BUSINESS

Government Seizes Farmer’s Land to Build Airport for Corporate Jets and Business Hangars

Tue, 12 May 2026 13:46:37 GMT

The government is taking Jeff Melin’s Georgia farm. His crime? Preserving 450 acres and pouring blood, sweat, and tears into the property.

“We already gave the government land for eminent domain,” he says. “Now they’re back wanting more. Now they want it all.”

Even in the nightmare realm of eminent domain power grabs, Melin’s case is particularly shocking. His farmland is being obliterated, with roughly 225 acres ripped from the middle of his operation to house an airport: Cows replaced by corporate jets. Barns replaced by hangars.

“And it’s not even for commercial passengers,” he says. “It’s an airport for billionaires to park their jets and big businesses to have hangars.”

“My grandfather, dad, and myself protected this land,” Melin continues. “We survived depressions and disasters, and kept this place together for decades. My dad turned down millions of dollars, over and over, from subdivisions.”

Melin describes a sickening contradiction of farmland preservation. “We sacrificed to keep this wonderful place whole, and now that’s why they want it. How could it be more ironic? If we’d have built on it or trashed it, they’d leave it alone. The better and longer you take care of your land, the more at risk you are to losing it.”

Insult to deepest injury, Melin is getting a per acre pittance for his land, he says. “They force me to sell against my will and then pay a fraction of the value. And I’m not allowed to turn them down. My story will make you question what kind of country you’re living in.”

Heaven No More
Sixty miles south of Atlanta, in Spalding County, Melin stares across gentle hills veined with creeks, rubbing against a mix of pastures and woods: cattle, water, deer plots, dove field, pecan grove, and much more. Despite the beauty, it also contains a withering family legacy.

“Our farm was not for sale at any price because our lives were molded around this land,” says Jeff Melin.

(Photo courtesy of Melin Farms)

Awaiting grinding at the edge of the 70-acre pecan grove, a chain of toppled trees stretches like fallen dominoes, with many of the specimens over a century in age. Concrete poles are already in place as pecans give way to power lines. Soon, grass will give way to a 6,000’ asphalt runway, as part of a 730-acre new airport for Spalding County.

“I’ve got 90 days to get my stuff out of a 40’-by-60’ shop so they can get started,” Melin describes. “It’s an order to vacate. That means 90 days to move 75 years worth of farm equipment. I don’t even know where I’ll put all the tools, welders, compressors, and all the rest. I don’t have another shop built. I’ve got to get rid of at least 65 cows and 30 calves right off the bat.”

“They’ve killed my farm,” he adds. “This will be the end of me. And when I say, ‘they,’ I mean the county, state, and federal government. All three are involved with this airport.”

“All together, they’re taking about 225 acres from the middle of my operation. They’re leaving me land in the back that’s landlocked, that I can’t get to, and then leaving me land on the front of one side that’s going to be landlocked. I never dreamed this is how it’d end. For sure, my grandfather and dad (John Bennett Melin) never dreamed it, either. This was heaven to us.”

In 1951, the Melin clan pulled stakes in Red Wing, Minnesota and moved over 1,200 miles to Griffin, Georgia, hauling cattle the whole way, to start Melin Brothers Polled Herefords.

Melin’s 450-acre farm is split into four parcels. The county is taking a 225-acre strip from the middle.

(Photo courtesy of Melin Farms)

“I love everything this farm represents—heart and soul,” Melin says. “I love it so much that I took a job close to home as a mechanic at Delta Airlines so that I could work the land and help my dad. We grew up with sacrifice. Didn’t matter if it was family vacation or Thanksgiving—somebody had to be here to feed. People in farming know exactly what I’m saying. Our farm was not for sale at any price because our lives were molded around this land.”

“At 57 and approaching retirement age, to have your land and life snatched away feels like a terrible dream, but I know it’s real. It all started with a newspaper article: They didn’t even have the decency to knock on my door.”

Blood and Tears
In 2012, Melin opened a morning newspaper to find himself in the bull’s-eye of eminent domain’s “common good.” The existing Spalding County airport’s runway was deemed too short, and Melin’s farm was listed among four to five potential sites to build a new airport on 730 acres, including 124 hangars for express and corporate jets.

The opening stage of airport-related construction commences as a power line takes out a pecan grove on Melin’s land.

(Photo courtesy of Melin Farms)

According to the Georgia Department of Transportation, a new airport would generate $24 million in economic impact per year for Spalding County.

Melin was stunned. His ground is hilly. “I thought it was impossible. A mistake. Why build an airport in hills? I couldn’t imagine the amount of dirt moving and earthworks and boxing creeks it’d take to build an airport on my land. I mean, it even requires moving power lines and a gas line.”

No matter. Melin’s land is open and near town. Case closed, in the county’s eyes.

“We’re an old mill town. There’s plenty of other spots that are flatter, but they don’t want to deal with the legalities and paperwork. Better to take prime agriculture ground preserved across my dad’s lifetime at a cost of blood and tears. There’s a lot of other dilapidated land around here, but it’s not open and would require diligence and hassle. Better to steal mine. There was no public vote or opportunity to say no. Nothing.”

Melin’s 450-acre farm is split into four parcels. The county is taking a 225-acre strip from the middle. Irony upon irony, Melin already had willfully ceded ground to eminent domain. “Many times in the past, for genuine public good, we got out of the way when roads were widened, because we cared about people’s safety. This is not that. This is greed and power.”

An Honest Dollar
Letters and studies. Environmental. Archeological. Ecological.

“They dragged it out, year after year, and never let you know what was really going on,” Melin contends. “They never listened. They never communicated with us face to face. They didn’t come to my house. They didn’t seek me out. They didn’t come find me and say anything. They sent a few letters and made their announcements.”

“It just doesn’t seem like America when someone shows up and says, ‘We’re taking your land for a set price, and you’ll like it or else,’” says Melin.

(Photo courtesy of Melin Farms)

“It was shoddy. No matter what I said, they’d respond, ‘We just have to keep on doing studies.’ This was a foregone conclusion, but they pretended otherwise. They didn’t even know there were five gas lines under me and were going to put hangars on top of them.”

Money doesn’t replace lifeblood, but Melin assumed he’d receive a “fair price” for his land.

Melin had fair reasoning behind his assumption: According to the county, there was nowhere else to build an airport presented as indispensable and necessary. Arguably, Melin was sitting atop the most vital land in Spalding County.

“Nope. They wouldn’t give me an honest dollar.”

Like It or Else
Every year, Melin poured in money to improve his land and soils. Fertilizer, lime, weed control, and myriad other management costs—even foot patrol with a backpack sprayer to kill thistle. “None of that goes into their valuations. All I can do about value is look around and make reasonable judgements based on how much got paid recently for land recently around me. There was an old cattle farm right down the road that we did business with for years. It was 100 acres, fenced and cross-fenced, and sold for $75,000 an acre to Georgia Power for a substation. The owner got $7.5M.”

According to schedule, construction of the new Spalding County Airport will begin in 2026 and conclude in 2031.

(Photo by Google Maps)

“About 2 miles from me, the county bought a 29-acre school site and paid $14,000 per acre about 22 years ago: $420,000,” he adds.

However, according to Melin, Spalding County offered a fraction of what the school property brought per acre. “I’m getting lowballed with a percentage of what the other properties sold for, but I can’t refuse the offer. Don’t tell me about federal guidelines and fair market value. I have eyes. I can smell corruption and manipulation. Doesn’t mean I can prove it, but it’s right in front of my face.”

“It just doesn’t seem like America when someone shows up and says, ‘We’re taking your land for a set price, and you’ll like it or else.’”

Farmer In the Way
According to schedule, construction of the new Spalding County Airport will begin in 2026 and conclude in 2031. Within proximity of Melin’s farm, a groundbreaking ceremony is imminent.

“The better and longer you take care of your land, the more at risk you are to losing it,” warns Jeff Melin.

(Photo courtesy of Melin Farms)

“The lieutenant governor, state officials, politicians, and county commissioners will all be there, backslapping, grinning, and congratulating each other,” Melin notes. “Not a one of them can look me in the eye. Can you imagine if eminent domain was used to take their land to park a jet? No, you can’t imagine such, because that would never happen to them.”

“But I’m just a farmer in their way. They’re happy to take my land and call it ‘progress and public good.’ Force me to sell, take my land, and fly in the billionaires and big companies.”

Grass and dirt in a forced exchange for concrete and asphalt. A farm legacy erased by county, state, and federal seizure. “They’re taking my farmland so rich men can have hangars for their jets,” Melin concludes. “That sound like the ‘public good’ of eminent domain?”

For more from Chris Bennett (@ChrisBennettMS or cbennett@farmjournal.com or 662-592-1106), see:

Stealing the Farm: China Continues Raid of US Agriculture by Theft and Agroterror

Corn and Cocaine: Roger Reaves and the Most Incredible Farm Story Never Told

How the Deep State Tried, and Failed, to Crush an American Farmer

Game of Horns: Iowa Poacher’s Antler Addiction Leads to Historic Bust

Ghost Cattle: $650M Ponzi Rocks Livestock Industry, Money Still Missing

Georgia Watermelon Heist Explodes into Epic Night of Pandemonium

Sisters of Farm Fraud: How 4 Siblings Fleeced USDA for $10M

When Conservation Backfires: Landowner Defeats Feds in Mindboggling Private Property Case

Cold-Busted: Frozen Deer Decoy Nabs Poachers and Cocaine in Spectacular Sting

Sticky Fingers: USDA Fraudster Steals $200M in Stunning Scam

From Constraints to Catalysts: How Ag Leaders Turn Hardships into Strategy

Thu, 02 Apr 2026 18:19:03 GMT

In an industry defined by “one-year-at-a-time” cycles, the greatest threat to a growing operation isn’t just a market downturn—it’s the inertia that comes with size. Farm Journal CEO Prescott Shibles argues that long-term survival requires a rare blend of faith and agility. To maintain an entrepreneurial mindset, leaders must lean into “conviction” as the core of a strategy that survives the lows.

Here is how four industry leaders are turning today’s constraints into tomorrow’s differentiators.

1. Build when times are hard.

When Brent Smith, president and CEO of NewLeaf Symbiotics, joined the company in 2023, the grain market was entering a significant down cycle. While some saw a risky time to lead a startup, he saw an opportunity.

“I learned in my first startup that the best time to build a business is in hard times,” Smith said said during a discussion at Top Producer Summit. “Because if you can’t withstand tough times, you’re not going to survive long term.”

For Smith, survival meant doubling down on the company’s core: science. Despite the pressure to cut costs, NewLeaf continues to spend half of its operating expenses on science.

“It would be very easy to peel that back,” he admits. “But we focused on projects that make the most impact the quickest, while keeping an eye on the long-term innovation in our pipeline.”

2. Control what you can control.

Farmers face the ultimate constraint every year: the weather. Scott Beck, president of Beck’s Hybrids, recalls the planting crisis of 2019 when constant rains kept tractors out of the fields well into May.

“I was concerned for our customers not being able to plant, but also for us not being able to plant our seed for the next year,” Beck says. “There was nothing that we could do to control the weather, but we could control how we interacted with our customers.”

Rather than retreating, the Beck’s team focused on transparency and empathy, using video series to connect with farmers and even forming small groups for prayer and support. Ultimately, they wanted farmers to know they cared and were there to support them however they could.

Despite the financial reality of what could happen if farmers didn’t plant and returned seed, Beck’s decided their course of action would not include employee layoffs. Instead, they prepared to sell land to protect their people.

“Fortunately, the weather broke and everybody was able to get planted,” he says. “Then the second miracle happened. We had the second warmest September on record, and that’s what brought the crop through to enable 2019 to not turn out as bad as it started.”

3. Turn disadvantages into advantages.

In 2014, Lamar Steiger, owner of The 808 Ranch, was tasked with a monumental challenge: helping Walmart reinvent its beef supply chain. At the time, the retail giant was at a disadvantage, forced to accept whatever the major meatpackers provided.

Steiger’s strategy was to turn that lack of control into a new kind of independence.

“I convinced the Walmart team to go around the traditional supply chain,” Steiger says. Today, Walmart sources 28% of its beef from its own “farm-to-table” supply chain.

There’s no question that decision was really good for Walmart. But Steiger says it was also really good for him personally.

“It reminded me that no matter how big you are, there are always challenges,” he says.

4. Create “white space” for the future.

When the day-to-day tasks of an operation become overwhelming, long-term strategy is often the first thing to go. James Burgum, CEO of The Arthur Companies, believes leaders must intentionally carve out “white space” for their teams.

“It’s important to find ways where people can actually spend their time working on the business, not just in the business,” he says.

By protecting time for team members to execute ideas that are three to five years out, Burgum manages the tension between short-term urgency and long-term viability.

“It’s hard to step away from the daily fires you’ll face in your operation, but it’s important,” he adds. “How we manage that tension of short term and long term is creating that white space and making sure that we consciously work on the business.

The Long Game

Ultimately, resilience in agriculture is about knowing when to push and when to pivot.

“You have to know when to put the gas down, and you need to know when to tap the brake,” Smith says. “And regardless of what you are doing, you need to stay focused on what you’re doing.”

Whether it is investing in science during a downturn or choosing customer empathy over the bottom line, these leaders say constraints don’t have to be roadblocks; they can be the very catalysts that drive an operation forward.

It’s Meeting Season: How to Conquer the Crowded Room

Tue, 06 Jan 2026 19:27:10 GMT

You walk into a crowded room of people you don’t know. Everyone is laughing and talking in their groups. It would be much easier to walk right back out, but you are there to represent a group with the mission of meeting people and making connections. So, you take your next step forward. But now what?

For some people, this is what nightmares are made of. For Jennifer Tirey, executive director of the Illinois Pork Producers Association , this is what she lives to do.

