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LUBBOCK Every winter, after the sea of cotton has been harvested in the South Plains and the ground looks barren, technicians with the High Plains Underground Water Conservation District check the water levels in nearly 75,000 wells across 16 counties. For years, their measurements have shown what farmers and water conservationists fear mostthe Ogallala Aquifer, an underground water source thats the lifeblood of the South Plains agriculture industry, is running dry. Thats because of a century-old law called the rule of capture. The rule is simple: If you own the land above an aquifer in Texas, the water underneath is yours. You can use as much as you want, as long as its not wasted or taken maliciously. The same applies to your neighbor. If they happen to use more water than you, then thats just bad luck. To put it another way, landowners can mostly pump as much water as they choose without facing liability to surrounding landowners whose wells might be depleted as a result. Following the Dust Bowland to stave off catastrophestate lawmakers created groundwater conservation districts in 1949 to protect what water is left. But their power to restrict landowners is limited. The mission is to save as much water possible for as long as possible, with as little impact on private property rights as possible, said Jason Coleman, manager for the High Plains Underground Water Conservation District. How do you do that? Its a difficult task. A 1953 map of the wells in Lubbock County hangs in the office of the groundwater district. [Photo: Annie Rice for The Texas Tribune] Rapid population growth, climate change, and aging water infrastructure all threaten the states water supply. Texas does not have enough water to meet demand if the state is stricken with a historic drought, according to the Texas Water Development Board, the state agency that manages Texas water supply. Lawmakers want to invest in every corner to save the states water. This week, they reached a historic $20 billion deal on water projects. High Plains Underground Water District General Manager Jason Coleman stands in the districts meeting room on May 21 in Lubbock. [Photo: Annie Rice for The Texas Tribune] But no one wants to touch the rule of capture. In a state known for rugged individualism, politically speaking, reforming the law is tantamount to stripping away freedoms. There probably are opportunities to vest groundwater districts with additional authority, said Amy Hardberger, director for the Texas Tech University Center for Water Law and Policy. I dont think the political climate is going to do that. State Sen. Charles Perry, a Lubbock Republican, and Rep. Cody Harris, a Palestine Republican, led the effort on water in Austin this year. Neither responded to requests for comment. Carlos Rubinstein, a water expert with consulting firm RSAH2O and a former chairman of the water development board, said the rule has been relied upon so long that it would be near impossible to undo the law. I think its better to spend time working within the rules, Rubinstein said. And respect the rule of capture, yet also recognize that, in and of itself, it causes problems. Even though groundwater districts were created to regulate groundwater, the law effectively stops them from doing so, or they risk major lawsuits. The state water plan, which spells out how the states water is to be used, acknowledges the shortfall. Groundwater availability is expected to decline by 25% by 2070, mostly due to reduced supply in the Ogallala and Edwards-Trinity aquifers. Together, the aquifers stretch across West Texas and up through the Panhandle. By itself, the Ogallala has an estimated three trillion gallons of water. Though the overwhelming majority in Texas is used by farmers. Its expected to face a 50% decline by 2070. Groundwater is 54% of the states total water supply and is the states most vulnerable natural resource. Its created by rainfall and other precipitation, and seeps into the ground. Like surface water, groundwater is heavily affected by ongoing droughts and prolonged heat waves. However, the state has more say in regulating surface water than it does groundwater. Surface water laws have provisions that cut supply to newer users in a drought and prohibit transferring surface water outside of basins. Historically, groundwater has been used by agriculture in the High Plains. However, as surface water evaporates at a quicker clip, cities and businesses are increasingly interested in tapping the underground resource. As Texas population continues to grow and surface water declines, groundwater will be the prize in future fights for water. In many ways, the damage is done in the High Plains, a region that spans from the top of the Panhandle down past Lubbock. The Ogallala Aquifer runs beneath the region, and its faced depletion to the point of no return, according to experts. Simply put: The Ogallala is not refilling to keep up with demand. Its a creeping disaster, said Robert Mace, executive director of the Meadows Center for Water and the Environment. It isnt like you wake up tomorrow and nobody can pump anymore. Its just happening slowly, every year. [Image: Yuriko Schumacher/The Texas Tribune] Groundwater districts and the law The High Plains Water District was the first groundwater district created in Texas. Over a protracted multi-year fight, the Legislature created these new local government bodies in 1949, with voter approval, enshrining the new stewards of groundwater into the state Constitution. If the lawmakers hoped to embolden local officials to manage the troves of water under the soil, they failed. There are areas with groundwater that dont have conservation districts. Each groundwater