Rocky GeorgioChris Casad, a farmer in Central Oregon, wakes before dawn on the land he purchased nine years ago, a property that once yielded tons of potatoes before severe water shortages compelled him to leave fields fallow and seek employment tending to another’s livestock. At 38, Casad operates with tractors older than himself, his young family faces mounting debt from their 85 acres, and essential equipment is perpetually in disrepair. The agricultural crisis on their farm began with a prolonged drought, marked by three consecutive summers of grasshopper infestations devouring remaining crops, reservoirs succumbing to toxic algae blooms, nearly a thousand Oregon wells running dry, and the springs feeding the Deschutes River plummeting to historic lows.
However, the ultimate blow to Casad’s livelihood was a century-old Oregon law, a statute that protects certain water users at the direct expense of others. The couple witnessed the state reduce their community’s allocation of irrigation water from the Deschutes River, a decision rooted in this very law. Farmers in Jefferson County, where they reside, were forced to abandon cultivation on one-third of the county’s irrigated land. Casad recounted the devastating human toll, stating, "There were 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, a few miles upstream, state law permitted landowners to irrigate some of Oregon’s most valuable real estate and least productive farmland, according to an in-depth analysis of water usage by ProPublica and Oregon Public Broadcasting. These water-rich residents are part of the Central Oregon Irrigation District (COID), a quasi-municipal entity that functions as both a public utility and a homeowners association, managing and distributing the majority of the Deschutes River’s water. Collectively, six irrigation districts claim over 90% of the river’s flow between May and September. COID stands as the most influential, holding rights to more than half of the river’s volume. This significant allocation stems from its early positioning in the early 1900s when the state was distributing water rights; COID was among the first with a plan for water utilization. In the context of Western water law, this seniority, known as "senior rights," ensures that water access is protected during times of drought.
The Central Oregon Irrigation District diverts more water annually from the Deschutes in Bend than all other irrigation districts combined. This same law mandates that COID must demonstrate "beneficial use" of the water, prohibiting waste. However, Oregon policymakers have adopted such permissive definitions of what constitutes beneficial use and waste that during the drought, reporting revealed that only one in four gallons diverted by COID was absorbed by crops. While state water officials did not challenge the findings, leaders of the irrigation district expressed skepticism about the state’s data, which was compiled by Oregon lawmakers to assess water availability. COID also contended that the drought years were exceptional, yet the analysis spanning both wet and dry periods indicated a consistent proportion of diverted water being consumed by crops each year.
Additional district and state records illustrate that much of the water percolated into the soil, evaporated into the arid atmosphere, or drained from fields into surrounding scrubland and desert. Some of this water replenished the aquifer, while some returned to the river downstream, contributing to waterways that environmental regulators have identified as warmed and polluted. The single gallon that did reach crops was predominantly used for grass and pasture.
Casad, who grew up in Bend, witnessed the conversion of farmland into suburban developments. The region’s economy, once reliant on timber and agriculture, shifted towards tourism and recreation, with the lumber mill giving way to a shopping mall. Canals from the Deschutes River still meander through Bend’s residential neighborhoods and extend to estates, farms, ranches, and destination resorts on the city’s periphery. Among these properties is a horse ranch owned by Phil and Penelope Knight, prominent figures in the Nike empire and one of the wealthiest families globally. Their ranch, which raises high-end horses and sells hay, is a significant consumer of COID water, according to the analysis. A manager for the ranch declined to comment on their water management practices.
Another extensive, gated property, once arid scrubland, was transformed by cinematographer Byron Garth. A decade ago, Garth acquired water rights through COID to irrigate a portion of his 80-acre estate. The water facilitated the creation of what an auction listing described as an "exclusive compound paradise," featuring a 6,300-square-foot mansion with heated floors, multiple guest houses, an expansive garage, and a swimming pool, all enveloped by lush green lawns. Garth initially used his water rights to cultivate hay for approximately 15 alpacas and goats, but ultimately found it more economical to simply mow the land. He acknowledged having reservations about the substantial water usage during the drought but reasoned that the water had to be used by someone. Realtor Jen Bowen, while touring the estate shortly before its sale for $4.8 million, commented on the grass’s aesthetic appeal, stating, "I think most of us would agree – it’s nicer to look out over a lush pasture than it is the high desertscape."
