Chris Casad, a 38-year-old farmer in Central Oregon, rises before dawn on the property he purchased nine years ago, a farm that once yielded tons of potatoes but now lies fallow due to severe water shortages. He manages with tractors older than himself, a young family with two children under five, and a wife working two jobs, all while grappling with the mounting debt associated with their 85 acres and the constant need for repairs. The farm’s struggle began with a prolonged drought, characterized by three summers of grasshopper infestations devastating remaining crops, toxic algae blooms in reservoirs, nearly a thousand Oregon wells running dry, and the Deschutes River’s springs reaching their lowest recorded flow. However, the ultimate blow to Casad’s livelihood came from Oregon’s century-old water law, which prioritizes certain users at the expense of others.

The Casads witnessed the state reduce their community’s allocation of irrigation water from the Deschutes River, a decision mandated by this established law. Consequently, farmers in Jefferson County, their home, were forced to abandon cultivation on a third of the county’s irrigated land. Casad recounted the devastating human toll, noting "a number of suicides, let alone people who closed up shop, older farmers just not wanting to waste their life’s worth of work and their savings on just trying to keep it going."

Simultaneously, just a few miles upstream, state law has historically enabled landowners to irrigate some of Oregon’s most valuable real estate and least productive farmland. An extensive analysis of water usage by ProPublica and Oregon Public Broadcasting revealed that these water-rich residents are part of the Central Oregon Irrigation District (COID). COID operates as a quasi-municipal corporation, functioning as both a public utility and a homeowners association, and it controls the distribution of the majority of the Deschutes River’s water.

Six irrigation districts collectively divert over 90% of the river’s flow between May and September. COID stands as the most influential among them, holding water rights to more than half of the river’s volume. This significant allocation stems from the early 1900s, when water rights were being established; COID was among the first with a comprehensive plan for water utilization. In Western water law, this seniority, known as "senior rights," guarantees protection for a user’s water share during times of drought.

The Central Oregon Irrigation District diverts more water annually from the Deschutes River in Bend than all other irrigation districts combined. This same law stipulates that COID can continue to draw this water as long as it can demonstrate "beneficial use without waste." However, Oregon’s definitions of beneficial use and waste are notably permissive, leading to a situation where, during the drought, only one in four gallons diverted by COID was actually absorbed by crops, according to the news organizations’ analysis of state-commissioned satellite data.

While state officials did not contest these figures, leaders within the irrigation district expressed skepticism regarding the data, which was collected by Oregon lawmakers to assess water availability. COID also argued that the drought years were exceptional. Yet, the analysis across both wet and dry years showed a consistent pattern: crops consumed a similar proportion of the diverted water each year. Other records from the district and the state indicate that much of the water was lost to seepage into the ground, evaporation into the arid air, or runoff into scrubland and desert. Some of this water did replenish the aquifer, and some returned to the river downstream, contributing to environmental regulators’ findings of warmed and polluted waterways. The small fraction of water that did reach crops was primarily used for grass and pasture.

Chris Casad, who grew up in Bend, witnessed firsthand the transformation of farmland into residential subdivisions as the region’s economy shifted from timber and agriculture to tourism and recreation. Canals from the Deschutes still meander through Bend’s neighborhoods and extend to estates, farms, and resorts on the city’s outskirts. Among these is a horse ranch owned by Phil and Penelope Knight, whose family founded Nike. Their ranch, a significant consumer of COID water, raises high-end horses and sells hay. A manager at the ranch declined to comment on their water management practices.

Another example is an 80-acre property on a long, gated driveway that was once arid scrubland. Cinematographer Byron Garth acquired water rights through COID a decade ago to irrigate a portion of this land. The water facilitated the transformation of a rocky hillside into what an auction listing described as an "exclusive compound paradise," complete with a 6,300-square-foot mansion featuring heated floors, three guest houses, a 10,000-square-foot garage, and a swimming pool, all surrounded by lush green grass. Garth initially used his water rights to grow hay for about 15 alpacas and goats but ultimately found it "cheaper to just mow it." He admitted to having reservations about the water usage during the drought but reasoned that "somebody had to use it."

