The people of the Rio Grande

Restoring a river through culture, connection, and community

The Rio Grande overflows with traditions, livelihoods, and memories. For millennia, this river has shaped lives and landscapes across the southwestern United States and northern Mexico. Winding through deserts, forests, canyons, and farmland, the Rio Grande supports rich ecosystems and vibrant cultures across one of North America's most diverse basins.

But today, the river is drying up, fast. Overallocation, climate change, and fragmented management threaten its flow and the people who depend on it. Restoring environmental flows in the Rio Grande isn’t just a matter of wildlife conservation. It’s about people: those who know the river, farm the land, and carry with them generations of knowledge and memories.

This is a story of three Rio Grande basin locals, Adeline, Daniel, and Michael, whose lives are deeply connected to the Rio Grande basin. Through their voices, we see how the river lives in the hearts of those who love it.

Feeding the cranes, farming with care

Michael Chavez

Lands Manager, Bernardo Wildlife Area
Bosque, New Mexico

We begin our journey in Bosque, New Mexico just south of Albuquerque and Sante Fe. Each fall, the skies over Bernardo Wildlife Area fill with the calls of sandhill cranes. They’ve come here for thousands of years, and Michael Chavez makes sure there’s food waiting for them.

“I guess [coming here] is built into their DNA,” he says, smiling.

Michael manages farmland at the Bernardo Wildlife Management Area, where he grows corn and other crops specifically for the cranes. His role serves two purposes: ensure the cranes are fueled up for their 5,000 mile migration, and keep the cranes away from other people’s farmland.

The fields Michael tends are part of a legacy. “I’ve been working here for 12 years, but my father started here in 1956. He built all the fields.” Today, Michael is piloting regenerative farming techniques that allow crops to grow without tilling the soil, which can cause erosion and nutrient loss. “I have all my microbes, and nutrients and worms in there, so I’m going to start planting on top of grass—the corn pops right up.”

He gestures toward a broad field. “Look at my office right here,” he says. “There’s nothing like working so hard all summer, and then that first crane lands. You think, ‘That was worth it.’ This is the best job in the world.”

Beavers, fireflies, and a community-shaped landscape

Adeline Murthy

Santa Fe County Open Space and Trails Planner
Sante Fe, New Mexico

As a child growing up in Albuquerque, Adeline Murthy spent countless afternoons walking through the bosque, the cottonwood forest that lines the Rio Grande. “I studied biology because of the Rio Grande.” she says.

Today, she channels that early love of nature into her work as a planner for Santa Fe County, where she helps protect and restore open spaces along the river. But Adeline doesn’t just rely on maps and models; she listens to the community, to the locals.

“I don’t have all the answers,” she says. “You can get beautiful visions of the landscape from those who have lived here for generations...I serve the community,” she says. “And community-driven processes are more successful in the long term.”

In Sante Fe County, Adeline has led wetland restoration efforts that improve water flow and soil health and make space for life to return. With input from the surrounding community and tools like beaver deceivers (a flow device, typically a pipe installed through a beaver dam, that regulates water levels to prevent flooding while allowing beavers to stay in their habitat, helping people and wildlife coexist) and protective cages for trees (which deter voracious beaver teeth), coexistence with nature’s ecosystem engineers is possible.

Coexistence among beavers and humans requires ongoing work and continuous adaptation. When beavers live in human inhabited areas, there might be issues with human infrastructure that require adaptation and management. It’s not always simple and ensuring people and beavers can live in harmony takes effort and constant communication. There have been payoffs though. “We had an amazing experience in 2022 where we spotted fireflies here [for the first time in decades],” Adeline recalls. “It was evidence that the work we do made an impact.”

For Adeline, freshwater restoration is measured not only in cubic feet per second, but in the presence of cranes, beavers, otters, and people living alongside one another.

The Santa Clara Pueblo: Yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Daniel Denipah

Forestry Director
Santa Clara Pueblo

For the Santa Clara Pueblo, the Rio Grande and its tributaries are sacred, life-giving sources of water, tied to language, ceremony, and survival. Daniel Denipah is working to restore ecological function while ensuring the land continues to support the cultural practices of his people.

For Daniel, his work is more than invasive species removal or erosion control. It’s about helping Pueblo youth build real relationships with their ancestral land. He wants them to understand that land is not passive; it teaches, remembers, and gives. “We believe there is life in everything, and maybe we’ve lost some of that...Our kids are disconnected from these places, but once you get them outside, it’s ‘wow,’” Daniel says. “There are things they miss until they feel it for themselves.”

By involving youth in land stewardship, Daniel is helping revive a way of life that honors the relationships between people, water, and land. “A lot of the land and the products that come out of here are used for traditional purposes, and if we lose (the water) we lose a portion of that culture.”

For the Santa Clara Pueblo, the Rio Grande represents the survival of language, tradition, and a deep-rooted sense of community.

A shared effort in a fragmented basin

From the fields of Bernardo to Santa Fe County’s restored wetlands and the Santa Clara Pueblo, the Rio Grande connects lives across distance and difference. But restoring its flows, especially in a basin shared by two countries, three U.S. states, and dozens of Indigenous nations and local governments, is no small task. Across the basin, success depends on humility, cooperation, and a shared commitment to care for the river and one another.

In each stretch of river, there are stewards like Adeline, Daniel, and Michael, working with memory, culture, and hope. Their stories remind us that restoration is not just technical, it’s personal. It’s rooted in love for place and sustained through generations of care. WWF is working to connect and strengthen these efforts across the entire basin, from Colorado to Mexico and Texas. Through community partnerships grounded in science, WWF and our allies are determined to keep this river flowing through lives and landscapes.