By Bryn Nelson for Yes! Media.
Broadcast version by Eric Tegethoff for Oregon News Service reporting for the YES! Media-Public News Service Collaboration

At the Fernhill Wetlands along the Pacific Flyway in suburban Forest Grove, Oregon, dedicated birders have documented more than 240 avian species. Uncommon birds like the American bittern and Virginia rail have appeared more frequently on the 90 acres of marshland since it was constructed in 2014. Human visitors have flocked to the picturesque park as well, to sit, walk, watch, and even wed.

Not bad for a wastewater treatment plant.

Fed by five million gallons of treated wastewater every day, Fernhill's constructed waterfalls add oxygen back to the flow. One million reintroduced native plants representing about two dozen species (plus other species returning on their own) remove excess nitrogen, phosphorus, chemicals, and suspended solids, while providing the shade needed to cool the water before it reaches the nearby Tualatin River. During construction, workers installed 180 logs and snags, and even varied the topographies of wetland basins to mimic the region's aquatic habitats and offer more diverse niches for marsh birds, shorebirds, and other wildlife.

The natural water filtration system fashioned from old sewage lagoons has become an "ecological bridge" between treatment plants operated by the Clean Water Services utility in western Oregon and an increasingly vulnerable Tualatin River. "I always say wetlands are the kidneys of the Earth," says Jared Kinnear, a biologist who helped design Fernhill and now manages it and the utility's other reuse projects. "We're just harnessing the process that's been going on for millions of years."

Constructed wetlands have been used for decades in Europe and some parts of the United States as natural water-cleaning systems. Amid the growing threats of the climate crisis and habitat fragmentation, they're gaining in popularity as a form of nature-inspired infrastructure that can not only prevent pollution but also create vital green spaces for wildlife and humans alike.

In 2011, after reviewing its options for a needed expansion, Clean Water Services found that an $18 million wetland buffer made good financial sense as well: It cost roughly half as much as a concrete-and-steel treatment system. "Not only did Fernhill cost less, but it certainly offered a whole lot more environmental and social benefits than other options," says Diane Taniguchi-Dennis, the utility's CEO.

Constructed wetlands require active tending, such as periodic dredging, removal of invasive species, wildlife management, and even controlled burns. But these semi-wild spaces have proven so popular that the utilities operating them have had to regularly remind visitors of their primary function: cleaning wastewater.

Wildlife Encounters

Along the Atlantic Flyway in central Florida, the Brevard County Wastewater Treatment Plant similarly transformed 200 acres of pastureland back into water-filtering wetlands in 1998. Workers constructed four marshes-each with its own small island and all separated by earthen berms-and then reintroduced more than 200,000 native plants representing 19 species. Arrayed around a central lake, the Ritch Grissom Memorial Wetlands, known locally as the Viera Wetlands, help purify wastewater that's reclaimed for irrigation or discharged into the Four Mile Canal and upper St. Johns River during the rainy season.

One scientist called the Viera Wetlands the "best place I've found in Florida for both fabulous birding and photography." Local resident Kim Englert, a health care coach, recalls seeing so many ibises on a late spring day in 2021 that the entire landscape appeared speckled white. Her favorites, though, are the wetlands' alligators. "My Kentucky friends, they flip a wig when I show them pictures of gators," she says.

In April 2023, frequent visitors were far less pleased when county commissioners announced an impending six-month closure of the wetlands to remove a buildup of muck and dead vegetation that had raised nitrogen levels past the limits mandated by the Florida Department of Environmental Protection. "Most people here don't really understand what their purpose is," Englert says of the wetlands. Through a Facebook group that she co-manages and other social media sites, she hopes to educate the community and underscore safety concerns-such as dogs getting too close to the alligators and vehicles destabilizing the berms-that could shut down public access for good. "It's a gift," she says, "not a guarantee."

In Arizona, the Sweetwater Wetlands on the western edge of Tucson have likewise become a big tourist draw. Interpretive displays at the urban wildlife habitat, park, and natural treatment system describe the water reclamation process, while a photography competition emphasizes the importance of the desert oasis for migrating and permanent animal residents.