“Jennifer is excellent at building relationships with people,” says Josh Maschhoff, president of the Illinois Pork Producers Association. “She can walk into a room where she might not know anybody and quickly make introductions and connections with those people. And most importantly, she can remember their name, and she can do it with a lot of people.”

Maschhoff admits he often finds himself in a room with a lot of people, and he can’t remember their names.

“Whether it’s fellow producers or members of the legislature, the closer I can put myself to Jennifer Tirey, the better off I will be,” he says. “I know I’ve got a resource that can help pull me along when I’m struggling because she can remember all of those people.”

He says her ability to remember the details about someone’s personal life and truly make a connection with them makes her unique.

Authentic Relationship Building Takes Work

How do you develop a superpower like this? Tirey admits it does take work.

“You just can’t go into a room and know a lot of people’s names without putting a lot of work into it,” she says. “I go back to the very first meeting that I had with Pork Producers. I’d only been on the job for less than a week, and they had already scheduled a regional meeting in Bloomington. I spent the entire car ride — because someone else was driving — memorizing the names of the individuals that were going to be there because I wanted the producers to know that I care and want to know them.”

If you want to truly connect with people and build a relationship, you have to be willing to work at it. Before every event, Tirey devotes time to reading over the list of who will be there and looks up photos to try to memorize faces.

“I’m always learning and trying to sharpen that skill,” she says. “I think that’s a valuable asset to have within agriculture. At the end of the day, agriculture is a really small community, and you cross paths a lot. You need each other to be successful.”

How to Connect and Be Remembered in Any Room

Now, back to the crowded room. Before you enter, adopt a mindset that you are there to learn and support others, not just “work the room.” Here are a few tips to help you connect with the crowd.

1. Scan The Room.
When you enter the room, use soft eye contact as you scan the room. Don’t stare, but instead do a “sweeping gaze.” According to the Science of People , a sweeping gaze is a slow, methodical look around the room. Start the gaze the moment you enter a room by looking to your left then slowly sweeping across the room until you find your opening or where you want to go. Then, make longer eye contact there.

“It’s easier to make connections when you give yourself the outward look that you want to meet people,” Tirey says.

2. Project Confidence.
Remember to smile and stand tall to project confidence as you head toward where you want to go. If you don’t feel confident, don’t worry because you aren’t alone, says Marilyn Sherman, a well-known motivational speaker .

“Even when you don’t feel confident, act confident. It will change your entire mindset,” Sherman says.

3. Make Direct Eye Contact And Have a Firm Handshake.
Tirey says the best advice she has to offer when connecting with people is to start with direct eye contact. Let the person you are talking to know they have your full attention.

“In addition to eye contact, a really firm handshake to a person that you’ve never met gives a good impression,” she adds. “It also keeps you top of mind with them.”

4. Listen.
“Really taking a moment to listen to who they are and what they have to say is key,” Tirey says. “I think doing this gives me a chance to internally set myself and get prepared for meeting somebody new. It allows you to learn about the person you’re trying to get to know without any ulterior motive.”

She believes taking a pause and letting people share what they want to share first is a great way to understand where they are coming from, too.

5. Offer Value.
Tirey says she strives to be a straight shooter and appreciates that when meeting others.

“Life moves fast, and I would much rather cut to the chase.” Tirey says. “I love making connections and catching up with people, but there are things that must be done, too. I appreciate directness and constructive criticism because that makes me a better person.”

If you have a relevant idea or suggestion, be ready to share it succinctly.

“One thing that works like magic is creating a memorable moment,” according to Wave Connect . “Think about ways you can add value right in the moment. Maybe you overhear someone mention a challenge they are facing, and you can recommend a solution or introduce them to someone you know. That kind of value sticks.”

As Maya Angelou said: “People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. People will never forget how you made them feel.”

Learn more about Tirey in the latest episode of The PORK Podcast.

Ghost Cattle: $650M Ponzi Rocks Livestock Industry, Money Still Missing

Wed, 21 May 2025 13:33:47 GMT

How does a $650 million cattle con crash? Under the creaking weight of a mere 26 cows.

From 2017-2019, a motley trio of Ponzi scammers—Illinois cowboy, Midwest matron, and polished Georgia fixer—hoodwinked investors and burned through $140 million per month at peak mayhem. New money paid old money.

The stunning scam was a madhouse of blind wire transfers, bogus promissory notes, hearty handshakes, and monopoly money. Three prison sentences later, questions linger over who was behind the curtain and where the booty is buried.

Helluva Tale
Built like a brick house and every inch the central Texas cattleman, plain-talking Roye Stephens was not a man to burn. In September 2017, Stephens dialed Marvin Wills and reported the theft of 26 cows.

Special Ranger Wills , long-time veteran of the Texas & Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association , listened as Stephens dropped a “helluva tale,” centered on the escapades of sketchy businessman touting interests in show cattle and legal marijuana: Mark David Ray.

Roye Stephens, the Texas rancher who put the spotlight on Mark Ray.

(Photo by Facebook)

“At first, I thought Roye Stephens was just talking about Mark Ray doing something local, but I could tell something was off—way different than most anything I’d ever heard at the ground level,” Wills says. “Stephens was describing what would become one of the biggest cattle scams of all time.”

“There was a history of cattle dealings between Stephens and Ray, and those dealings weren’t always fruitful, but Stephens kept going back because every deal was almost too good to be true,” Wills continues. “Ray always had a sweetener.”

Stephens paid Ray $75,000 for half-interest in 52 head of Lampasas County cattle which had been trucked to an Oklahoma feed lot. In a nutshell, the 52 cows did not exist—whether in Oklahoma, Texas, or Timbuktu. The transaction was an inventory fantasy. Stephens had been skinned—and his call for justice would be the key that picked the lock on a buck-wild $650 million shell game.

In tandem with Lampasas County detective David Thorpe, Wills began tracing Ray’s tracks across the livestock industry. “The story was wild,” Wills says. “A real cluster. Ray had investors and connections all over the place, and he’d even gone to Russia with the supposed intention to open a packing plant. He was big-time, except nobody really knew what was real and what was fake about him.”

Wills was certain: Ray was up to his neck in crime. “We knew he sold the exact same number of cattle at the exact same weight to packing plants. Impossible. Week to week on the rail with precisely the same numbers? No way.”

In March 2018, after robbing Stephens, Ray was indicted in Lampasas County for “false statement to obtain property” and “theft by deception.” Specifically, the indictment included a damning text sent by Ray, asking Stephens to pay “for cows with calves on them with eggs put in but of course no confirmed. Cows are at Pawhuska Oklahoma. $2,265 per pair plus freight 52 pair.”

A plea? Settlement? Slap on the wrist? Fine?

Rather, an explosion. Ray, 57, arrived for his bond hearing in Lampasas County by flying in on a luxury Beechcraft King Air—over 26 cattle in rural Texas.

“He showed up in a million-dollar airplane,” Wills recalls. “Basically, he may as well have set off a bomb. That’s when we absolutely knew this was much deeper than a handful of cattle. Who was this guy? Who?”

In short time, Wills and Thorpe were seated in an Austin FBI office, spilling their giant cup of tea.

“We started this, and the feds ended it,” Wills exclaims. “To this day, it boggles my mind. The money; the marijuana; the cattle. Still doesn’t all add up.”

Hometown Dust
The man grew money.

Mark David Ray, at least as far back as the early 2000s, wrangled golden cattle deals. A son of Knox County, in west-central Illinois, he loved flash and the fibrous feel of a thick knot of crisp bills.

“We started this, and the feds ended it,” says Special Ranger Marvin Wills. “To this day, it boggles my mind.”

(Photo by TSCRA)

His scheme? Ray, as president of Berwick Black Cattle Company and director of Source of Champions, offered bang-bang cattle investments with promises of pronto payback plus high interest—sometimes 25% in months.

Operating out of Abingdon, Ill., things were rosy out of the gate. On Jan. 13, 2002, according to a subsequent Illinois State Securities Department investigation, Ray sold a $150,000 “investment contract” to an Illinois cattleman, and 14 days later paid back the $150,000, plus $3,000. On Nov. 7, he sold another “investment contract” for $122,500 and paid back the principal, along with an extra $5,000.17, 21 days later.

A blitz of similar transactions and bigger returns followed, stretching until 2005, when the wheels came off and the investor payments stopped boomeranging. In a nutshell, Ray got pinched and was barred from doing business: “The Respondents (Ray) shall be permanently prohibited from offering and selling securities in the State of Illinois.”

No matter. Ray, an investment prophet, shook off the hometown dust and made tracks for the West.

With no criminal charges filed in Illinois, the Berwick Black Ponzi was a learning lesson. The next go-around, Ray swung for the fences.

Make It Rain
He talked the talk. He played and preyed. He wore boots and jeans.

“Mark Ray knew how to use his background in agriculture and gain trust,” says Joshua Mayes, former Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) senior trial counsel, Enforcement Division, who spearheaded a subsequent investigation uncovering Ray’s scam. “He would go to cattle shows, compete for awards, and rub shoulders with people who thought he was legit. Salt-of-the-earth farmers, ranchers, business people, and average joes—he fooled them all with a handshake.”

Ray claimed to have mastered the cattle flip, fattening cows in feed lots for crazy money: Give me $500,000 today. I’ll give you $600,000 in eight weeks.

“He was so good at speaking the lingo and moving fast,” Mayes continues. “Literally, within months of meeting people, he’d have them wiring him hundreds of thousands of dollars without so much as a napkin scrawl promising payback—sometimes with no financial statements, no deal transaction firm, and no proof. Just his word.”

Based in Denver, Colo., Ray put a foot in both agriculture and legal marijuana, founding three companies: Custom Consulting, Universal Herbs and MR Cattle. To bolster his phenomenal sleight-of-hand skills, he needed team players: Someone to haul in whales and another to grease the financial skids. Enter old friends Ron Throgmartin and Reva Stachniw.

Throgmartin, living in Buford, Ga., was CEO of Diego Pellicer, a legal marijuana business. He had been in the trenches during Ray’s Illinois cattle Ponzi. Throgmartin became Ray’s general consultant and appeared the part, presenting a credible business front.

Stachniw, who looked like a cross between a PTA grandmother and Sunday school teacher, was an Illinois crony from Knox County. A retired nurse, she knew the cattle industry and was owner and manager of RM Farm and Sunshine Enterprises.

Ray, Throgmartin, and Stachniw steered investors toward high-speed returns on cattle flips, straight business loans, and marijuana investments, typically in the 10-20% range.

What a threesome. They made it rain—as in, $140 million per month at the height of the scam.

“People With Money”
How did the money machine work?

First, Ray’s engine required prodigious amounts of fuel—a tall order considering he essentially had no cattle. Like a Ponzi politician, Ray needed to raise massive amounts of money, steadily sucking in new investors to pay off old investors.

Ron Throgmartin served as Ray’s business face, keeping track of major investors and drafting emails, texts, and promissory notes to bolster the scheme.

(Photo by Facebook)

“He had to constantly make deals,” Mayes describes. “The whole train stops if he doesn’t consistently fool new victims. Once he got rolling and got his victims comfortable, he convinced some to let their investments ride: ‘Right now I owe you 124,000, but I have another deal coming up, and you can make it $150,000 if you give me another 3 months.’”

Throgmartin served as Ray’s legitimate business face, keeping track of major investors and drafting emails, texts, and promissory notes to boost the scheme.

Stachniw handled the bank accounts. She ensured Ray avoided bank detection by keeping his name out of transactions. She maintained accounts in the names of RM Farm and Sunshine Enterprises, signed promissory notes, signed stacks of blank checks for use by Ray as needed, and transferred tens of millions as requested by Ray.

According to federal prosecutors, Stachniw “advised Ray and Throgmartin, generally via text message, telephone call, or email, on a near-daily basis, how much money the co-conspirators needed to raise from victim-investors to avoid overdrawing the various bank accounts the co-conspirators used, and exposing the scheme. At times, Stachniw expressed surprise that Ray was able to find victim-investors willing to continue to invest, for example, writing to Ray on or about August 7, 2018, “I can’t believe you are able to find people with money.”

As the Ponzi pyramid climbed, investors unknowingly were wiring other investors. Literally, victim to victim per Ray’s lies. From the SEC report: Ray would instruct Victim A to wire funds to Victim B, telling Victim A that the funds were for the purchase of cattle from Victim B. Ray would tell Victim B, however, that the funds received from Victim A were payment for another cattle trade in which Victim B had previously invested.

“The investors were lulled to sleep,” Mayes explains. “One ranch gets a wire transfer from a second ranch in another state. The first rancher with the incoming money makes an assumption: The money must have come from a cattle deal.”

From late 2017 and continuing through in or around early 2019, Ray, Throgmartin, and Stachniw raised approximately $650 million from victim-investors.

Translated: The Big 3 tapped hundreds of investors for two-thirds of a billion dollars in a mere 17 months.

Lifesavings, Gone
As Ponzi structures reach skyward, they inevitably creak and collapse. No different with Ray’s Jenga tower.

Reva Stachniw, a retired nurse, knew the cattle industry and was owner and manager of RM Farm and Sunshine Enterprises.

(Photo by Facebook)

Ray had too many irons in the fire. When Roye Stephens called the law over stolen Lampasas County cattle, what first appeared as a tiny fissure turned into a gaping hole of access for the SEC and federal prosecutors. The SEC filed against Ray, Stachniw, and Throgmartin on Sept. 30, 2019. Federal prosecutors filed an indictment against Ray on Feb 20, 2020, and against Stachniw and Throgmartin On April 22, 2021.

“When we busted them,” Mayes says, “they were moving over $100 million per month, but that’s far from what sticks in my mind. I just remember the victims. At first, the victims didn’t believe it was all a scam. Then their disbelief changed to panic. Lifesavings, gone.”

“When the public thinks of Ponzis, they think of Bernie Madoff and his sophisticated victims. Therefore, the public thinks of a Ponzi as stealing from the rich. That’s not true most of the time, and by no means in this case. These were mainly middle-class victims in agriculture that worked for a lifetime to make a nest egg to invest. Just normal people lured by a high return. And they wind up on the brink of suicide because a good day, maybe the best day, is getting back 25 cents on the dollar.”

