<\/p>\n
Matt Barnes grew up in Pennsylvania, where forests enjoy consistent rain and most farmers grow corn. But from a young age he was drawn to the Western landscape of places like Southwest Colorado, where sagebrush and scrub oak abound.<\/p>\n
After living out his dream of running 400 head of cattle on a ranch straddling Montrose and Gunnison counties, Barnes now works with ranchers in Montezuma County and beyond to help manage their rangeland and cattle with the new challenges and pressures ranchers face.<\/p>\n
Cattle is Colorado\u2019s top agricultural product, bringing in $4 billion per year. But with drought conditions and increasing pressure for development, it is harder to be a rancher in this corner of the state.<\/p>\n
In September, Colorado Gov. Jared Polis pushed the U.S. Department of Agriculture to expedite disaster aid payments to farmers and ranchers.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to regard drought as the new normal,\u201d Barnes said, but the \u201cranching community as a whole doesn\u2019t accept climate change.\u201d<\/p>\n
The traditions and culture of the ranching community in Southwest Colorado is something Barnes and other new ranchers want to preserve, but it \u201ckeeps us blind to the future in some ways,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
In the bigger picture, subdivision development is increasing in Western Colorado.<\/p>\n
Demographics are shifting, and agriculture has fallen behind government, tourism and service industries as the leading employer.<\/p>\n
And in Montezuma County, sprawling ranches have been subdivided for development.<\/p>\n
Some are still ranches, but these are \u201chobby ranches \u2013 they\u2019re not really ranches,\u201d Barnes said, because people can\u2019t rely on them as a sole source of income.<\/p>\n
The changing landscape of the West is the \u201cone of the elephants in the room\u201d for most ranchers, Barnes said.<\/p>\n
Children are less likely to take over a ranch now.<\/p>\n
By the time their parents retire and hand the ranch over, the children have developed a career and are making more money than they would in ranching.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou see the same thing in La Plata County,\u201d Barnes said, and the pattern \u201cchanged what this landscape looks like.\u201d<\/p>\n
There are four times as many producers over age 65 in Colorado as there are under 35 years old, according to a report from the American Farmland Trust.<\/p>\n
In the ranching industry, the work doesn\u2019t pay by the hour, and there isn\u2019t much room for vacations. A century ago, this lifestyle worked because there \u201cwasn\u2019t much to compete with,\u201d Barnes said.<\/p>\n
Now, young Coloradans can get a construction job that pays more and is \u201cless complicated,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Some ranchers might sell land to consolidate patchwork parcels that are scattered and worth more money as a development, Barnes said.<\/p>\n
Chuck McAfee, who was born and raised in the area, said the outside pressure for development has increased.<\/p>\n
\u201cPeople want to come for the quality of life, but they are folks of means that drive up prices,\u201d McAfee said.<\/p>\n
Farmers and ranchers chose to cash out because the soil is dry and degraded on the land, lowering yields, McAfee said.<\/p>\n
Between 2001 and 2016, 112,400 acres of Colorado\u2019s best land for farming and ranching was converted for development uses, according to a report from the American Farmland Trust. And the number of farms and ranches in Colorado in 2019 totaled 38,700, down 200 from 2018, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Data for Southwest Colorado was not available.<\/p>\n
\u201cUsually the best farmland gets developed,\u201d said Tom Lipetzky with the Colorado Department of Agriculture.<\/p>\n
But McAfee is working to replenish the land on his family\u2019s ranch through regenerative grazing. With a combination of native and introduced grasses, there is little wind erosion and water runoff, McAfee said.<\/p>\n
Cattle graze the same paddock for a year and then move on to the next one, he said. The number of cattle ranges from 200 to 400 head on 100 acres at a time.<\/p>\n
McAfee said ranchers in the area are reticent to change their grazing system because there is a risk that it might not work. But old systems like summer fallow cause erosion and are hard on the soil, he said.<\/p>\n
The transition for McAfee was \u201cweird and scary,\u201d but with the drought there wasn\u2019t an alternative.<\/p>\n
Adapting instead of succumbing<\/p>\n
Most ranchers in Southwest Colorado now do it because they enjoy it, which is partly why more outsiders are getting involved, Barnes said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey are well-educated 20-somethings with a laptop in one hand and a shovel in the other,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Cachuma Ranch in Dolores raises Criollo cattle, which Barnes describes as the closest thing to wild cattle you can get in Southwest Colorado.<\/p>\n
