I hike along a dry creek bed on a ranch near Karval, Colorado. I am with a group of biologists who trail behind hydrologist Aaron Kauffman while he plants flags at precise points in the channel and jots down notes in his field book. Kauffman recognizes details in the soil that hint at an all-too-common story throughout the high plains of eastern Colorado: this prairie’s hydrology has been compromised. Small changes to the ground, like cattle trails or two-track dirt roads, have created new paths for water to incise the soil into rills, headcuts, and gullies. Before these changes, precipitation would disperse evenly across the prairie, infiltrating into the ground to support healthy vegetation without displacing much soil. Now, the surrounding grasses struggle to cling to the channel banks, roots weakened by drought and pressured by soil erosion.
Left unchecked, this channel would continue to grow, concentrating runoff at new low points throughout the water table, and leeching water from the surrounding soils. Rill and gully erosion are particularly detrimental to the arid grasslands of eastern Colorado, where vegetation relies heavily on efficient delivery of the little rain it receives. Even drought-tolerant plants will decline in these extreme conditions, leaving the landscape dotted with large patches of bare soil. Kauffman shares the sobering observation that “Colorado is beginning to experience what New Mexico went through 30 years ago.” The resulting habitat loss spells dire consequences for grassland birds, whose diets and nesting patterns depend on a healthy grassland ecosystem. Yet professionals like Kauffman are not alone in their desire to re-establish a flourishing prairie. Ranchers rely on these rangelands as well to produce high quality cattle forage in a region that is increasingly stricken by drought and on the verge of desertification.
Despite this knowledge, our group is optimistic that we can intervene.
A partnership between Bird Conservancy of the Rockies, the Natural Resources Conservation Service (NRCS), and U.S. Fish and Wildlife (USFWS), along with a sponsorship from NextEra Energy, brought thirty conservation partners together from all over Colorado with a goal of implementing lasting change on the Eastern Plains. Two weeks after our initial scouting trip, these partners gather in the freezing October rain and learn to construct stone structures meant to alleviate the stress of water flow on eroded channels. These structures, termed “Zeedyks” after the acclaimed restorationist Bill Zeedyk, involve the strategic arrangement of stones to redirect water flow and reinforce vulnerable points in a channel bed. Kauffman’s flags, placed two weeks before, show us where this particular channel would benefit from such constructions. A green flag marks a point where a rock rundown could ease a sharp grade change and armor the soil from further erosion damage. A white flag marks an area where a one rock dam can raise the water level while creating a stable soil bed for vegetation to establish.
Over the span of two days we follow the path of flags, leaving a trail of Zeedyks behind us. After an hour of hauling heavy stones up and down a channel, our winter coats lay forgotten in the grasses; the cold wind is now a refreshing breeze while we work muscles we didn’t know we had. It becomes a point of pride for me, as I’m sure it did for others, to find that perfect stone that fits like a puzzle piece into my carefully constructed design.
While enjoyable to build, the true value of our work will become apparent over time. Kauffman shares photos of an old project site that has benefitted for years after the implementation of a few Zeedyk structures: the stone has captured enough sediment to slowly change the contour of the channel and better distribute precipitation throughout the prairie. This site could now sustain a much more diverse profile of grasses, forbes and subsequently, habitat for wildlife. Additionally, the cost of resources was much lower than other practices in hydrology restoration, which often require the use of heavy machinery and can take months or even years to implement. Zeedyks can be completed in a matter of days, often with materials that are already on hand. I had made my skepticism known when Kauffman originally shared that the average human was capable of moving one ton of rock in a typical workday, however by the afternoon of our second day we had collectively moved over fifty tons of rock to build sixty total Zeedyk structures. Though proud of this feat, we understand that decades might pass before we see the full effects of our structures on the landscape. Fortunately, there is plenty to do in the meantime.
Following the workshop, NextEra has provided each participant a stipend to design and implement Zeedyks in their own projects with private landowners across Colorado. As partners continue to demonstrate the importance of a healthy hydrology in dry environments, we hope to see these structures on properties across the eastern plains. The scale of the problems facing the American west is vast, and each structure we build is just a drop in the bucket. Yet in eastern Colorado, each drop is precious.
This article was written in collaboration with Emma Califf, Wildlife Habitat Biologist, Anna Greenberg, Wetlands Program Manager, and Jacy Bernath-Plaisted, Applied Conservation Scientist.