Realtor Jen Bowen described the grass as being maintained "for the aesthetic value," highlighting that it was "nicer to look out over a lush pasture than it is the high desertscape." Sprinklers actively maintain the green lawns surrounding a pond and pool at the estate previously owned by Garth, who purchased water rights in 2016 during the construction of the multimillion-dollar property.

One of the district’s most water-intensive developments is the Ranch at the Canyons, a gated community of Tuscan-style mansions. Its residents collectively own an equestrian center, a wedding venue, a winery, and a nonprofit farm. A development manager did not respond to requests for comment, but the community’s website promises homeowners "the peaceful rhythm of agricultural life – without the work." Similarly, a property listed for $15 million invites potential buyers to envision not just a residence or a cattle ranch but "a Playground for Ambitions, for Imagination, for Dreamers, and for Doers."

The analysis of state data from 2015 to 2022 revealed that over 90% of the acreage within the district was dedicated to growing grass, primarily for livestock pasture and hay production, or for landscaping.

Casad’s farming career began within the district, though he focused on crops, not grass. He started leasing land near his hometown in 2010 and soon became profitable, growing thousands of tons of organic potatoes annually with a massive harvester he affectionately called "the white whale." He was drawn to farming in a region historically significant for potato production. He leased more land, sold produce at farmers’ markets, supplied a local brewery with potatoes for fries, and hosted school field trips to educate children about agriculture. COID’s water supply was initially a significant benefit, described by Casad as "just always on."

However, this abundance of water presented its own challenges. He couldn’t simply stop the flow without jeopardizing his landlord’s water rights. Like others in the district, he found ways to manage the "overabundance," including creating ponds to capture excess water. When one pond filled, Casad began digging a second to prevent flooding his neighbor’s property. On more than a third of COID’s acreage, landowners practice flood irrigation, intentionally inundating fields. Water flows directly across the land, saturating plants and then pooling before evaporating or seeping into the ground.

Water experts acknowledge that runoff and canal leakage eventually filter into aquifers or return to the river, suggesting a form of recirculation within the river basin. However, this process takes time, while the immediate impact on the Deschutes River is significant. Farmers are reducing their irrigated acreage, and for approximately 40 miles downstream from Bend, fish habitats are suffering, according to state scientists. After the irrigation districts divert their substantial share of the river during the growing season, average remaining flows over the past decade have been about half of what the ecosystem requires, based on stream gauges and state conservation targets. Former state biologist Brett Hodgson noted, "The river always loses."

Even for those who acknowledge the water’s eventual return to the system, the extent of its use remains a concern. David Fisher, a 72-year-old butcher shop owner who flood irrigates about 60 acres for hay and pasture for his cattle, expressed his unease. "We’re just wasting water. Really. We are," he stated. "Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a tree hugger or one of those people that think that we should stop this for the frogs or the fish. But there’s got to be a middle of the road."

Only a quarter of the water the Central Oregon Irrigation District diverted from the Deschutes River was consumed by crops; most of it leaked from open canals, percolated into the ground, or ran off fields before returning to aquifers or the river downstream.

Oregon law, like that in other Western states, permits landowners to retain their water rights as long as the water is used for "beneficial use without waste." However, the definitions of what constitutes beneficial use and waste are exceptionally broad. Growing any crop is considered beneficial as long as it is planted, irrigated, and not a native species or noxious weed. Sarah Klahn, a Colorado-based water law attorney, noted that policymakers and courts have set so few precedents for waste that one of the most well-known cases, dating back 90 years, involved a California court prohibiting the use of irrigation water to drown gophers.

Karen Russell, an Oregon-based water law attorney, explained that water rights are a form of property rights. While the law is designed to adapt to changing circumstances, courts have historically deferred to past practices in determining water usage. In the eyes of Oregon courts, "waste is like pornography," Russell quipped, "You know it when you see it." This legal interpretation means that whether landowners are cultivating crops that were once celebrated at the Deschutes Basin’s annual potato festival, with its "Miss Spud" crowning, or growing grass and hay for modern luxury estates described as a "Playground for Ambitions," the water rights remain protected.

