![\"Irrigation](\"https:\/\/ci3.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/E_m2A9u-v5HP6xgy9i8iO-yxekGozrlsjckqX8ikY8tzGLWnAwzeMIWK5v2fpYEi-L3PATa9vwVIr8dLzv2JmEjhq-zxF00dx6Fuj3VPgYMe_1cHEXWHHb8o6GtmH-F4gSBhI0rRHdkxyQUGIUAwfw=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/IMG_3789-irrigation-canal-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nFor two decades, the Bureau of Reclamation incentivized farmers to pump water faster than the resource could recover, despite warnings from its own scientists. This year, residents of Klamath County paid the price, as hundreds of household wells went dry.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/ci5.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/xEj_DHUnbMr7zBU3Lg8IjhdbcLrODpiO3iyJujcuF-ojcXjXWVN9MywmHyi4sTzihnRBGM2YFgzc2Bvvq-Cprk3X69SdgweOJOnUGLoNDxqDWcULqVvy6VHZqFLVbSSu8qQ=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/tapped-out-rural-no-bleed.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nThis piece is part of a collaboration managed by the Institute for Nonprofit News. For more stories in the Tapped Out series, click here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Kimberley Hasselbrink <\/a>contributed photography for this piece.\u00a0Pictured above: An irrigation ditch in the Klamath Project.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n This April, Micah Goettl<\/strong>, an emergency coordinator for the Oregon Department of Human Services (ODHS), began to hear reports of residential wells failing in Klamath County.<\/p>\n At first, this wasn\u2019t a complete surprise. The region was experiencing extreme drought. Many farmers in the area were tapping into groundwater reserves after their preferred water sources, Upper Klamath Lake and the Klamath River, had been cordoned off to protect endangered species. Wells have occasionally gone dry in previous years, Goettl said. It happens every now and then, when groundwater falls to a level lower than pumps can reach.<\/p>\n Quickly, however, it became apparent that this year\u2019s water woes were more severe than usual, and widespread: As of last Friday, more than 280 homes in Klamath County have seen their wells go dry. For the first time ever this summer, the state was asked to step in and coordinate an emergency response.<\/p>\n Even finding a temporary solution was an uphill battle: Early on, ODHS found itself competing with its counterpart agencies in California\u2014also facing waves of domestic well failures this year\u2014to buy water tanks, which can be hooked up to homes as a backup water source. Eventually, an Oregon-based manufacturer set up a dedicated assembly line to produce tanks for residents waiting to resume their lives. In the months since, private water suppliers have been making regular deliveries to Klamath County to keep them full.<\/p>\n For some residents, there\u2019s not much to do right now but hope that the upcoming winter\u2019s rain and snow will help groundwater levels recover. Another option is to deepen their wells, allowing them to tap into lower groundwater levels. However, not only is this process costly, but demand for well repair services is so high right now that waiting lists are reportedly as much as a year long. In October, ODHS announced that it would extend emergency water deliveries through April of 2022 due to poor groundwater recovery. One Klamath County resident cried when she heard the news, Goettl said: \u201cShe\u2019s on a fixed income, elderly, and was not certain how she was going to be able to continue paying for water once this stopped.\u201d<\/p>\n This year\u2019s emergency took both residents and officials by surprise, but perhaps it shouldn\u2019t have. That\u2019s because the region\u2019s ongoing groundwater woes are at least two decades in the making, exacerbated in part by the very federal programs meant to conserve water in the area, The Counter has found. Our analysis looked at drought responses within the upper Klamath Basin\u2014an 8,000-square-mile ecological region that encompasses most of Klamath County and parts of northern California\u2014and drew from interviews from dozens of sources, including scientists, agricultural groups, tribal representatives, conservation experts, and government officials.