I want you to close your eyes, unless you're driving, then you should definitely keep them open.

But try to really take in the sounds of all of these creatures.

Oh, a river.

Hi, Lither.

Yeah, there is a lot of wildlife here.

We're all those snakes.

Oh, I just heard the way to splash in the water.

I'm telling a city person.

We're walking on a dirt path along the edge of a pond.

It's a hot August morning and it's dry.

The summer monsoon rains that usually start in July are running late this year.

But this place is lush with sand bar willows and arrowweed and cat tail stands.

I was marveling that this grass is like taller than me by several feet.

Like you wouldn't know you're in the middle of the desert.

Totally.

You would never know if this was here just driving by.

I'm here with my colleague, Savannah Marr, and Steven Row Lewis, the governor of the Hila River Indian community,

in a wetland about 40 miles south of Phoenix.

Historically, the water that runs through here is the lifeblood of the community,

a nation of Akimel, Atom, and Peeposh people who have been farming this land

and building their lives and economies around desert rivers, streams, and washes for centuries.

In the late 1700s, as early as Mexican and even Spanish explorers,

...