wildlife

WILDLIFE WATER HOLE AT TAVASCI MARSH

Something cackled on the other side of the cattails. I froze, juggling two cameras as I balanced thigh-deep in Tavasci Marsh beneath the distant brooding gaze of the tumbled ruins of Tuzigoot National Monument. Bubbles oozed from the muck and decaying vegetation beneath my feet. A breeze caressed me, stirring ripples on the still surface of the lagoon now tinted a pastel red by the reflection of the limestone cliffs cut millions of years ago by the Verde River. I savored the moment, little suspecting that a nearly forgotten childhood humiliation was about to be soothed. I waited for the bird beyond the cattails to bob into sight, hoping it might be some brilliantly colored duck feasting in this reincarnated marsh. From my pond's-eye vantage point, only the restored stone ruins of Tuzigoot on a distant knoll suggested the existence of my own species. For the moment, I could have been alone in a world containing only ducks and beavers and creatures that wriggle through the mud. It was an illusion, of course. First we destroyed this ancient wetland, now we've re-created it more determined to remake the landscape to our specifications than even the industrious beaver. Certainly, Tavasci Marsh boasts ancient roots. The Verde River cut this looping meander in the limestone cliffs eons ago before wandering away and seeking a new main channel. But springs at the base of the cliffs continued to gush along the seams of buried layers of volcanic basalt, trickling rain that fell thousands of years ago into the abandoned river channel. Beavers found the artesian stream, built their dams, and turned the riverbed into a great marsh. The wealth

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of birds, fish, clams, deer, and other game drew the Indians. They occupied the area for thousands of years, first merely gathering food, then constructing irrigation works, and finally rearing great pueblos like Tuzigoot, which harbored hundreds of people. They departed in the 1400s, leaving the rich valley to the descendants of Europeans with their copper mines, cattle, and concrete dams. We diverted the springs to farmland and cattle tanks and converted the marsh to pasture. Copper mining giant Phelps Dodge bought most of the area, using a portion of that old river channel to dump mine tailings piped down from Jerome. Fortunately we humans sometimes have second thoughts. That's why in January, 1990, Phelps Dodge and the Arizona Game and Fish Department struck a deal to bring an ancient marsh back from the dead. Phelps Dodge, which hopes to build a housing development nearby, agreed to let the state restore the marsh and manage the land.

The state mounted ambitious plans to augment the efforts of the beavers by building an adjustable dam to capture the flow of that old spring to create a 60-acre marsh that now covers some 100 acres. Using monies derived from the Arizona Game & Fish Department Heritage Fund, the state will replant the cottonwoods and willows expunged by cattle and miners, build observation platforms for nature lovers strolling down from nearby Tuzigoot, and protect the marsh for a striking array of birds and animals. By the time they're finished, the marsh may finally resemble the ecological cornerstone that convinced the vanished Sinagua Indians to live at Tuzigoot for some 300 years. Streamside riparian areas account for just one percent of the land in Arizona, and marshes account for just a tiny fraction of even that paltry total. Yet 60 percent of the wildlife species in the state depend utterly on riparian areas and another 20 percent make extensive use of their resources. The upper Verde River remains one of the state's last free-flowing rivers and includes the only stretch of the river officially designated as "Wild and Scenic." The marsh sits at an ecological crossroads between the fish-laden Peck's Lake in another portion of that age-old meander and the Verde itself as it tumbles and splashes past Clarkdale. Fish from the Verde can swim up into the marsh, particularly during floods when the river rises and covers the meadow surrounding the existing marsh.