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Oregon Department of Human Services purchased nearly 300 emergency water tanks for Klamath County residents who lost access to their wells this year<\/p>\n Oregon Water Resources Department<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n In 2001, the Bureau of Reclamation (USBR), a federal agency that manages the agricultural water supply within the basin, began paying farmers to pump large amounts of groundwater out of the aquifers below. The idea was supposed to temporarily help producers access underground reserves whenever there was a run on surface water, referring to lakes, rivers, and other above-ground sources. Surface water has historically been the primary water source for many farmers in the region. However, as droughts persisted year after year, the pay-to-pump program gradually became the norm rather than an exception. Since 2001, such programs have now been activated in more years than not\u2014even as the agency\u2019s own scientists warned that water was getting pulled out of the earth faster than it could be replenished.<\/p>\n \u201cThe prevailing policy for the last 20 years has been to just try to shift surface water users temporarily, inexpensively to groundwater,\u201d said Jim McCarthy, southern Oregon program director for Oregon WaterWatch, an organization that advocates for sustainable management of water resources. \u201cThe consequences of this policy have borne some pretty bitter fruit.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Jessica Fu<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Jim McCarthy, southern Oregon program director for Oregon WaterWatch<\/p>\n<\/div>\n As domestic wells dried up this year, the emergency reignited passionate debates among residents over how to best protect the region\u2019s limited natural resources. With little sign of recovery so far, local officials are now confronting the immediate stakes of disappearing groundwater. And as one irrigation season comes to a close and another looms on the horizon, the quandary is shining an uncomfortable spotlight on the water footprint of the agricultural industry, which has defined the region for more than a century.<\/p>\n Federal dollars bankrolled unsustainable groundwater pumping<\/p>\n Before the upper Klamath Basin was a farming community, it was home to numerous Indigenous tribes.<\/p>\n The U.S. acquired the region through a treaty signed in 1864 with the Klamath, Modoc, and the Yahooskin Paiute peoples, whom the nation then confined to a reservation 1\/10th the size of the acreage they\u2019d ceded. Today, the three groups are officially referred to collectively as the Klamath Tribes. About a century later, Congress terminated federal recognition of the Tribes and wiped their reservation off the map; today, the Tribes are trying to buy it back gradually, as land becomes available.<\/p>\n In 1906, the Reclamation Service, predecessor to today\u2019s Bureau of Reclamation, began to drain the area and convert its network of lakes and marshes into 200,000 acres of farmland through the construction of dams, canals, and other irrigation infrastructure. Over the next few decades, the U.S. then distributed parcels of this newly developed Klamath Project to homesteaders as part of a concerted effort to settle the West.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The U.S. acquired the upper Klamath Basin through a treaty signed in 1864 with the Klamath, Modoc, and the Yahooskin Paiute peoples. Photographed here is a Klamath chief in 1923.<\/p>\n Buyenlarge\/Getty Images<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n For most of the 20th century, USBR\u2019s primary obligation within the Klamath Project was to provide surface water to farmers. The agency used Upper Klamath Lake in the northern part of the basin as the Project\u2019s primary reservoir. It fed into the Klamath River, from which a system of canals then diverted water into the deep, interconnected irrigation ditches that run lateral to almost every parcel of farmland, flowing from acre to acre and quenching the thirst of the alfalfa, potatoes, and cattle that have long comprised some the area\u2019s biggest agricultural exports.<\/p>\n Then came new conservation regulations and litigation that complicated USBR\u2019s water obligations. In the 1980s and \u201890s, three salmon and suckerfish species that call the Klamath Basin home were listed under the Endangered Species Act, a move that required USBR to limit surface water for farming during droughts to protect the fishes\u2019 habitats. Around the same time, the Klamath Tribes regained federal recognition and a series of court decisions reaffirmed their water rights in the region.<\/p>\n Competing interests over the use of surface water clashed during a particularly severe drought in 2001, when USBR for the first time curtailed the release of almost all water for irrigation to preserve adequate water levels for fish in the Upper Klamath Lake and Klamath River. The decision sparked outrage among members of Project communities and set off a series of high-profile protests<\/a>, including threats to force open irrigation canal gates.