An old water clich茅 tells us that 鈥渨ater flows uphill toward money.鈥� It鈥檚 an adage born out of people鈥檚 frustrations about who benefits when water moves around in the Western U.S., popularized by author Marc Reisner鈥檚 1986 book, 鈥淐adillac Desert.鈥�
Like all persistent folksy sayings, it鈥檚 .
But there鈥檚 at least one case where it has some validity: the phenomenon known as 鈥渂uy and dry鈥� along Colorado鈥檚 fast-growing, historically agricultural Front Range.
鈥淏uy and dry鈥� describes a class of water transactions that typically involve a municipality or other local government paying the owner of a farm for some or all of their available water rights.
It鈥檚 a slow, mostly invisible flow of water from the region鈥檚 heritage industry 鈥� agriculture 鈥� to a new powerhouse: real estate development and urban growth.
The transactions go back decades, with plenty of cautionary tales to guide both farmers and government officials, casting various Front Range cities and Eastern Plains farming communities as both villains and victims.
Concern about the practice has reached a fever pitch. The state鈥檚 water plan, adopted in 2015, frowns at buy and dry tactics. . Some alternative methods for leasing water are slowly being implemented, at the same time multi-million dollar checks are passed to farm families.
Urban growth is a driver
The practice of buy and dry is primarily driven by the growth of water-short cities 鈥� of all sizes 鈥� along the Front Range. According to Colorado鈥檚 State Demography Office, communities along the I-25 corridor in Weld and Larimer counties are the fastest growing. Populations there are increasing at a rate twice as fast as the state as a whole.
Formerly a sleepy farming hamlet, the town of Windsor has increased its size by 35 percent in less than a decade, with hay and wheat fields giving way to suburban development.
Those new residential and commercial developments have forced the town to draft an ambitious water acquisition plan to support the infrastructure influx, calling for the purchase of four times the amount of water rights currently owned.
The town expects to add at least another 14,000 residents to its current 23,000 by 2040.
鈥淲ith growth in this area, we're all competing for that water,鈥� says Dennis Wagner, Windsor鈥檚 director of engineering, 鈥渁nd so the supply isn't getting any bigger, but the demand is.鈥�
Windsor, like many fast-growing Front Range communities, sees agricultural water as a viable source to supplement future growth. As recently as May, Windsor purchased water rights from at least two different farming families, according to allotment contracts from the Northern Colorado Water Conservancy District.
One purchase was of units of water within the Colorado-Big Thompson Project from the John Ernest Lucken Revocable Trust. The other with the Andrew H. Blase Family Trust.
In both cases Wagner says he doesn鈥檛 know whether the town鈥檚 purchases led to farms 鈥渄rying up.鈥�
鈥淚鈥檓 not sure of what鈥檚 happened to those farms,鈥� he said. 鈥淲hether they still have enough water rights to irrigate or whether they've reduced the farming acreage.鈥�
Wagner added that Windsor, unlike other cities, has not specifically purchased farms to own them and take the water off them. When asked about the likelihood of the town doing that, Wagner said it very well could.
鈥淎s we all know, it is happening,鈥� he said.
Water rights worth millions
For farmers in the West, access to water is a key part of making agriculture possible in an arid region. Without irrigation farmers are significantly limited on the range of crops they can grow and in the profitability of the land they own.
With commodity crop and milk prices at low points, selling water rights can help make a farm operation whole.
That鈥檚 the case for Colorado dairy farmer Timothy Bernhardt, just down the road from Windsor in Milliken. The Bernhardt family has farmed there since the 1920s. Access to water to quench the thirst of his 900 dairy cows is essential, Bernhardt says.
鈥淐attle drink a lot of water, so about 50 to 100 gallons of water a day,鈥� he says. 鈥淪o it鈥檚 critical for milk production because milk is made up mostly of water.鈥�
In May Bernhardt and his brother made the choice to sell 175 units of water within the Colorado-Big Thompson Project 鈥� about 57 million gallons. According to Milliken officials, Bernhardt鈥檚 water was purchased for more than $4.72 million.
