Chris Casad rises before dawn on his Central Oregon farm, a property he purchased nine years ago with the hope of cultivating abundant potato harvests. However, persistent water shortages have compelled him to let fields lie fallow, forcing him to seek employment tending cattle on other people’s land. At 38, Casad operates tractors older than he is, carries significant debt from his 85 acres, and faces constant repairs on aging equipment. His wife, Cate, works two jobs, and their two young children add to their financial pressures.

The crisis for their farm began with a severe drought that gripped the region for three consecutive summers. During this period, starving grasshoppers decimated remaining crops, reservoirs became choked with toxic algae, nearly a thousand Oregon wells ran dry, and the springs feeding the Deschutes River dwindled to their lowest recorded flow. Yet, the ultimate blow to Casad’s livelihood was Oregon’s century-old water law, a system that prioritizes some water users at the expense of others.

The Casads witnessed their community’s allocation of irrigation water from the Deschutes River drastically reduced under this law. Farmers in Jefferson County, where they reside, were forced to abandon cultivation on a third of the county’s irrigated land. "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," Casad recounted, highlighting the profound human toll of these water restrictions.

Meanwhile, a few miles upstream, the same state law facilitated landowners in the Central Oregon Irrigation District (COID) in consuming vast amounts of water on some of Oregon’s most valuable real estate and least productive farmland. COID, a quasi-municipal corporation functioning as part utility and part homeowners association, manages and distributes the majority of the Deschutes River’s water. Together, six irrigation districts 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 the state was establishing water allocations, grant it priority during times of drought due to its senior water rights.

The Central Oregon Irrigation District diverts more water annually from the Deschutes in Bend than all other irrigation districts combined. This century-old water law dictates that COID can continue to draw this volume of water as long as landowners within the district can demonstrate "beneficial use" and avoid waste. However, an analysis of water usage by ProPublica and Oregon Public Broadcasting revealed that the state’s definitions of beneficial use and waste are so permissive that during the recent drought, only one in four gallons diverted by COID was actually absorbed by crops.

While state officials did not contest the findings derived from satellite data commissioned by the state, COID leadership expressed distrust in the data and attributed the low crop water consumption to anomalous drought years. Yet, the analysis across both wet and dry years indicated a consistent pattern of low crop water absorption. The majority of the diverted water, according to state and district records, seeped into the ground, evaporated into the arid air, or drained into surrounding scrubland and desert, with some replenishing aquifers and returning to the river downstream, contributing to warming and pollution observed by environmental regulators. The scant portion of water that did reach crops was primarily used for grass and pasture.

Chris Casad, originally from Bend, witnessed the region’s transformation from an agricultural and timber-based economy to one driven by tourism and recreation. Farmland was increasingly subdivided for housing, and a lumber mill was replaced by a shopping mall. Canals from the Deschutes River still meander through Bend’s residential neighborhoods and extend to estates, farms, and resorts on the city’s periphery. Among these is a horse ranch owned by Phil and Penelope Knight, whose family wealth derived from Nike. Their ranch, a significant consumer of COID water, raises high-end horses and sells hay.

Another example is an 80-acre property, once dry scrubland, that was transformed into an "exclusive compound paradise" after cinematographer Byron Garth acquired water rights through COID a decade ago. The water facilitated the creation of a sprawling estate featuring a large mansion with heated floors, multiple guest houses, an expansive garage, and a swimming pool, all surrounded by manicured lawns. Garth initially grew hay for his alpacas and goats but found it more economical to simply maintain the grass. He acknowledged reservations about water usage during the drought but reasoned that the water had to be used. A realtor described the extensive greenery as contributing to the property’s aesthetic appeal, noting that "lush pasture" is often preferred over the high desert landscape.

The Ranch at the Canyons, a gated subdivision of multimillion-dollar homes, exemplifies some of the district’s most water-intensive developments. Its residents jointly own an equestrian center, a wedding venue, a winery, and a nonprofit farm, all promising a "peaceful rhythm of agricultural life—without the work." Similarly, a $15 million property listing invites potential buyers to envision a "Playground for Ambitions, for Imagination, for Dreamers, and for Doers." Analysis of state data from 2015 to 2022 revealed that over 90% of acreage within the COID was dedicated to growing grass, primarily for livestock pasture and hay, as well as landscaping.

Casad’s farming journey began within the COID, but he was not among those cultivating grass. By 2010, he was leasing land near his hometown and achieving profitability by growing thousands of tons of organic potatoes annually, utilizing a massive harvester he nicknamed "the white whale." He embraced the region’s historical significance as a major potato producer, expanding his operations, selling at farmers’ markets, supplying a local brewery, and hosting school field trips to educate children about farming. The readily available water from COID was initially a significant advantage, as Casad noted, "It was just always on."

