No More “Normal”

What Arizona’s Changing Climate Means for the Salt River Horses 

If you read Sunday’s paper, you likely saw the headline: “No more normal.” For many of us who live in Arizona, that phrase hit home. We’ve felt it in our skin and bones for years. The heat lasts longer. The rains come later—or not at all. The landscape is harder, drier, and more fragile. Scientists, land managers, and long-time residents all agree: the patterns we used to rely on are breaking down. 

Arizona’s climate has changed. The land has changed. If we’re going to care for it—and for the wild horses who live on it—our thinking needs to change too.

Here in the Valley, people often refer to our situation as a “drought.” That term isn’t entirely wrong, but it’s not quite accurate either. Over the past 30 years, Phoenix has received an average of 6.6 inches of rainfall annually—a figure that has held remarkably steady. What’s changed isn’t how much rain we get overall. It’s when and how we get it.

The variation from year to year can be dramatic. In 1997, we received over 8 inches. In 2002, just 2.82 inches. But the real story is in the patterns: longer dry spells, more erratic monsoons, and short, intense bursts of rain that flood quickly and run off just as fast, leaving little behind to nourish the land. Consider this: in early 2025, Phoenix went 154 consecutive days without measurable rainfall—the longest streak in city history. And 2023 saw the driest monsoon season ever recorded. Meanwhile, the average annual temperature has risen from 74.3°F in 1995 to 78.7°F in 2024. That heat speeds up evaporation and stresses ecosystems further. Even when it rains, the land no longer recovers the way it used to.

Why does this matter for the Salt River horse herd?

Because we are no longer managing in a world where “normal” applies.

The land that once supported a certain number of horses no longer has the same capacity. Water availability is no longer consistent. Forage doesn’t grow with the same reliability. And the margin for error has narrowed. A summer that might once have been survivable can now bring real suffering, even collapse.

If we care about these horses—and we do—then we have a moral responsibility to manage the herd in a way that reflects current ecological conditions, not outdated expectations. That doesn’t mean giving up on wild horses. It means making sure they can live and thrive in the environment that actually exists.

We must ask hard questions. 

• How many horses can this land now support, year after year, under hotter, drier conditions? 
• How do we plan ahead to avoid emergency situations where animals go hungry or suffer? 
• What does humane care really look like when climate patterns no longer follow the rules we grew up with?

The answer is not nostalgia. It’s adaptation.

We must move beyond the idea that the past is our baseline. The future will demand better models, better data, and yes—harder choices. But those choices must be made with honesty, compassion, and a clear-eyed view of what the land can bear.

At SaltRiverTruth.com, we’re working to provide that honest view. We believe in transparency, in science, and in the deep ethical obligation we hold—not only to the horses, but to the ecosystem that supports them. If we want the Salt River horse herd to survive and flourish, we need to manage based on what is, not what used to be.

The era of “normal” is over. The era of responsibility must begin.