By Billy Eggemeyer, PCCA Board Member, District 9, Midkiff, Texas

Throughout this year, I’ve often thought of my wife’s favorite phrase: God will provide. It seems like He is testing us right now and seeing how long we can make it with no rain. This is probably one of the most challenging years we’ve had. I say that and am used to farming with very little water.

I was born and raised in Midkiff, Texas, and still live there today. I’ve been farming since 1975 when my dad was killed in a farming accident. I like to say I had 19 years of fun and then got condemned to manual labor. Two of my sons, Russ and Bo, came back to farm 14 years ago and we now farm together. They started out helping me when they were 10 and 12 years old. When we started farming in that part of the world, our fields were all pasture. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears have been poured into that land. I wouldn’t trade this way of life for the world, and I hope there’s still farming to be done when my grandkids get old enough to join the operation.

Anyway, let’s talk about this year. When we started making our plans back in ‘23, we figured it would be another dry year if we didn’t get any winter moisture and accounted for that. We have some irrigated cotton, but a good portion of our operation is dryland. About May 15 of this year, we got 1.5 inches of rain, got all we had planted growing, and thought it looked pretty good. We thought we’d be set if we could get one more rain in July and August. We did get another two inches of rain around September 10, but it was preceded by multiple 100 + degree days in August. After that, the dryland never grew again. Our water table dropped 20% from this year’s heat. Our drip systems once had anywhere from three to four gallons an acre, and now all they can pump out is two or lower – or none. Needless to say, this year’s harvest will go rather quickly. By the time you’re reading this article, it will likely be over.

It’s tough to keep going when a good portion of what you plant either doesn’t come up or fails. As farmers, we want to see everything through to harvest. Harvesting cotton is extremely expensive – the fuel, labor, and supplies. If you can name it, there’s a dollar sign attached to it. The reality is sometimes accepting the insurance price is what’s best for your operation. Nobody wants to hear that, but it’s true. Some years, you have to do whatever you can to survive. To put these astronomical farming costs in perspective, I bought a new tractor in 1988. It cost about $50,000. I recently had to replace the motor, which cost $35,000 – over half of what I originally bought the entire tractor for. It’s unbelievable. I probably should have just bought a new tractor.

All that to say, farming has become too much of a “you have to inherit it or marry it” occupation. I worry for the generation that is just starting. I urge ag lenders or bankers to hang with their clients during these tough times. We must have the capital to keep farming. If we don’t grow cotton, the gins lose money, the regionals lose money, and it all falls apart. What ripples out from that will affect far more than just you and me.

That’s a lot of gloom and doom, and I don’t mean for it to be, but this is my realistic take on the crop year and other events we’re experiencing. I am a PCCA Board Member and advocate, but I am a farmer first. I’ve been in the marketing pool since right after I started farming. I’ve seen the good and bad years and can confidently tell you I’ve benefitted from having those experts sell my crop. In challenging times like these, I urge everyone to at least look at and consider the pool for their operation.

I advise any farmer reading this article not to spend more money than necessary. If you’re going to irrigate, plant what you can water appropriately. Lastly, get on your knees and pray that we can get some rain one of these days. That’s what I’m doing.

You know, despite the struggles, we’ll still pay our bills. Some of the bigger, newer equipment may have to wait, but the good thing is we still have God, our family, and our health. We will see the other side of this adversity, and I feel it just like you do. We’re in this together.