Chris Casad rises before dawn on his Central Oregon farm, a property he purchased nine years ago with aspirations of agricultural prosperity. Now, at 38, with tractors older than himself and two young children under five, the Casads face mounting debt. His wife, Cate, works two jobs to support their family, a necessity driven by shrinking water allocations that have forced them to fallow fields and take on outside work. This precarious situation is a direct consequence of Oregon’s entrenched water laws, which, while designed to protect established water rights, are increasingly exacerbating the impacts of drought on small farmers.

The Casads’ struggle began with a severe drought that gripped the region for three consecutive summers. During this period, the area experienced devastating grasshopper infestations that decimated crops, the Deschutes River’s springs dwindled to historic lows, and nearly a thousand Oregon wells ran dry. However, the ultimate blow to Casad’s livelihood was not solely environmental; it was the state’s century-old water allocation system that prioritized some users over others. In Jefferson County, where the Casads reside, farmers saw their community’s share of irrigation water from the Deschutes River drastically reduced. This resulted in roughly one-third of the county’s irrigated land being taken out of cultivation. The repercussions extended beyond financial hardship, with Casad recounting instances of suicides and older farmers abandoning their lifelong work and savings, unable to sustain their operations.

Ironically, just miles upstream, the same legal framework encouraged landowners to irrigate some of Oregon’s most valuable real estate and least productive farmland. A comprehensive analysis of water usage by ProPublica and Oregon Public Broadcasting revealed that these water-rich landowners are part of the Central Oregon Irrigation District (COID). COID, a quasi-municipal corporation functioning as both a public utility and a homeowners association, controls the lion’s share of the Deschutes River’s water. Six irrigation districts collectively divert over 90% of the river’s flow between May and September, with COID being the most dominant. Its substantial water rights, secured in the early 1900s when it was among the first to propose water utilization plans, grant it preferential treatment under Western water law. This "senior water right" status ensures its allocations are protected even during periods of severe drought.

The Central Oregon Irrigation District diverts more water annually from the Deschutes in Bend than all other irrigation districts combined. COID’s legal mandate allows it to continue diverting water as long as landowners within its district demonstrate "beneficial use" of the resource, prohibiting waste. However, Oregon’s definitions of beneficial use and waste are notably broad, leading to a situation where, during the recent drought, only one in every four gallons diverted by COID was actually absorbed by crops. While state officials did not dispute the data, COID leadership expressed skepticism, claiming they did not trust the state’s satellite-derived water availability data. They also argued that the drought years were atypical, yet the analysis showed a consistent pattern of low crop absorption across both wet and dry years.

Much of the water diverted by COID escapes through evaporation, percolation into the ground, or runoff into non-irrigated areas. While some of this water replenishes aquifers and eventually returns to the river downstream, environmental regulators have noted increased water temperatures and pollution in these 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 region’s transformation from an agricultural hub to a center for tourism and recreation. Farmland was converted into housing developments, and the economy shifted from timber and agriculture to outdoor pursuits. Canals from the Deschutes River still meander through Bend’s residential neighborhoods, extending to the affluent estates, ranches, and resorts on the city’s periphery. Among these properties is a horse ranch owned by Phil and Penelope Knight, whose wealth and significant water consumption through COID were highlighted in the analysis. Their ranch raises high-end horses and sells hay, though a manager declined to comment on their water management practices.

Another example of substantial water use can be found at an 80-acre property once characterized by arid scrubland. Cinematographer Byron Garth acquired water rights through COID a decade ago to irrigate a portion of his land, transforming it into what an auction listing described as an "exclusive compound paradise." This estate boasts a 6,300-square-foot mansion with heated floors, multiple guest houses, an expansive garage, and a swimming pool, all surrounded by meticulously maintained lawns. Garth, who previously grew hay for his alpacas and goats, admitted it became more economical to simply mow the grass. While he acknowledged reservations about excessive water usage during the drought, he reasoned that the water had to be used. A realtor, highlighting the property’s aesthetic appeal, noted the desirability of a lush pasture over a high desert landscape, a sentiment echoed by many residents in the area.

The Ranch at the Canyons, a gated subdivision featuring numerous multimillion-dollar Tuscan-style mansions, also represents a significant draw on COID’s water resources. Its residents share ownership of an equestrian center, a wedding venue, a winery, and a nonprofit farm. The development’s marketing promises homeowners "the peaceful rhythm of agricultural life – without the work." Similarly, a $15 million property listing presents itself as a "Playground for Ambitions, for Imagination, for Dreamers, and for Doers," extending beyond mere residence or ranching. The analysis of state data from 2015 to 2022 revealed that over 90% of the land within COID was dedicated to growing grass, including pasture and hay for livestock, as well as landscaping.

Casad’s farming career began within the district, though he focused on crops rather than grass. By 2010, he was leasing land and cultivating thousands of tons of organic potatoes annually, a venture that proved profitable. He supplied local farmers’ markets, provided potatoes to a brewery, and welcomed school groups to educate them about farming. COID’s abundant water supply was initially a significant benefit, with Casad noting it was "always on." However, this consistent flow presented its own challenges. He couldn’t simply shut off the water without jeopardizing his landlord’s water rights, leading him, like others, to manage the "overabundance" by creating ponds.