<\/p>\n In an attempt to prevent future conflicts, USBR that year began experimenting<\/a> with what it called a \u201cwater bank,\u201d which it hoped would reduce demand for surface water during dry years. The idea was two-pronged: First, the water bank would pay some farmers not to farm, or to farm without water, through a land-idling program. And second, it would pay other farmers to pump groundwater and use that to irrigate instead. The water bank would effectively increase surface water supplies everywhere else, the thinking went.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \u201cAgricultural irrigation uses about 98 percent of the total human consumptive water use in the Klamath River Basin.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The initiative was only supposed to be a short-term solution. Even in the water bank\u2019s early years, USBR was aware that paying farmers to pump too much groundwater could be ecologically damaging in the long-run.<\/p>\n \u201cThe impact of groundwater pumping on basin aquifers during ongoing drought conditions is largely unknown and continued reliance may not be sustainable,\u201d cautioned a report<\/a> on the water bank published by the Government Accountability Office (GAO) in 2005.<\/p>\n A decade later, USBR\u2019s own scientists sounded the alarm on the risks that the pay-to-pump program posed to the upper Klamath Basin, including to the very fisheries that the agency was mandated to protect.<\/p>\n \u201cThe unsustainable groundwater pumping that has occurred under the [water bank] reduced the total amount of water in the Klamath Basin, to the detriment of fish and wildlife, including endangered species,\u201d wrote USBR scientists in a 2015 whistleblower complaint, in which they alleged that the water bank had misspent taxpayer funds. (USBR and its parent agency, the Department of the Interior, did not respond to a detailed list of questions from The Counter. In a general emailed statement, a DOI spokesperson wrote: \u201cIn response to 20 years of water supply challenges in the Klamath Basin, Congress authorized Reclamation to fund drought response measures in the Klamath Project area.\u201d)<\/p>\n The researchers\u2019 concerns about sustainability were backed by growing scientific evidence: In 2012, federal and state researchers established<\/a> that groundwater and surface water were interconnected in the Klamath Basin. Specifically, they found that when too much groundwater is pumped in certain areas, the resulting overdraft can impact springs and streams, indirectly reducing the amount of surface water available. In other words, overreliance on groundwater could potentially contradict the water bank\u2019s stated aim: conserving surface water.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Upper Klamath Lake, the Klamath Project\u2019s primary reservoir<\/p>\n Kimberley Hasselbrink<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n If USBR was attuned to these warnings, it wasn\u2019t reflected in policy. As one dry year rolled into the next\u2014Oregon governors have issued 13 drought declarations for Klamath County in the past 20 years\u2014the water bank quickly evolved from an interim measure to the new status quo. Since 2001, it has paid farmers to pump groundwater approximately two out of every three years. In multiple instances, the program incentivized the extraction of volumes much higher than the average pumping amounts recorded prior to its implementation.<\/p>\n For example, during a drought in 2010, the water bank paid farmers to pump approximately 101,000 acre-feet of groundwater, according to a summary report on the program. That equals a more than three-fold increase relative to the average pumping volume in the Project before the water bank was established, which the U.S. Geological Survey estimated<\/a> to equal roughly 28,600 acre-feet per year. (An acre-foot is the amount of water it takes to cover an acre of land with a foot of water.) Subsequently, multiple Project towns saw water levels sink to their lowest levels on record at the time.<\/p>\n Still, USBR continued to fund groundwater pumping. In 2020, the program paid farmers to pump an estimated 96,920 acre-feet of water\u2014again tripling the area\u2019s historical pumping average and pushing water levels even further away from the surface in many Project areas.