Retired software engineer and photography enthusiast Steven Winker won a second-place award for a dramatic photo of a bobcat about to pounce on an unlucky rat. He recalls the thrill of passing within feet of another bobcat nicknamed "Mama"-so named by her many admirers because she had raised multiple litters in the wetlands.

In November 2022, about a month after researchers outfitted her with a radio collar, Mama died; researchers suspect she was struck by a car on a nearby road. Beyond an outpouring of grief, her death sparked a bitter controversy among residents who suspected that the radio collars were changing the behavior of the bobcats and making them more susceptible to harm. Tracking data suggested no ill effects on the animals, though the deaths of multiple collared bobcats pointed to another sad truth: Creating inviting semi-urban spaces for wildlife brings the animals closer not only to adoring fans but also to highways and hunters.

Restoring Nature

The popularity of Oregon's Fernhill has required Clean Water Services to defuse its own share of potential public relations disasters, like the mass die-offs of cackling geese in 2020. The birds ate fungus-contaminated grain in nearby fields and then expired in the wetlands. "We're in a fishbowl," Kinnear says, keenly aware of how the deaths could have been wrongly attributed to something in the treated water if the incident had not been properly investigated and explained.

At the same time, he has had to continually weed out invasive plants and animals threatening the site's water filtration function. The utility's proactive management, though, has created new opportunities to educate the public about the benefits and limits of nature-inspired systems, and to explore how human stewardship might nurture new ecosystems.

The Las Arenitas Wetland Project, an international collaboration at a wastewater treatment plant south of Mexicali in Mexico's Baja California state, has aimed even higher by seeking to improve the flow and quality of freshwater through the Colorado River Delta.

The river's meager flow by this point in its course, drained by chronic drought and upstream water rights, has effectively concentrated its pollution and threatened its connectivity to the sea at the Gulf of California. "Everything comes back to the lack of fresh water," says Edgar Carrera, who grew up in Mexicali and now coordinates the Colorado River Delta project for The Nature Conservancy, a project partner.

An initial 250-acre wetland created in 2007 wasn't enough to accommodate the region's population growth and the resulting influx of wastewater that is now roughly double the existing plant's treatment capacity. That wetland, Carrera says, has already become an oasis for migratory and resident birds like the endangered Yuma clapper rail, mammals like bobcats and foxes, and reptiles like chameleons. "So it is now a wildlife refuge," he says.

In parallel with upgrades to the plant's treatment process, tentatively slated for 2025, a new series of intermediate water-filtering wetland basins will significantly improve the quality of the 3.5 billion gallons of reclaimed water before it flows into the larger wetland and then into the Colorado River Delta. Improving that flow can lower the concentration of other contaminants-essentially using treated wastewater to help dilute pollution-while nourishing the downstream estuary's wildlife.

Carrera has alleviated some community concerns that the natural water purification won't be enough to clean the Colorado by emphasizing that the process will combine the filtering abilities of a more efficient treatment plant and the series of constructed wetlands to aid the ailing delta. "They are very conscious that the water, for them, means income," he says of local residents who depend upon the river for agriculture, fishing, boating, and tourism.

For many ecosystems, recycled water means life. In a lower stretch of Oregon's Tualatin River, water released from an upstream reservoir and treated wastewater from the utility's four treatment plants account for up to 86% of the late-summer flow.

Taniguchi-Dennis believes that creating "river-ready" water and a wildlife sanctuary is just the start of what might be possible with treated wastewater. Providing a foothold for keystone species such as beneficial kinds of algae, for example, could feed a wide assortment of creatures while further purifying and oxygenating the water. "What if we could create the right biodiversity within the wetland that actually amplified what the river needs to restore its health and its waters?" she asks. It's a question made possible by reimagining how the problem of polluted wastewater can become the basis for a sustainable, nature-inspired solution.


Bryn Nelson wrote this article for YES! Media.


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West Virginia communities will see increased air pollution with little oversight under a new Trump administration proposal offering presidential exemptions from the Clean Air Act's requirements for hazardous air pollutants.

Sarah Vogel, senior vice president of healthy communities for the Environmental Defense Fund, said the move could affect more than 200 facilities, including 10 in the Mountain State, emitting toxic chemicals such as ethylene oxide and benzene.