Pulling Levers?
Ray took a plea deal and admitted to bank fraud and wire fraud, throwing Throgmartin and Stachniw under the bus, agreeing to testify against both. Throgmartin and Stachniw claimed innocence as victims of Ray’s duplicity. They were found guilty in a jury trial in 2022.

The trio was sentenced in 2023. Ray, 50 months and $23,374,664 in restitution. Stachniw, 72 months, $14,597,335 in restitution and forfeiture of $6,013,370. Throgmartin, 72 months, $14,597,335 in restitution and forfeiture of $1,004,904. The mastermind, Ray, got the least amount of prison time.

“Stachniw and Throgmartin were convicted of being knowing participants,” Mayes says. “Their defense was, ‘We didn’t know it was a Ponzi. We didn’t know what Mark Ray was truly doing.’ The evidence says otherwise.”

(For more on Throgmartin’s defense and his claims about Ray, see his May 2023 YouTube interview.)

What was Ray’s long-term plan? What was next if the scheme hadn’t crashed?

“I don’t think he had a plan at all,” Mayes contends. “I think he just compartmentalized in the moment and kept going. I also suspect he believed that if things got bad, he could just declare bankruptcy, ride it out, and face no charges. It certainly worked the first time in Illinois.”

Sticky-fingered Mark David Ray used new money to pay old money in a $650M heist.

(Photo by Facebook)

And where did the money go? The feds tracked a portion: “Despite putting little to none of their own money into the scheme, the co-conspirators transferred substantial amounts of the proceeds of their conspiracy and scheme to themselves for their personal benefit. For example, between in or around 2017 and in or around 2018 alone, Stachniw transferred approximately $9,000,000 traceable to victim-investors to her personal investment accounts, including approximately $1,000,000 in or around August 2018. Throgmartin received more than approximately $3,000,000 over the course of the conspiracy, including at least approximately $800,000 from Stachniw in or around August 2018.”

But what of Ray’s loot? Was it laundered, flipped into the marijuana business, buried in a hole? Was there another figure behind Ray pulling levers?

“He was playing the high life with jets and travel, and there were reports of gambling, and he had to pump lots into the lower parts of the pyramid,” Mayes concludes, “but where the rest of the money really went is unclear to this day.”

While Ray robbed Peter to pay Paul, there was a mountain of cash left over. The SEC report still echoes: Tens of millions of dollars’ worth of investor money is missing and unaccounted for.

For more from Chris Bennett (@ChrisBennettMS or cbennett@farmjournal.com or 662-592-1106), see:

Game of Horns: Iowa Poacher’s Antler Addiction Leads to Historic Bust

How a Nazi-Fighting Oklahoman Rejected NFL Draft and Went Home to Farm

Sisters of Farm Fraud: How 4 Siblings Fleeced USDA for $10M

Tractor Terrorist: How a Forgotten Farmer Attacked Washington with Fertilizer Bombs

Farmer Unearths Lost Treasure, Solves WW2 Mystery

How The Deep State Tried, And Failed, To Crush An American Farmer

Organic Implosion: How Two Grifters Cooked $50M In Fake Fertilizer and Rocked Agriculture

Corn and Cocaine: Roger Reaves and the Most Incredible Farm Story Never Told

Fake Farmer Steals $8.75M In Green Energy Scam

Tue, 07 Jan 2025 22:27:14 GMT

Wearing a saccharine grin, Ray Brewer swished fat fingers through a bucket of fertilizer pellets and rattled out the mating call of a con man—the sweet sound of money. In droves, the faithful dumped $8.75 million into his agricultural skin game.

Nestled in a basement chop shop beneath the glamor of an infinity pool and a house in the hills, Brewer bilked investors and farmers from 2014-2019, based entirely on cow manure and the lure of biogas, renewable energy, and tax incentives.

Most agriculture crimes are coated in a veneer of reality—enough truth to hide the rot. Not so with silver-tongued Brewer. His scam was a total lie.

He understood the rules of a modern ag heist: Nothing so green as a green energy con.

The Man From Nowhere
In a single day, a dairy cow can expel close to 100- plus lb. of waste. The U.S. leader at roughly $9.7 billion in annual milk sales, California is home to the nation’s largest dairy herd: 1.7 million defecating milk cows.

In 2014, Ray Holcomb Brewer, 57, navigated California’s Central Valley agriculture as a commanding, highly intelligent, and persuasive predator. At 6’ and 300 lb., balding and silver-mustached, Brewer presented himself as an engineer with knowledge of each nut and bolt, along with every profitability angle, of anaerobic digesters—alchemy machines that churn turds into money.

He made the rounds of dairy industry events, conferences, and equipment tradeshows, showing leg to potential investors via construction or operation of a whopping 12 anaerobic digesters ( 129 digesters are currently functioning statewide) in Fresno, Kern, Kings, and Tulare counties, and a lone digester in Idaho. As the CEO of CH4 Power, headquartered in Tulare, Brewer promised investors returns in less than two years, generated from 66% of methane gas sales, carbon offsets, fertilizer, and tax breaks—all derived from his dairy digesters.

Brewer paved his scam with fake digester construction photos.

(Photo by DOJ)

In truth, despite Brewer’s peacocking, he had no digesters under construction; no functioning digesters cooking manure; no byproducts; and no farmland. Nuffin.

Brewer’s track record was blank, says Henry Carbajal, assistant U.S. attorney for the Eastern District of California and Unit Chief for White-Collar Crime. “It was almost like he popped out of the blue. Prior to the early 2000s, we still don’t know where he came from. We believe he had a background in the agriculture industry, but it was very difficult to find records beforehand.”

“The evidence we uncovered shows he worked as a consultant or had a digester-related role, but we don’t know where,” Carbajal says. “That was in the early 2000s, but again, before that he is somewhat of an unknown.”

Joseph Barton, assistant U.S. attorney under Carbajal, says Brewer mastered the lexicon of the agriculture industry. “He created entirely fake power generation reports which were extremely complicated and detailed. He’d send the reports to investors and say, ‘Look how much power my digesters are generating.’ Where did he learn to prepare those? We don’t know.”

“This was not someone who decided overnight to execute a fraud,” Barton adds. “Brewer was a guy with a past in something agriculture related.”

Indeed. The man from nowhere knew precisely how to build a Ponzi on farmland.

Ray’s Magical Beans
Brewer hung a shingle in Tulare. His company, CH4 Power, occupied an executive suite in an office park, manned by less than 10 employees. Purposely, Brewer hired agriculture newbies unfamiliar with livestock or farms. “We don’t believe any of them knew what was going on,” Barton explains. “The people working for him thought he was running a legitimate business.”

As always with Brewer, nothing was real, including fake construction schedules for nonexistent digesters.

(Photo by DOJ)

And business, Brewer asserted, was building a better mousetrap. He didn’t claim to invent breakthrough digester technology. Rather, he insisted, his innovation was streamlining the overall digester process with superior knowledge in mechanics, land approval, environmental regs, code compliance, timeline, local authorities, farmer connections, and permitting process: I am the engineer and I know.

As described in a federal 2019 indictment: “Defendant Brewer purported to have developed an anaerobic digester that would help dairies meet or exceed greenhouse gas emission standards and generate up to ten times the amount of energy that the dairies used, which would create reliable revenue streams for years to come.”

He sought big-city investors (domestic and foreign) eager to catch the carbon wave, but ignorant about agriculture, and wooed them via marketing materials, power generation reports, digester photos, and signed buyer contracts. As a cherry on top, Brewer promised a green energy tax incentive if payment was made before the calendar year ended. The investors, on Brewer’s word, anticipated the immediate tax money bump, followed by booming returns upon digester completion the following year.

To build his bonafides, Brewer signed several lease agreements with Central Valley dairies, falsely promising to build digesters. Simultaneously, he forged lease agreements with other dairies, backed by fake farmer signatures. Brewer then used the growing pile of counterfeit documents to deceive investors. All the while, he never began construction on a single digester.

Fancy house, smooth driveway, and loads of furniture: The money all filtered to Brewer’s pocket.

(Photo by DOJ)

Whenever investors visited on-site in Tulare to eyeball completed digesters or units under construction, Brewer took them to a genuine, functioning digester and feigned ownership, or carried clients to a farm (that he didn’t own) and claimed that digester construction was imminent.

“With the ties he had in the agriculture industry, he got access to a real digester,” Barton says. “It wasn’t his, but he passed it off as his. These were machines that had to be managed, but ran by themselves for extended periods of time, so Brewer would take his tours there at the right time and there wouldn’t be hardly anyone around.”

Adding layers to the cake, Brewer kept buckets of digester-produced, no-scent fertilizer pellets in his Tulare office, gleefully showing the contents to curious investors as tangible proof of amazing returns, i.e., Ray and his magical farm beans.

“It was such a compelling prop,” Barton notes. “He had pails of pellets to give to investors. He’d say, ‘We’re so successful that even our byproducts are selling and I’ve got contracts I can show you right here. A win-win.’”

Capping off the tours, Brewer wined and dined visitors roughly 120 miles north of Los Angeles at his fine residence in the hills, a 3,700 sq ft home on 10 acres purchased with seed money from his initial investors, complete with infinity pool and the new shine of several Dodge Ram trucks parked in the driveway, along with ATVs aplenty.

Money, honey. The manure Ponzi climbed higher and higher. If, and when, the base began creaking, Brewer would take his millions and run.

$100 Million Flex
The levers of fraud were pulled in an office basement at Brewer’s home—a chop shop.

Hunched over a desk, Brewer forged financial records, power generation reports, invoices, REC certificates, construction schedules, and permitting documents, keeping unsigned templates at the ready for repeated use. He also manipulated photographs, according to the subsequent federal indictment: Defendant Brewer obtained stock photographs of anaerobic digesters that were under construction that he did not own or control and had no involvement in building. Defendant Brewer then sent the photographs, sometimes after causing alterations to be made to the photographs, to different investors at various times to show them progress on different purported digesters when there had not been any construction.

Fake license of Ray “Lenair” Brewer, purported military hero and international businessman.

(Photo by DOJ)

Each time Brewer received new investor money, he opened a corresponding bank account, and then slid the money into sub-accounts with deceptive titles (Interconnection Engineering; Interconnection Permit; Water Board Fees) seemingly related to digester construction. He then blew the funds on personal items, while maintaining forged invoices as proof the money was spent on digester materials.
As dollars poured in, Brewer partied.

According to investigators, every penny of the Ponzi traced to personal expenditure: RVs, trucks, Harley-Davidsons, scores of guns, property, and more personal assets. He spent zero on construction material.

Beyond U.S. agriculture, Brewer managed to pull in big money from foreign investors.

(Photo by DOJ)

“The dedication and detail to money laundering is almost unique to Brewer,” Carbajal says. “You just don’t see it often in these cases because it takes heavy forethought and planning.”

Brewer’s wire transfers composed a steady chain of theft across 2016-2018, ranging from $14,900 to $5,000,000. As the money flowed, Brewer made a $100-million flex: He faked a letter from Rabobank backing a $100-million loan to build anaerobic digesters.

“I think he was having a good time,” Barton says. “It was as if he’d gotten his Series A startup going with several million dollars, and now it was time for Series B. The fake $100 million letter was a broadcast to investors that a real financial institution was backing it all up. With a number so big, investors assumed everything must have been vetted. Therefore, this had to be the real McCoy.”

“But it was a lie; the letter was altered by Brewer,” Barton continues. “In the genuine letter, the bank stated it was not committed to lending money until due diligence was performed. Investors never saw the genuine letter.”

In classic Ponzi mathematics, Brewer kept his early CH4 Power investors smiling by providing them with small payments gleaned from subsequent investors.

However, as the months rolled by, he ran short of Peters to pay Pauls. Irate investors, sick of Brewer’s promises, began filing lawsuits.

One step ahead of tar and feathers, it was time for Brewer to bounce. The natives were restless.

Grifters Gonna Grift
Arkansas and Nevada were Brewer’s ticket out of California. With a stolen Social Security number plucked from a dead man in Arkansas (first used by Brewer at least as far back as 2003), and a bogus “Ray Lenair Brewer” Nevada driver’s license, he moved 1,100 miles northeast to Sheridan, Montana, and switched his remaining assets to his wife’s name.

Brewer may have separated his scams from pillow talk. “He was married, but his wife later claimed she never knew he was doing anything illegal—and based on the evidence, we believed her,” Barton says. “When we talked to victims, they had met his wife, but they said that during business talks, she wasn’t around or referenced.”

In southwest Montana, Brewer hit the ground running in a blur of skullduggery: He bought a 12-acre property in Madison County, obtained a $118,000 COVID Paycheck Protection Program in the name of defunct CH4 Power, started another digester company—Mesa Renewable Energy, and quickly scalped his first victim of $90,000 by masquerading as a custom storage shed builder.

Grifters gonna grift.

However, Brewer finally reaped the whirlwind of his prior scheme. His power generation reports from the ghost digester in Idaho, sent to a nonprofit for certification of carbon offset credits, had generated an audit. The result? A blank, i.e., the Idaho digester didn’t exist. A federal investigation opened as the dominoes fell, and Brewer popped into the crosshairs of two bulldog U.S. attorneys—Carbajal and Barton.

According to indictment records, Brewer was a major Dodge Ram fan and repeat customer.

(Photo by DOJ)

Arrested by Madison County sheriff’s deputies in November 2020, Brewer maintained flimflam form in custody, insisting his identity was “Ray Lenair Brewer,” and not “Ray Holcomb Brewer.”
When the ID switcheroo failed to gain traction, Brewer spat out stolen valor.