<\/p>\n Exactly how much the water bank compensated farmers for groundwater pumping varied widely from year to year, in part because there has been little consistency in who is actually running the show. In its first few years, USBR spearheaded the water bank itself; then, in 2010, it handed the reins over to an organization run by Project farmers that later dissolved following the aforementioned whistleblower complaint. Since 2018, a new group with many of the same members and staff called the Klamath Project Drought Response Agency (KPDRA), has been administering the water bank\u2019s land idling and groundwater pumping programs, subject to USBR funding and approval.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n A close up of a pressure gauge, which measures water pressure<\/p>\n Kimberley Hasselbrink<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The general idea behind the groundwater pumping program is that the federal government, rather than farmers, bear the costs associated with extraction\u2014and then some. Most years, the program has provided not only a full reimbursement of irrigators\u2019 power bills, but also an additional stipend that increased in value the more that one pumped. A KPDRA attorney said that the stipend was supposed to cover \u201coperating costs, maintenance and depreciation,\u201d but acknowledged that it did not verify whether or not the stipend was actually spent on such expenses.<\/p>\n The exact formula for calculating the stipend\u2019s value was also inconsistent. In some years, for example, the water bank paid farmers an extra $10 to $20 for every acre-foot pumped. By contrast, in 2018, the water bank reimbursed farmers 160 percent of the cost of their pumping power bills\u2014meaning that more than a third of the money expended through the groundwater program that year was paid out as no-strings-attached stipends.<\/p>\n This year, the water bank chose not to fund a dedicated groundwater program. KPDRA\u2019s attorney declined to elaborate on why, but the group\u2019s meeting minutes<\/a> suggest that it ran into difficulty meeting new groundwater monitoring requirements. Nonetheless, it\u2019s still reimbursing pumping costs in a roundabout way: With $15 million in CARES Act Covid-19 relief funds, KPDRA is distributing a flat per-acre payment to all Klamath Project farmers, which it said in its program description<\/a> could help shoulder groundwater-related expenses. KPDRA\u2019s attorney for the water bank said that the exact per-acre payment amount has not yet been determined.<\/p>\n To date, the federal government has spent at least $105 million on Klamath water bank programs, The Counter found. USBR has not responded to requests for public records detailing how much of that was spent on groundwater pumping specifically.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n For the past two decades, the federal government has treated groundwater as a limitless resource that it financially incentivized farmers to drain with little apparent thought to long-term consequences.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Even those wary of the groundwater pumping program acknowledge that it may have been a helpful means of managing limited water resources on a temporary basis. But the program turned out to be far from temporary in nature.<\/p>\n \u201cA water bank might be helpful in the short term,\u201d said Keith Schultz, a former USBR fisheries biologist and one of the whistleblowers who warned the agency about the unsustainability of the program. \u201cBut year after year it\u2019s self-defeating.\u201d<\/p>\n A key part of the issue, say hydrologists, is that USBR\u2019s water bank never actually considered how it might help restore aquifers in non-pumping years\u2014the way a person might consider putting money back into a bank account after making a large withdrawal. Instead, for the past two decades, the federal government has treated groundwater as a limitless resource that it financially incentivized farmers to drain with little apparent thought to long-term consequences.<\/p>\n \u201cIn my opinion, the use of the term \u2018water bank\u2019 for Reclamation\u2019s groundwater pumping program is a misnomer,\u201d wrote Marshall Gannett, a retired hydrologist who studied the Klamath Basin, in an email. \u201cThe term \u2018water bank\u2019 when used for groundwater implies that the water pumped was previously added to the aquifer system (for example through artificial recharge) or that it will be replenished at a later time by either artificial recharge or reduction in normal pumping in wet years. None of this was done or, as far as I know, contemplated. Simply pumping groundwater with no provision for augmenting the aquifer\u2019s recovery is not really a water bank.