The Russian Steppe 7: Drought

We began this series first by identifying the extent of the steppe on which our ancestors settled: it extended over five thousand miles from Hungary to the west all the way into China to the east. We then narrowed our focus somewhat to locate Molotschna more precisely: it was in the western third of the Eurasian steppe, that is, the Pontic–Caspian Steppe. Even more specifically, Molotschna lay in the Azov Upland portion of the Pontic–Caspian Steppe.

Having set the geographical boundaries, we then turned our attention to key characteristics of the steppe. The steppe vegetation was noteworthy for what was there (feather grass) and what was absent (trees, except along streams and rivers). The climate can be characterized as continental: cold winters and warm summers, although not oppressively so. More significant than the temperature was the precipitation level: on average, just adequate to grow grains such as wheat and barley. The final key characteristic of the steppe is its soil: black earth. The potentially high productivity of this soil is what set the steppe apart from other areas of Russia and led to certain areas the steppe becoming a bread basket of sorts during the second half of the nineteenth century. 

The series thus far has described the general characteristics of the Russian steppe, the average state of affairs that Benjamin and family faced. In several posts that follow, we will look more specifically at factors that were outside the norm, for better or for worse. We do so as a means of complicating and nuancing our view of life in Molotschna colony. Although the Azov Upland offered both rich black soil and adequate rainfall, on average, it was not a perennial garden of Eden. The Mennonites of Molotschna had to overcome a number of challenges as they established a home in the New Russian wilderness.

We begin, as the post title indicates, with drought. As mentioned earlier (see here), the Azov Upland where Molotschna was located averaged between 15.7 and 17.7 inches of rain each year. This amount was just enough to raise the type of grains for which Molotschna colony would later become famous. 

Of course, an average that is just above the border of sustainable agriculture does not guarantee a good crop every year. In fact, it implies rather strongly that some years would exceed the average and that some would fall below—that is, below both the average and the minimum needed to raise a decent crop.

This post and at least the next one will explore what we know about droughts on the Russian steppe, especially in terms of how specific droughts may have affected our family members. Where possible, we will ask where they were during a particular drought.

We begin with a contemporary report of a particularly severe drought, helpfully provided by a source we have consulted previously: the papers of Johann Cornies, As you will recall, Cornies was the most prominent member of the Molotschna community during the first half of the nineteenth century. On 10 June 1833 Cornies wrote a letter to Traugott Blüher, a Moscow wool merchant who brokered the sale of Cornies’s wool every year. Cornies reports:

From 10 July 1832 to 12 April 1833, we had absolutely no snow or rain here at all. This resulted in a complete crop failure. In fact, in the winter frost, the soil did not harden because it had so little moisture and ditches and holes could be dug at minus fourteen degrees Reamur [0.5º F]. Spring began with dry winds and dust clouds, and has continued on in this way until almost the present time. Wool has lost its appearance. We found it almost impossible to keep fleeces white and clean out on the pastures, especially after the sheep had been washed. (Cornies 2015, 416)

Over nine months without any precipitation would certainly qualify as a severe drought. In addition, the report of dry winds and dust clouds evoke images of the American Dust Bowl in the 1930s—a comparison that is actually more than a little appropriate. A month later (26 August 1833) Cornies wrote Blüher again:

This year’s total crop failure, particularly in all local guberniias, is causing serious shortages. Some of our neighbours are starving. In our community, starvation has been avoided by communal efforts and arrangements we find beneficial. It is still impossible, however, for us to sustain our livestock through the winter. Because no hay and virtually no pasturage is available, thousands of animals will be destroyed. This fodder shortage extends over an area of approximately 300 verstas [200 miles]. Several thousand head of livestock have been accommodated for the winter in distant guberniias at the frightfully high price of four to five rubles per sheep. But where will people without means take their livestock? (Cornies 2015, 425–26)

Cornies goes on to describe the steps he had taken to provide for his own flocks of sheep and to help both the Nogai and other Mennonites to secure fodder, but the situation remains dire. Within three more weeks Cornies pens another letter, this one to Andrei M. Fadeev, who was chairman of the Ekaterinoslav Bureau of the Guardianship Committee (see further here). This correspondence fills in a few more details and provides a more nuanced description of the situation.

The second rain we had hoped for after the summer dog days utterly failed to materialize. The first rain, however, had helped, and plants growing on ploughed fields provided winter fodder for a large part of the ruminant livestock in our settlement. But since there was nothing for the horses, most were driven to distant pastures. At present, the steppe is so bare of grass that I cannot see how our livestock can draw nourishment from it at all. I have therefore sent my horses to winter in the Kinburn region where hay and pasture can still be found. The winter supply of food for people is inadequate, but determined efforts are underway to ward off starvation. District Chairman Regier has shown great concern and works earnestly and actively to keep our community intact. The steppes, which were fresh and green in July and early August, have turned red and yellow. They have been dried out by great, desiccating storms that have been blowing in without stop for a full month. This is for us, in many ways, a year of testing. Our total crop failure will set the settlers back several years. It will also force us to look into the future and consider numerous issues that will need to be dealt with if we are to prevent similar disasters in future. (Cornies 2015, 428)

Putting all the pieces together, we can reconstruct a reasonable picture of the situation. Before we do so, it is important to note that at this time, in 1833, agriculture was both pastoral and arable, as opposed to predominantly arable, as it would become within a decade or so. That is, Cornies and other Mennonites relied on the raising of sheep for a significant part of their income. Some crops were raised, to be sure, but they did not play as significant a role in the agricultural economy as they would later on. With that additional background in mind, let us put the pieces of the 1833 drought together as best we can.

1. There was no precipitation (neither rain nor snow) between 10 July 1832 and 12 April 1833, that is, from mid-summer of one year to mid-spring of the next.

2. The crops planted in late 1832 and early 1833 (presumably winter wheat and some spring grains) failed completely.

3. The crop failure threatened human and animal alike. Some Mennonites were in danger of starving, and both sheep and horses were threatened by insufficient fodder to carry them through the winter.

4. The first rain apparently fell and greened up the steppe pastures in July and early August. However, the expected second rain did not fall, so that by late mid-August the topsoil was dried out and being carried aloft by strong winds.

5. The effects of the 1833 drought were expected to be felt for years, as Mennonites throughout the colony rebuilt their now-devastated flocks and tried to recover from their significant financial losses.

The drought of 1833 was more severe than most, but the fact that there were other droughts during the first half of the nineteenth century deserves attention. Now that we have a sense of the potential severity and consequences of drought on the Russian steppe, the next post (or two) will examine the frequency of those droughts by listing the specific years that appear to have been drought-afflicted. The final post will bring it all home, so to speak, by cross-referencing the drought years with what we know of our family, to determine if and when they may have suffered the effects of one of the Russian steppe’s many droughts.

Work Cited

Cornies, Johann. 2015. Transformation on the Southern Ukrainian Steppe: Letters and Papers of Johann Cornies. Volume 1: 1812–1835. Translated by Ingrid I. Epp. Edited by Harvey L. Dyck, Ingrid I. Epp, and John R. Staples. Tsarist and Soviet Mennonite Studies. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.