dry. Just before we reach the field of butterflies, a live spring comes into view, with clear water gently bubbling out of the bedrock. Life teems all around the small pool in the form of mossy stones, dripping ferns, darting minnows, and dragonflies.
I wonder what we would do if this was the last flowing spring in Texas and whether we would be so quick to use it all up. Or would we honor future generations by conserving it, carefully filling copper pails with respect for the water as Josephine did?
Frank Dietz, Comal County resident,
CCCA Board Member, &
Herald Zeitung monthly columnist
Troubled & Troublesome Water
December 20, 2020
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It has been gratifying to receive several comments regarding an earlier discussion about our good fortune in Comal County to be blessed with an array of water resources.
To follow up on our discussion about the stewardship and responsibilities we have personally and as area dwellers, let’s begin with a striking reality that needs to be front and center for our thinking and planning. The Earth’s surface is 71% water. Of that, however, only 3% is “fresh.” To make it even more dramatic, 2.5% is “unavailable” for use, leaving just at .5% as what we have to work with and steward. Hmm. Our surface and subsurface resources locally remain impressive. It does seem we are rapidly moving into a threatened circumstance if you just think of every new well as “another straw” dipping into our aquifers. But for good rainfalls, we have to face with honesty the limitations the circumstances present to us. When our “rapid growth benchmarks” keep lifting us and areas of the Hill Country and along the interstate corridors into “top ranks” nationwide, we need to factor resource consequences alongside “taxable property multipliers.” The numbers bring with them infrastructure and continuing service demands on capacities. It’s far more than building a school here or there. Planning efforts are so very important! The consequences and impacts are essential for our extraordinary creeks and rivers on the surface as well. A series of wonderments come together in any attempt to think constructively toward addressing our troubled at-risk supplies and troublesome practices that show damaging disregard for what would keep quality for us and future generations. Much Hill Country growth and development is happening outside the corporate limits of our I-35 and I-10 corridor cities. What measures might the Texas legislature provide for oversight and scrutiny to “do things carefully and responsibly?” Taking as well as returning the good |
waters could become the basis for 21st Century water policies. Perhaps a cluster of at-risk counties could become the basis for increased scrutiny before damages become irrevocable.
How might we educate our young people and bring along the adults and decision makers for more careful use of our water resources? The “stages” of water conservation seem so outmoded. Might we put into practice conservation policies for personal consumption and outdoor use reflective of a sense of the finite sources? Swinging back and forth on a yoyo scale of more and less use seems off the mark for our current circumstances. Do we need bolder oversight enhancing the voices of landowners and agricultural interests prior to massive moves toward excavation or cuts for passages through ageless bluffs and hillsides? How do we develop our future so as to take full measure for what are described by state climatologist John Nielsen-Gammon as “drier and warmer conditions now?” Do we glibly go ahead, marketing the Hill Country life with such abandon that we show no sense of limits that could protect and preserve before it’s too late? Finally, might you join our CCCA endeavors to assist in finding a way to protect parcels of prime natural habitats and drainage areas by setting them aside in perpetuity? If the pace for “slicing and splicing” acreage continues with “takes” there may be little left to preserve. Those interested in learning more can go to the Comal County Conservation Alliance website (comalconservation.org) for information and to join the efforts. Even more, any reader would be welcome to assist in developing a way to add some natural space adjacent to Fischer Park or a portion of El Rancho Cima (the Sentinel) out above the Blanco River’s edge at “the Devil’s Backbone.” |
Texas lawmakers allocated more than $2 billion to increase the state’s water supply and reduce flooding
Texans across the state are affected by declining water supplies, water infrastructure disruptions and flooding in their communities.
By Erin Douglas
June 1, 2023
June 1, 2023
Texas lawmakers allocated more than $2 billion to increase the state’s water supply and reduce floodingTexans across the state are affected by declining water supplies, water infrastructure disruptions and flooding in their communities.
