Edition: U.S. / Global
Archives

Drought Devastates Rural Texas Economy

By ROSS E. MILLOY
Published: September 1, 2000

At the weekly livestock auction on the outskirts of town, there is something in the air even heavier than the dust and stench: fear of the devastation this summer's drought is bringing.

''We're hurting all right, and it may get to be a lot worse before it gets any better,'' said M. M. Pogue, a cattle rancher from Lytton Springs near this Central Texas stopping point on the Chisholm Trail, 25 miles southeast of Austin.

Mr. Pogue, who can tick off the memorable droughts of his 84 years as easily as some might list their children's names, said this summer's drought may turn out to be one of the worst.

''A lot of people are going to be knocked right out of the cattle business by this one,'' he said.

This summer's record stretch of 62 days without rain in North Texas, after four years in which some areas of the state have had almost no appreciable rain, has left thousands of acres of crops wasted, dried up lakes and helped spark 650 fires.

''We are in the midst of an unmitigated disaster,'' said Allen Spelce, a spokesman for the Texas Department of Agriculture, ''and it has been accumulating in magnitude over the last five years.''

It is little better in much of the South and West. The Great Plains and the Southeast have been baking in 100-degree temperatures this week, fires are destroying tinder-dry forests in most Western states and Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi and North Florida continue to suffer from drought, despite intermittent rain.

Bill Proensa, director of the National Weather Service's Southern regional office in Fort Worth, said there was little hope of immediate relief.

More than 89 people have died from the heat nationwide, Mr. Proensa said, 52 of them in Texas.

''We're seeing record temperatures and record series of consecutive high temperatures in many places,'' he said, citing Wednesday's record of 111 degrees at Little Rock, Ark.

But Texas is bearing the brunt of the drought, he said. In the Dallas-Fort Worth area, the temperature was 100 or higher in 39 of the last 60 days, Mr. Proensa said.

''The only thing that will help us now is a hurricane,'' he said, ''and there's no sign of one of those in the forecast.''

In Texas and adjacent states, 177 counties have been declared disaster areas for crop losses so far by the federal Department of Agriculture, and state officials predict those losses, currently calculated at $595 million for Texas alone, will soar past a billion dollars by year's end.

Droughts since 1996 have cost Texas farmers and ranchers over $5 billion, Mr. Spelce said.

North Texas today blew past a 66-year-old record by posting 62 consecutive days without rain, eclipsing even the notorious drought of 1950 and the ''Dust Bowl drought'' of 1934.

And, as lake levels continue to drop, at least three power plants in West Texas warned customers that they may be forced to shut down because there would not be enough water to cool the plants' electricity generating equipment unless the area gets rain soon.

''This is an uncommon event and a very real danger,'' said Jim Calloway, a senior engineer with the Texas Public Utilities Commission. ''There's a definite possibility that we'll have to shut those plants down if we don't get rain by November.''

Power to those served by the plants, Mr. Calloway said, could be provided from other sources in Texas, but at a potentially higher cost.

In parched Central Texas, reduced water levels in the Edwards Aquifer have cut flows to Comal Springs, the state's largest spring, to the point that endangered species of fish are threatened.

At the popular Jacob's Well spring midway between Austin and San Antonio, which has never been known to go dry, water flow has been cut from a normal 75 gallons per second to less than 7 gallons per second.

''The canary in the coal mine is on its back, kicking its legs up in the air,'' said David Baker, who lives near Jacob's Well.

In Georgia, the drought is ravaging the state's thirsty cities and farms in the northern and central parts of the state.

David Stooksbury, the state climatologist, estimates that it will take two winters of normal rainfall to replenish aquifers, rivers, creeks, ponds, and reservoirs and to saturate the soil depths needed to nurture crops and lawns.

At least 721 wells have run dry in southwest Georgia this summer. Last year only a few were reported dry in the same region, said Mel Jones, an environmentalist for the state health agency.

A statewide survey found approximately 23 cities, primarily in northern Georgia, face critical water shortages, said Harold Reheis, director of the Georgia Environmental Protection Division. Many have a water supply of only 30 days or less.

In Carrollton, approximately 50 miles southwest of Atlanta, Lewis Mason, water plant superintendent, said, ''We estimate we've got around 60 to 65 days of water left. We're obviously on a total ban -- no outside watering or anything like that.''

Crop losses in Texas and Georgia have been staggering.

By midsummer the drought had already damaged approximately 39 percent or an estimated $738 million in the Georgia's corn, cotton, peanuts, soybeans, tobacco, pecans and forage crops, said Charles McPeake of the University of Georgia Cooperative Extension Service.

Texas officials say cotton, grain, and wheat losses already top $425 million.

But with pastures scorched, and stock tanks reduced to mud puddles, it is the cattlemen who seem to be suffering the most.

Miguel Carrillo, at the Lockhart auction with his father to sell 20 cows, said he just could not afford to feed them through the winter.

''Our hay crop never really made this year,'' Mr. Carrillo said, ''and all our fields are burned to a crisp. We've got to sell now or go broke later.''

Mike Alonzo, a cattle rancher near here, said: ''If you've got water but no feed, you can haul feed. If you've got feed but no water, you can haul water. But if you don't have feed or water, the way it is with this here drought, you're in big trouble.''

Photo: Agriculture Secretary Dan Glickman, holding a watermelon, joined a farm family, from right, Bryson Gentry, Jimmy Gentry and Samie Erwin, on Tuesday in looking at drought damage at their field near Boyd, Tex. (Associated Press)