110 



THE IRRIGATION AGE. 



then they must generally be closed when not used, 

 whereas if put in a second ditch they can be left open 

 until the next time. They can be put on a level and 

 the level of the water raised by a gate below, but this 

 costs some cleaning if the water carries much rubbish. 

 All kinds of small gates are in use at the heads 

 of the rows, but Eiverside, Cal., was the first to dis- 

 cover years ago that by far the cheapest in the end 

 was to lay a flume all the way along the upper side of 

 the orchard. This was first made of redwood with an 

 opening of about an inch every three feet or so. This 

 was closed with a button of wood and later with a 

 slide of zinc set in a strip of sheet zinc. These open- 

 ings once set for the right quantity of water were left 

 so for the next irrigation when the necessary head was 

 turned in and little remained but to turn in the proper 

 head of water. If the flume had cracked from drying 

 a few shovels full of earth soon made it tight enough. 

 These flumes were set in the ground, or on the ground, 



into with a few strokes of the hoe at the upper end. 

 Possibly an upturned stone or root might stop one of 

 them, and if it did the grading was so perfect that 

 the trouble could be readily seen from the upper side. 

 The irrigator looked at it perhaps once a day for two 

 or three days, possibly four altogether, depending on 

 the texture of the soil. At the end of that time the 

 ground was in the same condition as if it had had 

 from three to five inches of rain falling softly for 

 three or four days the amount thus put in depending 

 largely on the age of the trees, the size of the crop, the 

 character of the soil and somewhat on the whim of the 

 irrigator or on his desire to experiment, which nearly 

 every one was doing. It was the constant experiment- 

 ing by people of means who came to Southern Cali- 

 fornia to enjoy its climate that brought irrigation to 

 the highest perfection reached on earth. I do not say 

 this because I live here, but I live here because that 

 is true. It was the dryness of the climate and the 



Scene in the Pecos Valley, New Mexico. 



as most convenient and sometimes were on blocks. The 

 irrigation became such easy work that mere boys 

 could do it and many a retired business man from the 

 east, crippled with age or infirmity, took care of ten 

 acres of oranges and raised a large crop of fine fruit 

 alone, though having abundant means. For it became 

 a good way to pass idle time, became something of a 

 fashion, and equalled banking in commanding the re- 

 spect of those accustomed to sneer at any business out- 

 side of a large city. 



The furrows were made at first with a small corn 

 plow. But this made them most too large in spite of 

 a wheel in front. The cultivator with a furrowing 

 blade came next, then the riding cultivator and, as 

 perfection of grading was reached, a riding cultivator 

 with three furrowers was used, so that three furrows 

 were made at once, all of them ready to turn the water 



scarcity of rainfall that caused all this experimenting. 

 There were so many well to do people coming every 

 rear, determined to stay whether they could raise any- 

 thing or not. Most of them wanted to live out of 

 town and have a nice place. Had water been as abun- 

 dant as it was in the north they would probably have 

 made the same muss with it that so many did in the 

 great San Joaquin Valley. But water was scarce, wo- 

 fully scarce, and the cheapest way to get it was to save 

 it. There was a sharp limit on the wildest efforts of 

 the millionaire to turn his money into water, and noth- 

 ing to do but eke out the last drop like shipwrecked 

 mariners. 



It was the anxiety to save water that led to put- 

 ting in flumes. Even the slight leakage from these 

 was too great and they were coated with asphaltum. 

 Even this cracked too much at times and cement con- 