districts has different powers. In practice, most water districts permit wells and make decisions on spacing and location to meet the needs of the property owner. The one thing all groundwater districts have in common: They stop short of telling landowners they cant pump water. In the seven decades since groundwater districts were created, a series of lawsuits have effectively strangled groundwater districts. Even as water levels decline from use and drought, districts still get regular requests for new wells. They wont say no out of fear of litigation. The field technician coverage area is seen in Nathaniel Bibbs office at the High Plains Underground Water District. Bibbs is a permit assistant for the district. [Photo: Annie Rice for The Texas Tribune] You have a host of different decisions to make as it pertains to management of groundwater, Coleman said. That list has grown over the years. The possibility of lawsuits makes groundwater districts hesitant to regulate usage or put limitations on new well permits. Groundwater districts have to defend themselves in lawsuits, and most lack the resources to do so. A well spacing guide is seen in Nathaniel Bibbs office. [Photo: Annie Rice for The Texas Tribune] The law works against us in that way, Hardberger, with Texas Tech University, said. It means one large tool in our toolbox, regulation, is limited. The most recent example is a lawsuit between the Braggs Farm and the Edwards Aquifer Authority. The farm requested permits for two pecan orchards in Medina County, outside San Antonio. The authority granted only one and limited how much water could be used based on state law. It wasnt an arbitrary decision. The authority said it followed the statute set by the Legislature to determine the permit. Thats all they were guaranteed, said Gregory Ellis, the first general manager of the authority, referring to the water available to the farm. The Braggs family filed a takings lawsuit against the authority. This kind of claim can be filed when any level of governmentincluding groundwater districtstakes private property for public use without paying for the owners losses. Braggs won. It is the only successful water-related takings claim in Texas, and it made groundwater laws murkier. It cost the authority $4.5 million. I think it should have been paid by the state Legislature, Ellis said. Theyre the ones who designed that permitting system. But that didnt happen. An appeals court upheld the ruling in 2013, and the Texas Supreme Court denied petitions to consider appeals. However, the states supreme court has previously suggested the Legislature could enhance the powers of the groundwater districts and regulate groundwater like surface water, just as many other states have done. While the laws are complicated, Ellis said the fundamental rule of capture has benefits. It has saved Texas legal system from a flurry of lawsuits between well owners. If they had said Yes, you can sue your neighbor for damaging your well, where does it stop? Ellis asked. Everybody sues everybody. Coleman, the High Plains districts manager, said some people want groundwater districts to have more power, while others think they have too much. Well owners want restrictions for others, but not on them, he said. Youre charged as a district with trying to apply things uniformly and fairly, Coleman said. Cant reverse the past Two tractors were dropping seeds around Walt Hagoods farm as he turned on his irrigation system for the first time this year. He didnt plan on using much water. Its too precious. The cotton farm stretches across 2,350 acres on the outskirts of Wolfforth, a town 12 miles southwest of Lubbock. Hagood irrigates about 80 acres of land, and prays that rain takes care of the rest. Walt Hagood drives across his farm on May 12, in Wolfforth. Hagood utilizes dry farming, a technique that relies on natural rainfall. [Photo: Annie Rice for The Texas Tribune] We used to have a lot of irrigated land with adequate water to make a crop, Hagood said. We dont have that anymore. The High Plains is home to cotton and cattle, multi-billion-dollar agricultural industries. The success is in large part due to the Ogallala. Since its discovery, the aquifer has helped farms around the region spring up through irrigation, a way for farmers to water their crops instead of waiting for rain that may not come. But as water in the aquifer declines, there are growing concerns that there wont be enough water to support agriculture in the future. At the peak of irrigation development, more than 8.5 million acres were irrigated in Texas. About 65% of that was in the High Plains. In the decades since the irrigation boom, High Plains farmers have resorted to methods that might save water and keep their livelihoods afloat. Theyve changed their irrigation systems so water is used more efficiently. They grow cover crops so their soil is more likely to soak up rainwater. Some use apps to see where water is needed so its not wasted. A furrow irrigation is seen at Walt Hagoods cotton farm. [Photo: Annie Rice for The Texas Tribune] Farmers who have not changed their irrigation systems might not have a choice in the near future. It can take a week to pump an inch of water in some areas from the aquifer because of how little water is left. As conditions change underground, they are forced to drill deeper for water. That causes additional problems. Calcium can build up, and the water is of poorer quality. And when the water is used to spray crops through a pivot irrigation system, it’s more of a humidifier as water quickly evaporates in the heat. According to the groundwater district’s most recent management plan, 2 million acres in the district use groundwater for irrigation. About 95% of water from the Ogallala is