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The Weight of Water in Every Melon

By Darron Gaus, NCAT Agriculture Specialist 

A Taste of July 

When I was farming in San Antonio, Texas, one of my favorite crops to grow was watermelon. I would often stop during harvest to sit on the sun-warmed soil, cut open a 10-pound source of potassium-rich hydration, and chat with the crew while juice flowed down our chins. I even carried a shaker of pink Himalayan sea salt in my back pocket, ready for the quick draw when that moment came. (And if you’ve never salted your watermelon, give it a try. Just trust me on this.) Those were special moments that helped us all endure the arduous work of farming. 

Over the course of nearly 20 seasons, I grew watermelons in almost every way imaginable and learned a lot about this unique cucurbit. I often pondered if the “water” in “watermelon” comes from the contents or its water-seeking abilities. Watermelon can congregate its fibrous root system to function like a central tap root. It does this in sandy soils with astounding efficiency, even potentially reaching down into the water table itself. I grew watermelons in modeling clay, the blackest of gumbos. After the first few seasons, I learned that I needed to play to the watermelon’s strengths. If I wanted the soil’s water to convert into hydration to enjoy during my future break times, I had to adapt my growing methods. 

Learning from Failure and Abundance 

I began conventionally, using industry-standard methods for growing watermelon at scale. My crew and I chisel plowed once a year and disk harrowed three times in every direction. Then we prepped the beds in one pass with the fine, almost desiccated clay shaped by a metal pan, covered with plastic mulch, and bisected by a single line of drip irrigation in the middle of each. After all that, I had to pump the water back in that I just helped evaporate into thin air. Three hundred thousand gallons of water for the five acres of soon-to-be-planted watermelons poured through pipes, hoses, and drip tape to ensure transplants or seeds had available moisture as soon as they dropped into their new home for the next 80 to 100 days.  

Time-sensitive cultivation with 12-inch listers (arrow-shaped metal sweeps designed to move soil to either side of a center furrow) and hand-weeding the holes was the only thing left to do before harvest. Plant density was high in this system, and the yield was great, but keeping up with water demands in the high shrink-swell clay was a constant failure. The hardpan that formed from so many equipment passes was impenetrable, even for the well-adapted watermelon roots. 

Farmworkers bringing in the watermelon harvest. Photo: USDA, Preston Keres.

After two seasons of conventional methods, I began implementing conservation practices that would increase organic matter, conserve soil moisture, and reduce my time on the tractor. Increasing organic matter in the heavy clay I farmed greatly increased porosity, water retention, living biology in the soil, and nutrient cycling. Cover crops, with a mix of at least three species, became my new obsession. Three quarters of the 105 acres were under cover crops designed for specific benefits: high biomass for weed suppression and organic matter, a brassica for insect trapping and greater soil porosity, and a legume for nitrogen fixation.  

The cover crops provided one more critical benefit: they captured every rain drop that fell. I no longer had rill erosion in my furrows after a two-inch-per-hour rainfall. The large rills that once forced me to waste time sweeping beds back up were gone. Soil aggregation and tilth improved. Organic matter increased and the high pH came down. Watermelons grew like they were supposed to.  

The first season of adopting this new farming approach came with its share of challenges. We had to develop innovative cultivation techniques to manage weed pressure and adjust our bed preparation methods to work with a high-residue topsoil layer. These adjustments initially led to a 20% drop in yields. However, after a season of learning and refining our practices, the results were remarkable—yields rebounded to impressive levels, all while requiring significantly less irrigation. 

Pushing the Envelope

Watermelon interplanted with Sudan grass. Photo by Darron Gaus.

Once I started seeing the changes that the conservation practices were making, I wanted to add more. I wanted to try new things, so I pushed the envelope. I wanted those juice-covered-chin breaks in harvesting watermelon in November, not just July. The only thing standing in the way was overcoming the water demand of an August planting. August in San Antonio is usually 31 days of triple-digit temperatures and no rain in the forecast. Sudan grass grows tall quickly in these conditions, so I interplanted it with the watermelon. The idea was that the Sudan grass would provide wind breaks and shade to the seedlings, helping to conserve soil moisture. And it worked! We harvested watermelon in November that year, but it came with consequences. The harvest took place in nine-foot-tall grass-walled tunnels, which made passing the watermelons to the edges of the field for easy pick-up impossible. Every single watermelon (all undersized because of lack of sunlight during fruiting) had to be individually walked out of the field. Luckily, we had 200 volunteers from the Air Force on the day of harvest, and in spite of the tall grass, they still managed to pack out 12,000 pounds of three-to-five-pound fruits in just under two hours. That November was the only fall harvest of watermelon in my career; the price of labor was too steep. I pushed it too far, but I learned. 

Water Rising to the Surface 

Watermelons taught me many lessons, but none as important as water conservation. What began as a simple pursuit of sweetness transformed into a lesson about the lifeline that sustains these plants: water. Each watermelon I grew represented the delicate balance between abundance and scarcity. I learned how much water it takes to nurture just one fruit, and how easily that resource can be taken for granted.  

