By Alanna Riggs
My family has been ranching in Arizona since its territorial days, and today we still live on the original homestead at the 4Y ranch in Dragoon, Arizona. In the past my ancestors have had to adapt to the changes in the land, in technology, and in culture. For the past few decades we have been adapting to a different change--drought.
The 4Y homestead sprawls out on either side of a wide shallow wash that meanders out of the Little Dragoon Mountains. Huge cottonwoods line the wash between the house and the corrals, and spread their branches far out over the sand beneath them. Back in the old days, that wash used to run year round and the little well at the head of the canyon supported the homestead’s water needs. There was even enough excess water to fill and designate a huge tank for a swimming pool. However, within my lifetime the wash has become ephemeral, if it runs at all, and the well has gone dry.
For the past fifteen years the 4Y has been supported by unpredictable monsoons and by hauling thousands of gallons of water in from off the ranch. Needless to say, ranch management has changed drastically in order to cope with these drier conditions. The cow herd has dropped in numbers, not only because of the lack of good grass producing rains in the summer, but because it is almost impossible to keep up with a thirsty herd in the summer. When those saving rains come in July and August, if we are lucky enough to have dirt tanks fill up, all artificial drinkers are turned off to encourage cattle to drink from those free watering holes. Sometimes after a good season the well at the head of the canyon gets a little water in it. But we never use it. That water that runs underground down the canyon is all that keeps our ancient cottonwoods alive year to year.
It’s not just the cattle who bear the brunt of the drought on the ranch. As caretakers, my family has made huge lifestyle changes in order to live more sustainably on the dry land. All water that goes through our houses is used until it can’t be used anymore. No water goes down the drain at the 4Y; it’s recycled. It is used again for domestic purposes like washing the dishes, or for agricultural purposes like watering the two remaining peach trees that have survived from the good ol’ days of free water. The two main houses on the ranch are also becoming water harvesting efficient, with basins to collect rain from the roof and landscaping that can direct water to gardens. We have also replaced all outdated plumbing, so that there are no leaks or waste, and are using special appliances such as toilets with EPA WaterSense labels.
Growing up with such a lifestyle has made me very aware of the importance of water in southern Arizona. It has also cultivated in me a rather personal relationship with the resource. The scarcity of this precious commodity and the reverence with which I have been taught to treat it has transformed it into a sort of deity of the land. Like all deities, its favor can make you prosper or it can destroy your livelihood by turning its back on you. It might seem foolish to make such a statement about water, but not everyone has truly witnessed the power of water. Have you ever seen a creek as the first waters of a storm come down? The dark churning roar rolls boulders and lifts trees, it is an awesome sight. Have you ever heard water drip down dry stones into a clear pool that, although it has only been there overnight, is suddenly full of tadpoles, water bugs, andsurrounded by wildlife tracks? Have you tasted the tannin stained waters that spill past the oak roots and form deep amber pools in exposed bedrock? Water can be very spiritual to those who owe their traditions, their lives, and their future to it.
As a sixth generation rancher in Arizona, I plan to return to the land after I graduate and continue my family’s legacy. I know that water issues, and indeed other natural resource issues as well, are only going to get more difficult in Arizona. I hope that, like my ancestors, I will continue to find ways to sustain the land, the water, and the animals so that I may preserve my family’s traditions through the dry times.