Hoping to gain sympathy, he told deputies he was a Navy veteran who had once saved several members of a flight crew on the deck of an aircraft carrier. After an incoming jet caught fire during a rough landing, Brewer suffered burns while shielding the crew from flames, according to his fabrication. (Significantly, Brewer floated the identical war story to several digester investors.)

“Not true,” Barton says. “Complete lie. It wasn’t true for any of his identities. He never served in the Navy or any other branch of the military.”

“In our experience, most Ponzi schemers finally give it up when they’re caught solid,” Carbajal adds. “Not Brewer. It was doubling and tripling down. He tried to get out of anything and everything to the end.”

Sent back to California for trial, Brewer was nailed to the wall when Carbajal and Barton exposed the paper trail. Brewer, 66, pleaded guilty to wire fraud, money laundering, and identity theft charges—yet lied to the end.

Brewer, the man from nowhere, stole almost $9M based on biogas, renewable energy, and tax incentives.

(Photo by Madison County Sheriff’s Office)

At sentencing in June 2023, he arrived in a wheelchair with a final tale to spin. During his detention at Fresno County Jail, a nurse had been attacked by inmates. Brewer played on the incident in open court by telling the judge he had jumped into the assault and saved the nurse from further injury, resulting in knee damage to himself and the necessity of a wheelchair.

Barton sets the record straight: “He lied—again. Brewer had hurt his knee previously in a motorcycle accident on one of the Harley-Davidson motorcycles he bought with stolen investor money.”

Brewer, federal inmate #14502-097, received six years and nine months in prison and was ordered to pay $8.75 million in restitution.

Green Web
At the peak of his Ponzi power in December 2016, while raking in millions, Brewer spoke to the Visalia Times-Delta about the failure of past digester models, and told a telltale lie: “In our world, we’re the guys that come in with the fund. All the dairymen have to do is collect the money.”

It was one more gross falsehood in a green web of fiction: “It was all fake,” Barton says. “There were no contracts, no digesters, no end customers, and no farmland. There was nothing but the investors.”

For more from Chris Bennett (@ChrisBennettMS or cbennett@farmjournal.com or 662-592-1106), see:

Corn and Cocaine: Roger Reaves and the Most Incredible Farm Story Never Told

Cottonmouth Farmer: The Insane Tale of a Buck-Wild Scheme to Corner the Snake Venom Market

Bagging the Tomato King: The Insane Hunt for Agriculture’s Wildest Con Man

Ghost in the House: A Forgotten American Farming Tragedy

Priceless Pistol Found After Decades Lost in Farmhouse Attic

Bizarre Mystery of Mummified Coon Dog Solved After 40 Years

American Gothic: Farm Couple Nailed In Massive $9M Crop Insurance Fraud

Evil Grain: The Wild Tale of History’s Biggest Crop Insurance Scam

Fleecing the Farm: How a Fake Crop Fueled a Bizarre $25 Million Ag Scam

The Arrowhead Whisperer: Stunning Indian Artifact Collection Found on Farmland

Skeleton In the Walls: Mysterious Arkansas Farmhouse Hides Civil War History

Ag Lenders: Just Over Half of Farmers Will Be Profitable in 2024

Wed, 19 Nov 2025 19:13:57 GMT

The American Bankers Association (ABA) and the Federal Agricultural Mortgage Corporation (Farmer Mac) have released their joint 2024 Ag Lender Survey.

The big takeaway: lenders believe only 58% of farmer borrowers will be profitable in 2024. That’s down from 78% in the previous year’s study.

“The agricultural economy is inherently cyclical, and ag lenders are navigating the changing conditions across the sectors they serve,” said Jackson Takach, chief economist of Farmer Mac.

“While the responses highlight slowing land values and a profitability shift from crops toward animal proteins, ag lenders remain steadfast in leveraging their resources and relationships to guide producers through all parts of the cycle,” Takach says.

Profitability expectations did vary by region and commodity category. Optimism was greater for livestock producers over row crop farmers.

The two top concerns listed by lenders for agricultural producers are liquidity and farm income.

For lending institutions, the respondents said the biggest concern was credit quality along with agricultural loan deterioration in the next 12 months.

“Agricultural credit quality remained robust in 2024, but lenders expect deterioration in the coming year as farmers face a more challenging environment,” said Tyler Mondres, senior director of research at the American Bankers Association. “Lenders are taking prudent steps to manage risk such as tightening underwriting standards, and they remain committed to working with and supporting their borrowers.”

Demand for loans secured by farmland and agricultural production loans increased in 2024, and both categories of loans are expected to rise in the next year as well.

The ABA/Farmer Mac survey has been conducted for nine years, and this year’s responses included more than 450 ag lenders who represent institutions ranging from less than $50 million to more than $1 billion.

You can read the full report here

Secure Your Farm’s Legacy: Virtual Succession Workshop for Teams

Tue, 15 Oct 2024 16:07:03 GMT

The organizers of The DIRRT Project are ready to help farms tackle their toughest family business issues.

With both in-person attendance (in Des Moines) and for the first time ever a fully integrated online option, the upcoming event takes place Dec. 2 to 4.

The in-person event is led by experts with personalized facilitation.

The live stream offers real-time participation with the ability to ask questions and join discussions.

Register at www.thedirttproject.com

Who should attend? If any of these four challenges sound familiar, The DIRTT Project aims to help you and provide clarity.

1. “We don’t know where to start.”

“Succession planning feels overwhelming and deciding who will take over the family farm or ranch seems impossible,” says Rena Striegel, of Transition Point Advivors, who organizes the event.

2. “We have personality conflicts and dysfunction.”

“Family dynamics can be complicated, especially when it comes to discussing the future of the business,” Striegel says. “Tensions can run high, making it difficult to have productive conversations.”

3. “We’re afraid to talk about it because we don’t want to create conflict.”

Strigel says it’s common for succession planning can stir up emotions, and stakeholders may be avoiding the conversation to prevent disagreements within the family.

4. “We’ve started before, and it didn’t work.”

“Maybe you’ve tried to have these conversations in the past, but things fell apart, or decisions were never fully made. You’re left feeling stuck and unsure how to move forward,” Striegel says.

The DIRTT Project is a hands-on workshop specifically designed to help agricultural families work through the complexities of farm and ranch succession planning.

“Our program addresses not only the logistical and financial aspects of succession but also the emotional and relational challenges that come with passing the torch to the next generation,” Striegel says.

Attendees can expect to:

Create a Clear Succession Plan
Resolve Family Tensions
Encourage Honest Conversations

“The DIRRT Project is different than other farm and ranch succession planning,” Strigel says. “It doesn’t have to be overwhelming.”

She says every program is structured to give attendees the following takeaways:

Immediate Impact
Customized Solutions
Expert Guidance
Proven Results

Register at www.thedirttproject.com

Unbowed: Farmer Fights County’s $120,000 Fine For Housing Worker On-Site

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 02:53:00 GMT

In the annals of clashes between government control versus private property rights, Michael Ballard’s story is standalone. Ballard faces $120,000-plus in fines for allowing his farm manager to live on his California farm.

When Ballard let Marcelino Martinez, a 23-year career employee, live on-site in a trailer, Santa Clara County officials reacted with a blitz of code violations. Yet, those same officials permit thousands of homeless to reside in tents, shanties, and RVs across the county without penalty.

Bottom line, according to the county: If Martinez lives homeless on the streets and commutes to work on the farm, no problem. However, if he resides on the farm in a trailer—even out of site from public roads and neighboring properties—the action is illegal and deserves draconian fines.

Ballard is unbowed, represented by Institute for Justice: “Our city roads and cul-de-sacs have rows and rows of homeless camped on public property and that’s just fine with the county—no repercussions for anyone. However, I’m being prosecuted because my vineyard manager and his family live on my private property.”

“I’m fighting the county and I’ll never listen to power-crazy bureaucrats that tell me I have to kick a family off our place,” Ballard adds. “Never. I want the public to know the shocking details and see extreme injustice by our own government.”

Soapbox Love

In 1996, Michael and Kellie Ballard bought Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards in east-central California outside Saratoga—60 acres of exquisite beauty overlooking redwoods and rolling hills.

The surrounding Saratoga community, tucked beside Silicon Valley, consistently ranks at the top of per capita income and home value in the United States. Big-name tech entrepreneurs reside in Saratoga and want their homes cleaned, lawns mowed, and tables waited—creating a massive housing crisis.

“Michael Ballard used his own land to solve a problem for a friend and farmworker in a county with arguably the most severe housing crisis in the country, and the government cracked down,” says IJ attorney Paul Avelar adds. “That is madness.”

(Photo by IJ)

“The labor-based population cannot afford a place to stay,” Ballard explains. “It’s not a secret. Most people cannot find a house or apartment to rent.”

Additionally, beneath the affluence of the region, a Santa Clara County-wide homeless debacle has developed. “People want to pretend this problem is something other than what it is,” Ballard explains. “You’re not even supposed to say ‘homeless’ anymore, because it’s supposedly disrespectful to the homeless. Everyone loves the soapbox, but when visitors from out-of-state see the homeless on our streets, they can’t comprehend what’s happened.”

Since 2013, Marcelino Martinez, Ballard’s vineyard manager and long-time employee, has lived at Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards in a 42’ trailer with water, electricity, and septic hookups, alongside his wife and three children.

“The Martinez family is also our family. They could not find housing and we wanted to help,” says Ballard. “The trailer sits by itself in a redwood grove down a hill from our winery and can’t even be seen from most spots on our property. Literally, it bothers no one.”

In September 2017, Santa Clara County got an anonymous call about sewage dumped in a creek on the Ballard’s operation. County inspectors visited Ballard’s land and found the charges were fabricated.

However, while on the vineyard property, inspectors spotted Martinez’s trailer.

“They saw the trailer and said, ‘What is that? No one’s allowed to live in an RV trailer in the county.’”

A bureaucratic nightmare began.

Bullfrogs and Shotguns

Ten days later, a notice from the county arrived in Ballard’s mailbox, demanding removal of Martinez’s trailer within two weeks, and declaring the structure a “public nuisance.”

The irony was stark: If Martinez and family slept on county streets—no fines and no foul. However, if Martinez dared to sleep in a trailer at the farm of his employment—instant county rebuke.

“Ludicrous,” Ballard says. “We’re on 60 acres of private property, bothering nobody, and the trailer is not even visible to the public. The man who lives inside works in our vines and is integral to all the physical parts of our operation. Yet, the county was ordering me to throw him and his family off our property. Homeless is just fine with the county; a trailer in Saratoga is not.”

(Santa Clara County declined Farm Journal interview requests regarding Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards.)

Marcelino Martinez, farm manager and 23-year veteran at Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards.

(Photo by IJ)

In 2019, county officials levied $1,000-per-day fines on Ballard: Remove the trailer or fork over $365,000 every year. “Hell no,” he says. “I wasn’t going to make a family homeless.”

Ballard sought a solution via a prefab dwelling for the Martinez family. Best laid plans. Building any structure—even an 850 sq. ft. home—was a bureaucratic maze filled with exorbitant expense.

“We looked into developing a parcel, knowing the county might approve and might not; knowing it would take a couple years; and knowing it would total maybe $100,000-plus just for the pre-permit application process.”

Convoluted, complicated, and costly, and toe-tagged with a laundry list of checkoffs, Ballard notes. “It took us one year to complete the geological studies and road composition, have a septic system designed, retest an existing well, and get electricity and a fire hydrant approved.”

“Meanwhile, as we’re spending all this money, county officials said we were taking too long,” Ballard says. “After that, we assembled enough of the preliminary engineering work to put in our first application. Several months later, the county countered with another laundry list of things to do.”

And then COVID hit. By law, Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards was shuttered for two years.

Following COVID in 2023, Ballard’s property was hit by a catastrophic landslide that closed the winery for a full four months. “And next it was flooding in 2023-24 that closed us for five months,” Ballard adds. “One thing after another, and the whole time, the government is telling us we’re taking too long to follow their endless list of building requirements—all to house a family on our private land.”

The fines, although reduced to $250, and later $100 per day, kept stacking, tightening the pressure on Ballard and Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards .

The county was hunting a bullfrog with a shotgun, Ballard contends: “Look at the power of the bureaucracy over our lives at the local and national levels. Rules are necessary, but these agencies and institutions keep regulating to justify their expansion and existence. They always grow and never shrink. The end result is a loss of reason by the government and a loss of liberty for the citizen.”

Individual Liberty

In 2024, attorney Paul Avelar and Institute for Justice stepped into the fray and took over Ballard’s appeal for relief.

“This injustice is absolutely bewildering to the public,” Avelar describes. “The county tells Michael Ballard, a landowner and business owner, to kick a family—bothering no one and working hard—to the street or get fined $100 or even $1,000 per day. Then Michael is required to endure a permitting process that drags for years and costs at least tens of thousands of dollars before building even begins. It’s hard for people to believe.”

The fines imposed by the county, since dropped to $100 per day, but totaling over $120,000, are a massively outsized penalty for a minor violation, and a breach of the Eighth Amendment’s excessive fines clause, Avelar insists. “A daily accruing fine means that every day is a new harm to the Ballards. The Institute for Justice has taken over the Ballard’s appeal to assert the Eighth Amendment, as well as due process, and we believe no fine is appropriate.”

“Michael Ballard used his own land to solve a problem for a friend and farmworker in a county with arguably the most severe housing crisis in the country, and the government cracked down,” Avelar adds. “That is madness.”

Michael and Kellie Ballard. “I’m fighting the county and I’ll never listen to power-crazy bureaucrats that tell me I have to kick a family off our place,” says Michael says.

(Photo by IJ)

Ballard is adamant: Reason will prevail. “In the United States, we don’t have a democracy ruled by the whim of the masses. Our forefathers gave us a constitutional republic steered by elected representatives of the people. That’s a very distinct difference, and crucially important because it means our elected leaders have authority, but are restricted by the Constitution, which protects individual liberty.”

“That’s what is abused in my case—individual liberty,” he adds. “And I see it abused in so many cases across this country because the government seeks more and more control of private property. It’s undeniable and getting worse with time.”