used for irrigated agriculture. The plan states that the irrigated farms afford economic stability to the area and support a number of other industries. The state water plan shows groundwater supply is expected to decline, and drought wont be the only factor causing a shortage. Demand for municipal use outweighs irrigation use, reflecting the states future growth. In Region O, which is the South Plains, water for irrigation declines by 2070 while demand for municipal use rises because of population growth in the region. Coleman, with the High Plains groundwater district, often thinks about how the aquifer will hold up with future growth. There are some factors at play with water planning that are nearly impossible to predict and account for, Coleman said. Declining surface water could make groundwater a source for municipalities that didnt depend on it before. Regions known for having big, open patches of land, like the High Plains, could be attractive to incoming businesses. People could move to the country and want to drill a well, with no understanding of water availability. The state will continue to grow, Coleman said, and all the incoming businesses and industries will undoubtedly need water. We could say Well, its no ones fault. We didnt know that factory would need 20,000 acre-feet of water a year, Coleman said. Its not happening right now, but whats around the corner? Coleman said this puts agriculture in a tenuous position. The region is full of small towns that depend on agriculture and have supporting businesses, like cotton gins, equipment and feed stores, and pesticide and fertilizer sprayers. This puts pressure on the High Plains water district, along with the two regional water planning groups in the region, to keep agriculture alive. Districts are not trying to reduce pumping down to a sustainable level, said Mace with the Meadows Foundation. And I dont fault them for that, because doing that is economic devastation in a region with farmers. Hagood, the cotton farmer, doesnt think reforming groundwater rights is the way to solve it. Whats done is done, he said. Our U.S. Constitution protects our private property rights, and thats what this is all about, Hagood said. Any time we have a regulation and people are given more authority, it doesnt work out right for everybody. Rapid population growth, climate change, and aging water infrastructure all threaten the states water supply. [Photo: Annie Rice for The Texas Tribune] What can be done The state water plan recommends irrigation conservation as a strategy. Its also the least costly water management method. But that strategy is fraught. Farmers need to irrigate in times of drought, and telling them to stop can draw criticism. In Eastern New Mexico, the Ogallala Land and Water Conservancy, a nonprofit organization, has been retiring irrigation wells. Landowners keep their water rights, and the organization pays them to stop irrigating their farms. Landowners get paid every year as part of the voluntary agreement, and they can end it at any point. Ladona Clayton, executive director of the organization, said they have been criticized, with their efforts being called a war and land grab. They also get pushback on why the responsibility falls on farmers. She said its because of how much water is used for irrigation. They have to be aggressive in their approach, she said. The aquifer supplies water to the Cannon Air Force Base. We dont want them to stop agricultural production, Clayton said. But for me to say it will be the same level that irrigation can support would be untrue. There is another possible lifeline that people in the High Plains are eyeing as a solution: the Dockum Aquifer. Its a minor aquifer that underlies part of the Ogallala, so it would be accessible to farmers and ranchers in the region. The High Plains Water District also oversees this aquifer. If it seems too good to be truethat the most irrigated part of Texas would just so happen to have another abundant supply of water flowing underneathits because theres a catch. The Dockum is full of extremely salty brckish water. Some counties can use the water for irrigation and drinking water without treatment, but its unusable in others. According to the groundwater district, a test well in Lubbock County pulled up water that was as salty as seawater. Rubinstein, the former water development board chairman, said there are pockets of brackish groundwater in Texas that haven’t been tapped yet. It would be enough to meet the needs on the horizon, but it would also be very expensive to obtain and use. A landowner would have to go deeper to get it, then pump the water over a longer distance. That costs money, and then you have to treat it on top of that, Rubinstein said. But, it is water. Landowners have expressed interest in using desalination, a treatment method to lower dissolved salt levels. Desalination of produced and brackish water is one of the ideas that was being floated around at the Legislature this year, along with building a pipeline to move water across the state. Hagood, the farmer, is skeptical. He thinks whatever water they move could get used up before it makes it all the way to West Texas. There is always brackish groundwater. Another aquifer brings the chance of history repeatingif the Dockum aquifer is treated so its water is usable, will people drain it, too? Hagood said there would have to be limits. Disclosure: Edwards Aquifer Authority and Texas Tech University have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune’s journalism. Find a complete list of them here. This article originally appeared in The Texas Tribune, a member-supported, nonpartisan newsroom informing and engaging Texans on state politics and policy. Learn more at texastribune.org.
