In the Texas Panhandle, Jason Lindeman saw restoring a modified playa on his family’s land as a natural extension of the conservation mindset he grew up with. His father had long emphasized stewardship and sustainability, so participating in the Texas Playa Conservation Initiative just made sense.

Through the initiative, contractors removed the outdated infrastructure and reshaped the basin. Jason says the restored playa looks clean, natural, and meaningful for his family, especially since his parents have deep roots on that land.

For him, the project fits into a larger water story on the High Plains. Restored playas won’t solve aquifer decline alone, but they support recharge, improve vegetation, and provide habitat for wildlife. “It seems like a win-win,” he says.

Jason encourages other landowners to consider the benefits, from soil health to wildlife to the financial incentive. The process was far easier than he expected.

His restored 80-acre playa is just one basin on the map, but to Jason, it’s proof that every bit of recharge helps.

When the Texas Playa Conservation Initiative launched, Norman Burge was one of the first to get involved. Managing land in both Floyd County, Texas, and Curry County, New Mexico, he wanted better habitat for game birds and quickly saw how restoring a playa could help.

Because his acres have been in CRP for decades, the restoration didn’t change his daily operation. But filling a long-standing pit helped him understand how playas actually work — not as leaky bowls, but as natural recharge points feeding the aquifer.

Norman has seen Texas’ irrigation history shift dramatically, from roaring pumps in the 1960s to quiet, dry fields today. Windmills on his own land no longer produce water.

Restoring a playa won’t fix everything, he says, but it’s something he can do. “For me, it’s just doing my part.”

Through small but meaningful restoration efforts, Norman Burge is helping support water, wildlife, and the long-term future of the High Plains.

TULIA, Texas – There was a time, not so long ago, when the Texas Panhandle sang a different song.

“You’d drive the backroads at night, windows cracked, and you could hear the hum of gas-powered irrigation engines all around you,” said Norman Burge, a landowner in Floyd County. “Some louder than others, but always there. It was the music of the plains.”

“This land won’t fix itself,” he said. “And it won’t wait around for us to get it right. You have to be willing to do your part.”

That steady rhythm of water being pulled from the Ogallala Aquifer once fueled the region’s agricultural boom. But over the years, the music quieted — and with it came a sobering realization.

“The engines went silent because the water started disappearing,” Burge said. “And it hit me — we can’t keep treating this resource like it’s endless.”

That awareness led Burge to take action. As one of the earliest participants in the Texas Playa Conservation Initiative, he restored playas on two separate properties — 160 acres in Floyd County, Texas, and 480 acres in Curry County, New Mexico.

Found at the lowest point of a watershed, playas are round, shallow basins lined with clay soil that collect and hold rainfall and runoff, forming temporary wetlands. These natural recharge basins play a vital role in replenishing groundwater and supporting wildlife.

“I didn’t know much about playas at first,” he admitted. “They looked like leaky bowls to me. But once I understood their role in recharging the aquifer, it just made sense to restore them.”

Though he’s an absentee landowner and the land has been in the USDA Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) since the late ’80s, the decision to restore was never about short-term gains.

“This land won’t fix itself,” he said. “And it won’t wait around for us to get it right. You have to be willing to do your part.”

Burge hopes his work will not only contribute to aquifer recharge but also spark a change in mindset among landowners. He’s seen the shift firsthand — from years of unchecked water use to growing concern about long-term supply.

“A neighbor of mine used to talk about how they wasted more water in a day back in the ’40s than we have access to now,” Burge said. “It’s a different world. And we have to act like it.”

His restoration efforts have also become a quiet conversation starter in the community.

“People drive by and say, ‘Hey, what happened to that old pit out there?’” he said. “They may not say much at first, but it plants a seed. And that’s how change begins.”

Looking ahead, Burge hopes that seed continues to grow — especially among younger landowners inheriting family ground in a drier, more uncertain climate.

“If I could offer one piece of advice,” he said, “it’s to think about the legacy you’re leaving. What do you want your land to look like in 50 years? Because if you don’t act now, that decision might not be yours to make.”

Learn more about Norman’s story. Hear him talk about how restoring playas is just about doing his part for the future of the High Plains.

HEREFORD, Texas — In the heart of the High Plains, where drought is more familiar than flood, veterinarian and landowner Dr. Chris Grotegut is helping his community face a difficult truth: if Hereford wants water tomorrow, it has to act today.

“We’ve been outpacing our recharge since the 1950s,” Grotegut said. “That’s the fallacy of the irrigation experiment — nobody stopped to ask how long the aquifer could keep up.”

A fourth-generation steward of his family’s land, Grotegut has spent the last 15 years shifting away from intensive irrigation. He restored more than seven playas across his ranch and helped spearhead a community-wide water plan aimed at securing Hereford’s water future — not just for the next decade, but for the next 150 years.

“People think we’ve got time,” he said. “We don’t.”

The concept is simple: reduce water demand, increase natural recharge, and stop betting the future on short-term extraction. At the center of that plan is playas — shallow depressions in the landscape that funnel rainfall into the Ogallala Aquifer.

“A single year of irrigation can burn through six years’ worth of urban water supply,” he said. “If we want our towns to survive, we need to stop using water like there’s no limit. Because there is.”

Playas are round, shallow depressions found at the lowest point of a watershed. Their basins are lined with clay soil, which allows them to temporarily hold water from rainfall and runoff. Though they may appear dry much of the year, these unique features play a critical role in the landscape — helping recharge groundwater aquifers and providing habitat for wildlife when wet.

“You can see how fast a playa recharges just by watching how long water stays after a rain,” he explained. “The faster it disappears, the better. That means it’s going down — into the aquifer — not just evaporating.”

Grotegut’s community plan combines playa restoration, native grassland conversion, urban water efficiency, and even wastewater reuse. He believes this multi-pronged approach can help Hereford meet its needs — without relying on costly, long-shot solutions like desalination or water importation.

“A single year of irrigation can burn through six years’ worth of urban water supply,” he said. “If we want our towns to survive, we need to stop using water like there’s no limit. Because there is.”

For Grotegut, the turning point came during the 2011 drought. Despite full irrigation, his crop yields were wildly inconsistent. “We realized that if droughts got worse — and they will — we’d have no tools left to adapt,” he said. “That’s when we started putting land back into grass.”

The change worked. Since transitioning much of his operation from row crops to grazing lands, his wells have stabilized, and in some areas, water levels have even risen.

“It’s not about quitting farming — it’s about doing it in a way that works with nature, not against it,” he said. “Playas are part of that. So is native grass. So is thinking beyond the next season.”

A trained veterinarian, Grotegut says his conservation mindset comes naturally. “If your patient’s bleeding out, you don’t keep poking holes,” he said. “The aquifer’s no different.”

Today, Grotegut sees playa restoration as both a practical and ethical responsibility — especially for those who’ve benefited from the land’s productivity. He believes the cost of doing nothing is far greater than the investment required to fix it.

“Bringing water back to this region isn’t going to happen,” he said. “But we can stretch what we have. We can protect it. And we can do it in a way that honors the landowners who built these communities.”

His message to skeptics is clear: Playas aren’t a liability — they’re an asset. As water becomes scarcer, properties with healthy recharge zones and native vegetation are only becoming more valuable.

“You don’t win a race by going the fastest. You win by not running out of fuel,” Grotegut said. “In the High Plains, water is our fuel. And playas are our best bet to keep running.”

Learn more about Grotegut’s conservation efforts in this video about the 2022 Lone Star Land Steward Award winner.