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The Fremont village Paragonah

Six centuries of occupation, and a century of excavation after it

The Paragonah Mounds, and what is left of them

Between about A.D. 700 and 1300 a Fremont village stood near town, and in the late 1800s more than four hundred mounds still covered close to a square mile of it. Farming took most of them, and three waves of archaeology took much of the rest. Twelve acres holding twenty-eight mounds survive as a permanent preserve, and it is not a place you go to walk around.

Scott BuehlerBy Scott Buehler, Paragonah local Updated October 2026

The short answer

The Paragonah Mounds are what is left of a Fremont village that stood near town for about six hundred years, from roughly A.D. 700 to 1300, and it ranks among the largest Fremont sites known in Utah. In the late 1800s more than four hundred mounds covered close to a square mile here. Farming leveled most of them, three rounds of archaeology from 1915 onward took much of the rest, and today twelve acres holding twenty-eight mounds are fenced and protected as a permanent preserve by The Archaeological Conservancy. It is a working preserve on private conservation land, not a park, so there is no trail and no parking lot, and the honest answer to "can I go see it" is that you contact the Conservancy rather than drive out to look.

What it isA Fremont village site, not burial mounds
WhenOccupied about A.D. 700 to 1300
Originally400+ mounds over close to a square mile
Today12 acres, 28 mounds, a permanent preserve
AccessPrivate conservation land; contact the Conservancy, no public trail

Start here


Six hundred years of people, at the foot of the hills

Between roughly A.D. 700 and 1300, a Fremont village stood on the ground at Paragonah, and it is counted among the largest known anywhere in the state. Before farming and a century of excavation went to work on it, historical records from the late 1800s describe more than four hundred mounds covering close to a square mile.

Those are not burial mounds, which is the first thing I tell anyone who asks. They are the built-up remains of houses: pit houses and surface buildings raised, lived in, collapsed and rebuilt on the same spots over generations, until the ground itself rose. A mound here is a stack of homes, which is a more domestic thing than the word makes it sound.

Six centuries is a long run by any measure. It means dozens of generations farmed this ground, pulled the same water out of the same creek, and left enough behind to still be visible eight hundred years after they stopped.

The site

400+

mounds recorded in the late 1800s

1915

the year Neil Judd began excavating, to 1917

1954

the year UCLA field schools began

12 acres

protected as a permanent preserve today

A century of digging


Four hundred mounds to twenty-eight

Neil Judd of the Smithsonian dug portions of the site between 1915 and 1917. By his day fewer than fifty mounds were still intact, which tells you the great majority of the four hundred had already gone to farming in the decades right after settlement. In the 1930s the Works Progress Administration ran limited excavations here. From 1954, UCLA ran a series of field schools that opened close to thirty mounds.

That is three separate waves of professional archaeology on one village, spread across forty years, on top of the farm leveling that came before any of it. Each wave worked to the standards of its own time, and the earliest predates most of the recording methods a modern dig would take for granted, so a good deal of what came out of the ground is understood far less completely than we would like.

What is left with any protection is twelve acres holding twenty-eight mounds, the largest intact piece of the site. Everything else is under fields, under houses, or in a museum drawer somewhere.

Fewer than fifty mounds still intact by 1915, out of more than four hundred recorded thirty years earlier.

What saved the rest


A land sale in 2013, and a conservation buyer

The twelve-acre core is now owned and managed as a permanent preserve by The Archaeological Conservancy, a national organization that buys archaeological sites outright to protect them. It came to them through a deal completed in 2013, in which the Utah Transit Authority paid Southern Utah University $108,000 for the land.

The money did work at both ends. Part of it went to fencing the site, a long-term management plan, an education program and a stewardship fund. The proceeds SUU received became an endowment for a Native American anthropology scholarship and for the university's archaeology repository, which is a far better outcome than most land deals of this kind ever produce.

The practical result is that the largest intact remnant of one of Utah's great Fremont villages is fenced, managed, funded and permanently out of reach of the next plow or the next subdivision. It is a quiet piece of work, and it is the reason there is anything left here to write about.