Biologists say it's hard to exaggerate the importance of such a marsh, especially in the midst of the rugged splendor of this section of the upper Sonoran Desert. Marshes offer a perfect bowl for a biological soup. Plants grow thickly in the warm, quiet waters, from the cattails and bulrushes to the diatoms and algae at the microscopic base of the food chain. The plants draw an array of birds, fish, and other animals. Some, like muskrats and beaver, rely on the marsh for year-round sanctuary. Deer, javelinas, coyotes, mountain lions, and other species haunt its margins throughout the year. But most species use the marsh at certain times of the year, which explains why its ecological importance spreads outward like ripples racing away from a stone plopped into a pond.Marshes provide crucial stopovers for migrating birds. Many species of waterfowl summer in the Arctic where the tundra teems with insects and lush grass during the frantically compressed growing season. But they must winter in South America or Mexico. Stopover marshes like Tavasci provide invaluable respites for an impressive list of waterfowl. The marshes and the surrounding trees also provide key habitat for many brilliantly colored migrants, such as the startling vermilion flycatchers, showy tanagers, the brilliant lesser goldfinches, and rare warblers. These migratory birds use their mobility to take

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advantage of seasonal shifts in food, crossing whole continents to enjoy the springtime burst of productivity in a desert marsh, summer tundra, or the winterless tropics.

That makes the marsh an all-important ecological puzzle piece. It may provide a fish nursery for species that spend most of their lives battling the current on the river, a nesting site for birds that would otherwise disappear from the Sonoran Desert, a rest stop that ensures the survival of a migratory species, a sanctuary for algae or snails or insects that occupy a key link in a larger food chain, a larder that helps some desert species through hard times, or a boost to the water table that keeps a fringe of cottonwoods and willows alive.

But enough ecology.

Back to the marsh itself and the climax of a long day spent wading through the shallows listening to the lapping of the water among the bulrushes and the intertwined harmony of birdsongs.Impatient to see the birds, I inched forward to peek around the fringe of bulrushes. They heard the tiny riffle of the water. I looked just in time to see a pair of wood ducks rise vertically from the surface. A rarity in the Verde Valley, wood ducks nest in gnarled cavities in the large trees that have become increasingly rare because of the flood control works and hungry cattle that prevent the growth of new seedlings.

But I was most startled by the odd bird that exploded from a small island of dry ground 15 yards beyond the ducks. It looked like an oversize sandpiper, with long legs and bill, a stubby tail, long pointed wings, and vivid black and brown stripes down its back. I snapped a futile picture and made a mental note.

Later I asked for an identification from Dr. Carl Tomoff, a Prescott College bird expert who recently counted more than 100 different bird species on a six-mile stretch of the Verde River that includes Tavasci Marsh. I'd seen a snipe.

The word brought back the 30-year-old memory of the night I spent several hours crouched in the bushes with a burlap bag waiting for someone to chase a snipe in my direction. I finally returned to camp to discover my companions laughing uproariously. I evidently set some sort of gullibility record, as measured by the time I waited for the snipe. Now I felt absurdly vindicated.

Snipe exist.

And they're waiting for me out in Tavasci Marsh, calling one another in voices that the Sinagua knew long before the first burlap bag.

Additional Reading: Whether you are a stop-and-smell-the-flowers day hiker or a week-long backpacking adventurer, you will enjoy Outdoors in Arizona: A Guide to Hiking and Backpacking. The 136-page full-color guidebook covers 48 trails through Arizona's superbly scenic canyons, deserts, and mountains. To order the softcover guidebook ($10.95 plus shipping and handling), telephone toll-free (800) 543-5432. In the Phoenix area or outside the U.S., call (602) 258-1000.

WHEN YOU GO

To reach Tavasci Marsh from Phoenix, take Interstate 17 north 106 miles to the Cottonwood exit. Cottonwood is 18 miles farther. Follow directional signs in Cottonwood to Deadhorse Ranch State Park (there's a daily use fee charged here), drive through the park, and leave your vehicle in the lower parking lot at Tuzigoot National Monument (no charge). Then follow the walking trail into the marsh and to the viewing platform. Boots are suggested as the water runs over the path in some places. There are no posted hours at Tavasci, no full-time attendant on duty, and no information number. For general information about the area, call the Cottonwood/Verde Valley Chamber of Commerce, (520) 634-7593.