\u201d<\/p>\n Around 10 a.m. on a sunny morning this November, Michael Thoma, a hydrogeologist for the Oregon Water Resources Department (OWRD), was unspooling a black wire into the ground, via the mouth of a six-foot tall metal cylinder in the middle of an empty parking lot. We were at Bonanza Big Springs Park in Bonanza, a town located near the southern end of the county. The park\u2019s namesake springs were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the ditch where groundwater would typically seep out of the earth\u2014and then eventually flow into the Lost River a few steps away\u2014was dry and overrun with grasses and weeds.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Jessica Fu<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Michael Thoma, a hydrogeologist for the Oregon Water Resources Department, measures water levels in Bonanza, Oregon.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n A few moments later, the wire contraption in Thoma\u2019s hands began to emit a series of piercing beeps. Pinching the wire right at the length that had triggered the noise, Thoma pulled it back out and measured it.<\/p>\n Thoma was calculating the water level in a state-operated observation well, an annual routine. The data point that he collected at that moment was one of many that the state would record this fall. Together, this information would eventually compose a snapshot of the health of the aquifer below.<\/p>\n In Klamath County, water levels are typically at their lowest in the fall, following months of hot weather and groundwater pumping during the irrigation season. Water levels peak in the spring, after the aquifer\u2014which in this region is primarily composed of layers of sediment and volcanic rock\u2014has had months of precipitation and time to gradually recharge. Where we were standing, the water level had measured 5.36 feet<\/a> below the surface in April. By September, it had fallen by around four feet. The hope, Thoma said, was for it to recover by the time April came around again.<\/p>\n The springs in Bonanza, the ones that were absent on my visit, may offer a prescient warning about the human impacts of too much groundwater pumping. When the water level below the town gets too low, not only can it cause the springs to dry up, but in some instances, the lack of pressure can actually cause water from the nearby Lost River to get sucked into<\/em> the aquifer. That\u2019s not good: The Lost River is heavily polluted from agricultural runoff, so when it runs backward into groundwater sources, it can jeopardize<\/a> the drinking water supply and put the health of residents at risk.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n A ditch in Bonanza where springs would typically flow out of the ground and into the Lost River<\/p>\n Jessica Fu<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The state of Oregon monitors the cyclical rise and fall of groundwater using what is called a hydrograph\u2014a chart that tracks the water level over time, as measured by its distance from the surface of the ground. In a healthy aquifer, springtime water levels return to the same peak year after year. That\u2019s not what\u2019s happening in many parts of Klamath County.<\/p>\n Instead, hydrographs taken from observation wells across the region exhibit what Thoma described as a \u201cstair-step\u201d pattern: Groundwater levels may recover between fall and spring, but they trend downward on a year-to-year basis.<\/p>\n When pumping is kept to a minimum, water levels return to their usual highs every year, Thoma said. \u201cBut if you pump a little too much, then the water level is not quite going to come back to where it was the previous year. If you do that again the following year and the following year\u2014in any one year, you\u2019re not really taking out that much more water, but over the course of several years, in this case, since 2001, you\u2019re seeing a significant stair-stepping in the high-pumping, or drought years, and barely enough recovery in the low-pumping, or non-drought, years.\u201d<\/p>\n There\u2019s a noticeable correlation between periods of water bank-supported pumping and steep water level declines where pumping occurred. In 2010\u2014a year when the water bank funded heavy pumping\u2014water levels in Klamath Valley wells fell by an average of 20 feet between spring and fall, according to a U.S. Geological Survey report<\/a>. By contrast, the next year, when there was no pay-to-pump program, water levels actually rose an average of three feet within the same time frame. Water levels then dipped again in 2012, when the water bank was reactivated.