It's Ugly, But It Works

By J. MADELEINE NASH BOONE, IOWA

Time was when the Midwestern grain belt had the manicured look of a suburban lawn. In summer, rows of corn lined up neat as picket fences. In winter the plowed earth mimicked swatches of felt brushed clear of debris. But as this year's planting season gets under way, an increasing number of growers are "farming ugly" -- gunning their tractors over fields ajumble with great clods of dirt and raggedy stalks left over from last year's harvest.

That untidiness is symbolic of a major shift in farming methods that is working its way across the nation's breadbasket. Reason: an emerging consensus that agriculture as it has long been practiced in the U.S. is a threat to the land and its future productivity.

The clean swaths that farmers have plowed across the prairie are well suited to the efficient use of farm machinery. But they encourage erosion that has allowed vast amounts of topsoil to be blown away by wind or washed into the rivers and lakes. Chemical fertilizers, insecticides and weed killers have contributed to harvests that make U.S. agriculture the most productive in the ! world. But they have also leached into groundwater, contaminating wells in rural communities across the nation. "Not every well is polluted, and not every farmer has an erosion problem," says Ernest Shea, executive vice president of the National Association of Conservation Districts. "But we realize that we'll be better off if we admit that we're part of the problem."

Nowhere are farmers more primed for change than in Iowa, proud producer of 20% of the nation's corn. In 1988 and 1989, the state's natural resources department and the University of Iowa sampled groundwater quality in 686 rural wells. Nearly 15% of them were contaminated with one or more pesticides. For Iowa State University weed biologist Jack Dekker, the survey marked a turning point. "What we had," he says, "was a one-way arrow pointing to a problem."

Dekker is one of a growing corps of experts urging farmers to adopt a new approach called sustainable agriculture. Once the term was synonymous with the dreaded O word -- a farm-belt euphemism for trendy organic farming that uses no synthetic chemicals. But sustainable agriculture has blossomed into an effort to curb erosion by modifying plowing techniques and to protect water supplies by minimizing, if not eliminating, artificial fertilizers and pest controls. "Sustainable agriculture used to be something you said under your breath," jokes Indiana farmer Jim Moseley, agricultural consultant to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. "Now the definition has broadened so that it's politically acceptable to a greater range of people, and that has opened up an opportunity for dialogue."

Not surprisingly, the most persuasive proselytizers for sustainable agriculture are those who have profited by it. Since 1981, Wilbert Blumhardt and his son Glenn have been fighting erosion on their 3,000-acre spread near Bowdle, S. Dak., by planting wheat, sunflowers, soybeans and corn in fields littered by the debris from earlier harvests. "That trash," says Wilbert, "serves an important purpose. It helps feed the soil, and it allows the water to soak in and not wash off into lakes and streams." Last year the Blumhardts' fields produced an average of 27 bu. of wheat an acre, 30% more than conventional farms in the area.

Besides using new planting methods, farmers are experimenting with novel ways of fighting pests without resorting to chemical weapons. Joe and Dalton Maddox, a father-son team in Colorado City, Texas, once tried to eliminate mesquite on their 22,000-acre sheep-and-cattle ranch by dousing it with herbicides. Now they let the mesquite grow, relying on a cover of luxuriant pasture to control its spreading. "We used to spray for cockleburs, which were a big problem for our sheep," says Joe Maddox. "They would get into the wool and damage it. Then we got to thinking of what the herbicide might be doing to Lake Spence, which is a source of drinking water for a number of people." Instead of spraying, the Maddoxes now bait cocklebur stands with salt to attract cattle. The cattle mill around the salt, crushing the pesky cockleburs underfoot.

One of the most effective ways to reduce chemical use is also one of the simplest: crop rotation. Dick and Sharon Thompson of Boone, Iowa, do not merely rotate corn and soybeans, as many of their neighbors do. They also include in their scheme legumes such as alfalfa and red clover, taking advantage of those plants' nitrogen-fixing ability to reduce the need for fertilizer when they plant corn. To control weeds, the Thompsons rely on mechanical cultivation, restricting their use of herbicides to hand-spraying the recalcitrant thistles that grow along fencerows. Hogs and cattle round out the operation, a reliable source of manure that takes the place of chemical fertilizer.

Abutting the Thompson place is land farmed by neighbor Dave Snyder. Like many larger growers, Snyder has judiciously reduced his use of chemicals over the years. But he finds the idea of replacing herbicides with mechanical cultivation on 1,800 acres wildly impractical. Last fall the U.S. Department of Agriculture began a multiyear study of two fields farmed by Snyder and Dick Thompson. Snyder's field produced eight more bushels of corn an acre. But Thompson's field was riddled with soil-enriching earthworms, while Snyder's boasted none.

Despite its benefits, sustainable agriculture is not a panacea. Attempts to prevent soil erosion, for example, could enhance the ease with which water seeps into the soil, and might actually speed the passage of chemicals into underlying aquifers. Manure is organic, but if carelessly applied, it can pollute drinking water with nitrates as easily as artificial fertilizers do.

Ultimately, the spread of sustainable agriculture will be determined by economics. High prices for pesticide-free produce have encouraged large California growers like Mike Yurosek & Son, which last year committed 1,100 acres to organic carrots. "Farmers have to be convinced that these techniques are profitable," underscores Paul Thompson, an agricultural ethicist at Texas A&M University, "and that they will not involve a personal sacrifice." Farmers remain wary of efforts by environmental groups to legislate reductions in chemical use. In California, for instance, an initiative nicknamed the Big Green is poised to appear on the ballot come November. Among other things, it threatens to phase out up to 15% of the pesticides currently used in the state. California's influential farm lobby is preparing a massive counterattack.

Another vexing deterrent to change has been the federal commodity program, which bases the subsidy payments a farmer receives on the number of acres planted in specified crops like corn. Thus farmers who rely heavily on chemical fertilizers and pesticides to grow corn year after year are rewarded with larger payments, while those who renew their land by rotating corn with other crops are penalized. Last year a National Academy of Sciences committee urged Congress to correct the bias. The committee also recommended that cosmetic standards for fruits and vegetables be relaxed. "The standards force farmers to use more pesticides," notes Iowa State agronomist John Pesek, who chaired the panel, "but when an orange gets squeezed into juice, who cares what it looks like?" As pressure from environmentalists mounts, Congress may be more inclined than ever to make such changes. Already the U.S. Senate agriculture committee has tacked an ambitious water-quality program onto its version of the 1990 Farm Bill.

Regardless of what the government decides, a broad shift in attitude has begun. "It used to be chemicals were so cheap that if a little bit was good, more was better," observes Dean Kleckner, president of the American Farm Bureau Federation, the nation's largest farmers' organization. "That's no longer true. Today we use as little as we can to get the job done, and ten years from now we'll be using even less." In the end, the best hope for change resides not in laws but in the intelligence of those with the most to lose if the farm environment is despoiled.