Finalist for the National Book Award An intimate reckoning with aquifer depletion in America's heartland
The Ogallala aquifer has nourished life on the American Great Plains for millennia. But less than a century of unsustainable irrigation farming has taxed much of the aquifer beyond repair. The imminent depletion of the Ogallala and other aquifers around the world is a defining planetary crisis of our times. Running Out offers a uniquely personal account of aquifer depletion and the deeper layers through which it gains meaning and force.
Anthropologist Lucas Bessire journeyed back to western Kansas, where five generations of his family lived as irrigation farmers and ranchers, to try to make sense of this vital resource and its loss. His search for water across the drying High Plains brings the reader face to face with the stark realities of industrial agriculture, eroding democratic norms, and surreal interpretations of a looming disaster. Yet the destination is far from predictable, as the book seeks to move beyond the words and genres through which destruction is often known. Instead, this journey into the morass of eradication offers a series of unexpected discoveries about what it means to inherit the troubled legacies of the past and how we can take responsibility for a more inclusive, sustainable future.
An urgent and unsettling meditation on environmental change, Running Out is a revelatory account of family, complicity, loss, and what it means to find your way back home.
The primary focus and message of this book is to explore the political, economic, and sociological factors that are leading to the imminent depletion of the Ogallala aquifer. However, I have classed this book as a memoir because it is written in first person narrative by the author, anthropologist Lucas Bessire, who is returning to his boyhood home in southwest Kansas where five generations of his family has lived as irrigation farmers and ranchers.
So in addition to learning about history of the region beginning with the displacement of the native Indians (including acknowledgment of Sand Creek and Waukesha Massacres) and the wholesale slaughter of the buffalo, we also learn about some complicated personal family history that includes a past estrangement from the author's father. But the relationship with his father is quiescent during the visit to to collect data for this book. As a matter of fact, many of the author's interviews were made possible by the presence of his father whose presence opened many doors to people who otherwise would have been inclined to be suspicious of outsiders.
The local economy depends on the availability of water and everyone knows that the source is being depleted mostly by agricultural irrigation, but a whole myriad of incentives continue to exist that encourage use at the maximum quantity and rate possible. The irony is that there are many modern tools and ways of conserving water that could stretch out the life of the aquifer, but they're not being utilized.
One of the biggest problems is that the decisions regarding use of the water is undemocratic. All inhabitants of the region will suffer when the water source is exhausted, but decisions regarding its use is limited to the few who own water rights. An additional irony is that about half of the population of the region is made up of a variety of minorities who are employed in the meatpacking and related industries, but water rights are own exclusively by a few whites and white owned corporations. And among the those who own water rights, the owners of the largest water rights are large corporations or individuals contracted to large corporations. It's a complicated story which can't be adequately explained by this review.
The book locates the author's boyhood home as being near the Cimarron River, but I was frustrated by the book's avoidance of naming any city and county names. I grew up in south-central Kansas so I wanted to know exactly where the author's home town was located. There's one place in the book where the author talks about Haskell County as being on the east side of county where his home was located. From that I have concluded that Ulysses, Kansas in Grant County is where he called home when he was young.
This book was a finalist for the 2021 National Book Award for Nonfiction.
National Book Award for Nonfiction Shortlist 2021. Unsustainable irrigation farming has taxed much of the Ogallala aquifer beyond repair. Lucas Bessire returned to western Kansas where five generations of his family lived as irrigation farmers and ranchers to better understand the factors causing the depletion and the possible remedies. As an anthropologist, he approaches the aquifer crisis by focusing on the affected residents. What he found is that industrial agriculture, eroding democratic norms and ‘novel’ interpretations of the problem thwart responsible change.
Aquifer depletion is a problem facing a multitude of countries and is bound to get worse due to climate change. Recommend this timely analysis.
I chose this book from the 2021 National Book Awards shortlist for several reasons. I’ve lived in Nebraska, above the Ogallala Aquifer. I’ve been raised in a farm family. I care about the effects of industrial farming on the welfare of Americans, our planet and our animals.
This book made me so angry! I don’t think most Americans know about the depletion of the aquifer and it’s wide ranging consequences. Would most Americans change their eating habits if they realized it would make a difference? The author includes accounts of historical events such as the Sandy Creek massacre and the Buffalo hunts of the 1800’s to link the region to expansion of the United States.
I appreciated the family narrative woven throughout the book linking the author, past generations if his family and their decisions to the vast change in landscape in southwestern Kansas. The anthropological examination of this community and their culture kept me reading.