However, this abundance of water presented its own challenges. Casad couldn’t simply cease irrigation without jeopardizing his landlord’s water rights. Consequently, he, like many others in the district, found ways to manage the "overabundance," including creating ponds to capture excess water. When one pond filled, he began digging another to prevent flooding his neighbor’s property. On over a third of COID’s land, landowners employ flood irrigation, allowing water to flow directly across fields, saturating plants and pooling before evaporating or seeping into the ground.

While water experts acknowledge that runoff and canal leakage eventually recirculate within the river basin, the immediate consequences on the Deschutes River are significant. As irrigation districts claim about 90% of the river’s flow during the growing season, average remaining flows over the past decade have been approximately half of what the ecosystem requires, according to stream gauges and state conservation targets. This has led to habitat degradation for fish. Former state biologist Brett Hodgson stated, "The river always loses."

The fact that much of the irrigation water is eventually recycled does not fully reassure COID landowners like David Fisher, a 72-year-old butcher shop owner who flood irrigates about 60 acres for hay and pasture. "We’re just wasting water. Really. We are," Fisher admitted. While not opposed to environmental conservation, he advocated for a more balanced approach, suggesting, "But there’s got to be a middle of the road."

The Central Oregon Irrigation District diverts more water annually from the Deschutes in Bend than all other irrigation districts combined. Estimates of water consumption indicate that only about a quarter of the water diverted by COID is actually consumed by crops, with the majority lost to leaks, evaporation, or runoff before returning to aquifers or the river downstream.

The state’s legal framework, which defines "beneficial use without waste" as the condition for retaining water rights, has been subject to interpretation. Oregon, like other Western states, considers almost any cultivated crop to be a beneficial use, provided it is irrigated and not a native species or noxious weed. The legal definition of waste remains remarkably narrow, with a significant precedent set 90 years ago by a California court that prohibited using irrigation water to drown gophers. Water rights are considered property rights, and courts have historically deferred to established practices when determining water usage. As one Oregon water law attorney described it, "waste is like pornography—you know it when you see it." This broad interpretation means that whether landowners are cultivating crops for festivals like the historic Deschutes Basin potato festival, or growing grass and hay for luxury estates, the water rights remain protected.

Craig Horrell, COID’s Managing Director, has expressed frustration with the term "hobby farms," viewing it as a label intended to "shame and coerce us into change." He argues that district managers cannot dictate what landowners grow, stating, "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 actively monitors for non-native crop cultivation through aerial surveys, a practice aimed at ensuring landowners are utilizing their water rights, as failure to do so can lead to the cancellation of those rights. Since 2021, COID has sent over a thousand letters to landowners, warning them of potential water right forfeiture, emphasizing education on water stewardship.

Casad’s landlord received such a letter in 2016 when aerial surveillance noted dry areas on their property, attributed to a compost pile and equipment yard. To satisfy the district’s requirements, the Casads had to irrigate these areas for an entire season. By the following year, a COID inspector noted sufficient growth to avoid confiscation. Similarly, Andria Truax and Dan Baumann, who operate a nursery selling drought-tolerant landscaping plants, received a warning letter in 2023 that caused significant anxiety. They were instructed to maintain greenery in areas where growing anything was challenging, highlighting the irony of being told to use more water while downstream farmers faced cutbacks. To protect their water rights and property values, they complied by turning on sprinklers.

Jessi Talbott, COID’s Deputy Director of Water Rights, stated that the district does not instruct landowners to water non-productive areas and expressed frustration with the finding that only about 25% of the district’s diverted water is consumed by crops. She emphasized the district’s efforts to educate patrons on responsible water use. Horrell, however, maintains that the district does not overdeliver water and suggested that some properties may not receive sufficient amounts. COID’s own conservation plan, covering 2015-2020, estimated crop water requirements based on landowner surveys and federal weather data, approximating that crops consumed about 27% of the water diverted, aligning with the analysis of crop water consumption. District officials have not provided further comment on these figures.

State leaders have long grappled with managing 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, with COID diverting over 12 times more water than both cities combined during the 2022 drought, despite the cities’ substantial combined population. While agriculture is a major water user nationwide, COID’s contribution to Oregon’s agricultural economy is among the lowest, with the region leading only in horse sales.

State Representative Mark Owens, a hay farmer from Eastern Oregon, has voiced concerns that "hobby farmers" are receiving excess water they do not need. He believes Oregon is overdue for a reassessment of its water management practices. Owens argues that the original intent of the beneficial use rule was to foster rural economies, but current practices, where some landowners employ no one and harvest nothing, do not provide a public benefit. He questions the efficacy of the current system, stating, "So is there something broken? Yeah, there is." He advocates for maximizing crop yield per drop of water.

Instead of imposing mandates, the Legislature has pursued incentive-based programs, such as compensating landowners for leaving water in the river without forfeiting their rights. Baumann and Truax participated in such a program, but COID’s board has capped enrollment, limiting eligibility. Horrell explains that the district must maintain high canal water levels to prevent system failure, particularly for farms at the end of the delivery system. The district acknowledges that water loss through leakage and evaporation is wasteful and is seeking over $700 million in public funding to replace its aging canals with pressurized pipelines, having already secured over $65 million for such projects since 2015.