Lake Alan Henry in Garza County, about 65 miles southeast of Lubbock. Texas lawmakers recently approved billions of dollars to increase the state's water supply, repair aging water infrastructure and fund flood prevention projects. Credit: Justin Rex for The Texas TribuneSign up for The Brief, The Texas Tribune’s daily newsletter that keeps readers up to speed on the most essential Texas news.
During this year’s legislative session, Texas lawmakers allocated part of the state’s historic $32.7 billion surplus toward better protecting the state against droughts and floods — an investment that followed one of the hottest summers on record and the worst drought in a decade.
Climate change has brought higher temperatures to Texas that accelerate evaporation rates from reservoirs and dry soil more quickly, meaning less water flows into rivers and streams. At the same time, rising temperatures and warmer oceans — which increase the amount of water in the air — increase the risk of extreme rainfall in Texas.
Significant flooding and extreme rain events are more frequently following droughts, according to the Fourth National Climate Assessment.
WHAT DID THE LEGISLATURE CHANGE?
Texas lawmakers allocated more than $2 billion this year to increase water supplies, fix failing water infrastructure and prevent flooding.
One billion dollars of the state’s surplus money during this budget cycle will go toward water supply and water infrastructure projects, if voters approve the idea this fall. Lawmakers also created new funds — the New Water Supply for Texas Fund and the Texas Water Fund — that specify how to allocate that money.
The Legislature also allocated $125 million to match federal water infrastructure money — meaning Texas agencies will be able to unlock more than $750 million from the federal Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act. The money will be used for a host of projects, such as replacing lead water pipes and removing water contamination from drinking water systems.
Another roughly $1 billion will go toward flood prevention. Lawmakers allocated $550 million of the surplus for coastal barrier projects and the “Ike Dike,” a huge gate system proposed for the mouth of Galveston Bay to protect the Houston area from hurricane storm surges. Another $625 million of surplus money will go toward Texas’ Flood Infrastructure Fund to finance flood prevention projects included in the state’s first flood plan.
WHO'S AFFECTED?
Texans across the state are affected by declining water supplies, water infrastructure disruptions and flooding in their communities.
Leaky pipes and old treatment plants stressed by dwindling supply, more demand and extreme weather events prompt frequent alerts to boil water or avoid using it altogether. Power outages can also prompt such alerts (almost 15 million people had their water supply disrupted during the 2021 winter storm). And droughts can lead utilities to direct customers to cut back on water usage. For example, hundreds of utilities asked customers to cut back on water use last summer.
Texans are also no stranger to the devastating impacts of floods. Hurricane Harvey caused $125 billion in damage, making it one of the most expensive storms in U.S. history. The damaged homes of many survivors have still not yet been elevated, rebuilt or repaired. Harris County, which includes Houston, has seen seven federally declared disasters due to severe weather in the last decade alone.
WHO INFLUENCED THE OUTCOME?
State Sen. Charles Perry, R-Lubbock, has for years spearheaded water policy in the Legislature, and this year was no exception. He was largely responsible for the terms and passage of Senate Bill 28 and Senate Joint Resolution 75, which together will create the Texas Water Fund and the New Water Supply for Texas Fund.
In the House, a bipartisan group of representatives created a new Texas House Water Caucus this year. It includes 38 House members and was led by state Rep. Tracy King, D-Batesville, who carried water legislation in the House this year.
Several groups, including the Texas Water Conservation Association, the National Wildlife Federation and the Texas Water Foundation, advocated for investment in Texas’ water infrastructure.
HOW MUCH WILL IT COST TEXANS?
The $1 billion allocated toward water supply and water infrastructure, the $125 million to draw down federal water infrastructure money, and the more than $1 billion for the “Ike Dike” and other flood prevention projects will be funded by Texas’ $32.7 billion surplus.
Although a huge investment, both the money for water infrastructure and flood mitigation represent a drop in the bucket compared to the state’s needs. For example, Texas probably needs more than $38 billion just to get started on flood prevention, according to early proposals for a statewide flood plan still in development.
What alternatives were considered?The House attempted to ensure that part of the $1 billion for water infrastructure would be prioritized for economically distressed areas, including colonias, which are small communities primarily on the Texas-Mexico border.