I’ve been left with a lot of questions and ideas for research - Signs of a productive read!
This is a short non-fic about an important topic of exhausting freshwater resources about which I heard very little, namely using deep underground aquifers. I read it as a part of buddy reads for July 2022 at Non Fiction Book Club group.
According to the author, groundwater extraction is draining aquifers across the globe, and most of this groundwater eventually makes its way to the sea. So much groundwater is pumped to the surface and drained into the oceans that it is now a major contributor to sea level rise, roughly on par with melting glaciers. And while most people heard about the melting polar caps and the fright of polar bears and other animals, the equally important source of the rise is mentioned much less often.
He decided to concentrate on a local issue, as an example of the global problem, namely using groundwater in his homeland – Kansas. His family has deep roots there and partially this book is an attempt to recognize the wrongdoing and atone for his family's sins, against both environment and previous inhabitants, human and animal.
The author travels (often accompanied by his father) across the state and tries to understand how to stop farmers from overusing groundwater. Around eleven thousand irrigation wells have transformed part of the former Great American Desert into the so-called breadbasket of the world, with Kansas’ agriculture generating several billion dollars of revenue each year. Nearly all of the shortgrass has been plowed into fields. Industrial agribusiness has remade this space in its own image. And all this is because of the ‘underground ocean’. An increase in output led to falling prices and therefore incomes. To compensate farmers turned to more intensive agriculture - every fall around October, a farmer harvests yellow corn. After harvest, fertilizer and pesticides are sprayed and the same ground is planted to triticale, a winter wheat-rye hybrid. After the spring triticale harvest, the same ground is plowed and again drenched with chemicals. It is then replanted to corn and watered until shortly before corn harvest. In this cycle, the earth never lies fallow. Large amounts of water are required, as are repeated doses of chemicals. And this brings prices even further down.
Farmers around the globe are usually hard-working no-nonsense people. However, the author’s chats with ones in Kansas showed that most of them understand the problem, even if not always able to stop overusing groundwater if they want to survive as a business. Just 2 percent of water users in Kansas in 2015-7 consumed 22% of the groundwater. Moreover, the investigation in Kansas found that the top users of the aquifer were large out-of-state agribusiness corporations and the tenant farmers who leased their land or farmed for shares at their direction. So blaming farmers is often just not seeing the true top users.
There are several digressions to other topics that relate to the history of this corner of Kansas, namely the destroying buffalo and killing Indians, the great Dustbowl of the 1930s as well as personal histories of his relatives. An interesting quick read.
I honestly thought this book would be on the dry side. However, Bessire really connects the draining of the Ogallala Aquifer to society - even outside of agriculture today. Yes, agriculture a major focus along with the shift from family to corporate farming. Politics is of course a topic of major discussion with this book. Immigration and women's rights were also brought up in this book. It was actually a very interesting read on a problem more of us need to become aware.
How did this book find me?? It was a 2022 Kansas Notable Book. It is also a finalist for the 2021 National Book Award.
Lucas Bessire returns to the high plains of northwestern Kansas after finishing his Ph.d. He has a desire to reconnect with his emotionally distant father and visit the land where his family established is roots and farmed the land.
In order to farm in this area that receives little rain, the inhabitants must drill wells and reach the famous Ogallala aquifer. Lucas examines the depletion of the aquifer, the effect this depletion has on the nitrates in the soil, the impact of large corporate farming, and the power of greed.
Lucas interviews local farmers and investigates local, state, and federal water management policies. He also reads essays, letters, and publications written by his unusual great, great grandmother. Lucas finds much mismanagement of these policies that favor the large corporate farms.
This book was short listed for the National Book Award. Well worth reading. It rings an alarm bell about the negative effect of excessive pumping of the aquifer has on the environment.
A difficult, realistic, and current expose of the water crisis in Southwest Kansas. This book adds another critical layer of understanding to my experience of the high plains. I’m almost intimately familiar with these land of far southwest Kansas, and the disturbing reality of human greed sucking generations of water out of the ground is painful to acknowledge. I’m glad there are some threads of hope in this writing, otherwise it would be quite depressing. I’ve considered writing something substantive about this same area as well, and if I do I’m certain these themes will be present
Running Out by Lucas Bessire turned into a deep and haunting read for me. I thought it was a book about the Ogallala aquifer, but it is about so much more. I, like Bessire, grew up on the High Plains and quenched my thirst with water pumped from this aquifer. I, like Bessire, also trace my inheritance to the deep wells that irrigate commercial crops – a livelihood for my family for generations.