Ballard concludes with a line in the sand. “I don’t care about the fines or prosecution. I will protect the Martinez family and the county will not put them on the street.”

For more articles from Chris Bennett ( cbennett@farmjournal.com or @ChrisBennettMS
or 662-592-1106), see:
Corn and Cocaine: Roger Reaves and the Most Incredible Farm Story Never Told
American Gothic: Farm Couple Nailed In Massive $9M Crop Insurance Fraud
Priceless Pistol Found After Decades Lost in Farmhouse Attic
Cottonmouth Farmer: The Insane Tale of a Buck-Wild Scheme to Corner the Snake Venom Market
Power vs. Privacy: Landowner Sues Game Wardens, Challenges Property Intrusion
Tractorcade: How an Epic Convoy and Legendary Farmer Army Shook Washington, D.C.
Bizarre Mystery of Mummified Coon Dog Solved After 40 Years
While America Slept, China Stole the Farm

How The Deep State Tried, And Failed, To Crush An American Farmer

Thu, 12 Sep 2024 15:40:16 GMT

Under the nose of U.S. marshals and FBI agents, Wayne Cryts stole 32,000 bushels of his own soybeans, and then faced the wrath of a judiciary hellbent on his imprisonment. Staring at 20 years behind bars, Cryts was acquitted by three separate juries.

“It’s called lawfare,” he says, “but there was always one thing the government didn’t understand. When they took everything I had, there was nothing left for me to lose.”

Judas farmers, kangaroo courts, bucket brigades, gun grabs, crooked politicians, sacks of cash, crazy Cubans, tractorcades, and The Dukes of Hazzard: Welcome to the saga of Wayne Cryts, the farmer who charged hell with ice water.

An Old Flame

In 1946, a stone’s throw north of the Missouri Bootheel in Stoddard County, Cryts was born to corn and cotton 12 miles west of Crowley’s Ridge. The fourth-generation, teen-aged Missouri grower fell to the charms of Sandy Hyten, and the pair wed in 1964, living in a bare-bones, tin-roof shack, grateful for a crude outhouse and a kitchen sink with no drain.

A decade later, pennies pinched and dollars stretched, on winding gravel outside the tiny town of Puxico, the couple built a small, ranch-style house—the home where they remain today. Simple. Private.

Wayne and Sandy Cryts, Puxico, Missouri.

(Photo by Chris Bennett)

By the late 1970s, Cryts worked roughly 2,700 dryland acres (1,400 owned) of corn, milo, and soybeans. He stored a portion of the grain roughly 45 miles southeast in New Madrid County at the Ristine Elevator.

“Ristine. Ristine. Ristine,” Cryts, 78, slowly repeats, as if conjuring the name of an old flame. His words slide out in the crawl of a heavy drawl—a sonorous voice registered between backwoods and Southern. “If Ristine hadn’t happened, you’d have never heard of me.”

Lizards and Levi’s

Farm country was on the boil in the late 1970s. A deep market rut and high interest rates pushed many farmers toward a dire fork—pathetic commodity prices to the left and foreclosure to the right.

In 1977, five farmers in Campo, Colo., seeded the American Agriculture Movement ( AAM ), sparking an explosion of grassroots meetings across the U.S. with participation from 1.5 million producers. AAM’s dual pillars rested on a call for parity (a crop price to cover production costs and enable a survivable living) and country of origin (COOL) changes.

Epic 5,000 tractor army on the streets of Washington, D.C., in 1979.

(Photo courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society)

Cryts heard the AAM gospel and caught the fire. He stood in the conversation pit at scores of meetings, rallied the faithful, and joined tractor caravan protests. “I was the guy that took no interest in anything beyond my own rows, but I finally woke up to the trouble all farmers were in.” (Cryts drove in the epic AAM 5,000-tractor army to Washington, D.C. and was part of the McAllen Bridge war in Texas.)

“Wayne was a workaholic and never took off for nothing, but he took to AAM naturally,” Sandy echoes. “One day he wasn’t a coffee shop farmer; then suddenly he was.”

In 1979, as Cryts felt populism’s pull, he averaged 35 bushel-per-acre soybeans, and held back part of the crop, hoping to catch a market wave. He deposited 32,331 bushels in three 1950s vaulted Quonset huts at the 23-acre Ristine Elevator facility—owned by the James Brothers Co. of Corning, Ark. The price for storage? One-twelfth of a penny per bushel per day.

Cryts was the single largest holder of soybeans at Ristine. He had a Commodity Credit Corporation (CCC) loan on the soybeans at $4.54 per bushel; $146,778. The December 1979 market price was $10.86; $351,103.80.

“I was holding tight,” he recalls. “Beans had climbed over $10 per bushel and I was looking to nail that crest. Interest rates were at 18% and I needed every penny from those beans. They were my family’s future.”

In August 1980, with his present year’s soybeans burning in the rows due to severe drought and his previous year’s soybeans still in the Ristine bin, Cryts hit the Big Apple. Alongside Texas producer David Senter (future AAM director) and Nebraska producer Corky Jones, Cryts hauled a Ford tractor to New Jersey, hopped into the open-cab seat, and drove across the George Washington Bridge to crash the Democratic National Convention at Madison Square Garden. “I was a yellow dog Dem,” he recalls, wearing a wide grin. “I couldn’t be more opposite now, but things were sure as hell different then.”

Loosed on the streets of NYC, Cryts was transformed into a 5’ 10” concrete cowboy, and the sight of a Missouri farmer atop a tractor decked in AAM flags rolling down cosmopolitan streets was a genuine spectacle. “We went through Harlem and the south Bronx and got stopped under an overpass surrounded by hookers and homeless,” he describes. “I honestly don’t think they’d seen anything like us in their lives. The police sent a vice squad over to make the hookers leave us alone.”

Tractorcade snakes along the highway to D.C. in 1979.

(Photo courtesy of Oklahoma Historical Society)

Rumbling down the final stretch of Seventh Avenue wearing a jean jacket, high-rise AAM trucker hat, ever-present Levi’s, and a Case knife on his hip, Cryts pulled directly in front of Madison Square Garden, turned off the engine, and stepped onto the sidewalk in lizard-skin Justin boots, surrounded by a circus of activity: suits-and-ties hollering in thick NYC accents; environmental protestors in sandwich boards alarmed over acid rain, purple-haired gay rights activists, and a host of characters screaming for peace in the Middle East.

Cryts split the throng and beelined to a payphone to assure his wife of a safe arrival. Standing in a booth outside the Garden, over 1,000 miles from Bootheel dirt, Cryts heard words that changed his life when Sandy picked up the horn: “Wayne, the Ristine Elevator went bankrupt.”

Flash to bang, Cryts was hurtling toward history.

A Bureaucrat Scorned

James Brothers Co. (Corning, Ark.) had pledged 11 grain facilities in Arkansas and Missouri against a $3 million loan from the First Tennessee Bank of Memphis. The bank called the loan; James Brothers nosedived.

A federal bankruptcy judge in Little Rock, Charles Baker (born and raised in Missouri), stepped into the fray, and took control of the elevators, including Ristine. Baker determined that stored grain was an asset of James Brothers to be sold free and clear of liens to pay off elevator debts.

“I was supposed sit back, be quiet, risk getting pennies on the dollar, and like it,” Cryts says.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Concern creeping, Cryts dialed Tom Hopkins, director of the Division of Grain Inspection and Warehousing at the Missouri Department of Agriculture. “The James Brothers told the Ristine manager to ‘take a vacation’ because he wouldn’t let them sneak out the stored grain,” Cryts explains. “The manager blew the whistle to Tom, who put padlocks on the elevator. Tom assured me all the grain was accounted for and that I’d have access in a month after the red tape was cut.”

“Ristine was the same old story,” Cryts continues. “Bankruptcy comes in; lawyers appear who play a game of receipts; a trustee is appointed who is paid by percent and drags it out five years; judges lord over the whole business; and farmers eat a crap sandwich. It’s called a gravy train and everyone gets a seat, except the farmer.”

Cryts and family in 1981. Photo courtesy of Wayne Cryts

(Photo courtesy of Wayne Cryts)

“I knew how these bankruptcies worked,” Cryts adds. “The elevator’s bills get paid, with farmers last in line. Then they tell everyone farmers got paid 100%. Hell yes, farmers sure do get paid 100%, but only of whatever was left in the pool at the end. From 1974 to 1982, there was something close to 140 elevators in 20-plus states that went under. Most of those farmers got 5 cents to 59 cents on the dollar. In my case, I was supposed sit back, be quiet, risk getting pennies on the dollar, and like it.”

Days later, eating breakfast over television with Sandy, Cryts watched a reporter announce the reopening of the Ristine Elevator the following day at 8 a.m. Was his grain was about to pour out of Ristine?

Cryts called New Madrid producer N.J. Howell, the second largest holder of soybeans at Ristine—25,000 bushels and delivered the news. “Wayne, what should we do?” responded Howell.

At sunrise, starting in nearby Kewanee, Cryts hooked a disk to a 1586 International, and drove to Ristine with Howell (also on a tractor and disk). They parked and unfolded on opposite ends of the elevator scales. No grain in; no grain out.

“I had to keep the grain from getting away,” Cryts says. “As long as the beans were in the bin, I had a chance. Once they were turned into money, it was all over because I sure wasn’t going to rob a bank.”

Two-hundred and fifty miles southwest, Judge Baker was taking notes. Hell hath no fury like a bureaucrat scorned.

The Great Soybean War

A monumental showdown brewed, pitting farmer against government, and state against federal authority, all over who owned a Bootheel bean crop.

Baker ordered federal seizure of the Ristine Elevator. Arriving in sedans, decked in suits and badges, U.S. marshals, led by George Welch, set up shop at Ristine on Sept. 16, establishing a control center inside the elevator office.

Cryts held tight to his warehouse receipts. “The grain was not leaving. I would go to court and prove my case, but I would not let them take my beans.”

After marshals put additional padlocks on the elevators, Cryts and his fellow farmers responded with their own padlocks, resulting in ludicrous soybean security: three separate sets of locks on the bins.

Cryts and company kept eyeballs on the elevator. All day, all night. “We slept in the parking lot, or on cots inside the office, watching every minute over the grain. We knew there was grain moving out of other elevators involved in the bankruptcy, like in Piggott, Arkansas, and we made sure Ristine didn’t follow.”

“The marshals were highly sympathetic to us and were just doing their job,” Cryts notes. “We agreed to move our machinery, with assurance that grain could go in, but not out. But guess how many farmers delivered grain? None. Who in the hell would risk delivery to such a place? In fact, the trustee, Robert Lindsey, sued 20 farmers for failure to deliver grain. You couldn’t make up how crazy it was getting.”

Cryts’ phone rang off the hook with producers providing advice and warnings about nightmare experiences in elevator crashes. As media picked up the story, support swelled for Cryts across farm country.

Homer repeat: Homer Evans of Puxico, Mo., and Homer Evans of Ulysses, Kan., helped organize the Ristine coup.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Support also flowed from the governor’s office: Judge Baker’s claims of federal authority ruffled feathers in Jefferson City. Backing Cryts, Missouri Gov. Joseph Teasdale and Secretary of Agriculture Jack Runyan declared Ristine within their state jurisdiction. Teasdale obtained a temporary injunction in the Missouri Circuit Court of New Madrid County, along with an order to use force if necessary to control Ristine.

However, when Baker called the bluff, firing back with contempt of court charges and the potential arrest of Teasdale, the governor washed his hands of Cryts. The constitutional jam ended with a whimper. Teasdale and the Missouri Department of Agriculture walked away, leaving Cryts, 35 years young, holding the bag.

“It was a gut punch when Teasdale backed off,” Cryts recalls. “Suddenly, there was nothing standing between me and the federal government.”

The Great Soybean War was on: Farmer versus feds.

Damn Farmer

Refusing to close a pocketknife he didn’t open, Cryts attended a drumbeat of hearings, stretched across months, over grain ownership in Little Rock, all while overseeing a 24-7 vigil at Ristine. The steady drip of courthouse trips was maddening for Cryts: He listened as sticky-fingered attorneys argued over his soybeans.

Cryts holds a sample jar of his “liberated” beans from Ristine.

(Photo by Chris Bennett)

“That’s how they bleed a man,” he says. “We had to be at each hearing so we didn’t lose our claim. I’m talking about endless court dates and postponements and gavels and collection of bills, only for Judge Baker to deny, deny, deny.”

“The fix was in and everyone knew it,” Cryts contends. “The notorious Rose Law Firm was involved and it’s no coincidence that Baker was hired by the Rose Law Firm shortly after my case. Baker called me a ‘damn farmer’ behind closed doors. I don’t know where his personal hate came from, but it was very real.”

In January 1981, the month of Ronald Reagan’s inauguration, Cryts caught advice from a Minnesota farmer, urging Cryts to ask freshly arrived USDA staff to pay the difference between market price and loan, an out used in several prior elevator crashes. Alongside Missouri Rep. Bill Burlison, Cryts flew to Washington, D.C., and met with two newly appointed USDA undersecretaries: An agreement was reached. Finally, relief.

Cryts had full support from Sandy: Return with your shield or on it.

(Photo by Chris Bennett)

“All of a sudden, this career USDA bureaucrat, Arnold Grunden, walks in the room,” Cryts recalls. “He was an unelected lifer, in position regardless of who was president. He said, ‘No. I’m legal counsel here and we’re not doing it.’ Congressman Burlison smacked both hands down on the table in disgust, but it was over. That was a moment I understood the second, third, and fourth layer of bureaucrats. That was a moment I understood who controlled government. I flew back to Missouri—emptyhanded.”

The time was nearing for Cryts to steal his own grain—and he didn’t care if it harelipped the judge.

No More Talk

No secrets. Cryts announced his intention to raid Ristine. On Jan. 15, 1981, an American farmer proclaimed open defiance of the federal judiciary.