But that proposal was rejected by senators negotiating the final language of the bills — a huge loss for people living in colonias, which frequently lack basic services such as water and sewage. An estimated 2,300 colonias exist along the borderlands in El Paso, Hidalgo, Maverick, Starr, Webb and Cameron counties.
Texas senators wanted to limit uses of the New Water Supply for Texas Fund to financing desalination plants, projects to import water from other states, and produced water treatment facilities. House members wanted to give the Texas Water Development Board, which will manage the funds, more flexibility in how it will allocate the $1 billion. The final language leaves out importing water from other states and adds aquifer storage to the list, but it doesn’t preclude the agency from allocating the money to other types of projects.
Lawmakers had floated allocating as much as $3 billion toward the water supply and water infrastructure funds, but budget negotiators ultimately landed on $1 billion.
What’s next? Texas voters will have a chance to approve or reject allocating the $1 billion and creating the Texas Water Fund in November through a constitutional amendment. If voters approve, the fund will be created Jan. 1, 2024.
The New Water Supply For Texas Fund will take effect Sept. 1 if the governor allows the law to go into effect, but it will remain unfunded unless voters approve the constitutional amendment.
Money for flood mitigation projects are tied to the state budget: Comptroller Glenn Hegar has to certify that the budget is balanced, as required by the state constitution. Then, Gov. Greg Abbott has until June 18 to strike any spending lines from the budget.
The first state flood plan, which will dictate what projects are prioritized for flood mitigation money, is due to the Legislature in September 2024.
Alejandra Martinez contributed to this story.
Lake Alan Henry in Garza County, about 65 miles southeast of Lubbock. Texas lawmakers recently approved billions of dollars to increase the state's water supply, repair aging water infrastructure and fund flood prevention projects. Credit: Justin Rex for The Texas TribuneSign up for The Brief, The Texas Tribune’s daily newsletter that keeps readers up to speed on the most essential Texas news.
During this year’s legislative session, Texas lawmakers allocated part of the state’s historic $32.7 billion surplus toward better protecting the state against droughts and floods — an investment that followed one of the hottest summers on record and the worst drought in a decade.
Climate change has brought higher temperatures to Texas that accelerate evaporation rates from reservoirs and dry soil more quickly, meaning less water flows into rivers and streams. At the same time, rising temperatures and warmer oceans — which increase the amount of water in the air — increase the risk of extreme rainfall in Texas.
Significant flooding and extreme rain events are more frequently following droughts, according to the Fourth National Climate Assessment.
WHAT DID THE LEGISLATURE CHANGE?
Texas lawmakers allocated more than $2 billion this year to increase water supplies, fix failing water infrastructure and prevent flooding.
One billion dollars of the state’s surplus money during this budget cycle will go toward water supply and water infrastructure projects, if voters approve the idea this fall. Lawmakers also created new funds — the New Water Supply for Texas Fund and the Texas Water Fund — that specify how to allocate that money.
The Legislature also allocated $125 million to match federal water infrastructure money — meaning Texas agencies will be able to unlock more than $750 million from the federal Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act. The money will be used for a host of projects, such as replacing lead water pipes and removing water contamination from drinking water systems.
Another roughly $1 billion will go toward flood prevention. Lawmakers allocated $550 million of the surplus for coastal barrier projects and the “Ike Dike,” a huge gate system proposed for the mouth of Galveston Bay to protect the Houston area from hurricane storm surges. Another $625 million of surplus money will go toward Texas’ Flood Infrastructure Fund to finance flood prevention projects included in the state’s first flood plan.
WHO'S AFFECTED?
Texans across the state are affected by declining water supplies, water infrastructure disruptions and flooding in their communities.
Leaky pipes and old treatment plants stressed by dwindling supply, more demand and extreme weather events prompt frequent alerts to boil water or avoid using it altogether. Power outages can also prompt such alerts (almost 15 million people had their water supply disrupted during the 2021 winter storm). And droughts can lead utilities to direct customers to cut back on water usage. For example, hundreds of utilities asked customers to cut back on water use last summer.