As an anthropologist, Bessire quickly reveals that this book will not only be about the mechanics, science and history of an aquifer; it is a story about depletion and about what one generation does to the next, and hauntingly, it is about what we do when we find we are active agents in this story.
If you did not grow up on the High Plains, you may wonder why any of this should matter much to you. A few quick facts revealed in the book: the Ogallala aquifer supports around one-sixth of the world’s grain produce, accounts for one-third of all irrigation in the United States, and is at great threat of running dry.
I initially expected the author to miss the nuance and complexity of both the people and systems behind production agriculture in the region; however, Bessire surprised me. While I may not agree with him on every point, he embarked on his journey into the depths of the Ogallala with an open mind and earnest approach. He makes that clear throughout the book.
To give you a taste of his writing style, which I found to be an additional and unsuspecting gem of this read, here is just one of many excerpts I underlined, dog-eared, and later reread:
“I realized I was still searching for a deeper kind of sustenance in the aquifer waters, too. Something about their destruction and the resulting absences was bringing me closer to the elements that made up my inheritance.”
I enjoyed having an anthropologist of my generation research and write about the people of the High Plains. It is hard to narrow down to one excerpt, but this one was particularly sharp:
“Depletive industry flourishes along these fault lines that turn us against the future, against each other, and against ourselves. What does it mean, then, if depletion itself may soon be one of the few common experiences that are shared by people on the High Plains?”
I’ll add one final call to action that I felt within my bones.
“We stand at a crossroads. In one direction lies the final eradication of the aquifer waters. In the other is a chance to share some of this ancient life force with the future. We know that practical alternatives to depletion abound. They lie on collective ground. The choice is ours to make. Time to do so is running out. If we fail to act, an emptied aquifer will change our lives for us. Whatever we decide, it will reverberate far beyond this time and place.”
If you give this book a read, you will learn about an aquifer running dry, but you will also learn about the culture and people of the High Plains, and quite possibly, a little about your own guilt. When we venture into our own past and look deep within the well of our ancestors, we may find the depletion of many ancient waters.
National Book Award for the nonfiction of the year 2021. MORE
The Ogallala aquafer has long supplied fresh drinking water, as well as plenty of water for crops (and livestock which was not mentioned in this book), to those on the high plains of the US without much thought. Therein lies the problem, the aquafer has been taken for granted for many generations of farmers and ranchers, but corporate greed has water-mined (depleted) this natural resource. It has not been sustained over the many generations of use or by large industry.
Lucas Bessire, an Anthropology Professor, returned to his family land in western Kansas to discover the water levels have been depleted beyond the ability to replete them in our lifetime (if ever). With climate change and other issues, this is serious and challenging for all residents of the high plains states (and the world) to survive without sufficient water.
Fact: The Ogallala aquafer supplies over 1/3 of the worlds grain produce, over 1/6 of the United States water, and over 1/10 (IIRC) of the worlds beef (BTW Nebraska beef is #1, with Kansas beef a close second!).
Actually I probably read this book a couple of time in 2 months. I love the region and the big sky. The author, Mr. Bessire is an native Kansan, with an PhD in Anthropology, he addresses Climate change and the depletion of the Ogallala aquifer, tying in the history of settlement in the region, native wildlife, and populations, mixed with his own personal experiences growing up there. He doesn't provide the answers, but examines the factors resulting in 24 hour pumping, double cropping, water rites and other practices that are rapidly depleting the aquafer, and will change life on the high plains forever, if the region does not adapt soon .
Stunning! The unbias, well researched, thorough presentation of the Ogallala aquifer - its history, early efforts to use, and the current state where we are extracting more water than the aquifer is capable to replenishing.
Truly the problem is big business and their bought politicians. Local farmers and activists are mistaken in directing their ire at each other.
A must read for anyone interested is sustainable practices.
I found this book kind of an annoying read in that pretentious “I’m an anthropologist and everything is so deep” type of way. The author vacillated between speaking in this esoteric, circular sort of way and a very straightforward manner. He couldn’t seem to pin down what exactly he wanted to talk about, touching on a lot of things while not actually delving into very many, while at the same time asserting that he was broaching the core of a subject people only danced around. I also found his attempts to weave in his daddy issues and failure to find a shawty a bit grating and didn’t think they contributed a lot. That being said, I think this text is really valuable in tracing the consequences and nuances of depletion in capitalist agrarian economies, as well as appropriating culpability without moralizing. He correctly identifies the symptoms and consequences of capitalist extractivism and runaway corporate corruption on a particular natural resource, the underground aquifer. He also examines the structural valences of depletion and variegated systems at work here. However, I got a bit annoyed at his grandstanding about solutions and causes because the cause of depletion is very simply capitalism and the solution is nothing but thoroughgoing agrarian revolution.