Horrell asserts that while a more balanced and sustainable water delivery system is a shared goal, the path to achieving it is a subject of contention. He describes COID as a business that must adapt to climate change. Despite having rights to divert more water than it currently does, the district has voluntarily reduced its diversions during recent droughts. He notes that through piping projects, they now deliver some water to downstream farmers, an action not mandated by their rights, but stresses that "it doesn’t mean that it is not ours."

Yancy Lind, an environmental advocate involved in state water planning, observes that while rivers are public resources, irrigation districts wield significant 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, adding, "They have all the cards. We’re just trying to pull little crumbs out from them."

After seven years of leasing land within the COID, Casad relocated to Jefferson County and the North Unit Irrigation District, where he could afford to purchase land and found it more fertile, producing over half of the world’s carrot seed supply. He sought to live among dedicated farmers like his new neighbor, Jos Poland, a lifelong dairy farmer. This move came with a trade-off: North Unit has historically faced greater water scarcity and is the first to experience cutbacks during droughts. While it offers half the water per acre compared to COID, even in wet years, its crops consume a significantly higher percentage of the diverted water, reflecting a greater efficiency.

Farmers in North Unit take pride in their water conservation efforts. Casad’s neighborhood features water-saving sprinklers and pumps designed to recycle runoff captured in specialized ponds. Gary Harris, an 80-year-old farmer, remarked, "It’s the only way we’ve been able to survive." Casad calculated that reduced water availability on fertile land would still be sufficient for his needs. However, the drought that began in 2020 strained this calculation, forcing him to let two acres lie fallow for every acre of vegetables planted. Poland experienced the loss of his organic cow pastures, compelling him to sell half his herd due to the inability to afford feed. "I was losing money so fast that I couldn’t afford to feed my animals," Poland recalled, describing the profound depression that followed. Casad assisted him with the dairy operations while managing his own farm through the night.

Cate Havstad-Casad described watching her husband’s tractor lights through the window while in labor with their first child, delaying calling for help due to understanding the immense pressure he carried. Casad struggled to recount the drought’s hardships, admitting, "Some of this stuff you just bury. You bury it down deep." During the drought years, which coincided with the pandemic, Jefferson County Commissioner Kelly Simmelink reported an nearly doubled suicide rate among farmers and ranchers, attributing it to immense pressure from falling commodity prices, rising operational costs, and water scarcity. This led to the successful advocacy for a state-funded suicide prevention hotline for agricultural producers.

Two years into the drought, Casad learned he would have to drastically reduce his water usage, with four acres going fallow for every acre of vegetables planted. He informed his wife, who was traveling, about the devastating news. In a video diary recorded at the time, she expressed her anguish, stating through tears, "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, leaving the storage bins in his barn empty. He now primarily grows hay and grass for cattle, crops requiring less water. However, the future remains challenging for farmers in the Deschutes Basin. Oregon’s snowpack this year is among the lowest on record, impacting the springs that feed the river. Over half of Oregon counties have already declared drought emergencies. The Casad farm is still contending 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 potato harvester, once his pride, now serves as a playground slide for his two young children.

The Oregon Water Resources Department provided estimates of Deschutes River water diversions by six irrigation districts in Bend, based on stream gauges from May to September. Estimates for water loss from COID’s canals were derived from the district’s 2022 Water Management Conservation Plan and 2016 System Improvement Plan, alongside state water right records. Crop water consumption was estimated using a 2025 state study that combined weather, satellite, and crop data, as well as irrigation district and county property records. This data, publicly available through a collaboration between the Oregon Water Resources Department and the Desert Research Institute, was further analyzed by Virga Labs, an external consultant, to correlate statewide irrigated field data with irrigation district maps and county property records. Over 50 interviews were conducted with various stakeholders, including farmers, water managers, legal experts, and conservation advocates, to provide context for the water usage findings. The state’s evapotranspiration data, while subject to some uncertainty as noted by the Oregon Water Resources Department, was considered the most reliable method for estimating water use in the absence of direct measurement. Efforts were made to mitigate uncertainty by focusing on trends and results from 2015 to 2022 across a 70-square-mile area. Property records and irrigation district billing information were used to verify COID water delivery to analyzed acreage, excluding properties with groundwater rights or less than one acre of irrigated land to account for potential domestic well usage. These exclusions did not significantly alter the overall findings. Information on individual properties was cross-checked using irrigation district records, aerial imagery, and landowner interviews. The analysis did not aim to precisely quantify the fate of all water diverted by COID that was not consumed by crops. Approximately 1% of the district’s water rights are used for purposes other than irrigation, according to state records, and these uses were not included in the analysis.