ALMONDS AND MILK

            Lake Shasta, built in 1945 to meet the needs of six million residents and irrigate a third of California’s farmland is at 33 percent capacity.  It’s never been that low since it began filling in 1945.  Farmers are bulldozing out almond groves in the Central Valley due to lack of water.

            A few years ago I spent some time on an almond farm with a family trying to reduce water consumption.  They grew grass under the almonds to protect the soil from drying out.  What I remember was a massive 3 foot diameter pipe gushing water 6 inches high (I think they said it was about 200 gallons a minute) watering these almonds.

            Most almond growers have a scorched earth policy under their trees—no vegetation whatsoever.  It bakes dry in that sweltering sun, sucking out the moisture.  An acre of almonds requires more water than just about anything except leafy greens.

            Why do we need this many almonds?  Almond milk.  Most almonds don’t go into candy bars or bags to be eaten whole.  They are further processed into almond milk for folks who don’t want to drink real cows’ milk.

            Without getting into the health tradeoffs, let’s think about the ecological tradeoffs.  Almonds only grow in hot areas.  Grass grows everywhere.  Cows eat grass.  Grass protects the soil, cools the soil, holds in moisture, and grows in cold and wet environments. 

            While almond farmers losing their water saddens me on a human level, it’s not a commodity we need in such quantity from that place.  Switching to grass-based (not grain based) cow’s milk could be one of the most ecologically-friendly decisions you could make right now.  We need to reblanket the earth in grass.

            The entire Colorado River basin is also in dire straits.  I remember well the last time I visited the 4-corners region and saw the ruins of massive Native American civilizations that long ago built the highest structures on earth.  These were quite advanced and sophisticated cultures.  The archaeological consensus is that a prolonged drought gradually imploded them and they vanished.  Or migrated, perhaps to modern day Mexico.

            That happened long before automobiles and chemical fertilizers.  In the early 1800s things in what is today the U.S. got extremely cold and wet for decades—just in time to offer ranchers unbelievable grasses as they went onto western ranges.  Cycles happen.  Perhaps it’s drying out again.  Who knows?  Or perhaps if we’re listening, we can install permaculture systems and bring hydration with landscape massage.  We can and we should.

            If you were king of the west, what would you do about the water situation there?