Within the vibrant green rind and the refreshing red flesh is a story of soil, sun, and most critically, sustainability. In tending to the vines, I began to see the bigger picture. I saw how water connects everything: the land, the food we eat, and the future we hope to build. What started as farming became a quiet education in stewardship.  

Watermelons, in their quiet way, reminded me that what’s beneath the surface often matters most—our water, our world, our shared responsibility.  

Come back for Part Two of the sweetest story ever told. It involves compost, city citations, crowded cover crops, and conservation dryland farming. 

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The Conservation Equation: Water, Wildlife, and Working Lands

By Darron Gaus, NCAT Sustainable Agriculture Specialist 

Across the arid West, the choices producers make about how they graze, plant, and manage their soil ripple far beyond (and below) the fence line. When producers choose to implement water conservation practices, they are choosing to not just sustain agriculture, but also to protect wildlife, support habitats, and recharge aquifers that serve millions.

The Ogallala Aquifer in particular is a vital source of water for drinking and irrigation across eight states, and it is under stress. But with thoughtful land stewardship, it is possible to slow depletion and even allow aquifer recharge. The best news is that the conservation practices that recharge the aquifer also improve soil health, increase drought resilience, improve profitability, and create habitat for species like pollinators, songbirds, and even the lesser prairie chicken.

Conserving a Lifeline: The Ogallala Aquifer

The Ogallala Aquifer lies beneath the vast grasslands of the Southern Great Plains. This geological reservoir of groundwater has quietly powered the region’s agriculture and rural communities for generations. But that lifeline is shrinking. Decades of pumping, often faster than natural recharge can occur, has led to widespread depletion in many areas.

Fortunately, regenerative conservation practices offer a way forward. Practices such as managing for deep-rooted perennial grasses, rotating livestock to avoid overgrazing, reducing tillage, and increasing ground cover all help slow runoff and encourage water infiltration.

These practices are proactive rather than reactive. Building the conditions for aquifer recharge and for drought resilience requires conservation planning, instead of just reacting to weather extremes as they happen. The aquifer level responds to these long-term decisions. Managing diverse perennial cover and maximizing ground cover to minimize bare soil helps create conditions that soak in every drop of rain to sustain crops, livestock, and wildlife even through dry spells.

Working Lands, Living Landscapes

Across the Southern Great Plains, a growing number of farmers and ranchers are discovering that what’s good for water is good for the land, what’s good for the bird is good for the herd, and all of it is great for the bottom line. Adaptive grazing strategies that mimic historic bison movement patterns are helping keep grasses vigorous and resilient. Cover cropping and minimal tillage are building organic matter and protecting soil from erosion and drought. Where invasive woody species have crowded out native grasses, prescribed fire and mechanical removal are bringing back the open structure grasslands need to thrive. This isn’t about bringing back a single species, it’s about reweaving the fabric of the prairie, one pasture at a time.

This holistic approach builds a landscape that holds onto its water, supports wildlife, and weathers droughts more effectively. In the long term, it also reduces input costs, improves forage production, and helps producers manage risk. The environmental and economic benefits come hand-in-hand.

A Prairie Bird, a Bigger Picture

One species that benefits greatly from these regenerative practices is the lesser prairie chicken. Though it is federally listed and often surrounded by political debate, it stands for a much broader truth: the conditions that support its survival also support thriving grassland systems. Native grasses, forb diversity, insect abundance, and managed disturbance like fire and grazing are as important for bird broods as they are for forage and aquifer recharge. It’s all part of a holistic approach where habitat for birds, forage for cattle, and recharging aquifers are not competing interests, but complementary outcomes.

The Abundant Ogallala Project: Turning Principles into Practice

Recognizing these overlapping benefits and interwoven challenges, NCAT launched the Abundant Ogallala Project, which supports producers in adopting regenerative practices that restore prairie health and support groundwater sustainability. Whether the focus is improving pasture health, building drought resilience, or restoring habitat for species like the lesser prairie chicken, Abundant Ogallala is about supporting real, on-the-ground solutions.

This summer, the project will also host a free webinar series called From Scarcity to Sustainability: A Vision for the Southern Great Plains. Ranchers, researchers, and conservationists, who are finding common ground through stewardship, will come together to share stories and strategies about building resilience from the ground up—literally.

You can learn more about signing up for a free conservation plan and register for the series by visiting the Abundant Ogallala Project page or emailing us at AbundantOgallala@ncat.org.

A Season of Hope

Whether you’re raising cattle, growing cover crops, or restoring native range, your land can be more than a production space. It can be a refuge. A reservoir. A place where soil, water, and wildlife work together in balance. As spring unfolds, we’re reminded that every decision we make matters on our land, under our feet, and for the generations to come. It reminds us that the decisions we make on the land echo far beyond this season. It also reminds us that nature is resilient. That a rancher’s grazing plan, a patch of native wildflowers, or a single decision to leave a little more cover can make all the difference. As we walk through this season, we invite you to see your land not just as a production ground, but as a habitat. As a sponge for rain, a filter for nutrients, and a canvas for renewal. When we farm and ranch with intention, the prairie answers back. It blooms. It sings. And sometimes, if we’re consistent, it rewards us with more than mere beauty. It provides income and a quality of life we all dream of.