Texas and Cotton Farmer's Dilemma
December 25, 1998
Once upon a time, in a land far away, lived a cotton farmer named Claud Simms. He grew a beautiful crop of cotton and took great pride in his farming talents. Certainly he was not rich, but he owned his own farm in the Texas Rolling Plains. A moderate but neat brick home faced the country road. In back were equipment sheds containing well maintained John Deere tractors and all the equipment that his operation required. The garage was filled with a fairly new chevy pickup and car.
Claud loved to have visitors come to his farm so he could brag about the dryland cotton farming system that he had developed. He especially liked to have visitors come during the really dry, droughty years because his dryland crop was usually green and growing when neighbor’s crops were thirsty and wilting. He was fond of saying “I return lots of organic matter to the soil after a cotton crop. I chisel deeply to loosen the soil so that it can hold whatever rain falls in this dry country. Soil erosion is seldom a problem because my soil acts like a sponge to soak up the rainfall.”
But one of his proudest achievements was based on his ability to grow profitable cotton crops without insecticides. Claud did not like to use insecticides. “Look,” he would explain to his visitors, “see that fragile, dainty, green insect. It’s a lacewing. Young lacewings eat aphids so I seldom have aphid problems. If I use insecticides, they will kill all the green lacewings and then I’ll have bad aphid problems.
“Some farmers in this area irrigate their cotton crops and have bad boll weevil problems. These weevils are a fairly minor problem because I harvest my crop early before weevils are ready to overwinter. Some farmers shoot for higher yields that require a longer growing season that results in more boll weevils.
“The other insect pest that I worry about is the bollworm. But I have a solution for it too.” Claude removed a wooden box from a cooler and opened the top. Inside were thousands and maybe millions of dead lady beetles. At least they appeared to be dead. After a short exposure to the hot, cotton country weather, they began to move. Claud explained “when I find a few bollworm eggs in my cotton field, I open a few of these boxes when it is still cool in the morning. I place the boxes in the field and the beetles emerge and start eating my bollworm eggs. Some experts believe that most of the lady beetles simply fly away and don’t help much. But I believe that are making me money. After seeing my crops, some of my neighbors buy lady beetles from me for their crops.
Claud’s young son often said that he “wanted to be a cotton farmer – like his dad – when he grew up. Little wonder! Claud was a good father and a respected member of the community. He paid his bills and was deacon in the Baptist Church.
Little did Claud know, but his life was about to experience a dramatic change. Some large cotton farmers in the northern part of the county were having a severe outbreak of boll weevils. It seemed that every time a new irrigation well was dug, more boll weevils appeared. But after investing so much money into digging wells, buying pumps and other irrigation equipment, these farmers were not about to give up easily on potentially high yields.
One of the larger farmers had an idea. His insecticides bills had been mounting from trying to control boll weevils. He visited the State Agriculture College, where he sought advice. One expert told the farmer that his problem was related to the fact that boll weevil survival is higher in irrigated cotton – maybe he might consider returning to dry land production. But the farmer owed the bank, some equipment companies and his local insecticide company a small fortune. The only way he could pay off his debts was to make high yields – about two bales per acre – consistently for the next few years. He was totally committed. He could not return to growing lower yielding cotton – bankruptcy would certainly follow.
So he visited another expert that he hoped would give him an answer more suitable to his needs. “Its fairly easy” came the advise. Organize other farmers with similar problems, then jointly hire an airplane to spray when I recommend. This idea sounded good to the farmer, “I’ll do it” he exclaimed. But on his drive back to the farm, the farmer had another idea. “The boll weevil is a social problem” he rationalized. A lot of farmers are really hurting because of this pest. We should tackle this problem as a community problem. If we can convince our congressmen that this pest is a disaster for cotton growers and related agribusiness, maybe we can get the state to pay for our insect control. So with their new scientist-expert on their side, they descended on the State Capital, twisted a few arms and the state agreed to pay for boll weevil eradication.
So now our friend Claud Simms was approached by the newly formed Boll Weevil Eradication Committee. “Join us in this important cause” they said. The State has agreed to pay for the control of your boll weevils.” It is in the best interest of the “community” for you to join with us.”
“Makes sense” replied Claude. “But I don’t have a boll weevil problem. Why should I sacrifice my own best interests so that you guys can get free boll weevil control? If you come spray my cotton fields you will not only kill all the lady beetles that I have released, you will also kill all the lacewings that control aphid pests. Sorry, but please keep your airplanes out of my cotton field.”
At a meeting of the Boll Weevil Eradication Committee, the question was asked “what right does Claud Simms have to refuse our invitation to join this important quest? We cannot eradicate the boll weevil if any single farmer does not join because his weevils will reinfest all our fields. “Maybe some of you folks who are neighbors of Claude’s could drop by and help convince him that it is in his best interest to join with us.”
Shortly thereafter, Claud’s son came home from school crying. “The other kids called me a scumbag because my father won’t cooperate with the eradication program.”
Then Claud’s wife came home from a meeting at the church. “Are you sure you are doing what is best?” she asked.
That night Claud could not sleep. He tossed and turned all night as he reviewed reasons why he should or should not cooperate and decided that it was a matter of principle. It is still suppose to be a free country. A man has the right to control what happens on his own property. As the night wore on, he became more and more irritated and agitated. The next day, he watched as the planes begin to spray his neighbor’s fields. But then he noticed that when they flew across his farm, even though they did not drop down low to spray, they did not turn off their spray nozzles. They were spraying his fields from a high altitude without his permission. Claud was beside himself. “In Texas it is legal to shoot a man found in bed with your wife. What these pilots are doing is just as bad as sleeping with my wife!” He went inside the house and came out armed with a shotgun. The next time the plane came across his farm, Claud fired at the planes. The pilot could hear the birdshot ping harmlessly off the skin of the plane and realized that he was being shot at.
A few days later, a couple of sheriff deputies dropped by to visit Claud. His friends would no longer speak to him at church. He ultimately became a social outcast in his community. His reputation was ruined by stories about how he had gone crazy and shot at an airplane. That he was too dumb to take advantage of the free State weevil control.
The Boll Weevil Eradication Committee decided not to take legal action against Claud for shooting at the plane. But it didn’t matter. Poor Claud’s health began to suffer and he found it harder and harder to do business in town. Finally, Claud was a broken man. Because a few cotton farmers were too cheap to pay for their own boll weevil control, Claud had been ruined both emotionally and financially. Members of the Boll Weevil Eradication Committee gave each other major awards that were announced in the local newspaper. The science expert received a “scientist of the year” award from a large newspaper for his good “science.”
But the boll weevils were not eradicated. The experts finally agreed that the boll weevil could not be eradicated. The name of the Boll Weevil Eradication Committee was changed to the Boll Weevil Suppression Committee. “Isn’t boll weevil suppression what I was doing by myself? a broken Claud asked himself before he died.
(Note: This is fundamentally a true story but I have taken some liberties with it. I cannot quote Claud’s exact words so I have paraphrased them as best I can remember. But I think Claud would agree that the essence of the story has been captured.)
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