This book fascinated me on many levels. I gave it 3 stars instead of 4 because of the more academic tone, which could have been more compelling at times. I also grew up on a farm on the plains that relies on irrigation water, some of which is from aquifer wells. The unknown amount of depletion of the Ogallala Aquifer, the politics of conservation (mostly those preventing it), the intersection of agribusiness, plains cultures, and environmental depletion…. I’m left feeling that the plains will be left without water at some point in the near future, causing tremendous upheaval to the people living there as well as global food supply chains. Why isn’t this being addressed? Why is this entire agricultural system propped up artificially, instead of remedying the underlying ecological disaster? Also note that the descriptions of the massacres of Native American and bison extermination in this book are quite difficult to read. What a brutal but recent history.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Informative, luminous, and haunting: this take on systematic but avoidable aquifer depletion in southwest Kansas is not just a fact-filled journalistic report from an outsider. Bessire is an anthropology professor who has deep family connections here. His own ancestors were both actively involved in the irreversible exploitation and also, in the case of his grandmother, taking an opposite view, trying to provide some sanity and respect for the earth's resources. He shows how those trying to reduce the mindless depletion are excluded from policy decisions and ignored. The multiple meanings of "running out"--running out of water, running out of time, those who are pumping the water running out on their responsibilities to future generations, and more--makes the book riveting. One significant omission, however, is that, although recognizing that all the pumping is to sustain agriculture, the author doesn't explore in depth that it all goes to livestock agriculture. Far less resources would be needed if farmers would transition to crops for direct human consumption. He does mention one who switched to hemp oil, a tiny step in the right direction. Running Out very much deserves its place on the shortlist for this year's National Book Award in Nonfiction.
Incredibly interesting and depressing. A very compelling mix of ethnography, history, and self discovery in rural southwestern Kansas tackling one of the largest environmental catastrophes facing our nation: the depletion of the Oglala aquifer.
Bessire’s background as a cultural anthropologist and deep family history in the region really elevates this book. It’s an interesting dynamic that although he grew up in the southwestern Kansas, he is still perceived as an outsider by many of locals, relying on his father to be an “in” for him to gain the trust of farmers and industrial agriculturalists.
Running out tells the story of the genocide, ecocide, and destruction of the Great Plains for the sake of profit motives and bottom lines that has taken place over the last two centuries. Bessire dives into the unquenchable greed of factory farms and corporate agriculture that has choked hard working American farmers, forcing them to use the Oglala Aquifers supply beyond what is needed. Our current economic system rewards this depletion. Those with the power to conserve and save the aquifer are opting to use it all up until it’s gone instead, with no regard for the social and environmental consequences that will ensue.
Rounding up from 4.5 stars! I am admittedly a pretty ideal reader for this book which explores depletion of the Ogallala aquifer on the high plains of Kansas, partly through the author's relationship with his family and the land. The book is an honest and terrifying look at the state of water resources and the forces shaping extraction. At times, the writing is a bit heavy with introspection but the author's reflections resonated deeply with me. My favorite quote is "How do we take responsibility for the future we are making?"
While investigating the depletion of the Ogallala aquifer, the author also investigates his own past in the Kansas area that his family farmed for generations. Reconnecting with his father, Bessire gets introductions and access to meetings as well as people on both sides of the decision regarding the future of the aquifer. The author's revisit to his home and searching through the writings of his grandmother - although seemingly connecting with the land and his family - seem more of a distraction although his descriptions of the prairie and remembrances of how it was decades and centuries ago - before the current troubled times - edge into wistful longing of the productive land that needed no chemical assistance or excessive watering.
Unfortunately, humans have a habit of using a resource to extinction - the bison with all the environmental impact and collateral damage. Now it's the water in the aquifer which is being drained faster than it can be replenished.
It is rather surprising that regional water management agencies make it difficult and expensive to make any action towards conservation as they encourage depletion and foster the interests of large corporate agrobusinesses. But still few farmers are working with university programs to attempt to work with nature and limiting excessive water usage.