In a conference room at the Ramada Inn in Sikeston, assisted by KSIM’s radio man Bill Anderson, Cryts held a press conference with flash bulbs galore: newspaper and television reporters from Memphis, St. Louis, Jonesboro, and more. Additionally, the FBI and U.S. Marshals attended, along with a large contingent of AAM farmers.

AAM’s five founding fathers with Wayne Cryts on Ristine coup eve. L-R: Jerry Wright, Derral Schroder, Lynn Bitter, Gene Schroder, Wayne Cryts, and Alvin Jenkins.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Cryts promised he would remove his grain from Ristine on Feb. 16, George Washington’s birthday, at 10 a.m. on a Monday. “I told them there was going to be no sneaking or hiding. I was going right through the front door to get my beans before I financially bled to death. Shoot me, beat me, lock me up—it’s happening.”

Cryts had the full support of his wife, Sandy: Return with your shield or on it.

“Everyone in farming knew Wayne was going to Ristine to get our grain or get arrested. He had given his word and he would back up his word,” Sandy says. “Talking was over.”

Pillow of Doubt

Ristine’s fuse burned shorter by the day. Against a backdrop of barrel-roof bins, the 23 acres of elevator grounds were packed with federal marshals, FBI agents, Judas farmers—government moles dressed in in ill-fitting overalls and trucker hats, Pinkerton Detectives, Missouri state troopers, television reporters, newspaper writers, Cryts’ contingent of Bootheelers, and a steadily increasing flow of farmers from across the nation.

Federal marshals wait to serve Cryts with papers at Ristine.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Twenty-plus state flags, each representing a block of on-site farmer support, along with countless AAM slogans, signs, and banners, adorned the elevator. And still they came.

“As we got closer to Feb. 16, there was about 3,000 farmers piled in, including a few fake farmer plants working for the feds who tried to blend in the crowd,” Cryts says. “The pressure was building on me because I had no clue what might happen. There was going to be no violence on my part, but that grain was coming out.”

The night of Feb. 15, Cryts held a rally and called for calm. “Farmers were talking rough. Hell, everybody back then had a shotgun and rifle in their back window. And all the government officers certainly were armed. But I declared there would be no violence no matter what on our part, and I told the marshals that if anyone in our farmer group acted out, then they should be arrested accordingly.”

Sidestepping potential congestion, Cryts’ farmer army parked 70 trucks on the gravel shoulder beside Ristine, with an additional 10 trucks parked at the Ramada Inn in Sikeston. Inside one of the trucks, in case of emergency, were stacks of 5-gallon pails—enough to arm a bucket brigade. If by no other means, Cryts was ready to hand-scoop 32,331 bushels of soybeans.

As Sunday, Feb. 15 wrapped, Cryts laid his head on a pillow of doubt. The swirling dynamic was bizarre. Farmers watched the grain; marshals watched the farmers; news media watched the marshals; and Judge Baker watched them all.

The Dukes of Hazzard

Cryts woke to a deep-holler fog. Wrapped in a peculiarly heavy, early-morning mist blanketing the level land around Sikeston, Cryts took a phone call from a constitutional lawyer with a last-minute legal pointer. Cryts scratched down the incoming advice on a napkin and stuffed the paper in a front pocket. He walked toward a white Ford bob-truck, and ushered his daughter, Paula, into the cab, alongside Sandy. His son, Terry, climbed into the bed, and stood at the ready beside a dozen Bootheel farmers. Fifteen miles from hotel to elevator.

Flanked by Alvin Jenkins, Cryts walks the federal gauntlet at Ristine.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

At Ristine, Cryts approached Ristine like Bootheel Moses, fronting a bewildering cavalcade of several thousand farmers driving pickups, bob trucks, and 10-wheelers, caboosed by an elderly Oklahoma farmer pushing a wheelbarrow mounted with Old Glory.

At 9:50 a.m., Cryts waited in his cab, nervously chewing over the final 10 minutes. In all the details and rabbit trails of preparation, he had made a glaring omission. A thick logging chain ran across the driveway—a simple, but effective deterrent. Into the gap stepped Herman Linville, a Hatfield & McCoy type farmer from Stoddard County, cloaked in a long-hanging Levi’s jacket atop bib overalls. Often mistaken for Cryts’ shadow, Linville had stood with Cryts during the McAllen Bridge melee. Wielding heavy-duty bolt-cutters, Linville waltzed in plain view of authorities and dropped the chain.

At 10 a.m. on the dial, Cryts exited his truck and walked up to big and tall Howard Safir, the U.S. marshal lead. Safir produced a court order and read aloud, forbidding Cryts from grain removal. Cryts stood his ground, fumbled in his pocket, pulled out the breakfast napkin, and responded in kind, toe to toe: Your court order was written under equity law. I am a sovereign individual and a citizen of the State of Missouri operating under common low; therefore, your court order has no weight of law against me, nor does it have jurisdiction over me.

Safir handed Cryts the court order, and in a surreal, impromptu diplomatic response, Cryts presented Safir with the napkin. Cryts then proceeded down the line and shook hands with each marshal, before climbing back in the cab, putting the Ford in granny low, and easing forward, unsure if the marshals and agents would pull sidearms.

“I had no backup plan in that moment,” Cryts admits. “If they’d have refused to move, I wasn’t going to run anybody over. Maybe we would have cranked up the bucket brigade—by any peaceful means necessary.”

Cryts reads his napkin declaration to federal marshals.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

As Cryts rolled forward, Safir and his subordinates parted. Cryts pulled onto the scales and an open-air heist began, with Homer Evans, a Bunge elevator manager and farmer from Ulysses, Kan., and Corky Jones, an elevator operator and farmer from Brownsville, Neb., handling the scales, running a probe, and sampling for trash.

The grain removal centered on three of Ristine’s five Quonset huts: Peel off a sheet metal section with a railroad pinch bar, drop in a vacuum pipe, and fill each vehicle. By 5:30 p.m., with 50-plus trucks loaded, Cryts shuttered the operation until the next day, and returned to his Sikeston motel room. (The infamous pinch bar, dubbed the “Ristine Key,” was auctioned by AAM members and sold for $4,000 to a group of Texas farmers.)

A heist in motion at Ristine.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

The following morning, Cryts proceeded at Ristine. At 1:30 p.m., with loading completed, the FBI, commanded by Glenn Young, requested a final meeting with Cryts in the elevator office.

“They told me I was going to get people killed, get people arrested, get people in trouble, and it’d all be my fault,” Cryts says. “Glenn Young was playing the good cop, with his arm around me, gently telling me to stop for the good of my family, and that if I’d leave today, no arrests would be made.”

Tin peeled via the “Ristine Key” before bean removal.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Leaning in close, Young delivered an ultimatum: “This is it, Wayne. You’ve gone as far as you’re gonna go. It’s over.’”

Cryts paused. For one year he’d eaten stress by the spoonful while holding meaningless warehouse receipts, attending countless court hearings, maintaining elevator vigils, and watching crops burn in the field—all while the Ristine grain dangled in limbo and loans loomed. He was worn to the bone. The FBI agents surrounding Cryts could smell weakness.

Three days running with no sleep, hand across temples, he spoke softly to Young: “Could you please leave the room? Just give me a minute and take everyone out. Guard the door and don’t let nobody in.”

Spotting a crack in the levee, Young cleared the office room and left Cryts in silence.

Unraveling like chewed twine, Cryts fought back tears and replayed the events of past months. “No one but me and the Lord ever knew how close I came to giving up. I stayed alone in that room for what seemed like 20 minutes or more, weighing it out. I didn’t want anyone hurt or in jail. I asked myself one last time if I was willing to pay the price.”

Composure regained, Cryts knocked against the door to recall the FBI personnel.

Entering the room, Young patted Cryts on the back, and asked, “Wayne, what are you going to do?”

“Glenn, have you ever seen The Dukes of Hazzard?”

Young smashed his fist on the desk, roiled by the reference to General Lee in flight from the law: “Is that your final answer?”

“Final,” Cryts answered, walking out of the office. “And I’m going right now.”

A massive crowd of farmers, 77 trucks and 1 wheelbarrow, all loaded, awaited Cryts.

One wheelbarrow and 77 trucks: The Ristine coup.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

The Pledge of Allegiance rang out across the elevator grounds, led by Colorado producer Alvin Jenkins, an original founder of AAM. Sheet metal repair, sealing, and repainting was in the sure hands of Clarence Banfield, an 80-year-old Kansas farmer who road to Stoddard County on a Greyhound bus. Stan DeBoer, a Nebraska grower, oversaw road grating and cleanup—down to the last cigarette butt. As noted in a subsequent FBI report, Cryts and company left the Ristine Elevator in better condition than prior to their arrival.

“The people helping me were a bunch of regular Americans from across the country that had enough of government,” Cryts says. “They put their farms in jeopardy. They willingly walked into the federal crosshairs. I was acting out of desperation for my livelihood, but they had nothing to gain but upholding their own beliefs about freedom. They were the heroes.”

The FBI made no arrests. As the convoy departed Ristine, every farmer signed a scale ticket, and every farmer was photographed and plated by the FBI—including the wheelbarrow pusher.

Destination? Twenty-five miles west to the MFA Elevator in Bernie, Mo., and a high-wire game of cat-and-mouse played with soybeans.

Get Cryts

In late afternoon of Feb. 17, under clear skies and warm sunshine stroking 60 degrees, Cryts’ soybean convoy chugged into Bernie, where mayor R.B. Woods moved engines out of the firehouse and provided snacks, coffee, and shelter, along with meals from local restaurants.

The next morning, 8 a.m., with a convoy yet to unload, Cryts felt a one-two punch combo. The fix was in.

The conspirators at Bernie MFA.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Cryts called the Agricultural Stabilization and Conservation Service (ASCS) office, explaining his intention to sell grain to the MFA Elevator, exchange checks at the bank for cash, and deliver the cash to ASCS toward his Commodity Credit Corporation (CCC) loan.

ASCS’ response was simple and succinct: “No.”

ASCS officials declined Cryts’ payment attempt with check or cash, citing direct orders from Washington, D.C. Additionally, CCC threatened to pull MFA’s license if the grain facility accepted Cryts’ soybeans. Judge Baker piled on, threatening impounding and conspiracy charges for any elevator accepting Cryts’ grain.

Resolute: “I have many regrets in life ... But Ristine? I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” says Cryts.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Cryts was reeling. “How could I pay off my loan? Where could I put all these beans?”

Despite the setup, Cryts slipped the noose when the Eighth Circuit Court of Appeals in St. Louis made an emergency ruling, ordering MFA to take the grain until determination of ownership.

However, Cryts was slipping into legal hell. “That’s when I truly realized my fight with the government was only just beginning.”

FBI top agent Glenn Young, genuinely concerned after reading the tea leaves, offered sage advice on the sly, according to Cryts. “This is just starting,” Young warned. “Take everything out of your name and Sandy’s name or you will lose it. Everything. The government is going to take everything you have, Wayne. They’re coming for you.”

Get Cryts.

Bat Outta Hell

An arrest warrant was issued for Cryts three weeks after the Ristine raid. On March 6, 1981, he was arraigned in St. Louis by U.S. Magistrate William Bond on felony charges of interfering with the duties of U.S. marshals, a crime punishable by six years in prison and a $5,000 fine.

A grand jury was convened. The panel refused to indict. The judge dismissed all charges. Cryts was safe—in the short term.

Inside the ASCS office: Cryts’ payment via check or cash was denied.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Four months later, in the anvil heat of July, Cryts’ mailbox clinked with a letter from the CCC, calling in the loan: Pay up now or forfeit grain. Translated: Adios, amigo.

Almost cornered, Cryts weighed options. ASCS refused cash or check, but the technical language of the letter allowed for payment via commodity. “I was infuriated by how crazy the whole thing was,” he continues, “but at least I had a lifeline.”

(For more, listen to a podcast interview with Wayne Cryts at Farming The Countryside With Andrew McCrea )

Cryts called Eric Thompson, elevator manager at MFA Bernie, and asked for his soybeans. Thompson was in a pickle. Give Cryts access to the soybeans and face conspiracy charges, or refuse access and watch Cryts go under?

Thompson’s solution came with a heavy wink. He told Cryts that MFA would stand aside if Cryts threatened “use of force.” Following the feint, Cryts told Thompson, “Yessir, I’m willing to force my way in.”

Instantly absolved from legal responsibility, Thompson gave Cryts the green light to load soybeans—77 trucks all over again. Beans in hand, Cryts drove like a bat outta hell to the ASCS office in Bloomfield: “I’m here to pay my loan with grain. Where do you’uns want it?”

ASCS reps, strings pulled from on high, denied delivery: “We’ve been instructed not to receive your grain.”

Further stymied by a ruling from Baker deeming any purchasing elevator as part of the conspiracy, Cryts pressed the nuclear option: Bean by bean, scatter the grain to the wind. Sell, baby, sell, and pay whatever is owed to whoever will accept cash on the barrelhead.

How so? Cryts’ cohort of AAM farmers took the truckloads of soybeans and disappeared. “I told them all, ‘Boys, just go sell wherever you can and get me the money whenever you can.’”

However, Cryts’ instructions for Harley Sentell, a close farming brother in Butler County, Missouri, were precise and included a direct jab at Judge Baker via the grain elevator at Corning, Ark.—part of the bankruptcy and technically owned by Baker.

“I told Harley, ‘Sell two loads of beans to the James Brothers headquarters in Corning. The guys there won’t know me from Shinola, so put my name on the ticket. That purchase will make Baker’s own elevator part of the conspiracy and therefore he’ll hesitate before he charges any other elevator.’”

“Harley sold Corning the grain and they never knew what hit’em,” Cryts adds. “That was just one more reason for Baker to hate me.”

