Scott Baxter

Driving up bustling Interstate 15 from Salt Lake City, passing industrial factories and suburban neighborhoods, one would hardly guess that just off exit 363 lies 80,000 acres of wild marshlands, an indispensable natural sanctuary for wildlife native to Utah and beyond. Every year, more than 250 species of birds pass through Bear Lake Migratory Bird Refuge to rest and feed, or to mate and raise their young, drawing thousands of enthusiastic human visitors hoping to observe their majesty.

In the mid to late 1800s, the marsh surrounding Bear River, near Brigham City, was teeming with life. But as industrial-era civilization in northern Utah began to expand rapidly, freshwater wetlands adjacent to the Great Salt Lake were draining at the same pace.

Latter-day Saint settlers were arriving in the area, establishing small agrarian communities with a high demand for irrigation infrastructure. Pumping water from the marsh, their agricultural settlements thrived, but those natural ecosystems suffered, and suddenly vast expanses of mud littered with bird carcasses replaced the vibrant scene that had existed in the area just decades earlier.

Things looked grim at best for Western bird populations. The lack of water and steamy summer temperatures created the perfect conditions for disease to spread, and by 1910, an avian botulism outbreak had killed more than 7 million waterfowl.

Disturbed by the grisly sight, ornithologists, hunters, conservation organizations and residents rallied together to better understand avian botulism and formulate a solution to the devastation on display. Determined to protect the birds and the northern Utah land and water they depended on, they urged Congress to take action. Finally, in 1928, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge was established by presidential proclamation.

There are now more than 560 refuges in the National Wildlife Refuge System, managed by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. But Bear River was one of the first, a sort of milestone catalyst in the growing national movement to set aside land specifically for wildlife.

Beyond its historical significance, Bear River is special for several reasons. A mix of open water, mudflats, marshes and uplands allows both a staggering variety and number of birds to find temporary homes inside its boundaries. It’s part of the Great Salt Lake ecosystem and provides a critical habitat for upwards of 500,000 waterfowl and 200,000 shorebirds during spring and fall migration seasons. More white-faced ibises breed at Bear River Refuge than anywhere else in the world, and the refuge hosts one of the three largest American white pelican breeding colonies in North America.



Cindy Costa

In addition to its ecological diversity, the refuge located right in the migratory sweet spot, on the eastern fringe of the Pacific Flyway and the western fringe of the Central Flyway – two geographical channels that birds migrate through every year. For birds, Bear River is where the party’s at.

But it hasn’t always been fun and games – avian botulism wasn’t the only challenge to plague the Refuge.

For tourists, one of the highlights of visiting Bear River Refuge has always been its auto tour, a 12-mile route through the marshes that guests can drive to view wildlife in a unique, up close and personal, sort of way. The refuge’s original buildings and offices were located near the start of this tour, but high waters in the early 1980s brought catastrophic flooding, destroying the structures.

Once again, it was up to the community to band together and save the refuge. Employees, government officials, volunteers – it was all hands on deck to get things back up and running when the flooding finally died down in 1983. By 2005, after a long restoration journey, the new Wildlife Education Center was completed just down the road from the original headquarters location. This is the visitor center guests see today, complete with educational exhibits, a gift shop and bookstore, and a soon-to-be outdoor classroom and play area. Right outside this building are walking trails, perfect for ranger- or self-guided tours of the resident critters’ digs.

Karleen Vollherbst, visitor services manager at Bear River, wasn’t around for the infamous floods of the ’80s, but she’s been with the refuge long enough to know it takes a lot of helping hands to keep everything running smoothly.

She credits the Friends of the Bear River Refuge, a nonprofit organization that helps the refuge fundraise and strategize to uphold their mission statement, with playing a major role in their modern success. By helping write grants to fund infrastructure like their new outdoor children’s play area and the observation deck along the auto tour route, the Friends are instrumental in connecting the community to the wildlife who call Bear River Refuge their seasonal home.