The state’s lenient definitions of beneficial use and waste are a significant factor in the current situation. The Deschutes Basin, like many river systems in the arid West, faces increasing pressure from drought, population growth, and competing demands. Bend and Redmond, the basin’s largest cities, are experiencing uncertainty regarding their future water supplies. In 2022, during a period of drought, COID diverted more than 12 times the amount of water used by both cities combined, which then had a total population of approximately 132,000 residents. While agriculture is the largest water-consuming sector nationwide, COID’s contribution to Oregon’s agricultural economy is among the lowest in the state; the region leads other Oregon counties primarily in horse sales.

State Representative Mark Owens, a hay farmer from Eastern Oregon and a prominent voice on water management, argues that the district’s "hobby farmers" are receiving excess water they neither need nor should be utilizing. He believes Oregon is long overdue for a reassessment of its water management practices. Owens stated that the beneficial use rule was initially intended to foster rural economies but now permits individuals who employ no one, harvest nothing, and provide no discernible public benefit to receive water. "So is there something broken? Yeah, there is," he asserted, questioning how to achieve "the most crop per drop."

Instead of imposing mandates, the Oregon Legislature has explored incentives, such as programs that compensate individuals for leaving water in the river without jeopardizing their rights. Andria Truax and Dan Baumann, who operate a nursery specializing in drought-tolerant landscaping plants, eventually participated in such a program for a portion of their water rights. However, the state does not dictate how irrigation districts implement these incentives. COID’s board of directors has capped participation, limiting eligibility to very few properties.

COID Managing Director Craig Horrell explained that the district must limit enrollment in water-sharing programs because its 120-year-old delivery system relies on maintaining full canals to function effectively. The district’s extensive network of open, unlined waterways utilizes gravity to transport vast volumes of water from the river, delivering it to fields located over 30 miles away. Horrell noted that past instances of reducing this "carry water" have led to water shortages for farms at the system’s extremities.

Despite this, the district acknowledges that the significant water loss through leakage and evaporation is wasteful. To address this, COID is seeking over $700 million in public funding to replace its canals with pressurized piping systems, having already secured more than $65 million for such projects since 2015. Horrell emphasized that the shared goal is a more equitable and sustainable water delivery system that benefits the river, partners, districts, and cities, but the path to achieving this remains a point of contention. He characterized COID as a business that must adapt to a changing climate and noted that the district has voluntarily reduced its diversions over the past decade of droughts. He also pointed out that, thanks to piping projects, some water is now being delivered to downstream farmers even when not obligated to do so. However, he maintained that this voluntary reduction does not diminish their water rights.

Yancy Lind, an environmental advocate and participant in a state-supported water planning group, highlighted that while the Deschutes River, like others nationwide, is publicly owned and taxpayers invest in its conservation, irrigation districts still hold considerable power. "We live in the West and in the West, water is power and the irrigators have the water. It’s that simple," Lind stated. "They have all the cards. We’re just trying to pull little crumbs out from them."

Chris Casad, after seven years of leasing land within COID, relocated to Jefferson County and the North Unit Irrigation District. He chose this area because he could afford to purchase land there, and the soil is more fertile, producing over half of the world’s carrot seed supply. He also sought to be among fellow dedicated farmers, like his new neighbor Jos Poland, a seasoned dairy farmer.

This move came with a significant trade-off: Casad transitioned from a district with abundant water to one that has long contended with scarcity. North Unit is the first to face water cutbacks during droughts. Even in a wet year, North Unit offers half the water per acre compared to COID, and it experiences even higher losses in leaky delivery canals. Yet, its crops consume a considerably larger percentage of the water diverted from the river, according to the analysis. Farmers in North Unit pride themselves on their efficiency. Casad’s neighborhood features rows of water-saving sprinklers and pumps diligently recycling and reapplying runoff captured in specialized ponds. "It’s the only way we’ve been able to survive," said Gary Harris, an 80-year-old farmer and longtime resident of the district. Casad calculated that half the water on fertile land would suffice.