Texans are also no stranger to the devastating impacts of floods. Hurricane Harvey caused $125 billion in damage, making it one of the most expensive storms in U.S. history. The damaged homes of many survivors have still not yet been elevated, rebuilt or repaired. Harris County, which includes Houston, has seen seven federally declared disasters due to severe weather in the last decade alone.
WHO INFLUENCED THE OUTCOME?
State Sen. Charles Perry, R-Lubbock, has for years spearheaded water policy in the Legislature, and this year was no exception. He was largely responsible for the terms and passage of Senate Bill 28 and Senate Joint Resolution 75, which together will create the Texas Water Fund and the New Water Supply for Texas Fund.
In the House, a bipartisan group of representatives created a new Texas House Water Caucus this year. It includes 38 House members and was led by state Rep. Tracy King, D-Batesville, who carried water legislation in the House this year.
Several groups, including the Texas Water Conservation Association, the National Wildlife Federation and the Texas Water Foundation, advocated for investment in Texas’ water infrastructure.
HOW MUCH WILL IT COST TEXANS?
The $1 billion allocated toward water supply and water infrastructure, the $125 million to draw down federal water infrastructure money, and the more than $1 billion for the “Ike Dike” and other flood prevention projects will be funded by Texas’ $32.7 billion surplus.
Although a huge investment, both the money for water infrastructure and flood mitigation represent a drop in the bucket compared to the state’s needs. For example, Texas probably needs more than $38 billion just to get started on flood prevention, according to early proposals for a statewide flood plan still in development.
What alternatives were considered?The House attempted to ensure that part of the $1 billion for water infrastructure would be prioritized for economically distressed areas, including colonias, which are small communities primarily on the Texas-Mexico border.
But that proposal was rejected by senators negotiating the final language of the bills — a huge loss for people living in colonias, which frequently lack basic services such as water and sewage. An estimated 2,300 colonias exist along the borderlands in El Paso, Hidalgo, Maverick, Starr, Webb and Cameron counties.
Texas senators wanted to limit uses of the New Water Supply for Texas Fund to financing desalination plants, projects to import water from other states, and produced water treatment facilities. House members wanted to give the Texas Water Development Board, which will manage the funds, more flexibility in how it will allocate the $1 billion. The final language leaves out importing water from other states and adds aquifer storage to the list, but it doesn’t preclude the agency from allocating the money to other types of projects.
Lawmakers had floated allocating as much as $3 billion toward the water supply and water infrastructure funds, but budget negotiators ultimately landed on $1 billion.
What’s next? Texas voters will have a chance to approve or reject allocating the $1 billion and creating the Texas Water Fund in November through a constitutional amendment. If voters approve, the fund will be created Jan. 1, 2024.
The New Water Supply For Texas Fund will take effect Sept. 1 if the governor allows the law to go into effect, but it will remain unfunded unless voters approve the constitutional amendment.
Money for flood mitigation projects are tied to the state budget: Comptroller Glenn Hegar has to certify that the budget is balanced, as required by the state constitution. Then, Gov. Greg Abbott has until June 18 to strike any spending lines from the budget.
The first state flood plan, which will dictate what projects are prioritized for flood mitigation money, is due to the Legislature in September 2024.
Alejandra Martinez contributed to this story.
Listen to Dr. Andrew Sansom, our Advisory Board member, being interviewed by Dr. Todd Votteler, Editor-in-Chief of Texas+Water
Dr. Andrew Sansom is the founder of The Meadows Center for Water and the Environment at Texas State University. Dr. Todd Votteler is Editor-in-Chief of Texas+Water.
Dr. Sansom is one of Texas’ leading conservationists. He is a former Executive Director of the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department and Executive Director of the Texas Nature Conservancy. For his commitment to the management and protection of natural resources, he is a recipient of the Chevron Conservation Award, The Chuck Yeager Award from the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation, The Pugsley Medal from the National Park Foundation, the Seton Award from the International Association of Fish and Wildlife Agencies, and the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Nature Conservancy. Dr. Sansom is a Distinguished Alumnus of Austin College and Texas Tech University.