Criollo are descended from Spanish stock imported to the Americas. They weigh less, and calves are smaller than commercial Angus breeds, but they\u2019re suited to the area.<\/p>\n
They survive part of the year in Disappointment Valley, browsing for greasewood instead of depending on grass year-round, said Kathryn Wilder, mother of the family operation.<\/p>\n
Drought also impacts small desert shrubs, but Wilder said the Criollo cattle can forage a larger range of shrubs and grasses than commercial cattle, and they eat less of it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWater has been a huge problem this year,\u201d Wilder said, but Criollo cattle drink less water than larger stock. When she fills water troughs, the Angus cows are there \u201cdrinking forever,\u201d but the 800-pound Criollo cows take a drink and leave, she said.<\/p>\n
The ranch also runs commercial cattle, which helps the paycheck, she said. However, it doesn\u2019t need to run as many of them.<\/p>\n
Criollo calves take longer to put weight on than commercial calves, which means a longer wait for payment. The ranch sells Criollo beef to places like The Farm Bistro in Cortez and direct customers in Dolores.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf everyone started turning over to these calves, it would be much better for the land,\u201d Wilder said.<\/p>\n
Kay and David James of the James Ranch in Durango saw their children migrate back to the ranch to rear their families here and improve the land,\u201d according to their website.<\/p>\n
Their direct-to-customer model and a demand for local food creates support for the ranch and positions it as a tourist attraction.<\/p>\n
James Ranch has 400 irrigated acres along the Animas River, with early water rights. The Jameses\u2019 cattle is scattered in different parts of the Four Corners, but they run cattle on irrigated pastures in the summer when there is enough water. They finish about 175 head of cattle for slaughter per year.<\/p>\n
But the drought still affects the ranch through higher hay prices, Joe Wheeling, son-in-law of David James, said.<\/p>\n
Less water means lower hay production, and the price for hay goes up. In the past five or six years, Wheeling said hay prices have escalated primarily because of the drought.<\/p>\n
Land prices have gone up as well, especially near Durango, Wheeling said. The direct-to-customer model has been important to their legacy as a ranch, because they\u2019ve had more customers, he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cIn what was not supposed to be a tourist season we\u2019ve seen record numbers of people buying products,\u201d Wheeling said.<\/p>\n
When supplies were low in supermarkets and big packing plants saw COVID-19 outbreaks, people wanted to buy directly from a local farmer and rancher, Wheeling said.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a really important thing \u2013 a piece of the future,\u201d Wheeling said.<\/p>\n
Andrew and Kendra Schafer shifted the focus of Cedar Mesa Ranch in Montezuma County from cattle to sheep in 2009. They also run goats because they eat things like weeds, shrubs, knapweed and invasive Russian olive plants.<\/p>\n
\u201cImports lost their ability to harvest from this land,\u201d Andrew Schafer said. But his Navajo-Churro sheep, originally obtained by Native American nations during the Spanish Conquest, are known for their hardiness and adaptability to extremes in climate<\/a>.<\/p>\n The Schafers start feeding their animals hay about four months after most ranchers in the area.<\/p>\n Cedar Mesa Ranch also benefited from a shift to local food systems.<\/p>\n Some people are skeptical at first, but the Schafers say their lamb and goat meat tastes good, sweet and mild because they do not feed their animals grains.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ve changed a lot of people\u2019s minds,\u201d Andrew Schafer said.<\/p>\n Kendra Schafer shears the sheep to make yarn for weaving and knitting, supporting a local textile industry as well.<\/p>\n \u201cWe sell a lot of that,\u201d Andrew Schafer said.<\/p>\n The Colorado Department of Agriculture is mapping an increase in smaller farm plots in La Plata and Montezuma counties, with 30 or 35-acre plots dedicated to a variety of fruits, vegetables and animals. A push for local food systems can lead to smaller plots.<\/p>\n For the Schafers, a localized market is in the same frame of mind as their holistic grazing management. They are constantly moving their sheep and goats between quarter-acre sections of pasture. The roughly 150 animals graze 1% of the land per day while the rest grows back.<\/p>\n \u201cThink about it this way: if you\u2019re out there with a lawnmower every day, it\u2019s never going to grow back,\u201d Schafer said.<\/p>\n There has to be animals on the land, he said, but the grazing system has to be viable for both the land and the animals in a time of drought.<\/p>\n