Freakish Flood: Arkansas Farmers Fight $250M Crop Loss after Historical Summer Deluge

Flooded by freakish summer rains, southeast Arkansas farmers are trying to salvage their crop season after a $250M loss, and waiting on word about disaster designation.

By Chris Bennett

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August 10, 2021 09:15 AM

In the same crop year as the ground groans from extreme drought in the Great Plains and West, farmers in southeast Arkansas are drowning in the aftermath of water world. In a matter of days, freakish summer rains devastated many operations, and the financial blow may push some young producers permanently out of business.

In June and July 2021, a stretch where pivots and polypipe carry the bulk of water to row crops in Arkansas, a one-two punch of near-unprecedented amounts of rainfall swamped at least 600,000 acres of farmland. Wes and Vonda Kirkpatrick’s farming operation was in the bull’s-eye of standing water, and the Desha County residents are emblematic of affected growers, forced to watch as a major portion of their production was erased for the year. “To call this tough is only a sliver of the truth,” Wes says. “I’ve never dreamed of this kind of water and never heard of it before. It has been indescribable and there will be farms that don’t survive, especially young guys with no equity.”

Absolute Crop Killer

On predominantly buckshot acres outside the tiny town of Tillar, the Kirkpatricks grow corn, cotton, and soybeans at the helm of Rondo Farms on flat topography. Their 2021 crop season at Rondo Farms started with planting in late March in clockwork-fashion, and by late May, all acres were planted, with early soybeans already blooming and setting pods. “It was cliché,” Wes says, “some of the best-looking crops of my life.”

Spread across a typical year, their farm usually receives roughly 52”-55” of rain, but during just a few days of June and July 2021 (essentially two separate weather events) the Kirkpatricks and many of their fellow farmers choked on 30”-plus of water. Bottom line, half the expected rainfall for an entire year fell in a blink of time.

On June 7-8, Kirkpatrick’s farmland turned into a figurative lake when 20” of rain fell in approximately 48” hours, leaving vast tracts of southeast Arkansas farmland with an ocean-like appearance. “I’d never seen that quantity of water drop out of the sky in that amount of time,” Wes recalls, “and the old-timers had never seen water like this. Water 3’-4’ deep over fields as far as you could see over roads. Unreal water.”

“Two weeks later, it was still draining. It’s so hard to describe, but we had big, big trees—I’m talking about 20”-diameter trunks—that floated out of the ditches and ended up in the middle of fields. Surreal.”

Approximately 600,000 acres of farmland initially was swamped in multiple counties, with half the ground holding water for days or weeks. Translated: 300,000 acres of farmland had standing water—an absolute crop killer.

In the same situation as many farmers, the Kirkpatricks had knee-high soybeans covered by water for two weeks. Adios to 60% of their soybean crop. Water in copious amounts is a multi-tool of agronomic destruction—deracinating, eroding, carrying off fertility, removing herbicides, and much more. On some fields, for example, beds washed away, leaving cotton flat on the ground—not technically dead, but floundering with the splayed appearance of a cucumber vine.

Ten days after the torrential downpour, select fields dried to the point where re-entry was possible, and the Rondo Farms crew began replanting 1,700 acres of soybeans. (Technically, they didn’t lose any corn or cotton, but the yield potential on both crops likely took a major blow.) By the very tail-end of June, with fields replanted, the Kirkpatricks hit the reset button, hopeful to get the season back on track. Instead, they were headed for July’s version of wash, rinse, and repeat.

Slim to None

Two weeks into July, as the freshly planted soybeans grew close to bloom in spots, Rondo Farms finally needed new moisture—just a drop. The soybeans were too little to irrigate, yet needed water. On July 16, 1” of rain fell. Perfect. Ideal. And enough.

On the early morning of July 17, a Saturday, Wes woke early, checked the radar and noted a single, tiny storm approaching. No worries—maybe another half-inch of water. He went back to bed, only to wake several hours later to a stationary storm. “It was crazy,” he recalls. “The little mess I saw on the radar had built up, shifted over top of us, quit moving, and was in the process of dropping almost 10” of rain on the exact same acres that got 20” a month before.”

Once again, fields were inundated, and the effect was crippling on numerous southeast Arkansas producers. “The first one in June was devastating; the second was astronomically devastating,” Wes says. “You put all you’ve got into your first recovery—mental focus, energy, and hope—all while you are trying to take care of rest of the farm which suffers. You end up farming 140% of the acres you’re used to. I hope nobody else never has to experience anything like this.”

Overall, Rondo Farms permanently lost (too late to replant) approximately 400 acres of soybeans to the second (July) flood. However, the remaining crops carry false assurance until yield is revealed at harvest. “There is a yield punch yet to come,” Wes projects. “Just a guess, but I can’t help but think this type of stress is going to hit hard. Saturated soil that long on any crop, except rice, is detrimental to yield. None of these crops are made for flooded conditions. For example, they call it upland cotton for a reason: It doesn’t like wet feet.”

Crop insurance, Wes contends, is a highly misleading solution. “Our acres are spread way out, and in terms of general catastrophic insurance, we have to lose everything to be eligible. That makes sense in other parts of the country where you might have smaller blocks of farmland. But when you’re spread out, the chances of losing everything are slim to none, and that’s a situation in agriculture that needs to be addressed.”

“We’re just a small group of farmers in the corner of a small state, and some politicians don’t realize the destruction down here,” he adds. “There is genuine need of disaster relief, but I don’t see much hope. Aid that arrives in two or three years may be too little, too late, because some farms may be gone.”

Trapped

The overall crop loss to six (Desha, Drew, Chicot, Jefferson, Lonoke, and Prairie) Arkansas counties was roughly $250 million, according to Vic Ford, associate vice president for agriculture and natural resources for the University of Arkansas System Division of Agriculture. “We did GIS (geographic information system) to get the acreage from affected counties and gave that data to our economists using 2020 NASS figures, and the damage range is $227 million to $257 million.”

On July 27, members of Arkansas’ congressional delegation sent a letter (backing Gov. Asa Hutchinson’s previous request) to USDA Secretary Tom Vilsack, requesting disaster designation for multiple counties, including Desha County.

Sara Robertson, press secretary for Rep. Rick Crawford, provided an update on the attempt to obtain aid for Arkansas growers. “Representative Crawford is actively working to ensure producers in southeast Arkansas receive assistance in the wake of recent flooding. He joined the Arkansas delegation in sending a letter to USDA Secretary Vilsack requesting a disaster designation.”

“The House Agriculture Committee recently passed by voice an $8.5 billion disaster bill which would authorize funding for a variety of disasters, including flooding,” Robertson continues. “The Senate Appropriations Committee also recently approved its FY22 appropriations for USDA, which included $7 billion for disaster assistance. We hope to see movement quickly on either proposal given the dire need for producers in the First District of Arkansas, as well as across the country.”

As for the Kirkpatricks, they put pencil to paper after both flood episodes, and found no profit—only unforgiving, hard numbers. “I know we’re going to lose this year,” Wes says. “I’ve had my wind taken away, and there’s not much to do but guesstimate about harvest, buckle down, and get ready with a plan of action.”

“This is our livelihood, it’s real-life, and it has been shaken,” Kirkpatrick adds. “Right now, I feel trapped, and I can only pray and hope, but I know we’re not alone because so many other farmers are in the same boat. Maybe our part of the country isn’t more than a hill of beans to some politicians in D.C., but I sure hope someone is listening.”