Dr. Andrew Sansom is the founder of The Meadows Center for Water and the Environment at Texas State University. Dr. Todd Votteler is Editor-in-Chief of Texas+Water.
Dr. Sansom is one of Texas’ leading conservationists. He is a former Executive Director of the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department and Executive Director of the Texas Nature Conservancy. For his commitment to the management and protection of natural resources, he is a recipient of the Chevron Conservation Award, The Chuck Yeager Award from the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation, The Pugsley Medal from the National Park Foundation, the Seton Award from the International Association of Fish and Wildlife Agencies, and the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Nature Conservancy. Dr. Sansom is a Distinguished Alumnus of Austin College and Texas Tech University.
Mark Enders,
Watershed Program Manager
Virtual Presentatioin: Watershed Protection Initiatives & Importance of Protecting Our Local Water Resources
On Tuesday, January 12, Mark Enders, City of New Braunfels Watershed Program Manager, spoke on “Watershed Protection Initiatives & the Importance of Protecting Our Local Water Resources”. Mark’s presentation focused on Edwards Aquifer Habitat Conservation Plan activities, the status of implementation of the Dry Comal Creek and Comal River Watershed Protection Plan and the City’s MS4 Stormwater Management Program. Mark also discussed ideas for furthering conservation of our local water resources. Time for questions and answers was provided following the presentation.
The Headwaters at the Comal
The Headwaters at the Comal is a 16-acre site containing unique riparian habitat and the first springs of the Comal River, the historical water source for the city of New Braunfels. From 1940 to 2004, the site was completely paved over with impervious asphalt, used by New Braunfels Utilities (NBU) as a warehouse, fleet and facilities yard, and office space. In keeping with a longstanding commitment to the environment and the community, NBU has committed to restoring this site into a multi-use facility honoring the cultural and environmental history of the area and encouraging future stewardship of water and environmental resources.
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PROJECT
The Headwaters project is a multi-phased project designed to reintroduce the people of New Braunfels and the surrounding area to their natural water and ecological resources. Phase I, substantially completed in November 2017, focuses on the restoration of a large section of the site as an immersive native landscape and restoration of the springs and riparian areas. Phase II, in the fundraising stage, will focus on sustainability and the adaptive reuse of existing structures to develop new public amenities. Community resources will include: an Environmental Education Center (with ‘living’ exterior walls featuring pollinator-friendly plants), a water feature using rainwater collected from the building, constructed wetland cells that demonstrate how wetlands cleanse and filter water, central courtyard, event lawn, display and demonstration low-water gardens, walking trails, outdoor classrooms, natural spring overlook, and composting facilities. RESTORATION Upon completion of the project, 85% of the impervious cover currently on the property will be removed, reducing the amount of pollutants and solids entering the Comal River by 94%. The springs and riparian habitats will be restored, improving habitat for numerous endangered and threatened species. The removal of invasive species and restoration of native plant communities will increase the availability of riparian woodland habitat in an area of Texas rapidly losing that habitat to development. A number of innovative best practices for managing stormwater, gray water, rainwater and black water will be implemented and combined with other low impact development techniques to demonstrate and educate the community on ways everyone can become better stewards of their natural environments. Read up on restoration updates at the Headwaters here. COMMUNITY IMPACT The goal of Headwaters at the Comal is to become a resource for the greater community: a living demonstration of restoration and conservation efforts for businesses, developers, and homeowners, a leader in water and energy conservation topics, and a beautiful place where people of all ages, skills and abilities come to learn, enjoy and connect with nature. |
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Edwards Aquifer Cave
The Edwards Aquifer
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The Texas Hill Country and Edwards Aquifer region is under assault from urban sprawl. Farms and ranches are being turned into subdivisions, shopping centers, and highways. This pattern of unsustainable growth is threatening to pollute and over-pump the watersheds that replenish the Edwards Aquifer and the Great Springs of Texas, including drinking water for over 1.7 million Texans.
