
In California’s Westlands Water District in the San Joaquin Valley, a sign in a dried almond crop blames Congress for a “Dust Bowl.”
On Sept. 17, the famously hypertensive Fox News commentator Sean Hannity rolled into the west side of the San Joaquin Valley, satellite truck in tow. Months earlier, the federal government had announced that it was slashing water deliveries to local farmers, after it became clear that a 2-year-old drought would grind on for another year.
Central Valley farms are muscular emblems of American-style production agriculture, growing everything from tomatoes for Heinz ketchup to organic spinach for Amy’s-brand pizzas and vegetable pot pies. The farmers on the west side of the San Joaquin Valley are confederated as the Westlands Water District, the largest irrigation district in the United States, which has a reputation for bare-knuckle combativeness. But Westlands has fared badly in the face of both the drought and water-pumping restrictions to protect a threatened fish called the Delta smelt. Last year, farmers in the Westlands district received only 10 percent of the water they hold federal contracts for, forcing them to leave roughly 156,000 acres about a quarter of the district unplanted.
Hannity and many others quickly blamed the crisis on the Endangered Species Act. His retinue set up camp on a fallowed field, clipped microphones to the area’s congressional delegation and began beaming the farmers’ plight to the world. As a boom cam floated over the sign-toting, flag-waving throng, Hannity said, “The government has put the interests of a 2-inch minnow before all of the great people that you see out here tonight.” He brandished a blown-up photo of a smelt and said: “This is what this comes down to: No water for farmers, because of this fish.”
The crowd gave a hearty boo, and the cameras turned to the darling of the hour: Rep. Devin Nunes, the hot-headed 37-year-old Republican who represents the neighboring congressional district. “The liberals and the radical environmental groups have been working on this for decades: They’ve been trying to turn this into a desert,” Nunes fumed, warning viewers: “This could happen to you.”
Nunes had, in fact, been hard at work in Washington, D.C., introducing a series of amendments that would force the federal government to ignore the Endangered Species Act when it determines how much water to deliver to farmers. When his efforts failed, Westlands turned to Sen. Jim DeMint, a conservative Republican from South Carolina. Five days after Hannity’s broadcast, DeMint introduced a similar amendment in the Senate. And that’s when the needle skipped off the record.
California’s warhorse Democrat, Sen. Dianne Feinstein, has been a longtime champion of Westlands, but she has also tried to negotiate common ground in the state’s complicated water politics. Back home, the California Legislature after years of ignoring the problem was working feverishly to hammer out a sweeping package of bills to relieve the crisis in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta. The DeMint amendment would fail, but when Feinstein learned of it, she denounced it as “a kind of Pearl Harbor on everything that we’re trying to do.”
At a press conference not long after, Feinstein approached Tom Birmingham, who runs Westlands, and pulled him aside. Feinstein managed a tight smile, and then shook her fist at Birmingham, who has contributed to her campaigns. “Tom, I’m angry,” she said. “I’m so angry that I want to punch you.”
Chastened, Birmingham later made a rare admission that Westlands had gone too far. “We just made a terrible, terrible mistake,” he said in early November. “We made a mistake, and we need to acknowledge that.”
Farms drank up groundwater
For decades, Westlands farmers relied on groundwater to irrigate the 615,000 acres where tomatoes and almonds are the two most widely grown crops. Farmers raise everything from alfalfa to garbanzos to pomegranates more than a billion dollars worth of crops in a normal year. But in the 1950s, with water levels plummeting, Westlands lobbied to be included in the federal government’s massive Central Valley Project.
The effort succeeded, and with that, the district’s star was hitched to the fate of the Delta. Two enormous batteries of pumps on the edge of the Delta feed the Central Valley Project and its sister, the State Water Project. Together the projects supply water to more than 1.2 million acres of farmland in Westlands and other water districts, and to more than 25 million people, primarily in Los Angeles and San Diego.
It’s a complex water system, but the Delta’s ecosystem is even more complicated and fragile. It is a critical link to the annual spawning runs of California salmon and is home to more than 120 species of fish, including the Delta smelt. And, by the late 1980s, it was already becoming clear that the Delta was being pushed too hard.