Sprinklers maintain the verdant lawns surrounding a pond and pool at a property formerly owned by Byron Garth, situated within the Central Oregon Irrigation District. Garth had acquired the water rights in 2016 while constructing his multimillion-dollar estate. One of the district’s most water-intensive developments is Ranch at the Canyons, a gated community of opulent Tuscan-style mansions. Its residents jointly own an equestrian center, a luxury wedding venue, a winery, and a nonprofit farm managed by a dedicated team. 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." A similar property, listed for $15 million, invites prospective buyers to envision more than 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 grass – encompassing pasture and hayfields for livestock, as well as landscaping. Casad began his farming career within this district. He leased land near his hometown in 2010 and within a few years achieved profitability, harvesting thousands of tons of organic potatoes annually with a massive harvester he nicknamed "the white whale." He was drawn to farming in a region historically known as a significant potato producer. He expanded his leased acreage, sold produce at farmers’ markets, supplied a local brewery with potatoes for its fries, and hosted school field trips to educate children about agriculture. COID’s water supply was initially a significant asset, described by Casad as "always on."
However, the abundance of water became a challenge. Casad could not unilaterally cease the flow without jeopardizing his landlord’s water rights. Consequently, he adopted a common practice within the district: finding ways to utilize or store the "overabundance" in ponds. When one pond filled, Casad began digging a second to prevent excess water from flooding his neighbor’s property. On more than a third of COID’s acreage, landowners employ flood irrigation, intentionally inundating fields. Water flows directly from ditches across the land, saturating plants, pooling, and then evaporating or seeping into the ground.
Water experts note that runoff from fields and leakage from canals eventually filter into aquifers or return to the river. This recirculation within the river basin is not considered waste. However, this process takes time, while the consequences for the Deschutes River are immediate. Farmers are reducing acreage, and approximately 40 miles downstream from Bend, fish habitats are suffering, according to state scientists. After irrigation districts take their 90% of the river’s flow 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 observed, "The river always loses."
The fact that much of the irrigation water is recycled in some form does not entirely alleviate concerns for COID landowners like David Fisher, a 72-year-old butcher shop owner who flood irrigates about 60 acres for hay and cattle pasture. "We’re just wasting water. Really. We are," Fisher 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.
Both the volume of water the district utilizes and the types of crops its landowners cultivate have the state’s approval. Oregon, like other Western states, permits water rights to be maintained as long as the water is put to "beneficial use without waste." However, growing any crop is considered beneficial use, provided it is planted, irrigated, and not a native species or noxious weed. Legal precedents defining waste are sparse; a well-known case from 90 years ago by a California court prohibited using irrigation water to drown gophers, according to Sarah Klahn, a water law attorney based in Colorado. Water rights are a form of property rights, and while the law is intended to adapt to changing circumstances, courts have historically upheld past practices in determining water usage rights, explained Karen Russell, an Oregon-based water law attorney. In the eyes of Oregon courts, "waste is like pornography," she remarked, "You know it when you see it." This legal interpretation means that whether landowners are cultivating crops celebrated by the Deschutes Basin’s historical potato festival or the grass and hay for contemporary luxury estates, the water rights are protected.
The Redmond Potato Show in 1912 and the 1960s illustrates the historical significance of potato farming in the region. For about half a century, much of the Central Oregon Irrigation District’s water supported potato farms that supplied the West Coast. In the 1950s, local high school students were excused from school to assist with harvests that filled as many as 20 rail cars daily.
This principle is central to the arguments made by COID’s Managing Director, Craig Horrell, who oversees the district’s daily operations. At a town hall meeting in Redmond last March, Horrell responded to a question about incentives for more efficient "hobby farms" by expressing frustration with the term, calling it a label intended to "shame and coerce us into change." He asserted that district managers do not have the authority to judge the validity of a landowner’s use of water, stating, "We as district managers don’t get to decide whether we like somebody growing carrot seed or somebody having two llamas and a Prius in the driveway. If you’re using your water beneficially and growing a beneficial crop, that is what we manage. We don’t have the right to say whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing."
The district prioritizes ensuring that landowners cultivate non-native crops, a verification process involving field inspections and aerial surveys conducted by COID’s Deputy Director of Water Rights, Jessi Talbott. Each summer, a COID-contracted plane surveys over 70 square miles of fields, an area larger than Salem, Oregon, searching for dry patches. Landowners who fail to use their water in their designated areas at least once every five years risk forfeiture of their water rights, which the state can then cancel. Oregon regulators have revoked irrigation water rights only four times since 2020, none of which were within COID. Talbott emphasized the district’s proactive approach, stating, "Nobody else in the state does what we do to try and encourage use."
