Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­

A Living Laboratory

Aerial view of the canyon at the Santa Margarita Ecological Reserve
The Santa Margarita River runs through the Santa Margarita Ecological Reserve and is one of the last free-flowing rivers in Southern California.

Mountain lions, steelhead trout and scarlet monkey flowers. Through conservation, research and partnerships with local tribes, Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­ works to protect threatened species and Indigenous traditions alike—all at the Santa Margarita Ecological Reserve.

By Bryana Quintana
Photographs by Matt Furman

(from top): David Lipson, Pablo Bryant, and Jamie Bourdon
The Santa Margarita Ecological Reserve crew (from top): David Lipson, director and Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­ biology professor; Pablo Bryant, reserve manager; and Jamie Bourdon, researcher and grove manager.

IT’S 6 O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING, and Jamie Bourdon steps through spiny branches to access a narrow path invisible to untrained eyes. He casually approaches a camouflaged trail camera, beginning the first to-do item on yet another normal day as a researcher and grove manager at the Santa Margarita Ecological Reserve. 

Bourdon reviews the footage with awe, watching as a mountain lion he’s tracking for research purposes appears on the screen. The lion takes Bourdon’s bait, a frozen deer carcass he had strategically dragged across rugged mountain terrain just days before, and feasts all night. Suddenly, in the early morning, its head jolts up, hearing something. The lion scampers off, and Bourdon’s mouth falls open as he sees himself appear on the video just 10 seconds later. 

A near brush with a powerful predator, but one Bourdon, a cat lover, would welcome. His mission is to gather DNA from mountain lions and collar them to study breeding and migration patterns. The end goal? Conserve the species by illustrating the critical need for a wildlife crossing system over Interstate 15, which divides the Peninsular Ranges between the Santa Ana Mountains to the west and Palomar Mountain in the east.

This freeway barrier particularly affects mountain lions and other large mammals that can’t easily traverse busy roads that smaller rodents and insects can more easily navigate. Obstructed from their routes, the lions are cut off from potential mates and from their primary food source, Southern mule deer. 

“Mule deer are the only way the mountain lions survive,†Bourdon says. “Throughout the U.S. and areas of Canada, we’re seeing population islands where mountain lions are getting genetically isolated, unable to go to other areas.â€

Surveillance still of a mountain lion

DAVID LIPSON, PH.D., reserve director and biology professor, and Pablo Bryant (’94), reserve manager, round out the Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­ crew responsible for looking after the Santa Margarita Ecological Reserve. This uniquely wild, over 4,300-acre stretch of land is a relatively small speck of natural wildlife among the sprawling mix of Southern California’s suburban and farming country. Located in Temecula, about 50 miles northeast of Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­â€™s San Diego location, the reserve is a patchwork of untamed swaths of land dotted with avocado and orange groves, grapevines, designated areas for research and sacred Indigenous sites. 

(from left): Bourdon driving a tractor to clear debris, river at the reserve, Bryant driving through mud, an orange tree
Many hands make light work. With just a three-person staff at the Santa Margarita Ecological Reserve, Bourdon (on left) and Bryant (third from left) defy that adage. There’s always plenty to do for these two on this approximately 4,300 acres of mostly wild land, which includes the Santa Margarita River.

“The pristine opportunity that exists in this small area is so rare in this country,†says Bourdon, who has lived on the reserve for 12 years. “San Diego County has more endangered species than anywhere else in the country, and this reserve in itself is a kind of microcosm, a concentrated portion of that.†

Collaring and studying mountain lions is a mere fraction of the duties performed by the team. The biodiversity of the region not only makes the reserve a perfect laboratory for conservation research but it also reflects the need to protect the land, the species and the Indigenous cultural ties. 

Bryant, an Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­ biology alumnus who plans to retire from his 30-year career at the reserve in December, says conservation land management in such dense urban areas gets harder every year. “We’re trying to get to a place where this land can be managed properly for the protection of biodiversity and culture for as long as possible,†he says. 

FOR Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­â€™S BIOLOGY DEPARTMENT, the reserve is a critical research tool to explore environmental solutions. 

“Every day, the reserve, people around it and people involved in it are at the forefront of every issue we could talk about, whether it is climate change, housing, food security or water security,†Bourdon says. 

Exemplifying this is a National Science Foundation–funded project investigating how the scarlet monkey flower, a native California species, responds to drought conditions. For the study, researchers across five institutions nationwide plant monkey flower seeds that survived the intense 2015 drought up and down the West Coast. The reserve houses the southern portion of the study with a garden of more than 5,400 plants that, around May or June, bloom into a red and green meadow over 3 feet tall.

Jamie Bourdon
Researcher and Grove Manager at the Santa Margarita Ecological Reserve
“The reserve is at the forefront of every issue we could talk about, whether it is climate change, housing, food security or water security.â€

Since 2022, Lluvia Flores-Renteria, Ph.D., associate professor of biology, and her team have monitored the garden year-round. They measure growing results and compare them with the other localities. The study, which grant managers call “the perfect experiment,†takes a formidable team of researchers across all levels, including evolutionary biologist Jordan Waits (’24), who used this project for his master’s thesis. 

“The reserve has offered the opportunity for a lot of students to get trained in field work and experimental design,†Flores-Renteria says. 

Researchers also study how drought and heat stress affect wine grape varieties in the reserve’s 1-acre vineyard. From there, Bourdon and his team turn the grapes into wine, which is used at select university events. 

