By ALEXANDRA MAREK
Capital News Service
The crisp autumn leaves have mostly fallen from the tree canopy, and the cool weather has emptied the river of casual boaters and summer traffic. But Theaux Le Gardeur is still here, transfixed by the water’s morning shimmer.
The flapping of an osprey’s wings, the train whistle of the nearby Amtrak line, an eagle calling in the distance — Le Gardeur is attuned to it all. He moves with deliberate precision, carefully testing the water’s pH and dissolved oxygen levels.
Le Gardeur is often called the voice of Gunpowder River, but he believes the river can speak for itself.
“A lot of folks would kind of view this as a Lorax thing and say, ‘You’re speaking for not the trees, but for the river.’ I’d rather say, we are not speaking for, we are really just reminding people to listen.”
Le Gardeur serves as the Gunpowder riverkeeper, an essential role in protecting the watershed. His job is to pay meticulous attention – to a spike in E. coli, a slight hike in an invasive species, a little wastewater run-off.
When he’s not monitoring, he’s speaking at a county council meeting, or leading environmental education initiatives. He has become a trusted, steady presence in Baltimore County.
Gardeur has spent his life immersed in the great outdoors. Growing up in the backcountry of Louisiana taught Le Gardeur about the delicate balance of nature. Le Gardeur spent his childhood fly-fishing, hiking and “diaper-deep” in the Bogue Falaya River.
In high school, Le Gardeur went to a marine conservation camp in Alabama. It was a natural next step to earn his degree in marine science.
After graduating from the University of South Alabama, Le Gardeur moved around the east coast and the northwest before settling in Maryland to take over his friend’s fishing shop. Over time, Le Gardeur noticed a lack of environmental advocacy and litigation work being done, and decided to found the Gunpowder Riverkeeper nonprofit.
“Riverkeeping is a way to work while still getting to feel like a kid again,” said Le Gardeur.
An ideal morning as riverkeeper for Le Gardeur involves putting on a pair of muck boots and standing in the local streams to test bacteria levels.
“Doing water quality work is being both busy and quiet. I think busy and quiet are not often put together,” said Le Gardeur. “You might say busy and frenetic, or busy and stressed, or busy and tired, but what the river allows me to do is stay busy but also be quiet.”
Oftentimes, Le Gardeur is accompanied by his intern, Towson student Tristan McGregor. This summer, they skiff every week, taking water samples.
But protecting the river goes far beyond water sampling.
Recently, Le Gardeur’s days have been filled with the smelly topic of landfill runoff. In September, Days Cove Rubble Landfill, located between the Gunpowder and Bird rivers, applied for a permit that would allow the facility to double its leachate runoff into the watershed. Leachate is the liquid that forms when rainwater passes through waste materials. If approved, the permit would allow the landfill to increase its daily discharge limit of 12,000 gallons to 25,000 gallons per day.
Days Cove has a history of environmental violations. From April 2023 to February 2025, the landfill exceeded its permit 20 times.
Local officials were never informed of the request by the landfill. In a world without the riverkeeper’s watch, the permit could have quietly slipped through an overburdened system.
He brought the permit application to the attention of local officials, and soon enough, the entire community was outraged. Hundreds of Baltimore County residents packed a public hearing to oppose the permit. Republican Councilman David Marks proposed a resolution with support from Le Gardeur that would shut the landfill down altogether.
“He finds the information that’s helpful to the community and me,” said Marks. “He’s soft-spoken and very methodical. But when he speaks out, his voice carries and he’s someone we respect.”
The request is still being reviewed. Marks and Le Gardeur are preparing for a legal battle if the permit is granted.
Out on the field, Le Gardeur displays an earnest passion and excitement for the work. That composure is shown at public hearings and council meetings, where Le Gardeur lays out the facts on impending environmental regulations with clarity and optimism.
“The riverkeeper role is really speaking truth to power,” he says.
The origins of the “riverkeeper” title date back to 1966 when conservationist Robert Boyle formed a group to fight industrial pollution on the Hudson River. They hired the first full-time riverkeeper, John Cronin, in 1983.
Patuxent Riverkeeper Fred Tutman became a mentor to Le Gardeur when he first became Gunpowder riverkeeper over a decade ago. Tutman admired Le Gardeur’s gumption and willingness to fight a corrupt system.
Some riverkeepers favor wealthy potential donors over marginalized communities, Tutman says, so it’s essential that the riverkeepers involve those they represent.
“Theaux is doing solid work, work that can be replicated by citizens, work that’s done in tandem and in partnership with the communities that he serves,” said Tutman.
Le Gardeur finds hope in the young people who have shown commitment to caring for the nature that surrounds them. He is passing down the family values to his 10-year-old son, Oscar, who spends his time in “streams, not screens,” as Le Gardeur likes to say it.
“It’s most gratifying for me to see younger people feeling empowered by this work,” said Le Gardeur.
