In Tucson, Arizona, a quiet yet profound ecological movement has been steadily gaining momentum over several decades, shifting the focus from simply restoring degraded environments to actively reimagining and reconnecting with local landscapes. This approach encourages embracing these spaces in their current, often imperfect, states. The roots of this movement trace back to the environmental awakening of the 1960s and the subsequent wave of conservation and ecological restoration efforts in the 1970s and 1980s. Today, instead of solely discussing the "restoration" of an urban stretch of a river corridor, a new term has taken hold: "reconciliation." This concept, formalized as "reconciliation ecology" in 2003, aims to foster biodiversity within human-dominated landscapes, essentially offering a framework for conservation in the Anthropocene.

Angel Antonio Breault, a fourth-generation Tucson resident, grew up near the upper reaches of the region’s floodplain, initially perceiving it as little more than a ditch. His perspective began to change as he studied ecology and started visiting the Santa Cruz River on Sundays, seeking out birds and wildflowers. During these visits, he realized he was not only learning about the river but also developing a personal connection to it. This burgeoning awareness led him to establish the community initiative "Reconciliation on the Santa Cruz River." Unlike earlier environmental campaigns, this initiative prioritized reimagining the relationship between humans and the land over exclusively restoring the physical landscape.

The historical context for this shift is deeply intertwined with the environmental challenges that emerged in the mid-20th century. Growing awareness of air and water pollution, coupled with environmental disasters like oil spills and the widespread use of pesticides, galvanized local environmentalists. By this time, extensive development had led to the over-extraction of surface and groundwater resources, resulting in rivers and streams that often ran dry for significant portions of the year. While Phoenix, located two hours to the north, continued its rapid expansion with new housing developments, Tucson’s local non-profit organizations and community groups formed coalitions to advocate for slower growth within the city. Within a decade, Tucson strategically purchased farmland west of its city limits, effectively removing it from agricultural use to alleviate pressure on groundwater pumping. Concurrently, smaller water systems were consolidated under the umbrella of Tucson Water, a city-managed utility with a valley-wide infrastructure and a unified approach to water resource management.

This proactive approach to water conservation yielded tangible results. In 1977, the city launched its inaugural "Beat the Peak" campaign, aimed at raising public awareness about peak water usage times and promoting the use of reclaimed wastewater for landscape irrigation. By 1984, Tucson had become one of the first cities in the nation to implement the recycling of treated wastewater for use in parks and golf courses, demonstrating a commitment to innovative water management solutions.

Activists who had long championed slower development and environmental protection succeeded in building a coalition that called for the protection of habitats for 44 vulnerable, threatened, and endangered species. Their advocacy also led to the establishment of bond-funded land conservation programs and a robust system designed to preserve open spaces and mitigate the impacts of development on vital riparian habitats. These sustained efforts culminated in the adoption of the Sonoran Desert Conservation Plan by the Pima County Board of Supervisors in October 1998. The plan established two primary objectives: safeguarding endangered species and imposing significant restrictions on development. Over time, its impact has broadened considerably, encompassing environmental restoration projects, the creation of wildlife crossings, and the implementation of rainwater harvesting initiatives.

The Santa Cruz River, a 200-mile waterway that flows through Tucson on its journey from northern Mexico, serves as a potent example of how Tucson’s residents have pioneered urban conservation strategies. As development accelerated in the early 20th century, practices such as overgrazing, groundwater depletion, and infrastructure construction severely degraded the riverbed. By the 1950s, the segment of the Santa Cruz River passing through Tucson had completely dried up. Decades later, local ecologists, much like their predecessors, recognized the urgent need to advocate for the river and the communities that rely upon it. However, Breault and his contemporaries found conventional restoration methods insufficient for the trash-laden and drought-stricken Santa Cruz, which struggled to meet the standards of conventional scientific or conservation experts. They envisioned something different: reconciliation.

"I see the Santa Cruz as a portal," Breault explained, describing it as a pathway for people to explore the authentic relationships they already possess with the natural world. He emphasized the effectiveness of participatory programs, stating, "We know the best way to engage people is through participatory programs. People don’t need to be hand-held." Breault believes that the most impactful approach is for individuals to discover their own unique ways of connecting with nature, regardless of how severely it may have been impacted, utilized, or abused in the past. Even ecosystems as degraded and arid as the Santa Cruz can still sustain life and flourish.

A compelling illustration of this principle emerged in late 2017 when the endangered Gila topminnow was discovered downstream from the International Wastewater Treatment Plant in Nogales. To help replenish the aquifer and its riparian habitat, Tucson Water began diverting up to 10 million liters of recycled water into the river, south of the city center. A collaborative team of scientists from the Arizona Game and Fish Department and the University of Arizona collected over 700 Gila topminnows upstream and carefully transported them to a release point near downtown Tucson, where the previously polluted and dry riverbed was being revitalized.

This initiative, undertaken in 2020, has led to a humble resurgence of the river, with a flow of approximately one mile near downtown Tucson. While some sections are ephemeral and others perennial, the river’s appearance is ever-changing. Following significant monsoon rains, the water flows freely, but even without the monsoon season, the effluent is sufficient to support the re-emergence of wetlands and marshes. Cottonwood trees, absent for over six decades, are returning, the Gila topminnow is reproducing, and approximately 40 other native animal and plant species have made a comeback.

The return of the river has also brought people back, whether through organized trash cleanups, impromptu invasive plant removal efforts, or simply by observing the wildlife. "Get in line," Breault advised, encouraging individuals to contribute in ways that align with their strengths, such as storytelling. He outlined plans for gatherings along the river, ranging from writing workshops and art creation sessions to interpretive nature walks, and acknowledged other similar initiatives he has heard about. "We don’t have to do everything," he stated. "The river knows. We just have to be there together." This collaborative and community-driven approach embodies the spirit of reconciliation ecology, fostering a deeper and more authentic connection between urban populations and their natural surroundings.