‘Beaver Fever’
Cover Story, Jun 18, 2025
To the Editor:
Last month, I wrote a story about a conflict over beavers that is playing out along a stream system in northern New Mexico—one that runs between the communities of Chimayó and Santa Cruz. An environmental group called Defenders of Wildlife, as well as Santa Fe County, have promoted the presence of beavers in those streams, citing positive ecological effects. Some acequia farmers, who rely on the system to irrigate chile, stone fruits, berries, corn, flowers and other crops, believed they’ve gotten inadequate communication about the groups’ plans.
After the article came out, I received criticism from Defenders of Wildlife. Representatives of the nonprofit said the article didn’t reflect the openness towards beavers that they’ve observed among community members.
Although I continued to hear expressions of resistance from several farmers, I realized that while focusing on the tensions in and around Chimayó and Santa Cruz, I had neglected to interview a set of stakeholders who live a couple of miles downstream: members of Santa Clara Pueblo, Tewa people who have depended on that water for centuries. I decided to talk to Daniel Denipah, the director of forestry at Santa Clara, to find out how he felt about beavers.
Historically, on Santa Clara land, the Rio Santa Cruz fed into the Rio Grande. But with upstream demand and intense drought, that confluence has been dry. Denipah has been working to restore the flow, and to improve stream health more generally: building rock dams, clearing invasive species and placing structures that mimic beaver habitat and make the waterway more hospitable to the animals, which he calls “mother nature’s engineers.”
Beavers, he says, are as much a part of the land as the people of Santa Clara. His hope is that the river channel will meander, as it did in the past. The beavers will build dams that store water and make the area wetter, helping to prevent wildfires and allow native species to grow. The evapotranspiration from those plants could cool the area.
“We’re looking for the future, at the way things used to be because the culture and the identity of Santa Clara is tied to those waterways,” Denipah says.
He’s especially worried about wildfires. In 2011, the Las Conchas fire burned through thousands of acres of Santa Clara land. Members of the Pueblo recall elders crying when they learned they could no longer fish and gather herbs in the areas that were burned.
“We’re gonna stand losing a lot more than what we think,” Denipah says. “If our forests are unhealthy, if our waterways are unhealthy, our community is unhealthy.”
Farmers in the Pueblo irrigate using traditional ditches, and Denipah notes that the beavers can get in the ditches and build dams. When irrigators have experienced challenges, Pueblo officials have captured the beavers and relocated them in the mountains.
“Definitely we have issues,” Denipah says. “Instead of the beavers becoming hats, we opt to try to move them.”
Some of the tension around the beavers stems from a deeper tension around water: as it grows scarcer, many people feel increasing stress about how it will be used and managed.
Denipah says he wants to find a way for those up and down the stream system to peacefully share the water and for people to learn to coexist with the beavers.
“I understand people’s concern these days,” he says. “Water in these areas is a precious resource, and we stand to lose so much if we don’t work together.”
Bryan Bird, Southwest Director Field Conservation DEFENDERS OF WILDLIFE;
Santa Fe
