Jared Faurot’s blue jeans are getting sprayed under the drip hose sprinklers.
Faurot stands beside a center pivot tower, fiddling with a spigot, aiming it closer to the ground. He turned water on this field two weeks ago and ever since the wheat has sprung up and started marching toward harvest.
One of the last conversations Faurot had with his grandpa in the hospital was about a new irrigation technology on this field. A radar, measuring soil moisture ahead of the center pivot, calculated exactly how much water the crops needed that day — ultimately saving water while not lowering yield.
It’s a common goal among farmers in western Kansas to conserve water. It’s the resource that built towns here. It made large-scale farming possible and brought feedlots to the High Plains.
But the water is running out.
Wells in western Kansas pump out of the Ogallala Aquifer, a vast underground water repository stretching from South Dakota to New Mexico. The U.S. Geological Survey describes aquifers as “layers and areas of rocks below ground where all the cracks, crevices and spaces between rock particles are full of water. The water is able to move through aquifers and people drill wells into them and pull the water out to use for their own uses.”
The Ogallala is the largest aquifer in North America, holding as much water as Lake Huron. Between row crop farmers and the feedlots that buy their grain, the Ogallala supports one-fifth of U.S. agriculture.
But longer droughts and increased pumping rates are draining the aquifer faster than it can recharge. Since the 1960s — when gas and electric pumps, combined with center pivot irrigation, made it possible to extract high volumes of water for agricultural use — the Ogallala water table has dropped more than a hundred feet in some areas — bringing the aquifer to within a decade of disappearing.
Climate change, say scientists, could aggravate the problem. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, “Global warming is likely to make droughts across the Ogallala region longer-lasting and more intense over the next 50 years.”
The U.S. Department of Agriculture warned in December “It is anticipated that over time the many complicated aspects of managing the Ogallala will only become more difficult as increasingly hot summers lead to increased demand for water from the aquifer; demand that already exceeds its recharge rate. The expected result will be an ongoing drawdown of the aquifer into the future.”
“… If predicted changes and impacts are realized, agricultural production in the region will run into binding resource constraints that will affect regional physical output and economic outcomes for Great Plains producers and their supply chains; the economies of the region, the U.S., and the global agricultural sector; and consumers worldwide.”
Faurot is fortunate to farm on some of the same acres his grandfather farmed. But if he wants his grandson to have the same opportunity, his generation is at an environmental precipice: How can farmers dependent of the Ogallala reduce water use while still meeting market demands?
Farmers in western Kansas, including Faurot, are organizing grassroots water management areas and cost-sharing irrigation technology to conserve water — all to keep farming communities, and the nation they feed, healthy for future generations.
Precision technology
Crop irrigation has evolved from flood irrigating to center pivots with spray guns to subterranean drip lines. As water becomes scarce, farmers continue to experiment with finding the right technology to conserve water without sacrificing yields.
Since the 1960s, when motors were attached to wells allowing for high-volume pumping, center pivots have been the most prevalent irrigation technology in western Kansas: A quarter-mile pipe with sprinklers rolls in a circle on metal towers with big wheels — watering crop circles.
Adding drip lines — hoses on the center pivot pipe that hang sprinklers closer to the ground — reduces water loss to wind drift.
These mechanical adjustments to the basic center pivot silhouette have helped deliver water more effectively to crops, and new radar technology is helping measure precisely how much water crops need — solving the guessing game.
Two years ago, Faurot started using an Autonomous Pivot, a radar, placed in front of the center pivot sprinklers, that measures soil moisture and calculates precisely how much water the crop needs. It accounts for weather conditions, plant growth stage and position in the field — some corners need more water than others.
An app on Faurot’s phone allows him to track year-to-year numbers, budget pumping at individual wells, and make decisions based on data, not just instincts.
Faurot recounts that in the first year of the Local Enhanced Management Area (LEMA) — a recently inspired management district aimed at reducing agricultural water use on a localized level — he watered “by instinct” and went over the allocation by 20%.
The second year, he installed the Autonomous Pivot and finished 25% under — recouping the first year’s overuse and spilling 5% into the following year.
“At first it was hard to trust — I wanted to go with my instinct,” Faurot says. “But I didn’t have any yield lag at the end of the year, so now a couple of my neighbors are going to give it a shot.”
LEMA districts also offer cost-sharing programs to help farmers invest in new technologies.
Localizing policy
Faurot farms a few thousand acres scattered around Scott City, Kansas, where he rotates wheat, corn and drought-resistant sorghum.
Most of Faurot’s acres are dryland — relying on rainfall to grow crops — but as many acres as he can manage, he irrigates. Irrigated fields — especially for crops like corn that require more water — produce significantly higher yields.
In Kansas, four LEMAs were organized in central and western parts of the state, areas impacted by the Ogallala’s decline. The LEMAs were organized within the last decade, originating among farmers who voluntarily wanted to reduce their water use.
They formed within the boundaries of preexisting Groundwater Management Districts (GMDs), which have managed groundwater resources — specifically wells in agriculture — since 1972.
One of the biggest differences a LEMA makes is the timeline it gives farmers to use water. Previously, water was allocated through water rights inherited at each well. Pumping quantities were based on historical data and assigned in 1-year increments.
This meant that yearly water allocations had to be sufficient for wet and dry years — and whether or not crops needed all the water in wet years, farmers could use it.
Faurot, who owns water rights to five wells on his property, admits that this led to a “use it or lose it” mentality among farmers with irrigation.
“During peak growing season,” Faurot says, “it was common practice to just turn on pivots and leave them running for days, whether or not the crop needed it. We didn’t know how much water we needed. and we thought it was better to use all the water we were given rather than risk a yield lag.”
LEMAs initially set 10-25% water reductions and replaced 1-year allocations with 5-year allocations — allowing farmers to save water in wet years, and carry it over into drought years.
“It’s hard to make policies with one year of data. You need at least five or 10 years of data,” says Katie Durham, manager of Kansas Groundwater Management District 1, which includes Wichita County LEMA and 4-County LEMA.