For those farmers that are strongly committed to eradicating the aquifer, I have to wonder where the water for their crops will come from when all the wells pump dust. . . . Perhaps a governmental agency will wave a magic wand and abundant water will miraculously appear. . . .
I originally found this on Hoopla--I wanted to read it (and about half of the NBA nonfiction longlist), and there it was! I don't usually listen to nonfiction because I read the notes, but this was fairly memoir-ish.
And this book is excellent, if hard to read. So much is about destruction and willful ignorance. From removing and massacring different Indian groups, to the killing off of the bison within just a few years, rattlesnake and jackrabbit roundups, the plowing of the shortgrass prairie and the dustbowl, to now emptying the aquifer and intentionally wasting water.
And then when I got to the end, it said to get then physical book for the notes and sources, argh! So, I did. Fortunately my library did not have a queue. And--there are maps and photos! I think this is definitely better on paper, because looking at the pictures--and seeing the maps--after the fact was not the greatest. The narrator also was not a favorite (though, frustratingly, he has done several books I am interested in!)--his tone very much sounds like he is talking down to or lecturing the reader. I got used to it though, his pronunciations were fine.
Water mining -- that's the phrase I learned from this book. The significant negative implications, the extent of the depletion of the acquifers is the midwest (and around the world as the introductory and final chapters discuss) is scary and problematic. The book is a bit meandering as it combines memoir with fact finding. One point Bessire nails is that exploitation has been with us from the beginning: from the killing of the buffalo, genocide of the indigenous people, and continuing through adoption of industrial farming/depletion of the aquifers.
Short but complex book tackles the growing issue of water where the West begins on the High Plains. The author comes from many generations of farmers in SW Kansas and that gives him access to numerous people in the region willing to speak. A complicated relationship between the author and his father runs through the story as the author drills into his family tree and how the region's economic forces play a key role in keeping the wells pumping.
Smart intricate blend of personal and family memoir, current anthropology/sociology about farmers and corporations and pumped aquifer irrigation in SW Kansas, and history of depletion and extinction for water, first peoples, and bison.
Wow! This was an amazing ethnography of the depletion of the Olgalla aquifer in southwest Kansas. Definitely pushed my thinking forward in several areas: depletion vs extraction, corporate greed, climate crisis, "Anthropocene," auto-ethnography, and anthropology of rural U.S.
This is a must read for anyone who had the pleasure of growing up in Southwest Kansas like I did. The abuse of our planet is so plain when you drive through the far reaches of SW KS, in the place where this author grew up. I could picture most of the places he spoke about, and then I was shocked by other descriptions-- like the unnatural sand dunes that exist now where farmers took money to let their fields return to native grass, but then didn't follow the progam to rotate crops and plant the grass as they promised. I wondered if I knew the men he interviewed who deny reality because they are making money amidst the imminent ruin. It is so depressing and shocking and incredible and sick.
I grew up in Kansas so I have a special appreciation for this slim book on water. I smiled at Bessire's return to Kansas to report on the water depletion and the interviews he was granted based solely on his father's relationship with the neighbors. And how those interviewees questioned his marital and church-going status as well as discussed the fate of farmland that had been in families for generations.
This is about our human impact on climate. And it's also a human interest story. Bessire comes across as humble and thoughtful and looks at his and his family's history in Kansas through a contemporary and intersectional eye.
I only knew about this from the National Book Award and hope others will read it too.
Key quote: “Destructive inheritances are not that easy to shed”
Running Out is more of a cultural study than a scientific text. That said, it’s still clearly well-researched. The book primarily explores the feelings of emotional and tangible environmental depletion while also examining generational ties between families on the land. As awful as depletion of the Ogalalla Aquifer is, a shared concern about it is what brings Bessire and his father closer together by the end of the book. It doesn’t fix the past between them, but helps in some degree to set a stronger foundation for the future.
Deeply personal family study aside, what struck me most was the overwhelming evidence of parasitism and corruption by the water board and corporate agribusinesses. The arguments for continued pumping are torturous. The Water Board claims that farmers lose money on non-irrigated lands and that continued heavy irrigation is key for economic growth. Not pumping would be ruinous and against the public interest. Farmers don’t have to use less water; they just need to take it from somewhere else.