Coincidentally, or perhaps not so, Vollherbst’s own mission is similar – she’s the link between the people and the birds, coordinating everything at the refuge from public hunting and fishing to giving tours and managing volunteers.

“My real passion is connecting people with nature,” she says. “Getting them outside, getting them to love, appreciate and value the outdoors.”

At Bear River Refuge, there is no shortage of natural wonders to appreciate, with many species of birds to admire every month of the year. Throughout the winter, a hardy contingent of waterfowl, including tundra swans and mallards, remains in the refuge when open water freezes, joined by raptors like bald eagles and red-tailed hawks. By March, tundra swans that overwintered in California’s Sacramento Valley return to join their nearly frozen friends.

The dawn of spring brings a variety of migrating ducks, plus the first summer birds to arrive to the refuge: cormorants, pelicans, sandhill cranes. In April, the shorebirds gather. May is peak nesting season for herons, gulls and ibises. June offers the best chance to see the spectacular mating ritual of grebes, which run across the water in dramatic courtship dances. Ducklings hatch in July, and August is the height of the shorebird migration. Throughout the fall, summer birds begin to leave the safety of the refuge, heading for warmer weather. But the real autumn drama is thanks to swans and ducks, which gather in astonishing numbers of 10,000 and 120,000, respectively.

There’s no bad time to visit Bear River, but even with such a detailed seasonal guide, guests to the Refuge never quite know what they’ll see. Vollherbst, scrolling feverishly through her camera roll, is eager to show off a striking photo from a winter stroll around the marsh. Pictured is the massive, distinct imprint of a raptor’s wing in the snow, where it seemingly pounced on its rodent dinner, leaving a gory splatter of blood in the aftermath. The contrast of red on white is surprisingly beautiful – primal, even, which is a testament to the truly natural environment that the refuge takes such care to cultivate, unspoiled by the manmade chaos than can come with human intervention. It’s a place, put simply, where birds can be birds.

“Me getting to walk out there on the trail and see something like that makes me so happy,” Vollherbst gushes. “It’s the combination of me getting to have that experience and then nerding out with other people about it.”

Vollherbst’s enthusiasm is infectious, too. The more she talks about the evolution of her own interest in birds, the more it all starts to make sense. Before one comes face to feathers with these kinds of fantastic displays, it’s hard to fathom just how incredible and unique these creatures are.



Scott Baxter

Bear River Refuge is determined to bridge the gap between the human and avian worlds, and Vollherbst says they’re working on generating creative solutions to help make nature accessible to everyone. The refuge hosts several educational events that are suited for bird enthusiasts with any level of knowledge. Swan Day, Eagle Day and Owl Day celebrate their respective birds of honor with stories, crafts, games and ranger programs. The City Nature Challenge encourages participants to “discover the nature of their backyards.”

For beginner birders who can make the trip, the ideal way to learn is to get out in the wilderness, on one of multiple walking trails or the auto tour route. The refuge is an ideal place to start, due in part to the abundance of waterfowl. Compared to many other types of smaller birds, waterfowl are larger, easier to spot and not as prone to flying away quickly.

Once hooked, pop inside the Wildlife Education Center, where visitors can walk through a museum-style exhibit with extensive information about many of the birds that travel through the refuge, including interactive, hands-on sensory experiences. Rangers also occasionally lead in-person programs, which are posted online in advance at fws.gov/refuge/bear-river-migratory-bird.

Pausing to glance outside her office window, Vollherbst notices a kestrel atop a lamp post, eliciting a giddy chuckle which communicates their familiarity – a friend she says has been visiting her daily for the past few weeks.

Whatever’s been said about birds – that they’re unintelligent or uninteresting in comparison to their mammalian counterparts – is just plain myth. They’re beautiful, powerful, with unimaginable intuition that continues to guide them home, every year, to the peaceful and expansive sanctuary that is Bear River Refuge.