That money will be used to pay off debt, Bernhardt says. Like many businesses, farms rely on loans and credit to operate and the brothers wanted to pay it off because they鈥檙e each older than 60 and looking at retirement.
While their children will continue to farm the family land, they aren鈥檛 interested in running the dairy. When they retire, the dairy ends with them.
Over the years, how Bernhardt sees his water and how important it is to him has changed.
When he was young, just starting out, it meant survival. The water was integral to his operation, closely guarded.
鈥淏ut then it鈥檚 like OK, it鈥檚 just another asset. When you鈥檙e getting older, it鈥檚 just like another asset that you have,鈥� he says.
Another factor that influenced him to sell was the price of milk, which is down by about 10 percent from last year. Bernhardt said these lean times are when farmers consider selling off water rights.
鈥淏ecause there are some times when things are pretty tough that you need to do what you can do to survive,鈥� he says.
Some cities offer farmers the option to rent water back. Those lease agreements aren鈥檛 likely a permanent solution. During extended dry times the city could choose not to lease water and instead use it for their residents.
Cautionary tales
There鈥檚 no arm-twisting in buy and dry, cities are often quick to say. These transactions involve willing buyers and sellers. Cities get what they need -- new water supplies -- and farm families get an opportunity to pay off debt, make on-farm upgrades or retire.
But on a regional-scale, water managers and government officials are troubled. Water flowing from farms to the Front Range means a movement of power and economic activity, from rural areas to cities. Take the Colorado-Big Thompson Project as an example.
When the vast network of reservoirs was originally built in the 1930s to transport water from the state鈥檚 wetter Western Slope to the east, agriculture was the majority user of its stored water. Today, 70% of the project鈥檚 water is used by municipalities and industry.
Conversations about buy and dry often turn to the Arkansas River valley and the communities of Crowley, Ordway and Sugar City. Water managers don鈥檛 really have to imagine what a future of rampant buy and dry could look like. It has .
鈥淚f you go to the Arkansas Basin and drive around you鈥檒l see the net result of that, which is dry land down there and not irrigated farmland,鈥� says Sean Cronin, director of the St. Vrain and Left Hand Water Conservancy District in Boulder County. 鈥淭he landscape looks fundamentally different than when the land was being irrigated.鈥�
The entire river valley took a hit when those farmlands were dried up, Cronin says. Water managers have a responsibility to keep the same thing from happening in other parts of the state where demands for water have begun to move rights from farms to cities.
鈥淚f you鈥檙e looking at it regionally, in terms of the overall economy for Colorado having a diverse economy with vibrant cities and agriculture and you find that its shifting from one way to the other and we鈥檙e losing some of our diversification then I think it鈥檚 a cause for concern,鈥� he says.
Cronin and a handful of other water managers in the South Platte Regional Opportunities Working Group recently about what it would take to allow Front Range cities to keep growing, without draining farms in the process. It looked like at least three -- maybe four -- new reservoirs positioned along the South Platte River to the stateline with Nebraska to supplement water supplies for cities and farmers.
Cronin cautions that these are preliminary discussions.
He calls the discussion of new reservoirs a 鈥済enerational鈥� one 鈥� if the idea gains enough supporters for it to happen at all. Large-scale water projects often take decades in planning, permitting and litigation before a shovel hits the ground. This one would likely follow a similar timeline, Cronin says. Questions still linger about how much it would cost, another big hurdle to bringing it to fruition.
In the meantime water will continue to move off farmland to keep Colorado鈥檚 cities and their thirsty populations well-watered.
Editor's Note: This story has been corrected to clarify that Bernhardt's family will continue the agricultural side of the family farm, but not the dairy. The price of Bernhardt's water was updated to reflect the value given by the town of Miliken.
This story is part of a project covering the Colorado River, produced by KUNC and supported through a Walton Family Foundation grant. KUNC is solely responsible for its editorial content.
