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Can outsider beavers save this dried up river?

It's not easy being a river in the desert under the best of circumstances. The ecosystem exists in a very delicate balance, allowing water sources to thrive in the harsh conditions. These water sources in otherwise extremely dry areas are vital to the survival of unique wildlife, agriculture, and even tourism as they provide fresh drinking water for the people who live nearby.

But man-made problems like climate change, over-farming, and pollution have made a tough job even tougher in some areas. Rivers in Utah and Colorado that are part of the Colorado River Basin have been barely surviving the extremely harsh drought season. When the riverbeds get too dry, fish and other aquatic creatures die off and the wildfire risk increases dramatically.

About six years ago, one team of researchers had a fascinating idea to restore the health of some of Utah's most vulnerable rivers: Bring in the beavers.

 beavers, beaver dam, animals, wildlife, ecosystem, nature, earth, sustainability, deserts, waterways, rivers, pollution, climate change Beaver in water.  Photo by Svetozar Cenisev on Unsplash  

In 2019, master's student Emma Doden and a team of researchers from Utah State University began a "translocation" project to bring displaced beavers to areas like Utah's Price River, in the hopes of bringing it back to life.

Why beavers? It just makes dam sense! (Sorry.)

Beaver dams restrict the flow of water in some areas of a river, creating ponds and wetlands. In drought-stricken areas, fish and other wildlife can take refuge in the ponds while the rest of the river runs dry, thus riding out the danger until it rains again.

When beavers are present in a watershed, the benefits are unbelievable: Better water quality, healthier fish populations, better nutrient availability, and fewer or less severe wildfires.

It's why beavers have earned the title of "keystone species," or any animal that has a disproportionate impact on the ecosystem around them.

Doden and her team took beavers who were captured or removed from their original homes due to being a "nuisance," interfering with infrastructure, or being in danger, and—after a short period of quarantine—were brought to the Price River.

Despite the research team's best efforts, not all the translocated beavers have survived or stayed put over the years. Some have trouble adapting to their new home and die off or are killed by predators, while others leave of their own accord.

But enough have stayed and built dams since 2019 that the team is starting to see the results of the effort. In fact, beaver projects just like this one have been going on all over the state in recent years.

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The water levels in the river are now the healthiest they've been in years. The fish are thriving. Residents of Utah are overjoyed at the results of the experiment.

A column in The Salt Lake Tribune from 2025 (six years after the beaver translocation began) writes that the revitalization of the Price River "helped save our Utah town."

"A tributary of the Colorado River, the Price River runs through downtown Helper. On a warm day, you’re likely to find the river filled with tourists and locals kayaking, tubing and fishing along its shore. A decade ago, it was hard to imagine this scene—and the thriving recreation economy that comes with it—was possible."

Of course, it wasn't JUST the beavers. Other federal water cleanup investments helped remove debris, break down old and malfunctioning dams, and place tighter regulations on agriculture grazing in the area that depleted vital plant life.

But the experts know that the beavers, and their incredible engineering work, are the real MVPs.

 beavers, beaver dam, animals, wildlife, ecosystem, nature, earth, sustainability, deserts, waterways, rivers, pollution, climate change An actual beaver dam on the now-thriving Price RiverPublic Domain

In other drying, struggling rivers in the area, researchers are bringing in beavers and even creating manmade beaver dams. They're hoping that the critters will take over the job as the rivers get healthier.

Utah's San Rafael river, which is in bleak condition, is a prime candidate. In on area of the river, a natural flood inspired a host of beavers to return to the area and "riparian habitat along that stretch had increased by 230%, and it had the most diverse flow patterns of anywhere on the river," according to KUER.

It's hard to believe that beavers nearly went extinct during the heyday of the fur trapping industry, and continued to struggle as they were considered nuisances and pests. Now, they're getting the respect they deserve as engineer marvels, and their populations have rebounded due to better PR and conservation programs.

To that I say...it's about dam time!

If the deserts miss the rain, they must REALLY be missing the snow. Until now, anyway.

The Sahara Desert, the largest hot desert in the world (Antartica and the Arctic are technically deserts too), doesn't get a lot of precipitation.

It's hot, it's dry, and it's vast; covering over 3 million square miles of land in northern Africa.


When it comes to rain, the Sahara only gets between half an inch and four inches of rain per year (that's not a lot!).

But snow, in the desert? That's unheard of ... right?

An amateur photographer just happened to be on hand to catch an honest-to-God snowfall in the Sahara Desert on Dec. 19, 2016.

All photos by Karim Bouchetata/Rex Features via AP Images.

The snow fell in a town called Ain Sefra in Algeria, much to the shock of its residents.

It's actually not the first time this region of the Sahara has been dusted with white powder. Snowfall hit the area all the way back in 1979.

There are also reports of light dustings elsewhere across the Sahara in 2005 and 2012.

Outside of these bizarre occurrences, there's no clear record of major snow having ever hit the area before.

(Though some high-altitude Sahara mountain ranges have been known to get snow, powder in the lower regions is extremely rare.)

The photographer, Karim Bouchetata, said on Facebook that the snow stayed for about a day but quickly melted away.

That leaves these incredible photographs as some of the only remaining evidence of an event that may not occur again for a decade or more. If ever.

Snow in the desert is a beautiful coincidence. A rare moment where dozens of weather factors come together perfectly.

What it isn't — just in case the thought crossed your mind — is any sort of proof that we shouldn't be worried about global warming.

"A cold day in the Sahara does not disprove global warming any more than a heat wave in December proves it," says Steven Stoll, a professor who teaches climate history at Fordham University. "No event stands alone."

