A stretch of sodden Southern Oregon flatlands, speckled with ripening pines and aspens, curves into the algae-blooming pools of the Klamath Basin. Several streams and rivers collect icy run-off from surrounding mountains and ripple down into the Upper Klamath Lake, providing a vital water source for communities and wildlife — a water source that is also strangled in politics and pollution.
An American Indian tribal myth says that during spawning and migration, people could walk across the backs of the fish without getting their feet wet, Carl “Bud” Ullman of Klamath Tribes said. However, this anecdote of the plenitude of years past has melted into a different story today.
The Upper Klamath Lake, which flows south to the Klamath River and down to California, is now a lay of dams, dikes and drainage ditches rerouting water for irrigation and hydroelectricity. Some species of salmon have been killed off, bald eagles and coho salmon are threatened, and two lesser-known fish species, the Lost River sucker and the shortnose sucker, are endangered. Water storage in the basin has also shrunk, increasing the difficulty of draining large amounts of water for irrigation while also providing clean water for fish and habitats.
“We’ve made this system more vulnerable; it’s just sort of living on the edge now,” University geography Professor Patricia McDowell said. McDowell, who teaches classes on watershed policy, said that both tribes and ranchers have valid needs for resources, but poor management strategies have left both interests wondering whether they will be able to continue with their lifestyles.
In the 1920s , the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation came to the Klamath Basin, converted marshlands into an agricultural area and invited farmers to buy that land, McDowell said. In the beginning, the bureau primarily managed water for irrigation, but in the past 20 years, because of pressure from environmental groups, the bureau has developed more sustainable plans.
“Now, different tribal and environmental values are being stirred into the management mix,” said Ullman, lawyer for Klamath Tribes. Klamath tribes have water and fishing and gathering rights under an 1864 United States-imposed treaty, Ullman explained.
Last summer, one of Oregon’s worst droughts brought a clash of values when the government cut off the water supply to about 1,000 farmers in order to protect endangered species and meet obligations to the tribes. McDowell said the drought stirred up sentiments among farmers that the government was breaking their contract by not giving them water.
“The government didn’t think about the consequences of setting up an economy based only on agriculture,” said Monika Bilka, an environmental science major. “It’s just not sustainable.”
Bilka grew up in Klamath Falls and often finds herself caught between the strong opinions of family and friends whose businesses have suffered and those of the environmental community, she said.
“Farmers there are also trying to hold onto a long family history,” she said.
The Yanceys are among those trying to salvage their family livelihood.
“Our business is directly affected by agriculture,” Monty Yancey said. His family runs Super Spray, a crop dusting business in Klamath Falls. Yancey said he thinks environmentalists are trying to stop the progress of farmers altogether. “It’s like they are just living in a different world,” he said.
He said his concerns are also centered around the profits rolling into energy companies during times of crisis and drought.
“They are the ones who are really profiting from all of this,” he said.
Monika Bilka watched last summer’s debate pit farmers against environmentalists.
“Environmentalists and farmers are both trying to manipulate the government to do what they want,” she said. She sees the communication barrier between environmentalists and farmers as a futile cycle of stratified views.
Often left out of the discussion are the Klamath and Yurok tribes, who work with environmentalists, they say, to bring balance back to the ecosystem. They believe the Creator has put them here to take care of all that has been provided for them. Ullman explained the grief they carry, feeling as if they have failed while watching their world fall to the brink of extinction.
However, Ullman is confident the resiliency of Mother Nature makes some restoration possible.
Earlier this month, a Bush administration “working group” stepped into the scene. James Connaughton, chairman of the White House Council for Environmental Quality, introduced two proposals by conservationists. The idea is to convert delta areas that are used for cattle grazing back to natural wetlands. Wetlands serve as filters, trapping sediment from agricultural run-off and preventing it from entering lakes and polluting native plant and sucker habitat, McDowell explained.
“Water quality controls how water is used,” McDowell said.
And if the water quality is improved, more water can be released to downstream farmers, according to Steven Anderson of the Nature Conservancy, an environmental agency, which buys land for wetland restoration.
The government has recently instituted further action to resolve the situation. Commissioner John Keyes of the Bureau of Reclamation told Klamath Falls residents Sunday that the administration has already begun establishing “water banks,” or buying water from private sellers and landowners in the Klamath Basin to provide an alternative supply. Government officials have requested biological opinions from the Department of Fish and Wildlife to determine whether the bureau’s operations are a threat to habitat. The opinions are due next week.
“We intend to meet both endangered species acts and tribal commitments,” said Jeff McCracken of the Bureau of Reclamation.
“Our mandate by Congress is to provide irrigation water for farmers,” he added.
In a region where water means different things to different people, all sides seem hopeful that new federal proposals will, as McDowell said, “take the basin off the edge.”
Ullman thinks there’s another option.
“The other alternative is that they just abandon what’s going on here, which is undesirable
to everyone.”
Nicole Hill is a freelance reporter
for the Emerald.