For decades, the rugged terrain and scarcity of water in the Hill Country kept urban and suburban development at bay, while the flatter, more fertile eastern edge of the Balcones Escarpment supplied resources for growth and development. But modern construction equipment, speculative real investment, and government subsidies are transforming the Hill Country into Everywhere U.S.A. All of these ingredients in urbanization come together in providing infrastructure for development: roads, sewer lines, and water lines. This infrastructure is often subsidized by us, the taxpayers. |
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UNIQUE RESOURCEAQUIFER AT RISKSAVE THE AQUIFER
Drought conditions caused water levels in Texas’ Lake
Travis to decline from 2010 to 2014, as seen in the 2014
photograph above. (Source: Lower Colorado River Authority)
Saving Water in Texas
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As the second most populous state in the country, Texas has a large and continually growing demand for water. Texas also has a semiarid climate, leaving the state prone to extreme droughts. Historically, most of Texas’ droughts have ended with tremendous rain events, creating a cyclical pattern of droughts and floods. Efficient water management and water conservation projects are helping the state address this cycle and meet current and future water needs.
SOURCES OF WATER
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Wonderous Water — Saving Wicking Gardens
FROM THE 2020 HILL COUNTRY LIVING FESTIVAL & RAINWATER REVIVAL
Learn about the wonders of wicking gardens and get some tips on how to spice up your own backyard garden in this special presentation, featuring Meadows Center Executive Director Dr. Robert Mace and the Wimberley Garden Club's Janet Bradford.
Learn about the wonders of wicking gardens and get some tips on how to spice up your own backyard garden in this special presentation, featuring Meadows Center Executive Director Dr. Robert Mace and the Wimberley Garden Club's Janet Bradford.
Groundwater Flow Graphic
Groundwater Management
Managing groundwater in the Hill Country is challenged on multiple levels and different perspectives. From socio-economic concerns of population growth and difficult economic times, changing demographics, varied approaches to accessing news and civic involvement, over-drafted aquifers, unique and fragile ecosystems; and multi-level water governance through state, county, and groundwater districts, groundwater is definitely under pressure and increasingly frangible rather than resilient as a water resource. The critical, time-sensitive needs of Hill Country groundwater is the core of this project. Understanding the issues, linkages, and the benefits and worth of protecting the water systems is no small task. However, without the ongoing efforts of studies with tangible results and accessible information, it is likely that groundwater and its linked systems will continue to be deleteriously impacted in the foreseeable future.
Texas Master Naturalist—Hays County Chapter: Riparian Vegetation
RIPARIAN RECOVERY NETWORK NEWS
The Riparian Network is about creating a shared vision for restoration of riparian zones and the uplands that impact them. The intent is to balance individual needs with what is required to keep Hays County waterways clean, healthy, and beautiful.
The Riparian Network is about creating a shared vision for restoration of riparian zones and the uplands that impact them. The intent is to balance individual needs with what is required to keep Hays County waterways clean, healthy, and beautiful.
Water, Texas
Water, Texas is a five-part series on the consequences of the mismatch between runaway development and tightening constraints on the supply and quality of fresh water in Texas.
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The story of Texas is the state’s devout allegiance to the principle that mankind has dominion over nature. In 2020, the pandemic, climate disruption, and ever-present challenges with water supply and use are writing a much different story of vulnerability to nature’s bullying, and to government’s uncertain capacity to adjust.
