By Brian DeVore
HOLDINGFORD, Minn. — During Prohibition, the central Minnesota town of Holdingford was considered the “moonshine capital” of the state. The source of this fame was Minnesota 13, a quality whiskey whose namesake was an open pollinated corn variety developed by the University of Minnesota over a hundred years ago. It turns out Minnesota 13 corn, which was popular on Holdingford-area farms, made excellent liquor. At one time or another, it seemed like just about everyone, including the monks at the local St. John’s Abbey, was adding value to Minnesota 13 via illicit stills.
Given corn’s deep agronomic and cultural history in places like central Minnesota, it’s striking when farmers begin talking about the possible end of an era. “I have land that isn’t far off from being made unsuitable for corn by climate change,” Chris Mosel, who raises crops and livestock just outside of Holdingford, told me recently while taking a break from trying to get seed in increasingly mucked up ground. He has a mix of hilly and flat land some four miles from the Mississippi River. Without a doubt, it’s his low acres that have the biggest potential to churn out a bumper crop. When I visited the farm one recent fall, he was rightly proud of the corn crop he was about to harvest off that rich bottomland soil.
But for Mosel and others in states like Minnesota, such good seasons on even their prime acres are becoming the exception. During the past few years, I’ve heard variations on Mosel’s concern about the future of row-cropping from farmers throughout the Corn Belt. Mosel is in his mid-30s, and so is relatively young, but I’m hearing similar sentiments from farmers who have been out on the land for 40 growing seasons or more. This spring, crop producers throughout the region struggled mightily to plant between repeated storms that are considered 500-year events. Many acres will simply remain unplanted this year. When it rains enough, the land remembers what people, markets and government policy forget: nature bats last.
This is not a one-off year. Bloomberg recently reported that U.S. farmers have experienced the wettest 12 months since at least 1895, around the time Minnesota 13 was developed. It’s almost a cliché, but it bears repeating: this is the new normal. Atmospheric scientists are predicting that climate change will knock off weather records for years to come.
As a result, raising annual row crops will increasingly lack stability. Fields and portions of fields that are so-called “unstable” yielders are a problem. A Michigan State University study that over eight years examined 70 million acres in 10 Midwestern states with unprecedented granularity found that around a quarter of our cornfields are consistently “unstable yielders” as a result of being too wet or otherwise unsuitable for cropping. Because these low-yielders waste nutrients — the lower the yields, the less plant material there is to use up nutrients — they account for over 40 percent of the nitrogen fertilizer escaping into our water as a pollutant and atmosphere as a greenhouse gas. Wasted fertilizer is wasted money. The study, which was published in Science Reports in April, estimates farmers lose $1 billion in fertilizer annually as a result of unstable yielders. That lost nitrogen is costly in other ways: Louisiana State University estimates that this year’s fish-killing “dead zone” in the Gulf of Mexico — a hypoxic area caused by wayward nutrients flowing from Midwestern farm fields — will be the size of New Hampshire, making it one of the largest on record. As climate change accelerates, the economic, agronomic and environmental price tags attached to those unstable acres will only go up.
What’s to be done? One option is to pay farmers to allow some of that land that wants to be a wetland or even a prairie to be just that. But we need to produce food and rural communities need farms to survive, so there must be options for parts of the landscape that, with a tweak here and there, can once again be “stable” producers of cash crops. One tweak needed involves an attitude adjustment. In the Midwest, that means ending our fixation on equating the worth of farmland with its ability to raise two crops: corn and soybeans.
As Chris Mosel makes clear, it’s at times like this he could use a cash grain crop that could be planted at another time of the year, like the fall, and harvested the next growing season. Or if it was a perennial grain, it would be planted once and yield year-after-year without tillage or fertilizer. It turns out crops for a new climate reality are being developed. The University of Minnesota’s Forever Green Initiative has been experimenting with crops like Kernza, a perennial wheatgrass, and pennycress, an oilseed that can overwinter and grow alongside soybeans. What’s important about this research is that not only is it tackling issues like stand durability and harvestability, but it’s working on developing markets for these crops. Asking farmers to add a third crop to their rotation makes no sense if they have no place to sell it. Food companies like General Mills are developing Kernza-based items and at least one brewery has it as an ingredient in its beer; farmers and animal forage scientists tell me it would make a good source of feed for livestock. Pennycress can be pressed into biodiesel, among other things.
The Minnesota Legislature, which has a Senate controlled by Republicans and a House by Democrats, provided a little over $4 million in Forever Green funding this year. Many more dollars are needed to make a real impact, but this funding is an acknowledgement that focusing exclusively on corn and soybean production cannot overcome the climate change behemoth. Mosel, for one, is considering planting Kernza, and is excited not only about the production and marketing flexibility it could provide, but the fact that it would keep cover on the surface and roots in the ground 365-days-a-year, reducing runoff while building organic carbon in his soil.
Are crops like Kernza and pennycress game changers? No, but the philosophy behind this research — that we need to develop a way to insert into our annual, domesticated, largely inflexible, monocropping regimen a little wildness in the form of perenniality — is significant. Such nimbleness is key as climate change destabilizes more prime cropland — at least when it comes to corn and soybean production. The fact that Minnesota state legislators have voted to fund such research, albeit modestly, indicates some Midwestern policymakers realize that farming’s future doesn’t have to rely on being permanently shackled to corn and soybeans.
Because of its ability to mature quickly in a region where growing seasons have always been unpredictable and short, Minnesota 13 is a small example of publicly-funded science, farmers, and yes, markets, in a sense coalescing and responding to difficult circumstances. We now have bigger problems with bigger repercussions. But we still have land that can teach us a different way to respond — if we’re willing to listen.