I cannot understand the philosophy of “The water is going to run out anyway so I may as well use all of it that I can now.” In short hand, “pump now, worry later.” No one stranded on a boat would drink all their freshwater at once. The term “controlled decline,” in this case, is ridiculous doublespeak. Just change what you’re doing so the water doesn’t run out in the first place! It may even be better for the crops. Bessire includes an example of a farmer who utilised new technology to reduce water use and found out he had been using too much. When his sensors told him to cut back on irrigation, he not only used less water but grew more bushels of corn than his neighbours. And what are you going to do when the community does run out of water? You’re committing your children to being screwed over in the long term. But that doesn’t matter thanks to the rise in selfishness and individualism.
The issue is systemic and cannot be fixed by individuals alone. Insurance companies, banks, and government subsidies reinforce existing water use practices. Until 2012 in SW Kansas you had to use your full allotment of groundwater otherwise you risked losing your rights for the future (aka, “Use it or lose it”). A failed irrigated crop may be worth more than a successful one. Non-irrigated crops are considered riskier and therefore have higher insurance premiums which may be difficult for farmers to meet. If farmers pump water, they have smaller premiums and make more money on reimbursements if crop fails.
Corruption is also a massive issue. Many of the fields in SW Kansas are being run by corporations or mega farms. From 2005-2017, the top 2% of water users consumed 22% of the groundwater pumped statewide. Unsurprisingly, many of the local water board members were the highest users of water or financially benefitted from high water-using companies. These businesses can flood the local market with their own products, then force prices down, bankrupt small farms, and buy up the remaining land, resulting in further consolidation. Corporates are highly invested in depleting the aquifer for profits, as they have no incentive to change. Only landowners can vote at water board meetings, thereby disenfranchising many of those affected by depletion. In one county, 60% of farmland is owned by non-residents, however, criticism of the agribusinesses’ practices is portrayed as being an attack on small family farms and the local community. It feels like the kind of story that should be investigated by independent local papers, if they weren’t gutted by private equity.
The narrative becomes very important here, as it’s used to reinforce existing (wasteful) practices. Bessire quotes a few sayings: “Farmers aren’t stupid, they’re businessmen” and “There are two types of people: smart people and educated people.” Even my farmer grandfather used to joke about PhDs losing their common sense. Unfortunately, these “smart men” are forgetting that a lot of businessmen are stupid and corrupt, including farmers. They’re forgetting the fundamental laws of nature and the lessons of the Dust Bowl.
There may have been a few unintended consequences thanks to the Dust Bowl as well. Government aid amounts were based on profits during last three boom years before the disaster, meaning those who had been pursuing the most exploitative water use got the most financial benefits after, thereby rewarding bad behaviour. This may have led to a sly reliance on government aid, saying that “farming the government” still aligns with their “strong capitalist intentions.”
Woven into this narrative is the impact of white settlement on the original custodians of the land. The book includes the story of the Sand Creek Massacre on the border with Colorado and the extermination of the buffalo.
While the narrative does attempt to be hopeful where it can, I can’t help feeling like humans are the worst form of parasites. They consume all, move on to the next item, and continue the cycle again, be it gold, bison, or water. We take abundance for granted and feel it’s our birthright. Or maybe that’s just Western civilisation.
Note: My family does not irrigate their farm, so I'm a bit biased here. Kansas farmers say: "we have everything here except water." Then guess what: you shouldn't be farming corn. Leave it to us in the Northeast.
Interesting facts: * More than half the water used in agriculture is mined from underground * Water pumped up for agriculture eventually goes to the sea and is contributing as much to sea level rise as melting glaciers * SWGMD farmers are permitted to pull more than 3x as much water per year than all of NYC uses for domestic and industrial purposes annually. But this aquifer has negligible recharge (refill) rates * Between 1871-1874, between 3-7 million bison were killed within a 100 mile radius of SW Kansas. One man killed 204 buffalo in one go. Another averaged 25 skins a day, with the caveat that hunters said they killed approximately 5 buffalo to achieve one sellable skin. Hunting wasn’t even highly profitable. Profits dropped considerably due to glut. * Bison are matriarchal. Hunters would shoot the lead cow as the remaining bison clustered around her carcass. Another tactic was to camp at all available water sources, as bison would be driven crazy by thirst. And of course, most meat left to rot or covered in strychnine. This poisoning of the meat led to other species, such as ravens, being killed off as well. Once bison were gone, buffalo hunters targeted wolves, then jackrabbits, leading to even more wildlife extinction. * In Kansas, alfalfa takes twice as much water as corn, but the rise of mega dairy farms in the region is resulting an increase in the amount of alfalfa grown.