Part 1: WHEN IT RAINS, TEXANS FORGET DROUGHT AND WORSENING WATER SCARCITY After the Pandemic, Soaring Population Growth, Industrial Development Will Again Overwhelm Planning and Water Supply Part 2: A PAUSE FOR ENERGY DEVELOPERS THREATENING TEXAS BIG BEN REGION Opportunity to Protect A Way of Life Confronted by Oil and Clean Energy |
Part 3: THREE THIRSTY TEXAS CITIES ARE GLOBAL LEADERS IN WATER INNOVATION
Austin, El Paso, and San Antonio Prepared for Growth and Drought Part 4: BORDER WALL CONCERNS IN LOWER RIO GRANDE VALLEY DIMINISHED BY VIRUS AND GROWTH Trump Administration Overrides Long-Standing Conservation Mission Part 5: WATER SERVES LENGTH AND BREADTH OF $1.9 TRILLION TEXAS ECONOMY Growth in Wet Years, Economic Distress in Dry Ones |
opinion+water: Ensuring One Water Delivers for Healthy Waterways
October 27, 2020
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As forward-thinking cities become increasingly adept at capturing and reusing wastewater, stormwater and greywater, essential river systems may be at risk. Ensuring One Water Delivers for Healthy Waterways recommends that deliberate, community-driven planning is urgently needed to avoid
depriving Texas’ waterways of necessary water. With this report, the National Wildlife Federation, the Meadows Center for Water and the Environment at Texas State University and the Pacific Institute provide water planners much-needed practical guidance on how to build a community-driven water vision that takes into account the needs of |
local residents as well as downstream cities and ecosystems that depend on a healthy flow of water. The report provides water planners with a framework that communities can use to plan for future water supply resilience while also ensuring that healthy waterways are an outcome as well.
The framework is tailored specifically to cities that have adopted or are considering the “One Water” approach to water management. One Water emphasizes an integrated planning and implementation approach that acknowledges the finite nature of water resources and prioritizes long-term resilience and reliability. |
Texas Wetlands
Texas Wetlands
Overlooked Army Corps Rulemaking Would Shrink Federal Stream Protections
Conservation groups and state regulators are alarmed by proposed changes to nationwide permits that
authorize construction across streams and wetlands.
authorize construction across streams and wetlands.
By Brett Walton
Water News, Circle of Blue
November 12, 2020
Water News, Circle of Blue
November 12, 2020
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Earlier this year, the Trump administration secured one of its signature environmental legacies when it completed a rule that reduced federal protections for wetlands as well as for streams that flow only following rainfall.
Environmental policy experts concluded that the administration’s narrow definition of the scope of the Clean Water Act was its most damaging decision for waterways. The rollback of the Obama-era ruling was a campaign promise of President Trump and a rallying cry for industrial lobby groups that supported him. |
Now, the Army Corps of Engineers, with much less fanfare and in the final months of the Trump administration, is considering another rule change that would also shrink federal protection of small streams, ecologists and lawyers say. The Corps said in its proposal that it is acting in response to the president’s order to review regulations that burden energy development.
Some of the proposed changes will have essentially the same consequence as the Trump administration’s contraction of the Clean Water Act, according to Laura Ziemer, the senior counsel and water policy adviser for Trout Unlimited. The proposed changes to the Army Corps’ nationwide permit will reduce stream protections and expose longer sections of streams to damage, she said. |
Renewable Energy Saves Water & Creates Jobs
By Luciano Castillo, Walter Gutierrez, Jay Gore
Credit: David Hogan Getty Images
August 7, 2018
Credit: David Hogan Getty Images
August 7, 2018
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EIGHT GRAPHS TELL THE STORY; SEE FOR YOURSELF
A common argument for expanding renewable energy sources is that technologies such as solar panels and wind turbines are responsible for far less carbon dioxide than power plants that burn fossil fuels. But two other powerful benefits should also be getting much more attention: the switch can save vast quantities of freshwater, and can create a large number of new, high-paying jobs. Want proof? Let’s look at the data that our detailed research has revealed. |
Credit: Anna Hazard
Source: Water in Crisis: A Guide to the World’s Fresh Water Resources, edited by Peter H. Gleick. New York, New York: Oxford University Press, 1993
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Wall Street Begins Trading Water Futures as a Commodity
December 8, 2020
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Wall Street has begun trading water as a commodity, like gold or oil. The country’s first water market launched on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange this week with $1.1 billion in contracts tied to water prices in California, Bloomberg News reported.