"These are well-defined, highly hazardous chemicals, many cancer-causing compounds coming from a number of different industries, including the chemical and petrochemical industry," Vogel outlined.

A new analysis from the Environmental Defense Fund found more than 500 facilities across the U.S. eligible for pollution exemptions. Most are petrochemical manufacturing plants and coal-fired power plants. The Environmental Protection Agency has not made the requests for exemptions publicly available.

Vogel emphasized children and families who have no choice but to breathe the toxic air where they live will suffer the most.

"We're seeing this administration signal to companies that they can just continue to pollute in the name of either a so-called energy emergency or a national security issue," Vogel added.

Nearly 10,000 West Virginia children per year will suffer asthma attacks because of ozone from the oil and gas industry, and in 28 counties residents face higher cancer risks, according to the Clean Air Task Force.

The decades-long decline of Pennsylvania's coal industry could shift in another direction after a series of executive orders by President Donald Trump - although current market trends indicate it's unlikely.

Coal-fired power plants made up just over 16% of U.S. electricity in 2023. That's half what it was a decade ago.

Tom Schuster, director of the Sierra Club of Pennsylvania, said the coal industry is in irreversible decline that executive orders most likely can't change.

He said it's been outpaced by renewable energy, which has now surpassed coal in electricity generation over a 12 month period.

"Unfortunately," said Schuster, "what this order could do is expose people to higher electricity costs by keeping unprofitable plants online longer, and also jeopardize people's health by exempting them from environmental regulations."

The orders direct agencies like the Environmental Protection Agency to ease restrictions on coal, which the president suggests could help meet rising energy demands of manufacturing and AI data centers.

Schuster said these actions are part of broader deregulation, and that Pennsylvanians know the risks of unchecked coal use.

He said in today's market, relying on coal to meet power demands is no longer viable.

One executive order claims mining and burning coal will bring back good-paying jobs, but Schuster said that's unlikely.

He pointed out that coal generated about half of Pennsylvania's electricity 15 years ago, but now makes up only 10% - and he said reopening retired plants isn't economical.

"There's only two conventional coal-fired power plants left in Pennsylvania," said Schuster. "There's a handful of smaller specialty plants that burn coal refuse, but it's a relatively small part of our energy generation today, so I don't think the economic impact in terms of coal-fired generation is going to be that much."

An executive order also aims to boost coal exports. Pennsylvania exports a fair amount of its coal, mainly to China - but the trade war and retaliatory tariffs could stymie that effort.

Environmental groups across Michigan are pushing back after the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers confirmed it will fast-track Enbridge's Line 5 tunnel project without conducting a full environmental review.

Line 5 is a 645-mile pipeline transporting crude oil and natural gas liquids beneath the Straits of Mackinac. Speeding up the project is a response to President Donald Trump's declaration of a "national energy emergency."

Ashley Rudzinksy with the nonprofit Groundwork Center for Resilient Communities said with the federal process fast-tracked, the burden falls more heavily on the state's environmental agency to exercise due diligence. She added state laws require thorough permit reviews and meaningful opportunity for public input.

These laws include the Michigan Public Trust Law and the Submerged Land Act.

Rudzinski says there also are concerns about potential oil spills and threats to treaty rights.

"We have also seen many of our partners in this work, and allies - the six Tribal nations here in Michigan - pull out of continued negotiations with the Army Corps," Rudzinski pointed out. "In my estimation, that is because this process has become a sham."

Enbridge responded in a statement saying in part, "Line 5 is critical energy infrastructure" and it is safe. It went on to say Michigan approved environmental permits and tunnel placement but after nearly five years, the project still awaits a U.S. Army Corps decision on its environmental impact.

Critics of the Line 5 tunnel are urging Gov. Gretchen Whitmer and the Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes and Energy to deny the necessary permits.

Rudzinski warned the project may also become a burden on taxpayers.

"Enbridge has petitioned the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to be able to pass the tunnel construction cost onto their shippers, who ultimately can pass that on to consumers," Rudzinski noted. "That means everyday folks will have to pay more for these products."

Enbridge has consistently stated it will bear the full financial responsibility for the construction, operation and maintenance of the Line 5 tunnel, and taxpayers will not be required to fund any part of the project.


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