More than a third of COID’s acreage employs flood irrigation, where water is directly channeled across fields, saturating plants and then pooling or draining off. Water experts emphasize that this runoff and canal leakage contribute to aquifers and eventually return to the river, a process considered recirculation within the basin. However, this recycling takes time, while the ecological consequences on the Deschutes are immediate. Downstream from Bend, fish habitats suffer due to reduced river flows, which have averaged about half of what the ecosystem requires during the growing season over the past decade, according to state scientists. "The river always loses," remarked former state biologist Brett Hodgson.

Even landowners within COID who are aware of the inefficiencies express concern. David Fisher, a 72-year-old butcher shop owner who flood irrigates his property for hay and cattle pasture, stated, "We’re just wasting water. Really. We are." While not an environmental activist, he believes there must be a more balanced approach.

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 to the river downstream.

The state’s legal framework for water rights, which mandates "beneficial use without waste," has become a focal point of contention. Growing any crop is considered beneficial as long as it is planted, irrigated, and not a native species or noxious weed. Legal precedents defining "waste" are scarce, with one of the most cited cases dating back 90 years in California, which prohibited using irrigation water to drown gophers. Water rights are viewed as property rights, and Oregon courts have historically deferred to past practices in determining water usage. As one Oregon water law attorney aptly put it, "waste is like pornography; you know it when you see it." This broad interpretation means that whether water irrigates prized crops or simply maintains the aesthetic of a luxury estate, it falls under the umbrella of beneficial use.

The Deschutes Basin’s annual potato festival, which once crowned a "Miss Spud," highlights a bygone era when potato farming was a significant economic driver in the region, with much of the Central Oregon Irrigation District’s water supporting this industry. Today, that same water may be used for grass and hay for livestock or to sustain properties marketed as "Playgrounds for Ambitions." COID’s Managing Director, Craig Horrell, has vocally opposed the characterization of some water use as "hobby farms," viewing it as an attempt to shame and coerce change. He maintains that district managers are not empowered to judge the value of different agricultural pursuits. "We don’t have the right to say whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing," he stated.

The district actively monitors water usage through aerial surveillance, employing planes to identify brown patches in fields. Landowners risk losing their water rights if they fail to demonstrate use at least once every five years. Oregon regulators have rarely revoked irrigation water rights, with none occurring in COID in recent years. COID’s Deputy Director of Water Rights, Jessi Talbott, highlighted the district’s proactive approach in educating landowners about water stewardship. However, instances have arisen where landowners felt compelled to irrigate non-essential areas, such as compost piles, to avoid losing their rights.

Andria Truax and her husband Dan Baumann, who operate a nursery specializing in drought-tolerant landscaping plants, received a warning letter that caused them significant anxiety. They felt pressured to irrigate rocky soil and suppress weeds, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given downstream water shortages. Despite their concerns, they turned on their sprinklers to protect their water rights and property values. Talbott expressed frustration with the finding that only approximately 25% of the district’s diverted water was consumed by crops, emphasizing the district’s efforts to educate patrons on responsible water use.

Horrell, however, asserted that the district does not overdeliver water and that some properties experience shortages. COID’s own conservation plan acknowledges that crops, largely pastures, require about 27% of the water diverted annually, aligning with the analysis of crop water consumption. District officials did not respond to requests for comment regarding these figures.

They Have All the Cards

State leaders have long grappled with the challenge of allocating the Deschutes Basin’s water amid increasing drought, population growth, and rising demand. Cities like Bend and Redmond face uncertain future water supplies. In 2022, COID diverted more than 12 times the water used by both cities combined, despite their significantly larger populations. While agriculture is the nation’s largest water consumer, COID’s contribution to Oregon’s agricultural economy is relatively low, with the region excelling primarily in horse sales.

State Representative Mark Owens, a hay farmer and advocate for improved water management, criticized the excess water allocation to "hobby farmers" who he believes do not need it. He argues that Oregon must re-evaluate its water management practices, as the original intent of the beneficial use rule was to foster rural economies, not to support activities that provide no public benefit. "So is there something broken? Yeah, there is," he stated, questioning how to achieve "the most crop per drop."

Instead of mandates, the legislature has pursued incentives, such as programs that compensate landowners for leaving water in the river without forfeiting their rights. Baumann and Truax participated in such a program, but COID’s board has limited enrollment, restricting eligibility. Horrell explained that the district’s aging delivery system, comprising 120-year-old canals, requires a consistent, full flow to function effectively and deliver water to properties at the system’s extremities. He acknowledged that water leakage and evaporation are wasteful but stated that the district is seeking over $700 million in public funding to replace the canals with pressurized pipes, having already secured over $65 million for such upgrades since 2015.

"There is no dispute that we all want a better, more equal, more balanced water delivery system that benefits our river, our partners, districts, cities. That’s a given," Horrell stated, adding, "How we get there is what we argue about." He emphasized that COID operates as a business and must adapt to changing climate conditions. While the district has voluntarily reduced its diversions during recent droughts, Horrell pointed out that the canals, even when delivering less water than their rights allow, are still COID’s property.