The market allows farmers, hedge funds, and municipalities to hedge bets on the future price of water and water availability in the American West. The new trading scheme was announced in September, prompted by the region’s worsening heat, drought, and wildfires fueled by climate change. There were two trades when the market went live Monday. “Climate change, droughts, population growth, and pollution are likely to make water scarcity issues and pricing a hot topic for years to come,” RBC Capital Markets managing director and analyst Deane Dray told Bloomberg. “We are definitely going to watch how this new water futures contract develops.” |
Proponents argue the new market will clear up some of the uncertainty around water prices for farmers and municipalities, helping them budget for the resource. But some experts say treating water as a tradable commodity puts a basic human right into the hands of financial institutions and investors, a dangerous arrangement as climate change alters precipitation patterns and increases water scarcity.
“What this represents is a cynical attempt at setting up what’s almost like a betting casino so some people can make money from others suffering,” Basav Sen, climate justice project director at the Institute for Policy Studies, told Earther. “My first reaction when I saw this was horror, but we’ve also seen this coming for quite some time.” |
Videos
Video for Kids
The River Remembers the Flood of 2002
I am water.
I don't remember being a young river when the land was new
In deep history I weaved and braided over countless basins and banks
I barely trickled in the desert times, many times
I retreated to my birth hills when the salt seas rose, many times
Thunder lizards stalked my muddy flats, many times
My memory is ashy and hazy after those times.
I don't remember being a young river when the land was new
In deep history I weaved and braided over countless basins and banks
I barely trickled in the desert times, many times
I retreated to my birth hills when the salt seas rose, many times
Thunder lizards stalked my muddy flats, many times
My memory is ashy and hazy after those times.
I remember wandering again, receiving my smaller sisters and brothers
They nourished me as streams as I found my bed and grew wider, stronger
I became clear as I settled, tumbling down from cedar hills
Quenching the thirst of many prairies, carrying richness in my flows
Sometimes here, sometimes there, I was free to go
But always down, down to the last salty sea.
I was water.
They nourished me as streams as I found my bed and grew wider, stronger
I became clear as I settled, tumbling down from cedar hills
Quenching the thirst of many prairies, carrying richness in my flows
Sometimes here, sometimes there, I was free to go
But always down, down to the last salty sea.
I was water.
I remember the sound of the word my first Peoples called me
They wove nets and carved spears for my finned ones
Scooped with their gourds for my shelled ones
Hunted the furred ones on my banks
And drank from my being.
We were life.
They wove nets and carved spears for my finned ones
Scooped with their gourds for my shelled ones
Hunted the furred ones on my banks
And drank from my being.
We were life.
But a moment ago, the People built walls in my bed
Slowing my flow to the sea until I coursed over their wall
Only to find another. And another.
My waters muddied with stillness and the waste of the People.
My edges became thick with green ones I did not know
My turtle ones could not find pebbled places for their eggs
We lost their lives and others.
Still, I am water.
Slowing my flow to the sea until I coursed over their wall
Only to find another. And another.
My waters muddied with stillness and the waste of the People.
My edges became thick with green ones I did not know
My turtle ones could not find pebbled places for their eggs
We lost their lives and others.
Still, I am water.
But so ditched and tamed and treated
That sometimes I rage and must take revenge
My Father the Sky helps and fills me
When I feel my old woven braids of low courses needing me
So curbed am I, I usually only creep and sprawl
Yet once, an instant ago, I crashed around the canyon wall
Threw down boulders the size of mammoths
Carved an angry new trail for myself
And showed the People those thunder lizard tracks
In the river I used to be.
That sometimes I rage and must take revenge
My Father the Sky helps and fills me
When I feel my old woven braids of low courses needing me
So curbed am I, I usually only creep and sprawl
Yet once, an instant ago, I crashed around the canyon wall
Threw down boulders the size of mammoths
Carved an angry new trail for myself
And showed the People those thunder lizard tracks
In the river I used to be.
by: Nancy Masterson, Creekside Poets, Seguin, TX, December 2019
Note: The Cagle's Map Turtle, once common in the Guadalupe River, is on the Endangered Species List. Canyon Gorge, formed in the Guadalupe River flood of 2002, reveals dinosaur tracks 111 million years old
