By Julie Tomascik
Editor

Grass crunches as Robert Payne walks his pastures. In this summer of endless triple-digit days, he sees only brown where he should see green.

Bosque County, where he raises cattle and grows wheat, milo, corn and cotton, is in exceptional drought—the highest level of classification—and has been for weeks.

The drought started last fall. Days of hot, open weather extended it through the summer, drying up hopes for a decent year.

“The fall was pretty dry, and we were dry all the way through spring,” Payne said. “We did get our wheat up, but it didn’t do well. In fact, I didn’t even harvest it.”

He remained optimistic, though, and planted his corn and milo crops.

Still, it didn’t rain.

The corn crop failed, yielding only 20 bushels. Payne baled the stalks, offering a little something to feed his cattle.

What’s left of a milo crop not burnt by relentless heat is being grazed by Payne’s cows. It’s the only patch of green on the ranch right now.

“I turned my cattle onto the milo because it wasn’t even going to make. But once that milo field is gone, I’ll be dipping into the hay for winter. Then, what happens? We won’t have hay for the winter,” he said.

He’s feeding cubes and corn stalks, trying to stretch what’s left of his hay until cold weather sets in. Because his hay field is barren. On an average year, he bales two to three cuttings. Some years, he gets four.

“This year’s going to be nothing,” he said.

Payne has farmed and ranched for nearly half a century. He’s survived several droughts, but this one is different.

“Today’s drought is a drought like I’ve never seen before. I know we’ve had droughts before, but we went into those with some subsoil moisture. We don’t have any sub moisture this year,” he said. “Then, you add in the high inflation, the fertilizer, the fuel—well now you’re being hit from every direction you can think of. When you quadruple the price of fertilizer and then you don’t get a crop, that’s a hit that’s unsustainable.”

Now his stock tanks are drying up. Fast.

One has water, but not for much longer. Two are bone dry. Once muddy bottoms now crumble into a fine powder under the weight of each step.

“I’ve had to run some pipelines from a well to another area of the ranch to give them water. And then on some of my other places, I’ve actually started having to haul water,” Payne said.

The dusty, cracked ground in Bosque County and across Texas is thirsty. With no real chance for rain on the horizon, ranchers like Payne face tough decisions—buy hay and feed, haul water, try to lease pastures out of state or sell their livestock.

Payne has already sold about a third of his herd to relieve pressure on the land and make his hay and feed last longer.

And ranchers across the state are selling cattle in record numbers. The desperation they face is evident in the photos and videos of cattle trailers backed up for miles at local sale barns.

Some are selling packer cows. Others are selling their younger cows. And calves are also hitting the market earlier.

Market data shows over 255,000 more cattle have been sold from January to June 2022 compared to a year ago.

Ronnie Hardin, an owner of Graham Livestock Commission, LLC, can attest to the larger runs. The Graham facility broke its own record with 4,442 head on the July 11 sale. The previous record was around 3,900.

“That was a combination of the drought, plus we didn’t have a sale the week before,” Hardin said, noting there was no sale during the Fourth of July holiday. “We’ve had, probably an average of 2,000 to 2,500 every week since the drought really picked up numbers.”

He said his crew at the sale barn keeps things running smoothly for the cattle and for ranchers bringing in livestock.

“We’re probably running 1,500 head more right now than we’ve been running in years past. It’s just a combination of dry weather, no water, no hay, and feed is high,” Hardin said.

Across the Lone Star State, farmers and ranchers are staring down months of drought conditions. Lofty dreams of bountiful harvests and good calf crops have evaporated with the rising input prices and triple digit heat.

“The farmer’s saying is ‘next year will be better.’ But the only problem with next year is how many of us are going to stay in business,” Payne said. “I’m not there yet, but if it doesn’t rain and we don’t have anything for the cattle to eat in the fall and winter, then you may be forced to whether you want to or not.”

The spirit of those who work the land is deeply rooted. Unfortunately, if the rains don’t come and inputs stay high, those roots for some may not run deep enough.

“It’s just dry,” Hardin said. “Everyone just needs to pray for rain.”