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Thoma taking water level measurements in the Klamath Project<\/p>\n Kimberley Hasselbrink<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n While the federal water bank incentivized overpumping of the aquifer, the responsibility of protecting groundwater resources actually falls on the state. In past years, OWRD has urged Klamath Project farmers to reduce the amount of groundwater they were pumping through the water bank program, though the agency has not issued official orders limiting use. In drought years especially, the state agency has had to walk a tightrope: When the federal government restricts surface water use, farmers find themselves particularly dependent on groundwater to stay afloat. But without limits to pumping, and with USBR incentivizing the practice, the resource could become more scarce in years to come.<\/p>\n \u201cCurrently, there are no mandated curtailments of groundwater use within the Klamath Project area,\u201d wrote Bryn Hudson, water policy analyst for OWRD, in an email to The Counter. \u201cHowever, the Department has communicated to groundwater users since 2010 that the supplemental irrigation pumping from the aquifer system, when surface water supplies are short, is not sustainable.\u201d<\/p>\n A key part of the issue here is that once a business already has a groundwater pumping permit in hand\u2014a permit that may have been issued years or even decades before the current, ongoing drought\u2014there\u2019s little that the state can do to retroactively limit the amount used. In order to actually mandate curtailments, OWRD has to first designate a region as a \u201ccritical groundwater area.\u201d And the reason that hasn\u2019t happened yet is mundane: Hudson wrote that while the agency intends to do so at some point in the future, \u201cno timeframe has been established for the designation due to other workload priorities.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n A deep irrigation well located in Tulelake, California, a stone\u2019s throw across State Line Road from Malin, Oregon<\/p>\n Kimberley Hasselbrink<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n It\u2019s important to note that water levels are not solely influenced by groundwater pumping: Hotter weather, a consequence of our ongoing climate crisis, can increase the amount of water lost to evaporation, for example. Altitude, relative proximity to lakes and rivers, and the type of sediment below ground can also affect how and where exactly water moves during times of scarcity.<\/p>\n It also bears mentioning that what happens at any single observation well is not indicative of what happens across the region as a whole. For example, near Malin, Oregon, a Klamath Project town<\/a> close to the state\u2019s southern border, the disappearance of groundwater is particularly stark: The water level in one observation well fell to a depth of 217 feet below the surface<\/a> this September, the lowest point ever recorded. That depth is 20 feet lower than the level recorded the same time last year, and 65 feet lower than levels recorded in 2000, the first year that OWRD began tracking levels at this well.<\/p>\n Thoma suspects that local groundwater pumping is not the sole reason for this decline. A stone\u2019s throw across State Line Road separating Oregon from California are a series of deep, powerful irrigation wells that reach up to 2,380 feet<\/a> into the ground. (Infamously, California does not<\/a> currently regulate groundwater.) These high-volume pumps may contribute to a phenomenon known as \u201cinterference,\u201d where water levels in one well drop significantly because of heavy extraction nearby.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n On the other hand, wells located near irrigation ditches may actually benefit from leakage from those sources. As residential wells went dry this summer, agricultural groups in the Klamath Project have argued that diverting surface water to the Klamath Project could have dampened the severity of the crisis.<\/p>\n![\"Black](\"https:\/\/ci3.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/U42GM0fSMtM6U6M8eDyP7sBPPnSELVFymhL2gjNEpK-F91y8rUVQ-iLuS9Ue3Ij3p5Xo5ZcEVaGhxStdfpA7wRYmmLrr6paBo6DxuyeY9Hilnarw3SOyv2k8WMJ1OIzyW0p6YUcnR84Wj00b1-OyF2QiBQKhtqkNkDPhcfzE0ywS=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/water-tanks-oregon-water-resources-klamath-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"Jim](\"https:\/\/ci5.