The first signs of trouble appeared in 1989, when the winter run of Sacramento River chinook salmon fell so low that the federal government added the fish to the endangered species list. Then, in 1993, the Delta smelt was classified as threatened.
For a time, the state and federal governments attempted to confront the problem. The Central Valley Project Improvement Act, passed in 1992, and the Bay Delta Accords, signed in 1994, both aimed to balance the water demands of farms and cities with protection for the Delta’s fisheries. Yet the Delta fisheries only got worse: By 2004, smelt populations had fallen to record lows. And pumping had actually intensified over the same period.
By 2005, water exports from the Delta had reached a record high. “We have been steadily ramping up diversions from that system, year after year, for a long time,” says Barry Nelson, a water policy analyst with the Natural Resources Defense Council. “We haven’t yet seen extinctions, but we’re on the razor’s edge.”
Farms helped, fisheries hurt
Today, the main check against extinction for the smelt is the pumping restrictions required by a U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service biological opinion. Because the pumps dramatically reshape the hydrology of the Delta, the biological opinion limits pumping during certain periods of the year to protect smelt and other species during key stages in their life cycles. An earlier version of the opinion was far less restrictive; in 2007, federal District Judge Oliver Wanger ruled that more protective measures be put in place.
Those pumping limitations effectively restrict the amount of water that can go south to Westlands and other water users. With the onset of the current drought in 2007, and Wanger’s ruling, water exports plummeted. But the fish and the communities that depend on them haven’t fared any better. Last year, salmon runs collapsed so badly that federal regulators shut down the state’s commercial salmon fishery for the second year in a row, throwing fishermen from San Francisco to the North Coast out of work.
What has been lost in much of the coverage of the water crisis is the fact that the drought, not fish-protection restrictions, is the main factor behind the water cutbacks. Lester Snow, California’s top water regulator, and David Hayes, the deputy secretary of the U.S. Interior Department, have pointedly noted that fish-related pumping restrictions accounted for only a quarter of the reduced exports from the Delta last year. An independent report by the Public Policy Institute of California puts the number as low as 15 percent.
A $40 billion balancing act
The gigantic water package that state legislators hammered out in November may breathe new life into the ideal of balancing water extraction and environmental protection. The package requires the state to establish flows through the Delta to the ocean, a critical element for protecting fish populations. It also requires the creation of an oversight council and legal backstops intended to prevent an outright run on the Delta for more water.
More controversially, however, the package lays the groundwork for some version of a peripheral canal, which would allow water users to directly tap the Sacramento River. A canal might help untangle the snarl of competing demands: It would essentially separate the water in the Delta, shunting the water allocated to farmers and cities straight to the pumps and allowing environmental flows to be used to mimic the Delta’s more natural, variable self.
But the proposal has divided environmental groups. “(The) notion that the best way to restore the Bay-Delta is to separate the fish from the water (is) as biologically unsound as it sounds,” says Jonas Minton, the water policy adviser for the Planning and Conservation League. “This is an attempt by large agribusinesses and Southern California developers to take even more water.”
Other environmental groups have endorsed the package. Doug Obegi, a Natural Resources Defense Council attorney, says that the realities of the collapsing Delta have led his group to support the plan. But, he adds, “how it’s operated whether it’s good for the environment really does make or break the project.”
The price tag might break it first. All told, the projects in the water package could ring in at more than $40 billion. This November, with a $21 billion budget deficit already hanging over their heads, voters will be asked to approve the publicly financed portion of the plan, an $11 billion bond. Even if voters approve the package, relief could still be far off for Westlands: The canal wouldn’t carry any water until 2018 at the earliest.
“How are we going to survive between now and the time that these long-term solutions can be implemented?” says Birmingham, Westlands’ boss. “If we have to live with the existing biological opinions until 2018, there are a lot of farmers in Westlands Water District that simply will not survive.”
Under siege, Westlands fights
Westlands has a defiant air of invincibility; its leaders have never blinked in the face of trouble. And Birmingham is the man charged with defending the district’s interests. Birmingham tends not to mince words, and few people are as critical as he is of the effort to save the Delta. “The pumping restrictions have done absolutely no good for the fish,” he says. “We’ve dedicated millions of acre-feet of water per year to protect those species, and they’re still declining.”