Seeds of Sedition

The Ristine boomerang hit Cryts on Feb. 9, 1982. Called to appear before Judge Baker, Cryts was granted immunity and ordered to provide the names of all farmers who helped steal the Ristine soybeans. It was political chess: The government already possessed the identity of each farmer involved (photos and signed scale tickets) and didn’t need Cryts’ attestation.

Tickets and receipts from Ristine: Wayne Cryts kept them all.

(Photo by Chris Bennett)

Nonetheless, Cryts declined to allow the judge to hang the wrong horse thief: “No way would I give him a name—not even one.”

Frustrated by Cryts’ refusal to play canary, Baker tossed a pencil across the courtroom and threatened civil contempt of court. Cryts responded with disdain: “... I am so sick and tired of this forced mockery of justice and those thieving, money hungry lawyers that come into a bankrupt elevator like a bunch of vultures and milk every dollar out of the escrow account. And by the time they are finished, the farms are left with nothing. They take the assets of honest, hardworking people and get rich off them. Your Honor, I think this circus has gone on for long enough. You do whatever you have to do and let’s get on with it.”

Baker chose to lock up Cryts until the Bootheel farmer broke. On April 28, 1982, Cryts was processed at the Pope County Jail in Russellville, Ark., with Baker promising freedom upon testimony: “Cryts can be released from jail by telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth ... Cryts has planted the seeds of sedition and must harvest the bittersweet bounty of his own folly by staying in jail.”

However, Baker’s heavy hand ignited media coverage and kicked an anthill in farm country. In southeast Missouri, pickup trucks sported a common bumper sticker: ''Free Wayne, Jail The Judge.’'

Jailhouse phone lines were jammed. “Donations for my defense came pouring in, AAM hired the famous attorney F. Lee Bailey to represent me, and the news went crazy because people started realizing what the government was doing,” Cryts says. “The mayor of Russellville brought me the key to the city; high school groups came into jail to hear me speak; and all of it made Baker’s blood boil because he created a circus he couldn’t control.”

“Bill Clinton showed up at jail to visit with me, and that tells you how deep corruption ran in the bureaucracy. After this case was all over, Judge Baker suddenly got a sweet job with the Rose Law Firm. Please don’t tell me that was a coincidence.”

During incarceration, Wayne Cryts tells Bill Clinton how the cow ate the cabbage.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

In early May, Sen. Bob Dole of Kansas requested Cryts’ testimony in Washington, D.C., at a Senate bankruptcy hearing. Baker refused to let his prisoner go. (Cryts also received significant support from Iowa Sen. Charles Grassley, who offered to serve a portion of Cryts’ time and petitioned Reagan for a pardon. “Hell no,” Cryts says. “I told Grassley I would never take a pardon. I didn’t do anything.”

When Baker balked at Dole’s request, DOJ provided additional encouragement. “DOJ threatened Baker and told him they were going to find him in contempt and put him in jail with me. I reckon we’d have been great cellmates. Anyhow, the judge suddenly let me go to Washington.”

Given a furlough, Cryts flew to D.C. and told the Ristine tale. Four days later, he was back behind bars in Arkansas, while a whirlwind of pressure circled Baker. On June 2, after 30-plus days in jail, Cryts was released, but Baker was not finished, recommending criminal prosecution for Cryts: “It is obvious to this court that Mr. Cryts envisions himself to be some sort of folk hero who has been called on from on high to right the wrongs inflicted upon farmers when grain elevators fail. His refusal to cooperate should be deemed criminal...”

Additionally, Baker levied a fine of $287,000 and went after Cryts’ finances, assets, and bank accounts.

“There was nothing left in our name for him to get,” Cryts reflects. “Baker even tried to seize my farm equipment, but my neighbors got there first and hid all my machinery on their ground.”

For almost two years, Cryts had walked a high wire above ruin. “The whole time, I thought proving the facts would set things straight. Turns out, the government only cared that I had dared to break its rules—truth be damned. And for that, I had to pay.”

Cargill Blinks

Paper sacks, rubber bands, and greenbacks.

As Cryts’ farming brethren sold his grain at the four corners, money flooded in, spurring Cryts to stash the cash in safety deposit boxes rented by a friend. “Guys literally walked up and handed me sandwich bags filled with bills, no questions asked. I started paying off all the people I owed. I sure as hell didn’t want to use that system, but my hand was forced.”

In response, Baker issued an order to over 100 Bootheel banks to confiscate any money deposited by Cryts. The Internal Revenue Service knocked next in a sequence of curious timing, demanding payment for overdue taxes.

Cryts drove to the IRS office in St. Louis and asked if he could pay via asset seizure.

All over again: Loading soybeans out of Bernie.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

“I’m sitting there with this IRS agent, and I asked him if I could pay in beans. He says, ‘I think so. Just let me make certain with my supervisor.’”

“The supervisor comes in, and I explained the situation all over again. All of a sudden, the supervisor sat up in his chair: ‘Wait. Wait,’ he said, as everything dawned on him. ‘You’re that soybean guy? You’re that Cryts guy? No way. We’re not doing it.”

“That’s the level of government collusion I was up against,” Cryts says. “Courts, agencies, departments, and career bureaucrats were madder than hell, all because their lifetime power was threatened.”

In the fall of 1982, in legal limbo, Cryts began harvesting and hauling grain to Cargill in New Madrid. Baker issued a grain confiscation order to Cargill.

Cryts went on-site to Cargill’s concrete elevators and spoke plainly, warning of a Ristine repeat. “Give me back my grain or give me cash. It’ll be tough busting in one of your elevators, and I don’t know right now how to do it, but I’ll get my grain out. I promise to do the least amount of damage I can, and I’ll pay for repairs when I’m done.”

Cryts addresses a media swarm.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Cargill blinked. However, the New Madrid facility was barge-only and had no load-out for trucks. “They told me I could go inland and get my grain from another elevator. I went to Dexter and got my grain, and then drove it to MFA Bernie and sold it. That marked the event where the government gave up on confiscations.”

The feds may have grown tired of chasing Cryts’ grain, but the government exchanged its grip on Cryts’ soybeans for a better handle on his collar. As in, a 20-year stay in the penitentiary. “Guilt or innocence was out the window,” Cryts exclaims. “They weren’t turning loose of me no matter what.”

Rat on a Cheeto.

A Cold Day In Hell

The home phone rang at all hours with calls from farmers, agriculture organizations, and mayors across the nation, asking for a Cryts appearance or speech. “It became a way of saying thanks and I never asked or wanted a penny in return,” Cryts describes. “Sometimes my expenses were paid; sometimes not. I made it to every event possible out of gratitude.”

In August 1982, Cryts took a call from the northwest corner of Arkansas and the tiny town of Gravette, just under the state line, roughly an hour south of Springfield, Mo. On the horn was Bob Pigott, chamber of commerce president, asking Cryts to speak at the Eighty-Ninth Annual Gravette Day Celebration and serve as grand marshal of the parade.

Wash, rinse, repeat. At home, Cryts unloads a portion of beans from Bernie.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

Bud Shell, owner of the Ford dealership in Dexter, Mo., stepped up and provided Cryts with a blue travel van, a repeat gesture by Shell. On the morning prior to the Gravette festivities, as Cryts sat in Pigott’s clothing store, the office phone rattled with a call from a familiar and trusted voice—U.S. marshal George Welch, a highly-respected presence at the Ristine affair.

“Wayne, they’re coming for you,” Welch stated. “This is a setup. There is a federal marshal tracking you and they’re going to find a way to arrest you. I know this because they tried to get me to do it and I told them to go to hell.”

Welch was preaching gospel. At 9 a.m. the following day, as Cryst again sat inside Pigott’s store, a team of U.S. marshals surrounded the building. Chuck Papachio, a U.S. marshal from Brooklyn, NYC, entered the premises and handed Pigott a writ garnishing any payment planned for Cryts. (However, the Chamber did not pay Cryts.)

Papachio turned to Cryts: “Do you have any valuables on you?”

“I’ve got my watch, wedding ring, boots, and about $150 in cash,” Cryts answered.

Papachio requested turnover of said valuables. Cryts refused.

During the verbal exchange, Papachio’s men were covering the rear exit, pistols drawn. Cryts only found out about Papachio’s backdoor coverage at trial, months later. “When I heard during testimony that the government was locked and loaded that day, I have to ask if they were hoping I’d resist. I’ll always wonder if I’d have run out the back door whether they were going to shoot me dead. It shows you an outrageous level of government overkill.”

If lizard-skin could talk: Cryts’ Justin boots have a tale to tell.

(Photo by Chris Bennett)

As the confrontation continued between Papachio and Cryts, a bystander hollered, “Wayne, the marshals are outside taking your van.”

Cryts raced to the street and stepped off the curb, blocking a tow truck from van access. Papachio warned Cryts to move or face arrest. “I can accept being arrested,” Cryts answered, “but I can’t accept you stealing this van.”

Cryts maintained calm and told Papachio. “I’m not going to be a problem. Just let me be the grand marshal and as soon as the parade ends, do your thing if you want to arrest me that bad.”

Fearing an unruly Gravette citizenry, Papachio acquiesced, but his hesitation almost went sideways. After the parade concluded, Papachio cuffed Cryts and placed him in a county patrol vehicle. The crowd erupted, tearing off the antennae and kicking in the doors before the car picked up speed. “It got wild,” Cryts remembers. “People were rocking the car back and forth, and the officers were bad shook up.”

Processed at the Sebastian County jailhouse in Fort Smith, Cryts traded his jean jacket and Levi’s for blue-and-white stripes. He was fingerprinted, photographed for a mugshot, issued a tin cup, and deposited in a cell with eight Cubans. “These were genuine criminals dumped by Castro in his 1980 prison cleanout, and I was scared to death. I had no options but to act tough and be ready to fight, bite, whatever it took. Helluva night: I ended up killing 280 cockroaches.”

Two days later, Cryts posted bond and was released until trial. “My van,” he recalls. “They kept my damn van.”

Jack Lewis holds the “Ristine key” sold at auction for $4,000.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

In October 1982, in Fayetteville, Ark., Cryts’ trial process began on charges of interference with a federal marshal, with a potential sentence of 20 years in federal prison. His attorney, Bill Wilson, pushed for a guilty plea, Cryts recalls.

“Wayne, plead or you’re looking at a couple decades of hard time in maximum security. Baker issued you a court order not to remove the grain, and you violated that order, but the marshals and FBI officers refused to back Baker and stop you. Basically, you stripped Baker naked of his power and you’re a threat to the entire system. They’re going to make an example of you one way or another. Plead guilty now.”

Undaunted, Cryts insisted on a jury trial.

Federal Magistrate Judge Franklin McWaters presided in Fayetteville.

“The prosecutor spouted all kinds of crap to the jury,” Cryts contends. “He said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, don’t get on a cruise ship with Wayne Cryts. He’ll take the lifeboats and leave the women and children behind. He wants notoriety. He wants fame. He wants power.’”

Cryts took the stand, looking as guilty as the boy who burned down the barn. “I told them I did it. I hid nothing. The prosecution said I refused a direct order from a federal marshal, and I told the jury that was true.”

After Cryts exited the stand, Bill Wilson put head to hands and whispered, “Wayne, you’re the best witness the prosecution has had.”

After closing statements, Judge McWaters put a thumb on the scales: I want to tell the ladies and gentlemen of the jury one thing. If you come back with anything other than a guilty verdict, we might as well throw our laws out the window, everybody strap on a six-gun, and go down the street shooting.

“Can you imagine how that felt,” Cryts says. “I’m up for 20 years and the judge tells the jury they sure as hell better find me guilty. Literally, those were the last words heard by the jury.”

Seated at the defense table, Cryts was lost, unable to read blank expressions worn by the jury as they shuffled out. No smiles. No frowns.

Retreating to a hallway, Cryts collapsed on the floor, and waited for the inevitable. Three hours later, the jury returned, again filing in with faces set in stone.

The bailiff handed the decision to Judge McWaters, who read in silence, then peered down at the jury: “Is this unanimous?”

McWaters then tossed the decision on the courtroom floor. The bailiff picked up the paperwork and read aloud: “Not guilty.”

The prosecutor scrambled out of his chair and demanded a jury poll. Each juror rose, stated a name, and sounded off.

McWaters rapped the gavel. Court dismissed.

Knees to jelly and adrenaline gone, Cryts wept.

As McWaters exited the room in a fury, Bill Wilson hollered out: “Your honor, what about Mr. Cryts’ van? Your honor?”

McWaters turned about for one final pause: “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I release that van.”

Mysterious Corn Cob

Double jeopardy? Triple jeopardy? The government took another bite at the Cryts apple.

“They were going to change up the charges and put me on trial until they got their guilty verdict,” Cryts insists. “When Ristine didn’t work, they just tried something else.”

Ristine relief: “It wasn’t years ago,” says Cryts. “It was yesterday. I’ll die with a debt for those farmers who stood with me.”

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

In June 1983, throwing in the towel on Ristine, federal judge Thomas Eisele rang up Cryts on charges of criminal contempt for removing his soybeans from the MFA Elevator at Bernie.

Mirroring his previous trial, Cryts refused to plead guilty, and a jury was seated in a Little Rock courtroom.

Prosecutors subpoenaed Cryts’ father, William, but the move backfired on the witness stand. William claimed a mysteriously cloudy recall of the grain removal at MFA due to his perpetually poor memory sustained in a farm accident as a child after a fall from a loft when struck by a “wet corn cob.”

The jury deliberated for 30 minutes, voting unanimously for acquittal. Eisele was incensed.

“He cussed and criticized the jury. He openly told them he disagreed with their decision,” Cryts explains.

“Since the jury acquitted me, Eisele did what he could to make my life miserable. He charged with me with civil contempt and fined me $341,000. To this day, I reckon it’s compounded to millions of dollars. I never paid.”

“If Ristine hadn’t happened, you’d have never heard of me,” says Cryts.

(Photo courtesy of AAM)

In less than two years, Cryts had faced a grand jury that refused to indict, and two trial juries that voted not guilty. Yet, the government was not finished.

