From the heart of
Kansas to the Basin
Editor’s Note:
Herald and News reporters are wrapping up weekly
reporting on this year’s water shortage. We asked them
to supplement their last Tuesday reports with personal
columns.
I thought I knew a
few things about agriculture.
When I moved to
Klamath Falls in May, I quickly began to realize just
how much I had to learn.
I grew up in the
heart of Kansas wheat country (though in the city, I
should admit), my father has worked for a grain milling
company for more than 30 years and many of my friends go
home on weekends to help run their family farms.

Over the past six
months, however, I realized that I had only a
surface-level understanding of Kansas agriculture, a far
cry from the type of agriculture that sustains the
Klamath Basin.
In Kansas, we grow
mostly large commodity crops with small profit margins:
wheat, sorghum, soybeans and some corn.
Because the profit margins are small and the farms are
large, idling hundreds of acres each year has small
consequences and is actually standard practice.
Ranchers back home
have huge grasslands (the whole state is one, actually)
that don’t require irrigation to graze their cattle
through the summer and fall.
But things are
different in the Basin.
Here, where farmers
grow crops with higher profit margins, like potatoes,
strawberries, onions, mint and horseradish, bad growing
years hurt. With these types of crops, losing part of
your harvest to drought or pests means losing a lot of
money. Farmers here have a great deal at stake.
Before I moved to
Klamath Falls, I read about the
2001 drought, the
years of negotiations leading up to the signing of the
Klamath Basin Restoration Agreement and this year’s
looming drought, but I did not fully grasp the magnitude
of the situation.
Talking to Basin
farmers, ranchers and water stakeholders, I gained some
understanding of the issues they face and the resolve
with which they face them.
Kenny Schell, a
Henley-area rancher and hay farmer, for instance
explained to me how he had to move his cattle from field
to field throughout 2001 in search of grass.
“It was hell because
we didn’t have feed for the cattle and we couldn’t water
our fields,” he said. “It takes water. It’s the blood of
the beast for agriculture. You have to have it.”
That was one of many
conversations that helped me realize how much I had
taken water for granted in Kansas.
It should be
iterated that water issues go well beyond farmers and
ranchers. Whether it is people in the upper Basin who
value endangered sucker and salmon, games men who had no
wetlands to hunt, California fishermen who depend on the
health of the Klamath River or one of many other
stakeholder groups, water matters to people in the
Klamath River Basin.
But the stakeholders
I dealt with most were farmers and ranchers. And I
actually learned the most about these farmers and
ranchers, a generally reserved bunch, who often did not
want to broadcast their own plight, by talking to people
who work outside of agriculture.
“Of all the people I’ve known in my
lifetime, I think farmers are the most resilient and the
hardest working people,” Martin Hicks, owner of Martin’s
Food Center in Merrill, told me this summer. “If they
have any control over what happens to them, they will
find a way to survive.”