This strategy proved viable until the 2020 drought. To sustain his farm, he began fallowing two acres for every acre of potatoes he planted. Nearby, Poland’s organic cow pastures withered, forcing him to sell half his herd. "I was losing money so fast that I couldn’t afford to feed my animals," Poland recalled, describing a period of deep depression. Casad began assisting him with the dairy, working through the night on his own farm. Cate Havstad-Casad remembers watching the lights of Casad’s tractor from their window while in labor with their first child, delaying calling for help until hours later because she understood the immense pressure he was under. Casad struggled to recount the drought’s hardships, admitting, "Some of this stuff you just bury. You bury it down deep."

During those drought years, which coincided with the pandemic, Jefferson County Commissioner Kelly Simmelink heard from farmers battling falling commodity prices, escalating operational costs, and the stark reality of water availability. "I don’t know how you continue," he stated. As the drought intensified, Jefferson County’s suicide rate nearly doubled. Simmelink informed the legislature in early 2023 that farmers and ranchers face immense pressure, successfully advocating for the establishment of a state-funded suicide prevention hotline for agricultural producers.

Two years into the drought, at a North Unit spring meeting, Casad learned he would need to further reduce his water usage, fallowing four acres for every one acre of vegetables he could plant. He called his wife to deliver the difficult news while she was out of town. In a video diary recorded at the time, a tearful Havstad-Casad expressed, "It doesn’t have to be this way. It is Oregon water law which will give a very wealthy person with a hayfield that they literally mow and leave in the field and do nothing with because their life has nothing to do with the land, that person will get twice as much water as any professional farmer will get in North Unit."

Casad no longer cultivates potatoes; the storage bins in his barn now stand empty. He primarily grows hay and grass for cattle, crops he notes require less water. However, challenging years lie ahead for farmers in the Deschutes Basin. This year, Oregon’s snowpack is among the lowest on record, a crucial source for the mountain springs that feed the river. More than half of Oregon’s counties have already declared drought emergencies. The Casad farm is still repaying debts incurred from the last drought. Chris Casad worked part-time at a feedlot during the past winter and is now a school bus driver. His two young children view the idle potato harvester, once his "whale," as a playground slide for their imaginative games.

The Oregon Water Resources Department provided estimates of Deschutes River water diversions by six irrigation districts in Bend, utilizing stream gauges from May to September, the period of most consistent irrigation flows, excluding the full April to October season. Estimates for water lost through leakage and evaporation from COID canals were derived from the district’s 2022 Water Management Conservation Plan, its 2016 System Improvement Plan, and state water right records. Crop water consumption within COID over the past decade was estimated using a recent state study that combined weather, satellite, and crop data, alongside irrigation district and county property records. Reporters collaborated with Virga Labs, a consultant based in Arizona, to integrate statewide irrigated field data with irrigation district maps and county property records, specifically isolating fields within COID and North Unit’s service areas. This analysis drew upon evapotranspiration data from OpenET, which integrates satellite and weather information to gauge water evaporation from crops. While OWRD acknowledges uncertainty in OpenET data, several experts consider remotely sensed evapotranspiration the most reliable method for estimating water use short of direct measurement. To mitigate potential uncertainties, findings were based on results and trends from a 70-square-mile area between 2015 and 2022, the most recent years with available state data. County and irrigation district billing records were used to verify water delivery to analyzed acreage within COID, excluding properties identified by the state as using groundwater rights or irrigating less than one acre, to account for potential domestic well usage. These excluded properties did not significantly alter the results. Information on individual properties was cross-checked using irrigation district records, aerial imagery, and landowner interviews. The analysis did not aim to quantify the precise destination of all diverted water not consumed by crops. COID allocates approximately 1% of its water rights for non-irrigation purposes, according to state records, which were not included in this analysis.