It's getting hotter everywhere, Stoll says, and sometimes when that heat gets pushed around and distributed, it can lead to cooling in certain places. That may be the case in the Sahara.

But even if this once-a-decade-or-so event is ultimately completely random and meaningless, it sure is beautiful. And we're lucky a photographer was there to capture the mesmerizing results.

You never know where you'll find your next best friend. For 41-year-old Dion Leonard, it was on a hot, desolate desert in China.

The Australian ultramarathon runner was in the Gobi desert on June 18, 2016, when he noticed the cute little stray dog he had seen at camp the night before.

He says the pooch seemed to like the bright yellow color of his shoes and kept up with him on the run.


Image by 4Deserts.com/Omni Cai, used with permission.

"I thought to myself, 'This little dog isn’t going to last very long at my side' as we raced off," Dion tells Upworthy. "But she ended up running the whole day."

By the end of the second day of the Gobi March , the pair had run 23 miles together.

The seven-day, 155-mile race was difficult; the heat was unforgiving, with temperatures reaching 125 degrees. But Dion and Gobi finished it together ... well, almost.

Gobi kept up with Dion for 78 miles — half of the race, through the hot desert sand and rough mountainous terrain — though he carried her across rivers when they came to them.

"When she came into camp, she followed me straight into my tent, laid down next to me, and that was that – a bond had been developed," Dion says.

The small dog wasn't allowed to run in two of the six stages of the race (because of the extreme heat), but she did run toward the finish line alongside Dion, who finished second in the race.

Image by 4Deserts.com/Omni Cai, used with permission.

With the race behind him and a trip back to his home in Scotland ahead of him, Dion knew he couldn't leave Gobi behind. He decided to adopt the little dog.

A Crowdfunder campaign was launched to help cover Gobi's travel expenses. And just 24 hours later, the $10,000 goal was met. The campaign actually raised just over $12,000, with the extra money being donated to local animal charities.

The process to get Gobi home will take about four months, including her being quarantined before she is approved for entry into the U.K. to her first fur-ever home.

Gobi will be going from a hot, lonely desert in China to a nice, loving home with a family in Edinburgh, Scotland.

Image by 4Deserts.com/Omni Cai, used with permission.

The powerful connection between Dion and Gobi proves there's no rhyme or reason when it comes to forming unbreakable bonds — even with dogs.

When you feel it, you just know it. Dion felt it, and he went to great lengths to make sure Gobi never spent another day alone in this world.

"I didn’t [adopt her]. Gobi seemed to adopt me!"

This is Death Valley.

Image from SeantvScholz/Wikimedia Commons.


Death —

Image from Wolfgangbeyer/Wikimedia Commons.

— Valley.

Image from Urban/Wikimedia Commons.

(If looks like something out of "Star Wars," that's because it totally is).

The name alone is enough to make you thirsty.

GIF from "¡Three Amigos!"

Death Valley is a basin in the Californian desert just west of the Nevada border. It is the driest, hottest place in North America. The temperature once reached a reported 134 degrees Fahrenheit!

If Death Valley is so "dead" ... what the heck are all these flowers doing there?!

The #superbloom of wild flowers in #deathvalley. Quite a site from the normal dry-as-a-bone landscape so typical for the area.
A photo posted by Peter Gaunt (@petergaunt) on


SUPERBLOOM!!!!!! #deathvalley #superbloom #wildflowers #desert #california
A photo posted by The Muir Project (@themuirproject) on

Death Valley, you see, isn't really dead.

The animals and plants that live in Death Valley have adapted to survive the long, dry, hot conditions.

Death Valley receives, on average, just over 2 inches of rain a year, so every drop is precious. Some animals and plants that live there are great at conserving water. Other animals — like the roadrunner — get their water from eating other plants and animals. And others just hunker down and try to wait it out.

"Meep meep!" — This roadrunner, probably. Image from Dawn Beattie/Flickr.


“One more ACME product, and I’ll catch that dang roadrunner.” — (Wile E.) Coyote. Image from Manfred Werner/Wikimedia Commons.

When it does rain in Death Valley, the valley is less like the surface of Tatooine and a lot more like something out of "The Wizard of Oz."

A photo posted by Death Valley National Park (@deathvalleynps) on

This year's rainfall may be super special, causing a "superbloom" to form.

"You always get flowers somewhere in Death Valley almost every month of the year," says park ranger Alan Van Valkenburg in a YouTube video from the Death Valley National Park, "but to have a big bloom like this, which we hope will become a superbloom — which is beyond all your expectations — those are quiet rare. Maybe once a decade or so."

A photo posted by Kurt Lawson (@kurt765) on

A superbloom only happens when the conditions are just right: the perfect amount of rain in the winter and spring, the sun's warmth being just right, and no hot, desiccating wind to suck the moisture away. And it looks like it might just happen in 2016.

"You have to have just the perfect conditions. You never know when it's going to happen," Van Valkenburg says. "It's a privilege to be here and get to see one of these blooms. Very few people get to see it, and it's incredible."

A photo posted by Jenn Schicker (@jennschicker) on

A superbloom's amazing riot of color doesn't last long.

"It's not a permanent thing; it's just temporary," Van Valkenburg says. "It's here for a moment, then it fades."

A photo posted by @skinnycaligeez on

If you're thinking of visiting, catching a glimpse of the superbloom isn't really the kind of thing you can put off. Soon enough, the water will be used up. The plants will shed their seeds and wait for the next rainfall. And the land will return to sweeping vistas of dusty rock and the distant, lonesome calls of desert creatures biding their time until the next superbloom of life.


Image from David Mark/Pixabay.