Environmental advocates argue that while the Deschutes River belongs to the public, irrigation districts 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," said Yancy Lind, an environmental advocate involved in state water planning. "They have all the cards. We’re just trying to pull little crumbs out from them."

It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way

After seven years of leasing land within COID, Casad relocated to Jefferson County and the North Unit Irrigation District. The move was motivated by the affordability of purchasing land and the region’s fertile soil, which produces over half of the world’s carrot seed supply. He also sought to be among fellow dedicated farmers, like his neighbor Jos Poland, a seasoned dairy farmer. This transition, however, meant moving from a district with abundant water to one that consistently faces scarcity. North Unit is the first to experience cutbacks during droughts. Even in wetter years, it provides half the water per acre compared to COID, and despite higher losses in leaky canals, its crops consume a significantly larger percentage of the diverted water.

Farmers in North Unit pride themselves on efficiency, employing water-saving sprinklers and sophisticated pond systems to recycle runoff. "It’s the only way we’ve been able to survive," said Gary Harris, an 80-year-old farmer in the district. Casad calculated that less water on fertile land would suffice. This proved true until the 2020 drought. To maintain his farm, he was forced to dry up two acres for every acre of potatoes planted. Poland, his neighbor, faced similar devastation, with his organic cow pastures withering, leading him to sell half his herd. "I was losing money so fast that I couldn’t afford to feed my animals," Poland recalled, describing the profound depression that followed. Casad stepped in to help with the dairy, working through the night on his own farm.

Cate Havstad-Casad recounted a difficult night during the drought when she was in labor and waited hours to call her husband, understanding the immense pressure he was under. Casad described the emotional toll of the drought, admitting he had "buried" some of those memories deep down. During this period, compounded by the pandemic, Jefferson County Commissioner Kelly Simmelink reported an increase in farmers struggling with falling commodity prices, rising operational costs, and the stark reality of water scarcity. The county’s suicide rate nearly doubled, prompting Simmelink to advocate for a state-funded suicide prevention hotline for agricultural producers.

Two years into the drought, Casad received news at a North Unit meeting that necessitated further water use reductions, requiring him to leave four acres fallow for every acre of vegetables he could plant. He called his wife to deliver the news, which left her distraught. In a video diary recorded at the time, she tearfully expressed, "It doesn’t have to be this way." She criticized Oregon’s water law for favoring wealthy landowners with unused hayfields over professional farmers, arguing that such individuals received disproportionately more water. Casad has since ceased potato farming, shifting to hay and grass for cattle, crops requiring less water.

The challenges facing farmers in the Deschutes Basin are set to intensify. Oregon’s snowpack this year is at historic lows, impacting the springs that feed the river. More than half of Oregon counties have already declared drought emergencies. The Casad farm is still grappling with debts incurred from the previous drought. Chris Casad has taken on part-time work at a feedlot and now drives a school bus. His once-formidable potato harvester has become a plaything for his two young children, a symbol of a farming future dramatically altered by water scarcity and a complex legal system.

Nat Lash contributed data analysis.

About the Data

Estimates of Deschutes River water diversions by six irrigation districts in Bend were provided by the Oregon Water Resources Department (OWRD) using stream gauges from May to September. These estimates do not encompass the entire April to October irrigation season. Data on water loss from Central Oregon Irrigation District’s (COID) canals and evaporation were derived from the district’s 2022 Water Management Conservation Plan, its 2016 System Improvement Plan, and state water right records.

Estimates of annual crop water consumption in COID over the past decade were based on a recent state study that analyzed weather, satellite, and crop data, supplemented by irrigation district and county property records. This study, conducted by OWRD in collaboration with the Desert Research Institute, is publicly available. Reporters utilized data from Virga Labs, a consulting firm, to integrate statewide irrigated field data with irrigation district maps and county property records, specifically isolating fields within COID and North Unit service areas.

To contextualize the water use findings, over 50 interviews were conducted with a diverse range of stakeholders, including farmers, water managers, hydrologists, legal experts, climate specialists, conservation advocates, and lawmakers. The state’s estimates of irrigation water consumption draw on evapotranspiration data from OpenET, which combines satellite and weather data. OWRD acknowledges inherent uncertainties in this data, as noted in a 2025 memo. However, experts generally consider remotely sensed evapotranspiration to be the most reliable method for estimating water use in the absence of direct measurement. To mitigate potential uncertainties, findings were based on a seven-year period (2015-2022), utilizing the most recent available state data for a 70-square-mile area. County and irrigation district billing records were used to verify water delivery to analyzed acreage within COID, excluding properties using groundwater or irrigating less than an acre to account for potential domestic well usage. These exclusions did not significantly alter the overall results. Information on individual properties was cross-checked using irrigation district records, aerial imagery, and landowner interviews.

The analysis did not quantify the precise fate of all water diverted by COID that was not consumed by crops. Approximately 1% of the district’s water rights are allocated for purposes other than irrigation, according to state records, and these uses were not included in the analysis.