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/C5EhtCcUF_Zq1FzUi4Q2iSVxTnFYNuFkLWC3CfX8ALmAu6QPAgcM6lO6nz5-05vw6x1prfOs8HOa6HgWPsmvqEjEGAYmnF2Z2iry0onpQx-giwUU2PGhYsvaRjKCd2JmI9TVGU2t1ffCK-w54n3tQg76p1z7fIfyqFCsY_qjQrdvWlnsl-3JDthZjQM8=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/Jim-McCarthy-oregon-program-director-oregon-waterwatch-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"Klamath](\"https:\/\/ci5.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/XT7VIcRlSM3SV8CZiMs_G5QbCtumF2qOfag2iDI8Bu7YM4YJB1ZazikKawFmSc-1Uj5qYFcS4o-prcibfG3lfQFINS2Dzbe7YNezQpxMpqLLjhCqOYUn94QjrEYONpxFS6mtOMUVQcsJPpk=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/Klamath-Indian-Chief-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/ci4.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/W_VL4geWQvkommK2MVo3-F6PCZNwJlTHEKW-0p_ukyEYGdrpch5Y8cSE0Qc7K92TDxexydenvz_BTBG4itdd05iDXx6_LKXJ1FIfJiA4SYCAdEQGgL4lmYOJV7eGdnoh5sqBvn5dSjK0QpCGF-W-sEpN=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/IMG_3516-upper-klamath-lake-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/ci5.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/qDx583xHKompjVtp_d9n8IEP29PU1EYR2Q0UlGtwIFe-ppr5ntlfwzlmMxL-2DOL6JsUC5ao2PeCJmuVFSoPQNk9vlb-fQpLg1u6YXr1yik_4lY9wHUsIR780jNkdJKYUrdltKTgE5HFvRZvdMc-JIDtdcgcQO9uU8gXIxa2bQA9WUXm-VIeKw=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/IMG_3695-flowmeter-on-well-klamath-oregon-drought-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nDocumenting the disappearance of groundwater<\/h3>\n
![\"Michael](\"https:\/\/ci3.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/jSVzqilQyNkS4wevAwE94UAnZhZyeCbsIM-cGMA9IDDt28xZQ-QITtm5WgWgYTzvnXYzWVruSzJR24rVFg5Dz_PXvm9NmvWein00WdPfrWsZ38GpkCSSHJorJzHqRwVl3LpAsgoN2e5Jmk4pjrumNrc_aSPrkyPRzxXGZ86a5DnVBg=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/Michael-Thoma-hydrogeologist-measures-groundwater-112221-.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"Springs](\"https:\/\/ci5.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/OySaUWD55TwN10CVaGk-8OSpWsfIdDKIu4o561t7aoVDOEzTLi2OlhCE0RYtrCZOk38ikoTC4CI4qJge6_EKy4Tm5gbaeeDwLvVgkzryNhha9loBby5Dsz2NNeFjTAuUGAKMkKEcBZcJN0UIkMJY-uUI3CesMjr-m2sf_Xe14pn6WSa5PP5Anns0=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/springs-have-dried-up-bonanza-bridge-and-trees-in-distance-112221.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"Mike](\"https:\/\/ci3.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/qy5mYTj671If52ZldvhRLG4lelQdI5JKswcINfAnViEqHv2NUHYNSwrNmkRqkJ1wUprFxinX3HQjOjLQ9obkirQ8XVqA5qVXArR5GNMG2j7Msr_syt3PL9alUc486LU9PJx9qCt5EW8W9XOYVVW6DUjNGaofXrdl0xAF=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/IMG_3857-Thoma-measuring-water-level-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"Malin](\"https:\/\/ci6.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/82VtxJ1f9z5dc6BxQbCUuOqmX42uEjteufTJao72ESx75jec6aoVDMAIwIa8wP56ED_XU6un65ow2l1ubMFNTgVzNBrsqLkpVAh5OqfLEPNsqZBvIc76QTLE9fDCWcysQlyUADqrBqgKeh2MyoyMXugvabYBq9Hb-CcvbCaOpSoi=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/IMG_3754-Malin-well-klamath-oregon-drought-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n
![\"Ty](\"https:\/\/ci3.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/oK0Nv4jgzhs0FKy0YkaYGO10f20GT1EDffpZQyzwpOAJeEf9_z5IBjEmpYStr2BwZv6eFYCqo5Ys259F0uP__b7f-j6usnrvC2Mho9OJA3jCC85pw40KlzSVTZZrSqcv7KC-Mx4ck1clGMrTE95G3jxWR6QrgLlSp74WgRCfAjfD_CQR5wGQ=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/IMG_3595-Ty-Kliewer-Klamath-oregon-water-drought-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n![\"Kliewer's](\"https:\/\/ci6.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/ssFMDLugS3GxOvX5l3uzgRaRZeiSOMqXdDX_kXwpSqHqNIOFI_M-JKKshjMzvg9IHix0csozjCwJfdYlqOTMnJgAkNUR8Xw0zT6PBugMgSrj8D7C-iIFf_rNAKKon2Xb6tEdVPOJ6ayC2S_yuRJWIw7fKTrutFz1UKJOAHMu=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/IMG_3633-klamath-kliewer-bumper-sticker-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/ci3.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/Qh3e7dVBM7sgfxALM4AFDFHJfy4JpUTJTdNDzvMrlv1Pn2o4ApiKF9U80c916ihq3LBLVi8R6RIzc8ZPsIFVA4kW4hNkn_839B-63qHv2d8CfRvKqm75Fhc9ELoB7a9c7S7Ygxm75HOLbUmZp3aWl6E=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/IMG_3533-bales-hay-klamath-november-2021.jpg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"Don](\"https:\/\/ci3.googleusercontent.com\/proxy\/PlNxhr-UmzklpekJO5_JotE8O6_ZXCqHdWSSNQC1mWPx-MpM2FfKm_ZfVzq5QmccV5IApGBbRaxJ10cBXfVRsutHspnG1jbm1vVesertSkyRAIm0cQcVvUHubxDxdbeF8yjUOCzAw6q5tB4ilPZgasT4uY1wZKQ-GFojYUcl-Gjf-1XlA4gQ=s0-d-e1-ft#https:\/\/thecounter.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/Don-Gentry-Klamath-Tribes-November-2021-scaled-e1637614280475.jpeg\")
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n