Since 2021, COID has issued over 1,000 letters to landowners warning them of potential water right forfeiture. Talbott clarified that the intent of these letters is educational, promoting water stewardship. She confirmed that if landowners suspected of non-use do not take corrective action, COID is empowered to confiscate rights, though this is a rare occurrence. Casad’s landlord received a letter from COID in 2016 after aerial surveillance identified "specific dry areas" on their property, according to district records. At the time, Casad and his wife, Cate Havstad-Casad, had designated a rocky section as a compost pile and equipment storage area. "In order to satisfy the powers that be seeing that we’re using the water, there was an entire season where we had to water that compost pile and equipment yard," Havstad-Casad explained. By the following year, a COID inspector’s report noted "enough growth to avoid confiscation." In 2023, Andria Truax and her husband Dan Baumann, owners of a nursery specializing in drought-tolerant landscaping plants on a 10-acre property near Bend, received a COID warning letter that sent them into "panic mode." "We’re supposed to keep some of these areas green that are next to impossible to grow anything on," Truax stated, highlighting the irony of being instructed to water areas where growth is difficult, especially as farmers downstream faced water cutbacks. To protect their water rights and property values, they ultimately activated their sprinklers.
Talbott stated that COID does not instruct landowners to water rocks or compost piles. In a subsequent interview, she expressed frustration with the finding that only approximately 25% of the district’s diverted water was consumed by crops, calling it "infuriating." She added, "We do so much to educate our patrons and for them to use the water right and make products out of it, feed the community, feed cows, whatever is in alignment with water law." In the same meeting, Horrell maintained that the district does not overdeliver water and that some properties do not receive sufficient amounts. COID’s assessment of water usage is based on the irrigated acreage rather than direct measurement of water consumption.
The district’s Water Management Conservation Plan, covering 2015-2020, estimated crop water requirements based on landowner surveys about crop types (predominantly pastures) and federal weather data. These estimates indicated that crops required approximately 27% of the water the district diverted annually, a figure consistent with the analysis of crop water consumption derived from satellite data. Horrell and other district officials did not respond to multiple inquiries regarding the numbers within COID’s own conservation plan.
State leaders have long grappled with the equitable distribution of the Deschutes Basin’s water resources amidst increasing drought, population growth, and escalating demand. Bend and Redmond, the basin’s largest cities, face uncertain future water supplies. During the 2022 drought, COID diverted more than 12 times the water used by both cities combined, which had a combined population of approximately 132,000 residents at the time. While agriculture is the nation’s largest water consumer, COID’s contribution to Oregon’s agricultural economy is among the lowest in the state, with the region ranking high primarily in horse sales.
State Representative Mark Owens, a hay farmer from Eastern Oregon and a prominent voice on water management issues, criticized the district’s allocation of excess water to "hobby farmers" who "do not need, should not have to utilize and should not be delivered to them." He argued that Oregon is long overdue for a re-evaluation of its water management policies. Owens explained that the beneficial use rule was originally designed to foster rural economies and "it’s what allowed some of our communities to prosper." However, he questioned the public benefit derived from water used by individuals who employ no one and harvest nothing, stating, "So is there something broken? Yeah, there is." He posed the question of how to achieve "the most crop per drop."
Rather than implementing mandates, the Legislature has favored incentives, such as programs that compensate landowners for leaving water in the river without jeopardizing their rights. Baumann and Truax 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, and COID’s board of directors has capped participation, limiting eligibility to very few properties. Horrell cited the district’s 120-year-old delivery system as a reason for limiting enrollment in water-sharing programs, explaining that the canals require full capacity to function effectively.
The district’s extensive network of unlined canals relies on gravity to transport large volumes of water from the river, delivering it to fields located over 30 miles away. Horrell stated that past reductions in this "carry water" volume have negatively impacted farms at the system’s extremities. However, the district has publicly acknowledged and admitted in interviews that water loss through leakage and evaporation along the canals is wasteful. To address this, COID is seeking over $700 million in public funding to replace the open canals with pressurized pipes, having already secured more than $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 remarked, 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 to become more sustainable.
Horrell noted that COID’s water rights permit it to divert even more water from the Deschutes than it currently does. Despite this, he pointed out that the district has voluntarily reduced its diversions over the past decade of droughts. He credited piping projects with enabling the delivery of some water to downstream farmers when not legally obligated to do so. "But," he added, "that doesn’t mean that it is not ours." Yancy Lind, an environmental advocate and participant in a state-supported water planning group, stated that the Deschutes River, like rivers nationwide, is public property, and taxpayers are investing heavily in its conservation. However, he asserted that irrigation districts hold significant power, concluding, "We live in the West and in the West, water is power and the irrigators have the water. It’s that simple. They have all the cards. We’re just trying to pull little crumbs out from them."