How to treat it


This is not a place to go walk around

I would rather say this plainly than bury it in fine print. The Paragonah Mounds are a managed archaeological preserve on private conservation land, not a park. There is no trail, no parking lot, no signs on the ground and nothing set up for visitors, and none of that is an oversight. A site like this survives by not being walked on.

It is also an ancestral site. The Fremont were people with descendants, and the right posture toward a village where families lived for six hundred years is the one you would want extended to a burial ground belonging to your own family. Do not dig, do not pick anything up, do not walk on a mound, and do not treat it as a photo opportunity.

If the archaeology genuinely interests you, and it should, the ways in are the ones the preservation work itself opened up: The Archaeological Conservancy about the site, and Southern Utah University, which holds an archaeology repository funded in part by the same deal. Both give you far more than a look over a fence, and neither costs the site a thing.

Disturbing an archaeological site is a serious matter, and a legal one. Collecting artifacts, digging or damaging an archaeological site carries real legal consequences in Utah and on federal land, and it is a loss to everyone who cares about this history. If you find something, leave it exactly where it is, note where you were, and tell the land manager or the state historic preservation office. Context is the whole value of an object, and picking it up destroys that permanently.

Quick answers


The mounds, answered

The remains of a Fremont culture village that stood near Paragonah between roughly A.D. 700 and 1300, and one of the largest known anywhere in Utah. The mounds are not burials. They are the built-up remains of pit houses and surface buildings raised, lived in, collapsed and rebuilt on the same spots over generations until the ground itself rose. In the late 1800s more than four hundred of them covered close to a square mile.

Three separate waves over about forty years. Neil Judd of the Smithsonian dug portions between 1915 and 1917, when fewer than fifty mounds were still intact. The Works Progress Administration ran limited excavations in the 1930s. From 1954, UCLA ran a series of field schools that opened close to thirty mounds. Farm leveling had already taken most of the site before any of it.

Twelve acres holding twenty-eight mounds, the largest intact piece left, now owned and managed as a permanent preserve by The Archaeological Conservancy. Set that against the more than four hundred mounds recorded in the late 1800s and the loss is stark. Everything else is under fields, under buildings, or in a museum collection somewhere.

The Archaeological Conservancy, a national organization that buys archaeological sites outright to protect them. The land came to them through a deal completed in 2013, in which the Utah Transit Authority paid Southern Utah University $108,000 for it, with added money for fencing, a long-term management plan, education and a stewardship fund.

Not the way you would visit a park. It is a managed archaeological preserve on private conservation land, with no trail, no parking lot and no signs on the ground. The right move is to contact The Archaeological Conservancy about access rather than go looking for it. This is an ancestral site with living descendant communities, and it survives precisely by not being walked on.

The people who lived across much of what is now Utah and neighboring states from roughly A.D. 700 to 1300, farming corn alongside hunting and gathering, building pit houses and surface structures, and leaving behind a distinctive material culture. The Paragonah village is one of the largest Fremont sites known in the state, and six centuries there means dozens of generations of families on the same ground.

Leave it exactly where it is, note where you were, and tell the land manager or the state historic preservation office. Context is the whole archaeological value of an object, and picking it up destroys that permanently, even with the best intentions. Collecting, digging or damaging an archaeological site also carries real legal consequences in Utah and on federal land.

Southern Utah University holds an archaeology repository, funded in part by the same land deal that protected the site, and it is the natural academic way in. The Archaeological Conservancy is the body to approach about the preserve itself. Both are far more rewarding than a look over a fence, and neither costs the site anything, which is the point.

No. They are different things in different places. Parowan Gap, about twenty-five minutes away through Parowan, is a rock art site in the Red Hills with a dinosaur tracksite nearby, and it belongs with our Parowan pages. The Paragonah Mounds are a habitation site, the physical remains of a village where people lived for six hundred years, near town rather than in a pass in the Red Hills.

Scott Buehler, Moving Utah

Six hundred years of people chose this ground first

Two settlements more than a thousand years apart came to the same ground for the same creek, which is the most direct argument there is that geography rather than accident put a town here. If that has you looking at the valley, the founding page picks the story up in the early 1850s.

Or call me: (435) 357-4345or send me a message

Keep going


Continue your Paragonah research

Eight more doors into Paragonah, chosen for what this page covers.

Scott Buehler

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