Reserve managers don’t let other produce grown on former farmland go to waste either. BrightSide Produce—a program led by Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­â€™s Iana Castro, Ph.D., a Zahn professor of creativity and innovation—harvests Haas avocados and Valencia oranges and delivers them to food desert communities across San Diego. 

THE LAND AT THE RESERVE has a long history. San Diego’s first external-reaching railroad line, which connected National City to Colton, once ran along the Santa Margarita River. Sections of track are still embedded in the riverbed. Various families farmed the lands, and 2,500 acres were even part of a utopian commune. 

In 1962, Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­ was bestowed the responsibility of maintaining the expansive landscape, and now the College of Sciences serves as its designated caretaker. The collective owners include the California State University, Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­ Research Foundation, Bureau of Land Management, California Department of Fish and Wildlife and The Nature Conservancy. 

But the land’s first guardians were seven local Luiseño tribes: the Pechanga, Pala, Pauma, La Jolla, Rincon, Soboba and San Luis Rey. Since Bryant and Bourdon started working at the reserve, they have established and maintained close relationships with tribal members. 

“We believe that care by Indigenous communities is what’s going to save and keep this land in perpetuity,†Bryant says. “We’re kind of this blip that got to care for it for a little bit, and ultimately, it should go back to these Indigenous communities because they’ll care for it best.†

The reserve, according to the Luiseño Tribes’ Creation Account, is the birthplace of their people and encapsulates ‘Éxva Teméeku, which means “sand and sun place—where the earth and the sun joined together.†

“Earth Mother, at that point, bore the world and everything in it: the rocks, rivers, trees, the sky, the sun. The first water of the world is Táatamay, the Santa Margarita River,†says Paul Macarro, Pechanga tribal member and cultural resources coordinator. “It’s all there, where the reserve happens to be. There may be a 15 freeway between there, but in modern day, the religion, beliefs, language live on because of that place.†

The Pechanga, whose archaeological record dates back more than 10,000 years, shared this sacred Creation Account publicly for the first time in 2012. They were testifying against the construction of a mine—dubbed the Liberty Quarry—on the reserve. A mining company was targeting the granite mountain Káamalam Pomkí’, “the First People’s House,†which Macarro says is central to their understanding of the world.

“We wouldn’t have our unbroken cultural tie without it: It’s that important,†he says. 

Ultimately, the mining project did not go through. 

In recent years, the Pechanga have regained access to the reserve through their relationship with Bryant. It had been about 100 years since they could use the land for gatherings, youth summer programs and ceremonies. 

“I’m hopeful that ceremonies will continue, and they’ll be held in our place of Creation because that is the one place that has this deep-rooted attachment for all of our relatives here on these lands,†says Myra Masiel (’13), Pechanga tribal member, curator and certified tribal archaeologist. “That’s the place where all of our first relatives were born. It is the reason for our existence today. There’s that inherent spiritual attachment to those places, and that will never go away. It will never leave us because that’s our root.†

Masiel, who also sits on Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­â€™s Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act board, earned a master’s in anthropology in 2013 from Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­. 

The reserve team also aims to work with local tribes to reintroduce Indigenous land management practices and cultivate native plants traditionally used for food, medicine and dyes. Masiel supports these plans. 

“We are the first scientists,†she says. “We are the first researchers.â€

Locations and plants on the reserve
Marissa Strebler (’23), bottom left, a field research assistant with the Âé¶¹´«Ã½Ó³»­ Research Foundation, is a part of the team that conducts climate change research around the scarlet monkey flower. The field sits in the shadow of the granite mountain Káamalam Pomkí’, which is integral to the Luiseño tribes’ Creation Account.

MAINTAINING THE RESERVE is not an easy undertaking for Lipson, Bryant and Bourdon. It’s labor-intensive, with dirt roads and trails requiring boots-on-the-ground maintenance, including fixing wells (Bryant and Bourdon watched multiple YouTube videos to figure that out), putting up fences, monitoring native plants, and removing invasive species with chainsaws and tractors. 

Trespassing is also a persistent issue. Every week is a new instance of individuals starting fires, vandalizing, destroying property or driving vehicles across the delicate natural ecosystem. 

“On a broader picture, this land is connectivity, on the biodiversity and cultural elements, but also just logistics. Every day is a different challenge in so many areas,†Bourdon says. “If we weren’t here, then who is? That’s when things get out of hand very quickly.†

The Santa Margarita River is one of the last free-flowing rivers in Southern California, meaning it runs naturally to the ocean without dams. It provides water to the Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton downstream and supports an array of flora and fauna in Riverside, Orange and San Diego counties. This includes the endangered steelhead trout, gray foxes, ringtail cats, American badgers, Western pond turtles, red diamond rattlesnakes, California gnatcatchers and monarch butterflies. 

“The reserve starts at the confluence of the Murrieta Creek and the Temecula Creek [right by the 15 freeway], and that’s a very vulnerable area,†Lipson says. “It’s a very protected, high-quality watershed, important for wildlife crossing and reintroducing the steelhead trout.†

The reserve is open to visitors through a series of curated programs. Managers work with local teachers and youth organizations to facilitate field trips and engage K–12 students in simple experiments. Volunteers also plan guided hikes on designated trails and other public events, with the hope to one day raise enough money for a visitor center. 

“This is the really hard balance, because we want people to appreciate it, know what a special thing they have, and how important it is to protect,†Lipson says. “But it’s really delicate. It has to be controlled to keep it as special as it is.â€