After seven years of leasing land within COID, Casad relocated to nearby Jefferson County and the North Unit Irrigation District. He chose this move because he could afford to purchase land there, and the soil proved more fertile, supporting the production of over half of the world’s carrot seed supply. Furthermore, he desired to live among fellow dedicated farmers, including his new neighbor, Jos Poland, a resilient lifelong dairy farmer. This transition came with a significant compromise: Casad moved from a district with abundant water to one that has historically contended with scarcity. North Unit is the first to face water cutbacks during a drought. Even in a wet year, North Unit provides half the water per acre compared to COID, and it loses a greater percentage of water through leaky delivery canals. Nevertheless, its crops consume a substantially higher proportion of the water the district diverts from the river, according to the analysis.
Farmers in North Unit pride themselves on their water efficiency. Casad’s neighborhood features rows of water-saving sprinklers, and pumps diligently recycle and reapply runoff captured by specialized ponds. "It’s the only way we’ve been able to survive," commented Gary Harris, an 80-year-old farmer and longtime resident of the district. Casad understood this necessity and calculated that half the water on fertile land would suffice. This strategy proved effective until the drought intensified in 2020. To sustain his farm, he was compelled to leave two acres fallow 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, admitting it plunged him into a deep depression. He struggled to leave his bed, while Casad began assisting him with the dairy, working through the night on his own farm.
Cate Havstad-Casad recounted watching the lights of her husband’s tractor from their window, experiencing contractions while pregnant with their first child, and delaying calling him inside for hours out of understanding for the immense pressure he bore. Casad became emotional recounting memories of the drought, confessing, "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 noted farmers facing declining commodity prices, rising operational costs, and the stark reality of water availability, stating, "I don’t know how you continue." As the drought persisted, Jefferson County’s suicide rate nearly doubled. Simmelink informed the state Legislature in early 2023 about the immense pressure on farmers and ranchers, 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, leaving four acres fallow for every acre of vegetables he could plant. He called his wife to deliver the news while she was out of town. In a video diary recorded at the time, a tearful Havstad-Casad expressed her anguish, stating, "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 grows potatoes; the bins that once stored them now sit empty in the barn. He now cultivates primarily hay and grass for cattle, crops he acknowledges require less water. However, challenging years lie ahead for farmers in the Deschutes Basin. This year, Oregon’s snowpack is at one of its lowest levels on record, impacting the vital percolation that feeds the mountain springs powering the river. More than half of Oregon counties have already declared drought emergencies. The Casad farm continues to repay debts incurred from the last drought. Chris Casad worked part-time at a feedlot this past winter and now drives a school bus. To his two young children, his imposing potato harvester has become a playground slide, a prop for their imaginative games.
The potato harvester in the Casad family barn has remained idle for four years, now serving as a slide for the children. Empty bins that once stored potatoes are a stark reminder of past harvests.
About the Data
The Oregon Water Resources Department (OWRD) utilized stream gauges to estimate the volume of Deschutes River water diverted by six irrigation districts in Bend. These OWRD diversion estimates, based on stream gauge data from May to September, reflect peak irrigation flows but do not encompass the entire April to October irrigation season. Estimates of water lost through leakage and evaporation from the Central Oregon Irrigation District’s canals are derived from the district’s 2022 Water Management Conservation Plan, its 2016 System Improvement Plan, and state water right records. To estimate the annual water consumed by crops within COID over the past decade, reliance was placed on a recent state study incorporating weather, satellite, and crop data, along with irrigation district and county property records.
The state’s water consumption estimates draw on evapotranspiration data produced by OpenET, a system that combines satellite and weather data to gauge water evaporated from crops. OWRD acknowledges inherent uncertainties in OpenET data in a 2025 memo. However, multiple experts indicated that remotely sensed evapotranspiration offered the most reliable method for estimating water use in the absence of direct measurement. Efforts were made to minimize uncertainty by focusing on results and trends for a 70-square-mile area spanning 2015 to 2022, the most recent years for which state data is available. County records and irrigation district billing records were used to verify that COID delivered water to the acreage analyzed, excluding properties identified by the state as using groundwater rights or irrigating less than an acre, to account for potential water supply from domestic wells. Including these properties did not significantly alter the overall findings. Information regarding individual properties was cross-checked using irrigation district records, aerial imagery, and landowner interviews. The analysis did not aim to quantify the precise fate of all water diverted by COID that was not consumed by crops.
COID provides approximately 1% of its water rights for purposes other than irrigation, according to state records, and these uses were not included in the analysis.