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E-Commerce
Millennial culture has officially made it to the history books. A history teacher recently turned her sixth grade classroom into a museum for millennial paraphernalia with the help of her Gen Alpha students’ parents. Judging by the comments on the teachers TikTok video, millennials arent sure whether to be thrilled or horrified. Malinda Nichols (@hipsterhistorywithmrsn) posted the video earlier this month, highlighting historical artifacts from the 1990s for her students benefit. Out on display were flip phones, Nintendos, and disposable cameras. Boyz II Men and Beanie Babies also made an appearance. The collection in here has easily got to be worth 10s of dollars, she joked. But the nostalgic value is truly priceless. In a second video, with almost 800,000 views on TikTok, she showed the students’ reactions to the museum of the millennial, as she called it. Students played POGS, a popular playground game played with flat circular cardboard milk caps, and attempted to figure out how buttons worked on an old-school Nokia. The parents also made a surprise appearance for a history lesson straight from the horses mouth. Students’ questions included: “How did you make plans with your friends before texting?” and “What commercials or jingles do you still remember from when you were younger?” Finally, students were tasked with creating their own AOL screen names to round out the full millennial experience. I created the museum of the millennial lesson for my sixth grade students to show them that history isnt just found in dusty textbooksits alive, personal, and being made every day, Nichols told Fast Company. By inviting parents to share artifacts from their childhood in the 80s and 90s, students saw firsthand how the people who raised them, including myselfIm a proud millennial and parent of a sixth graderhelped pioneer the digital age, even if we didnt realize it at the time because for us it was just living our lives. For a much-maligned generation (those born roughly between 1981 and 1996), it was a welcome change to see their culture finally getting the recognition it deserves. For too long, millennials have been forced to listen as older generations chastised them for overspending on avocado toast, before they became sandwiched by a younger generation who roasted them for their unironic love of Harry Potter and penchant for burger joints. Nicholss video also brought with it the horrifying realization for millennials that their childhood is now the subject of history lessons. Historical Artifacts? one wrote. I feel attacked.
