HASTINGS — Bob Johnson began using the no-till farming method on his central Nebraska farm 10 years ago as an experiment.

Today, he says it's a necessity.

A drought that has lasted more than five years and increasing water demand from growing metropolitan areas are forcing farmers in the West and Midwest into trying such new farming methods as no-till that use less water.

In addition to using less water, Johnson, 77, says no-till farming leads to better yields, less time in his fields and lower fuel costs. Most importantly, Johnson says, switching to no-till is better than allowing the drought to force farmers off their land.

"For me, there is just no other way of doing it," Johnson said as perched atop a pivot recently. "It's the right thing to do."

Tom Buis, a vice president for the National Farmers Union, said he is seeing farmers switching to low-water crops or even selling land and livestock to survive.

"It's tremendously devastating," Buis said of the drought. "It has forced them to change their operations."

Farmers who use no-till don't plow fields before planting but instead plant crop seeds directly into the soil. Heavy planting equipment is used to push the seeds through the remnants of harvested crops. The residue from the old crops serves as an insulate to the soil, locking in moisture, nutrients and minerals.

Instead of tilling out weed infestations, herbicide is used to kill off invasive species, although supporters of the practice say weeds will kill themselves over time with the right crop rotation and management.

In 1998, which was the beginning of the drought in most places, 16 percent of the nation's farmland was no-till, according to the Conservation Technology Information Center based in Lafayette, Ind. By this year, preliminary data shows that number has increased to 22.5 percent.

In the drought-stricken states of South Dakota, Kansas and Nebraska, there has been a 67 percent increase in no-till adoption since 1998, according to the information center.

"In drought areas, it is growing by leaps and bounds," said Brian Lindley, a no-till advocate in Wamego, Kan.

No-till experts long have been selling the idea on the benefits it has to the soil, but scientists and farmers alike are finding it also is an ideal way to deal with little rainfall on dryland farms and reduced irrigation on irrigated crops.

"I think people are taking a really hard look at how they run their operations," said Tim Anderson, a spokesman for the Central Nebraska Public Power and Irrigation District. "No-till five years ago would have been a really tough sell."

Central owns Lake McConaughy, which has been used for irrigation since it was built in the 1940s. Because the lake is used for some energy generation and is a hotbed of recreational activity in the state, it has become a tangible portrait of the drought. As of Monday, the water level was at about 3,201 feet above sea level, or 22 percent of capacity. It hit a record low of 3,197 feet above sea level in mid-September. The lowest it had been before then was in 1956.

Next summer, irrigators in the district will get half the water they normally do from the lake.

"They're (irrigators) all on a big learning curve," said Marcia Trompke, the conservation director at Central. "Anytime you're in this harsh of circumstances, you have to think differently."

Johnson said that's what he's doing. With some controversy, Johnson, a member of the Nebraska Public Power and Irrigation District's board, has lobbied for years to stop irrigating altogether from the lake. He says there is no need to use so much water if farmers would change the way they farm.

This year, Johnson used 7 inches of irrigated water on corn and 5 inches on soybeans on his 360-acre farm. He estimates that if he were tilling his soil, he would have needed three times as much water.

The amount Johnson used this summer is about what irrigators in his irrigation district will get from Lake McConaughy next year and about half of what they are usually allotted.

"(No-till) seems to be an answer to water problems that to me, just isn't being looked at," Johnson said.

Critics of no-till say it is too expensive to implement with new, heavier planters and equipment like row cleaners. They also say the system relies too heavily on herbicides, pesticides and even genetically modified crops, such as Roundup Ready soybeans that make it easier to control weeds.

But Johnson still uses the 1948 Farmall IH tractor his father bought. "Most people wouldn't even be seen on (it)," he said. He also uses the same planter he's been using since the late 1980s.

Johnson admits herbicide use can be a roadblock for some, but maintains that after the first year, his pesticide and herbicide use actually decreased because the quality of the soil and the crop rotation took care of weeds and pests.

Advocates of no-till say the practice can be daunting at first and takes some ingenuity and a lot of courage to begin.

"The main stumbling block is probably more mental than anything," said Lindley, who is program director of No-Till on the Plains.

Farmers who begin using the method first must set aside their plows, which have been a part of farming since farmers began breaking land. Then they must get used to dirty-looking fields and the occasional weed.

During Johnson's first year of no-till farming, he spotted weeds where he hadn't seen them before and said he thought, "Johnson, what have you got yourself into?"

He suspects his neighbors still scoff at his fields, but points out that he is likely getting the same or better yields from his land — and he's doing something to preserve the soil and the water supply.

"You don't look for the immediate. It's looking for the long term and having something for the next generation," Johnson said. "It's a challenge. But it's good for the soil. It's good for me."