Westlands is in a genuinely vulnerable position. Before 1993, the Delta pumps could run throughout the year. Then the smelt was listed, and the window during which the projects could pump water grew smaller and smaller. Overall Delta pumping increased between 1990 and 2005, mainly because the pumps worked overtime when the window did open.
But Westlands, owing to the peculiarities of a complicated system of water priorities, has watched its share of the water become much less reliable. Westlands’ water contracts are “junior” to cities and older irrigation districts in the Valley, which get first dibs on water allotments in a drought. And, because the pumping window is now open mainly in the second half of each year, the district no longer can take advantage of any extra water available in the Delta at wetter times of the year, like winter.
The quest to reopen the pumping window lies at the heart of Westlands’ survival strategy. “What we want to do,” says Birmingham, “is restore the ability of those pumps to operate at capacity year-round.”
In search of relief, the district turned to Rep. Nunes and Sen. DeMint for Endangered Species Act waivers last year. Last March, Westlands through a broader group of local irrigation districts also sued the federal government to overturn the biological opinion on the Delta smelt.
Yet, even as Westlands aggressively challenges the biological opinions, it has been participating in a quiet series of negotiations to create a Bay-Delta Conservation Plan. That plan will likely form the heart of the Delta-management framework mandated by the new legislative water package.
Ann Hayden, a senior water resource analyst with the Environmental Defense Fund, says, “We’ve made some progress with the Bay-Delta Conservation Plan, but we have a lot of work left to address the needs of these species that are on the tipping point of extinction.”
Westlands and other water users still have not committed to any specific environmental goals in the plan. “We have to tackle the tough issues, and soon,” Hayden says, adding that Westlands’ support for the DeMint amendment has “led us to question how we stay at the table in good faith, when they’re doing this end run around the Endangered Species Act.”
The state’s environmental groups are also watching to see what happens as Congress returns this month. Feinstein has been working on several fronts to help Westlands and other water users. And Birmingham says that Westlands has not ruled out asking Congress for help in getting a waiver from the Endangered Species Act.
“We will pursue every potential remedy,” he says. “Not,” he is careful to add, “without the express consent of Sen. Dianne Feinstein.”
Fallow the land, sell the water?
In recent years, Westlands has become one of the most water-efficient irrigation districts in the state. But in any year with a less-than-full supply of water from the Central Valley Project, the district runs a deficit that it must cover by buying water in the open market or by pumping groundwater.
As the entire state grapples with drier times, agencies like the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California, which supplies water to 19 million people in Los Angeles and San Diego, are looking to irrigation districts like Westlands as potential sources for water transfers. Birmingham and many Westlands landowners are adamant that the district won’t sell its water to outsiders. “It hasn’t happened,” he says, “and it isn’t going to happen.”
Still, the prospect of selling water does quietly figure into the farmers’ calculus. “It’s gotten a lot of talk,” says Dan Errotabere, a Westlands farmer and board member. “We’ve been squeezed so hard that now people are giving up water supply to survive. If you’re a financial steward of whatever operation you’ve got, you have to consider whether it’s better to park the ground and sell the water next year.”
John Diener is the nephew of one of Westland’s founding fathers. Although he seems happiest dispensing folk wisdom from behind the wheel of his GMC pickup, he is known as one of the most progressive farmers in Westlands.
In November, Diener wheeled his GMC through his fields, checking on a crop of spinach. He had fallowed about 750 acres, and when I asked what happens next, Diener laughed: “We pray a lot!”
He thought some more. “We would like to see some biological opinions reviewed. And, God willing, it rains.”

Rep. Devin Nunes, above, introduced a series of amendments that would force the federal government to ignore the Endangered Species Act when it determines how much water to deliver to farmers.

“We’ve been squeezed so hard that now people are giving up water supply to survive,” says Westlands farmer and board member Dan Errotabere, above.

Tom Birmingham, above, who runs Westlands, admitted the irrigation district went too far in supporting the failed DeMint amendment.