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E-Commerce
Given their abundance in American backyards, gardens and highway corridors these days, it may be surprising to learn that white-tailed deer were nearly extinct about a century ago. While they currently number somewhere in the range of 30 million to 35 million, at the turn of the 20th century, there were as few as 300,000 whitetails across the entire continent: just 1% of the current population. This near-disappearance of deer was much discussed at the time. In 1854, Henry David Thoreau had written that no deer had been hunted near Concord, Massachusetts, for a generation. In his famous Walden, he reported: One man still preserves the horns of the last deer that was killed in this vicinity, and another has told me the particulars of the hunt in which his uncle was engaged. The hunters were formerly a numerous and merry crew here. But what happened to white-tailed deer? What drove them nearly to extinction, and then what brought them back from the brink? As a historical ecologist and environmental archaeologist, I have made it my job to answer these questions. Over the past decade, Ive studied white-tailed deer bones from archaeological sites across the eastern United States, as well as historical records and ecological data, to help piece together the story of this species. Precolonial rise of deer populations White-tailed deer have been hunted from the earliest migrations of people into North America, more than 15,000 years ago. The species was far from the most important food resource at that time, though. Archaeological evidence suggests that white-tailed deer abundance only began to increase after the extinction of megafauna species like mammoths and mastodons opened up ecological niches for deer to fill. Deer bones become very common in archaeological sites from about 6,000 years ago onward, reflecting the economic and cultural importance of the species for Indigenous peoples. Despite being so frequently hunted, deer populations do not seem to have appreciably declined due to Indigenous hunting prior to AD 1600. Unlike elk or sturgeon, whose numbers were reduced by Indigenous hunters and fishers, white-tailed deer seem to have been resilient to human predation. While archaeologists have found some evidence for human-caused declines in certain parts of North America, other cases are more ambiguous, and deer certainly remained abundant throughout the past several millennia. Human use of fire could partly explain why white-tailed deer may have been resilient to hunting. Indigenous peoples across North America have long used controlled burning to promote ecosystem health, disturbing old vegetation to promote new growth. Deer love this sort of successional vegetation for food and cover, and thus thrive in previously burned habitats. Indigenous people may have therefore facilitated deer population growth, counteracting any harmful hunting pressure. More research is needed, but even though some hunting pressure is evident, the general picture from the precolonial era is that deer seem to have been doing just fine for thousands of years. Ecologists estimate that there were roughly 30 million white-tailed deer in North America on the eve of European colonizationabout the same number as today. A 16th-century engraving depicts Indigenous Floridians hunting deer while disguised in deerskins. [Photo: Theodor de Bry/DEA Picture Library/De Agostini/Getty Images] Colonial-era fall of deer numbers To better understand how deer populations changed in the colonial era, I recently analyzed deer bones from two archaeological sites in what is now Connecticut. My analysis suggests that hunting pressure on white-tailed deer increased almost as soon as European colonists arrived. At one site dated to the 11th to 14th centuries (before European colonization) I found that only about 7% to 10% of the deer killed were juveniles. Hunters generally dont take juvenile deer if theyre frequently encountering adults, since adult deer tend to be larger, offering more meat and bigger hides. Additionally, hunting increases mortality on a deer herd but doesnt directly affect fertility, so deer populations experiencing hunting pressure end up with juvenile-skewed age structures. For these reasons, this low percentage of juvenile deer prior to European colonization indicates minimal hunting pressure on local herds. However, at a nearby site occupied during the 17th centuryjust after European colonizationbetween 22% and 31% of the deer hunted were juveniles, suggesting a substantial increase in hunting pressure. This elevated hunting pressure likely resulted from the transformation of deer into a commodity for the first time. Venison, antlers and deerskins may have long been exchanged within Indigenous trade networks, but things changed drastically in the 17th century. European colonists integrated North America into a trans-Atlantic mercantile capitalist economic system with no precedent in Indigenous society. This applied new pressures to the continents natural resources. Deerparticularly their skinswere commodified ad sold in markets in the colonies initially and, by the 18th century, in Europe as well. Deer were now being exploited by traders, merchants and manufacturers desiring profit, not simply hunters desiring meat or leather. It was the resulting hunting pressure that drove the species toward its extinction. 20th-century rebound of white-tailed deer Thanks to the rise of the conservation movement in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, white-tailed deer survived their brush with extinction. Concerned citizens and outdoorsmen feared for the fate of deer and other wildlife, and pushed for new legislative protections. The Lacey Act of 1900, for example, banned interstate transport of poached game andin combination with state-level protectionshelped end commercial deer hunting by effectively de-commodifying the species. Aided by conservation-oriented hunting practices and reintroductions of deer from surviving populations to areas where they had been extirpated, white-tailed deer rebounded. The story of white-tailed deer underscores an important fact: Humans are not inherently damaging to the environment. Hunting from the 17th through 19th centuries threatened the existence of white-tailed deer, but precolonial Indigenous hunting and environmental management appear to have been relatively sustainable, and modern regulatory governance in the 20th century forestalled and reversed their looming extinction. Elic Weitzel, Peter Buck Postdoctoral Research Fellow, Smithsonian Institution This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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E-Commerce
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