Notes on Ogallala: Water for a Dry LandJohn Opie, 1993 (second edition: 2000)
Read September-October 2006
The Ogallala aquifer underlies 174,000 square miles of the Great Plains; roughly you can think of it as a 150-mile north-south column running from the base of the Texas panhandle up through the northern border of Nebraska, where it then spills out over almost that entire state. Somewhat conveniently, that area happens to receive too little rainfall for dry-farming, and the presence of the Ogallala has allowed a very productive agricultural system to arise. The rub is that the waters of the aquifer, while huge, are limited, and exhaustion has already started to happen.
This book covers a wide scope, including the history (natural and human) of the region, and discusses the economic and agricultural forces at play. Larger themes, such as the future of the family farm, are also discussed, but generally from the perspective of the western Great Plains.
The strengths of the book were its comprehensiveness and the number of though-provoking questions it raised. I enjoyed the book, but it was a bit dry and slow in spots. Unfortunately, the book already needs an update – it was written when the eventuality of exhaustion was starting to be taken seriously, and it would be interesting to know where things stand now.
The book focuses on the southern part of the aquifer area: southern Kansas, the Oklahoma panhandle, and to a lesser extent, the Texas panhandle. Nebraska and northern Kansas are generally ignored, although much of the story applies to them as well.
Selected points of interest:
HistoryIn short, the Great Plains were considered an uninhabitable desert for quite a while; then settlers came with the philosophy of “rain follows the plow” – sow the ground and the rain will come. And the first wave of settlement did coincide with a wet cycle, and people were happy. Then a drought hit, and the land couldn’t sustain everyone, so many people left. If you want to learn about the history of the settlement of the Great Plains, I wouldn’t start with this book, but it did fill out some details.
- The boom-bust cycles were ongoing.
- The bad times didn’t end with the Great Depression. There was severe drought in the early 50’s, along with dust bowls problems that were just as bad as in the ‘30’s.
- Detail about New Deal programs to pay people to leave the dry parts of the plains; this is where the National Grasslands of eastern Colorado and Wyoming, and western Oklahoma and Texas came about.
- In general, the debate about whether the region is suitable for agriculture, and whether government should subsidize the region, has been going on for quite a while; about a century now.
Everything started changing in the 1950’s, when pumping technology became more affordable. The size of the aquifer meant that farmers were now free from depending upon rain.
There was, and still is, a lot of water in the aquifer, whose width ran into the hundreds of feet. Irrigation generally consumes one to three feet of that water, if I remember correctly. The aquifer gets replenished from natural sources at less than an inch per year. In general, farmers were looking at a fifty-hundred year water supply if consumption was at full bore.
The first responses to the supposition that the water wasn’t endless were generally one of denial – either that was just scare mongering – that the aquifer really wouldn’t run dry, or that science and technology would come to the rescue by finding other sources. Conservation was not considered to be an option, especially if it came at the cost of crop production.
But reality did set in, and it didn’t take long. This is a much more cut-and-dried situation than the issue of how much oil is left in the world. The amount of water remaining in the aquifer at any given point is relatively well-understood; moreover, as water levels lowered, pumping costs rose, which became apparent to any irrigation farmer.
The question then, is what to do with the water left in the ground. Do you use it in a way to maximize crop production, thus “burning” it quickly, and then deal with the effects of running out when you get there, or do you conserve so as to make the water last for longer (but still not indefinitely)? It should be noted that nobody in the region contemplates just leaving the water in the ground. The debate is about how fast to extract the water and what to do with it when you get it to the surface.
On a personal note – I’m not sure what to make of that last point. The city-slicker conservationist in me worries about using anything up totally. On the other hand, why not use the water? It doesn’t do any good to anybody, even the biological environment, to be sitting five hundred feet underground. Of course, if it were me farming the land, and my options were insolvency, back-breaking labor doing subsistence farming or getting slightly ahead by pumping, I know what I would do.
Back to the discussion of how to use the water. This is where it gets interesting. Farmers in the region are very independent and distrustful of government. And initially there was no way they were going to stand for any restrictions on how they could use the water on their land. But that philosophy turned out to have some problems.
