Although midsummer heat seems like a faraway thought during our current mid-February freeze, it won’t be long until the grass shifts to green and spring flowers burst through the thawing ground. Another ubiquitous spring sight in mid-Missouri are freshly plowed fields and young corn plants emerging in the sun. Living along the banks of the Missouri River, we are blessed to reside in one of the most fertile areas of the country, where important crops like corn can thrive. However, land use and allocation along the banks of the Big Muddy looked much different before large industrial agribusiness began its dictatorship over the area.
We wanted to share this post with you today chiefly because corn has gained a bit of a bad reputation in the current agricultural climate. With Monsanto GMOs, ethanol, and corn hybrids dominating the news, it becomes easy to think of corn as the enemy — after all, modified corn breeds have contributed to nasty things like factory farms, increased food prices, and environmental destruction. But when it's used as food, corn is a rich part of Missouri's farming heritage. We also don't want to send the impression that we're unequivocally opposed to all hybridized crops. Hybrids can often have a very positive effect on sustainable food production, but cross-breeding corn generally just disrupts the plant's natural resiliency. Finally, corn hybrids and Monsanto GMOs are able to dominate the farming landscape simply because agriculture has become increasingly industrial, not because we would be starving without modified crops.
(Monsanto headquarters in St. Louis.)
Monsanto — whose national headquarters are in St. Louis — is the largest seed company in the world, and can be credited for creating genetically modified seeds, DDT, PCB, Agent Orange, and Roundup. Monsanto didn’t emerge as a major seed company until the 1980s. In fact, hybridization of corn seed did not find its way into our fields until the mid-1930s. Even then, the percentage of hybridized corn planted across the Midwest was less than half a percent.
(King Corn, a 2007 documentary, explores the impact of genetically modified corn crops in the Heartland. Available on Netflix.)
With the introduction of tractors, the amount of hybridized corn planted increased enormously. By 1943, 59 percent of all corn planted in the United States was hybridized. By 1956, virtually all corn planted had been hybridized.
A note on the hybridization of plants: many of the fruits and veggies we eat today are the product of hybridized seeds and have had a positive effect on organic food production. Hybrid seeds are the result of the cross-pollination of two closely related plants — for example, crossing a tomato variety known for its strong, drought-resistant roots with a variety that produces large, luscious fruit. Seeds or offspring produced and then planted from this cross-pollination will result in a plant that shares the characteristics of both parents. It will have strong, drought-resistant roots as well as luscious, flavorful fruits. However, the seeds from this plant — the third generation — will not produce the same improved variety of tomato. It will exhibit characteristics of either parent, but not both. This process is quite different from the forceful insertion of foreign cells into a plant’s genetic code. Hybridization is a natural process used by plant breeders. Genetic modification of plants happens in a laboratory, devoid of natural processes.
Hybridization and genetic modification greatly reduce the vitality and resiliency of an open-pollinated crop like corn. It decreases genetic diversity and restricts a farmer’s self-sufficiency by limiting his or her ability to save seeds. Heirloom, open-pollinated corn is, by nature, a resilient plant. The natural flow of pollen across a field, whether by wind or by insects, causes variations within a plant population, allowing the corn to adapt to local growing conditions and climate fluctuations over time. As long as the crop is not pollinated by a different variety of corn, the seeds will remain true to type and highly adapted to local growing conditions. In the case of corn, hybridization weakened genetic diversity, strengthening pest pressure and opening a window for genetically modified corn. First planted in 1997, genetically modified corn now makes up 85 percent of all corn grown in the United States.
(A field of Monsanto corn.)
To put this in perspective, 85 percent of the 97.4 million acres of corn planted in the U.S. is genetically modified and not fit for direct human consumption. This means that 82.8 million acres of valuable, fertile land are growing crops used to make highly processed food, sugary additives, ethanol, and industrial animal feed. Corn is one of the most powerful superfoods on this planet, and cornfields surround us, yet none of it is fit for consumption. Food, food, everywhere, but not a bite to eat.
This, however, was not always the case. The Midwest as a whole, including Missouri, has a rich corn heritage that Monsanto has all but destroyed with its toxic chemical sprays. Before corn varieties had patents with names like DK9161YG and NK 5447BT, their names evoked their history. Corn varieties were not the “intellectual property” of a corporation, but communal treasures whose traits were a source of celebration.
Two commonly cultivated varieties at the turn of the 20th century were Hickory King and Osage Corn. Hickory King has been grown for over two centuries and originated in Appalachia. With its vigorous height (it can grow up to 15 feet tall), drought tolerance, and long maturation period, it wasn't long before it found a perfect home in Missouri. Today, at 95, Missouri native Adele Landers still recalls her father growing Hickory King in Chesterfield, Mo. Hickory King was commonly made into hominy, flour, and, of course, moonshine.
(Danielle Plourde, one of our sales associates, cultivates Hickory King on a plot near Cooper's Landing.)
Osage Corn has deep red kernels, in contrast with the large, white seeds of Hickory King, and grows only seven feet tall. Osage Corn, like the name suggests, was a precious gift to the Osage people, who, at one time, sprawled across the central plains of Oklahoma, Arkansas and Missouri.
Today, as smaller farms disappear and large farming monopolies take their place, the sight of corn harvesters and trains filled with grain for export are a common sight. Sixty years ago, however, when people were growing corn as a dietary staple, things worked much differently. Harvesting such a large quantity of corn at once was not a solitary affair. Prior to combines, the corn harvest was a community effort, with young men often competing to see who could gather the most. With a simple, glove-like tool to quickly expose kernels from the husk and a horse-drawn wagon to haul the bounty, people effectively harvested corn without heavy, debt-inducing equipment.
(More of Danielle's local corn, growing fast during the summer.)
After it was removed from the field, corn was stored for seed or brought to the mill. Water-driven grain mills could be found all over the Missouri countryside, acting both as a site for commerce and a community gathering spot. The most notable of these mills is Hodgson Mill. Founded in 1837, in the heart of the Missouri Ozarks, Hodgson Mill was an outlet for local farmers with grain surpluses and a center of life for the Dora and Sycamore areas.
(Danielle, the lovely author of this blog, poses with her dog and a truck full of heirloom corn harvest.)
As we zoom past acres of corn every day in our cars, it is hard to imagine a time when corn was a such a central force in everyday life. Corn once inspired people to swim in the clear spring water under the shade of a picturesque red mill, to pack a picnic to share with their neighbors, and, most importantly, to create resilient communities, independent from the global food industry.
