Once the largest body of freshwater west of the Mississippi River, the grand Tulare Lake in California’s San Joaquin Valley reemerged in 2023 after vanishing 130 years ago, bringing with it a cascade of ecological and cultural implications.

Known as “Pa’ashi” to the indigenous Tachi Yokut tribe, the lake spanned over 100 miles in length and 30 miles in width during its heyday in the late 19th century, accommodating steamship travel and serving as a cornerstone for local wildlife and Tachi Yokut ceremonies.

However, settler colonialism’s thirst for arable land led to its drainage, as Vivian Underhill, a researcher at Northeastern University, describes, “the state of California’s desire to take [historically indigenous] land and put it into private ownership” initiated a process of “reclamation.” Those who drained the land were given ownership of parts of it, leading to the complete disappearance of the lake around 1890.

The transformation of this landscape, which once facilitated Fresno’s reputation as a lakeside town, saw the valley crisscrossed by hundreds of irrigation canals.

These canals were the arteries that diverted the lake’s lifeblood to the arid lands around, catering to the region’s agricultural needs.

Yet, in an unexpected turn spurred by climate dynamics, the atmospheric conditions comprising heavy snowfall in the winter followed by spring rains led to the lake’s resurgence.

The resulting snowmelt filled the historical basin of Tulare Lake once again, rekindling its ancient presence.

This rebirth, although brief, witnessed the return of diverse bird species – pelicans, hawks, waterbirds, and notably, the “vulnerable or imperilled” burrowing owls, as noted by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

Not only fauna but also the Tachi Yokut experienced a profound reconnect with their heritage. “The return of the lake has been just an incredibly powerful and spiritual experience,” shared Underhill. They resumed their traditional ceremonies and practices along the lake’s edges.

However, the lake’s resurgence did not come without cost. The agricultural community faced considerable losses; farms, equipment, and homes were engulfed by the floodwaters.

Efforts to drain the lake have commenced, with Underhill projecting the lake may linger in some form for a couple more years, albeit climate change might prompt similar events more frequently in the future.

Underhill believes that recognizing the economic and ecological benefits could prompt a reconsideration to let Tulare Lake persist. It has, after all, made multiple comebacks, appearing transiently in the ’80s, ’60s, and ’30s. “This was not actually a flood. This is a lake returning,” she asserts, highlighting the long geological history of lakes and wetlands in the region.

Despite this, as of March, reports indicate that the lake has receded to just 2,625 acres, according to Kings county office of emergency services, with its “imminent disappearance” anticipated barring further climate phenomena.

Thus stands the Phoenix Lake of Tulare, an embodiment of resilience and nature’s indomitable will, rising from its ashes, if only to remind us of its ancient existence and the transformative power of the Earth’s climate.

As history and modernity collide, the tale of Tulare Lake resonates with a message of loss, rebirth, and the tension between human enterprise and natural systems.

Relevant articles:
– Iconic California lake returns 130 years after vanishing, Indy100
– Researchers stunned after ancient lake returns after vanishing 130 years ago: ‘Once the largest body of freshwater west of the Mississippi River’, Yahoo
– Huge lake suddenly reappears 130 years after vanishing, JOE.co.uk