PigsOne of the major trends as of the writing of this book was that large-scale hog farms were coming to the western Oklahoma and southern Kansas region. In some ways, that’s a good place for it – although pigs are more efficient at turning grain into protein than cows, they pollute at a much higher rate. Better to do that polluting on the plains, with low population densities and dry air. Still, there are concerns:
- Hog farms use more water than crop agriculture. Is it fair for the hog farms to be slurping up more water than their neighbors?
- With no zoning regulations (at least not initially), someone could open up a hog farm right next to your farm. The odors would make your farm essentially uninhabitable.
OilWater is used, heavily, in oil extraction. Water is pumped into oil fields to make the oil rise, where it can be pumped out. The southwestern Great Plains overlaps the Texas-Oklahoma oil region. Guess who has more political pull, big oil or family farmers?
The author quotes a statistic that in this region, it takes 520 gallons of water to produce a gallon of oil. You can’t reuse this water for agriculture, since it has been polluted with chemicals. Making the use of Ogallala water more wasteful is the fact that the oil drillers could use salt water from deeper reservoirs. That would be slightly more expensive, but would not change the overall viability of oil production in the region. But since Ogallala water is free to whoever pumps it, might as well use it even if it saves a penny per gallon of gas.
So the farmers are in a bind. The Ogallala is interconnected; the water levels generally get lowered across a large area. So if you insist on property rights, bigger neighbors can apply them to suck up your water. Even without the bigger neighbors, if you conserve but surrounding farmers don’t, then you’re a chump. They get higher yields by using “your” water. This promotes a “use-it-or-lose-it” attitude; not good for long-term conservation.
As a result, farmers have generally bowed to the inevitable and pressured state legislatures to regulate water consumption better. (By the way, I can’t refrain from pointing out the well-known fact that although residents of this region may be independent and anti-government, they are also heavily dependent upon government subsidies. But that’s a subject for another time.)
Of course, this whole subject brings up my favorite economic topic, externalities. If a price could be placed on depleting the aquifer (e.g. what would the cost to Plains residents, American food consumers, farmers), then you could consume as much of the aquifer as you want. You just need to pay some tax which will eventually be used to reimburse, in some sense, the people that your consumption is costing.
There have been some plans to supply fresh water to the Great Plains by rerouting rivers. The more modest (very relatively speaking) proposals involved reversing the Niobrara River in Nebraska or diverting the Arkansas River. The big-league proposals involved diverting water from the massive rivers in Canada. The multi-hundred billion dollar price tags involved dampened enthusiasm, and the age of the Corps of Engineers-style big resculpting of nature has gone out of fashion. At least for now.
The book spends some time discussing the future of the family farm in the U.S. Obviously, that’s a huge subject, and not totally relevant to the book, but I found the discussion to be very interesting. Paraphrasing the author: in some ways, the family farm is an anachronism. Agriculture is the only sizeable cottage industry left in the country. It’s main reason for existence today is that our society has determined that it’s important for moral reasons. One of the weaknesses include the large number of skills required of just a few people to be successful. That’s the case for all industries, but businesses generally have the luxury of being able to delegate tasks to people who are best suited for each. That’s harder to do when you have just two people running the whole show. More important is the subject of risk management. Family farms are small units and each must manage risk (generally through diversification) on its own. A larger enterprise can do that more efficiently and probably more wisely, since the cost of failure in some small segment is not absolute ruin for the people involved.
Still, Opie suggests that in the end, the family farm may be the best way to go. Its primary advantage (for the country) is that farmers who live on and own their land are in it for the long term, and they are much more aware of and sensitive to environmental issues.
Some selected quotes I found interesting:
p. 245 – In 1980 the USDA determined that a selected set of 115,000 “produced almost three-quarters of all the nation’s strategic foods: wheat, corn, and soybeans. These 115,000 farms could produce enough to fulfill the nation’s basic grain needs, support overseas exports, and still maintain a surplus.”
On global warming – “the United States would have specific ‘winners’ and ‘losers’, and the old Dust Bowl region is always listed as a ‘loser’.”
“The irony of Ogallala irrigation is that while it has done so much to prevent perennial disaster from drought it has created new risks and expenses. Its need for heavy equipment investments, integration into outside markets, and dependence upon government support all transformed a highly valued farming lifestyle into an industrial operation. Boomlike development started a rush to consume soil and water and a demand for costly equipment and new fertilizers and pesticides. Profit-centered production has undermined customary rural lifestyles and shortened the life span of water and land.”