“That’s how the bureaucracy and deep state work in unison,” he says. “Make no mistake: There were going to keep trying me, but the story had caught too much media attention, and they couldn’t sneak it past the American people. Instead, they came for my guns.”

Hands Down

With federal fines sitting on Cryts’ shoulder, his assets were at risk. The courts grabbed his guns.

“I didn’t have hardly anything in my name they could get, so they sent me notice of gun confiscation.”

Cryts didn’t cotton to dead lion status. “I’d come too far,” he says. “I fought over beans, but I wasn’t going to fight over guns because I knew how this episode would have ended, and I didn’t want it to turn into a Ruby Ridge situation like we saw some years later. The government would have eventually taken my guns by force.”

He broke down his rifles, shotguns, and pistols, placed the parts in the backseat and floorboards of the family sedan, and drove the firearms to law enforcement.

On the steps of the Cape Girardeau courthouse, Cryts’ guns were auctioned by the government. Significantly, there were no bids beyond the raised hands of Cryts’ neighbors. Excluding Cryts’ farming brethren, the crowd was silent. “Like so many other times, the people around me were the heroes,” he says. “I got my guns back, bought and returned to me by my neighbors.”

Ristine Dreams

Forty-three years past Ristine, Cryts is a satisfied man, grateful for a quiet life in a modest home perched on a rise off gravel, surrounded by corn, cotton, rice, and soybeans in every direction.

Looking backward at the Ristine raid, would Cryts do it again?

“I have many regrets in life. I wish I’d have married Sandy earlier; 60 years is not enough with her. I wish I’d have not been short with my words with people many times; I’d take back speaking harshly at different points. Those are genuine regrets. But Ristine? I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

“In the end, Ristine drew attention to major problems in elevator bankruptcies, and some states changes made real changes in their laws—some didn’t.”

Beyond bankruptcy law changes, Cryts contends Ristine exposed the extremes of the bureaucracy. Process was punishment.

“There was always one thing the government didn’t understand,” says Cryts. “When they took everything I had, there was nothing left for me to lose.”

(Photo by Chris Bennett)

“You may or may not agree with what I did, or how I did it. I understand. But if you’ll look at how the government came after me, with charge after charge, just to get something—anything—to stick, then you can see what laws the bureaucracy is willing to abuse once the ball gets rolling and how they work in unison. I call it the deep state.”

(For more, listen to a podcast interview with Wayne Cryts at Farming The Countryside With Andrew McCrea )

Two years shy of 80, almost 55 years removed from the Great Soybean Raid, Cryts often vividly dreams of Ristine, surrounded by hundreds of farmers loading grain in truck after truck. “It wasn’t years ago,” he says. “It was yesterday. I’ll die with a debt for those farmers who stood with me.”

“I’m so blessed today,” he adds. “I don’t have much, but I have all the things I truly need. Here I am in Puxico, Missouri. The government knows where to find me. Come get me.”

For more articles from Chris Bennett ( cbennett@farmjournal.com or 662-592-1106), see:

American Pie Reborn: How An Iowa Farmer Saved Buddy Holly

Corn and Cocaine: Roger Reaves and the Most Incredible Farm Story Never Told

American Gothic: Farm Couple Nailed In Massive $9M Crop Insurance Fraud

Priceless Pistol Found After Decades Lost in Farmhouse Attic

Cottonmouth Farmer: The Insane Tale of a Buck-Wild Scheme to Corner the Snake Venom Market

Power vs. Privacy: Landowner Sues Game Wardens, Challenges Property Intrusion

Tractorcade: How an Epic Convoy and Legendary Farmer Army Shook Washington, D.C.

Bizarre Mystery of Mummified Coon Dog Solved After 40 Years

While America Slept, China Stole the Farm

Crop Gangsters: Million-Dollar Farm Ponzi Collapses Under Flood of Fish

Thu, 12 Sep 2024 15:40:08 GMT

Sell, baby, sell. In 2015, two Oklahoma con artists baked a towering layer cake of tilapia, quail, penny stocks, Arabian sheikhs, cruise ships, diamonds, oil wells, copper mines, and Costco, and then stole the savings of farmers across Arkansas, Kansas, and Missouri.

The flimflam duo reeled in $1 million and hoped to stack the Ponzi far higher—until the scheme collapsed under a flood of fish. Welcome to one of the most outrageous scams in agriculture and business history.

Digging Holes

Seated in a booth at the Golden Corral on Kansas Expressway, a stone’s throw off I-44 in Springfield, Mo., Terry Bollinger was enraged. Over $200,000 in the hole, along with a steady bleed of $2,500 per month in barn electricity, he was swamped with near-biblical loads of fish. No pickup. No payment. No propriety.

“I was furious past words,” Bollinger recalls. “I was close to going vigilante on the pair responsible—two predator criminals of the lowest kind, Jerrold (Jerry) Wayne Myers and Gary Warlick.”

Myers, 78, and Warlick, 55, entered the restaurant doors, slid into the booth, rattled off a litany of saccharine explanations, and offered Bollinger a purported lifebuoy. In reality, they tossed him a brick.

“Jerry and Gary pulled out a bunch of paperwork and offered to compensate me with fake stock options as real as the rest of their bulls***, and it all went down at the Golden Corral. It was one shell game on top of another.”

On a since-deleted Facebook account, Warlick was listed as “worship director” of the Country Gospel Music Association International.

(Facebook photo)

Hovering just within earshot, Bollinger noted three men—wide and thick-necked—watching the exchange. “Muscle. They brought along muscle in case things got out of hand,” he explains. “They were thinking I might dig a hole and bury them in it. They were right.”

“People know some crazy stories, but they’ve never heard nothing like Jerry and Gary,” Bollinger adds. “They were going nationwide with their scheme until the whole deal blew up because of one overlooked detail: We crashed their plan with too many fish.”

Barrel of Hooks

Starting roughly in April 2015, two no-frills advertisements began running in electric co-op magazines and agriculture periodicals, and on rural-related websites. Although the ads contained no pictures or graphics, they were neck-snappers—proclaiming the possibility of $100,000-plus in side-stream income.

The first ad championed fish farming: BREEDERS/GROWERS NEEDED NOW. Manna Source Sustainable, a Premere Resources Corp company, needs breeders/growers for our sustainable living operation. Raise organic tilapia fish and aquaponic vegetables-fruits in the fish water for sustainable living perhaps progressing to six figure income according to capabilities and desires. Use the unused buildings on your property for production. We provide all equipment, tanks, organic feed and stock. You provide facility with utilities, hands on effort, and small investment/deposit for desired level of income. We buy all production under our Breeder/Grower agreement. Free Sustainable Living Workshop at our Bartlesville Oklahoma facility. (Manna’s claim of “organic tilapia fish” was part of the hoodwink. USDA organic certification for fish is a fantasy; it does not exist.)

“It blows my mind,” says producer Ed Weaver. “Gary and Jerry stole $1 million at a minimum, but there were no criminal consequences. In this country, if you play it right, you can knowingly lie and steal and never be prosecuted.”

(Photo by Leosfarm.com, Creative Commons)

The second ad, almost a repeat of the first, changed the fish focus to fowl: QUAIL EGGERS NEEDED NOW! … Raise quail eggs for us perhaps progressing to six figure income according to capabilities and desires ... We supply all cages, stock, and feed. Breeder supplies buy-in amount for desired level of income, indoor facility with heat for the winter, and we buy all egg production under our egger agreement.

On its face, the Manna Source Sustainable premise was simple. A potential grower paid an upfront fee and provided a barn/building/housing unit. In return, the grower received equipment, setup, training, pickup every 35 days, perpetual buyback of fish and quail eggs, and a shot at “six figure income.”

The tiny ads, each less than 100 words, caught eyeballs in Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, and Illinois. In a matter of weeks, dozens of Midwest farmers and rural property owners made the drive to Bartlesville, Okla., where entrepreneurial guru Jerrold Wayne Myers and silver-tongued Gary Warlick showed plenty of leg.

First, according to Myers and Warlick, the Saudis and the Emiratis of Dubai couldn’t get enough fish, i.e., the Arabian appetite for Oklahoma tilapia was insatiable. Second, Carnival Cruise Line passengers were scarfing quail eggs at a prodigious rate and creating a market void that demanded a daily supply.

Buy-in farmers were told quail egg contracts were signed with Carnival Cruise Line.

(Photo by Mashkawat, Creative Commons)

Myers and Warlick assured all comers that tilapia contracts were sealed with Saudi Arabia and Dubai: A landing strip was purchased and both countries would send airplanes to pick up weekly loads of fish in Bartlesville. Additional million-pound tilapia contracts, Myers and Warlick noted, were secured with Costco, Kroger, and Whole Foods. Further, quail contracts were signed with Carnival Cruise Line, with eggs destined for the haute cuisine of buffet salad bars.

Despite its shining promises, Manna Source Sustainable was crooked as a barrel of fishhooks. It was a lie from crop to table.

Reap the Whirlwind

At 41, Terry Bollinger led a rural lifestyle in in southeast Missouri’s Iron County. He was an old-school grinder—blue-collar, straight-shooter, hardworking to the bone, and willing to pour buckets of sweat equity into his work. He made his bones in concrete, but Bollinger had a keen eye for the countryside, often selling tracts and timber.

When Bollinger’s barn bulged with tens of thousands of tilapia, Myers and Warlick never came for the fish. Not a single pickup. Ever.

(Photo by Rose Davies, Creative Commons)

In 2015, he caught wind of Manna Source Sustainable after a friend in Iron County bought into the con. In mid-summer, Bollinger drove across southern Missouri, six hours on I-44, and into the parking lot of Manna Source Sustainable headquarters—a nondescript warehouse in Bartlesville.

“It was a metal building with lots of tanks and fish. I walked into an office room on the side and met Jerry and Gary. Neither had a distinct accent, and they came across as average joes, dressed in jeans and boots—nothing beyond ordinary in Oklahoma. Jerry was shifty, a red flag in hindsight, but he was contrasted by Gary, who seemed like a good old boy and did most of the talking.”

Myers and Warlick touted themselves to Bollinger as conservative businessmen with company ties to oil drilling, gas wells, and copper mines. Simple fellas that walked a straight line and feared the Lord. No flash. No cash knots wedged in a boot top. No Cadillacs.

“They talked up their experience with oil,” Bollinger remembers. “Bartlesville is a historical oil town and they presented themselves as part of that regular crowd.”

Out of the gate, Warlick laid out the buy-in tilapia package: four levels of investment from $10,000-$100,000, with a “Jumbo Upper Level” projected to return an astounding $548,000 per year.

Next, Warlick mapped the buy-in quail package: four levels of investment from $1,500-$50,000, with a “Higher End Setup” annually tallying $115,200.

“People lost tens of thousands, sometimes hundreds of thousands of dollars even beyond their investment because many of them built facilities and paid for extra upkeep,” says Patty LaBarthe, director of enforcement for the Oklahoma Department of Securities.

(ODS)

“They claimed that for each dollar you spent on tilapia, they’d set you up with breeders, tanks, and buy back the fry at 10-12 cents apiece. We were basically going to be a co-op and the customer contracts were already in place. Gary said Whole Foods and Kroger were ready, and that the government in Dubai was buying our product. He also wanted us to invest in quail and he said they were selling the eggs in contracts to cruise ships.”

For approximately two hours, Bollinger listened to the Manna sales pitch, which careened beyond tilapia and quail to stock options and vegetables. “They tried to sell me on aquaponics—growing vegetables in or under or above the fish. Then they tried to get me to buy stock that Jerry promised was certain to go up in value.”

Myers claimed ownership of “HXPN” and offered stock in the company at 2 cents a share, sweetened by the projection that HXPN shares would jump to $1 by late 2015, and $3 by March 2016.

Listening to four whirlwind propositions in less than two hours, Bollinger bought into the fish. In good faith, he invested with Manna’s tilapia setup at the $100,000 “Jumbo” level. Additionally, he spent another $100,000 on a specialized, 40’ x 80’ metal barn to hold a projected 100 breeder tanks and 10 fry tanks.

However, after he slapped cash on the barrelhead, it took Myers and Warlick almost two months to deliver a single piece of equipment to Bollinger’s countryside property in Missouri. And when a sketchy Manna crew finally arrived on-site in Iron County with aquaculture equipment, the façade fell away from the scam.

“The Manna crew guys looked like they came straight out of prison,” Bollinger explains. “They had no idea how to do the plumbing; they had no idea how to do anything. They started arguing and ended up in a fistfight on my property.”

Bollinger’s nightmare kicked into gear. For $200,000, he received a jumble of tank parts, a load of tiny fish, and two former convicts throwing haymakers and rolling around in the dust of his yard.

Despite a total lack of training and assistance from Manna, Bollinger bootstrapped the tanks and connected the plumbing. Simply, he turned Manna’s chaos into a highly efficient fish factory. “Everything and every word they told me was wrong, whether it was about temperature, filtration, feed, or bacterial control. On my own, I started producing fry at an incredible rate, and six months later, I was overrun with fish.”

By 2016, Myers was a tilapia baron. However, 100 farmers and small business owners were growing restless as hellfire.

(Photo by FDA)

Bollinger called Warlick for pickup, anxious for ROI and alleviation of a $2,500 per month heating and lighting bill. “Gary told me over and over a truck was coming around to get my fish. No truck came. He knew there was no truck coming. He knew my fish had nowhere to go. He knew they’d stolen my money. He knew they never paid me a dime. And he knew he was telling me one lie after another.”

As Bollinger’s barn bulged with tens of thousands of tilapia, Myers and Warlick never came for the fish. Not a single pickup. Ever.

And while Bollinger bled from a $200,000 gash, Myers and Warlick built the Manna Ponzi pyramid ever higher, dangling more buy-ins to unsuspecting clients. Sell. Sell. Sell.

Diamond Jerry

Neither Bollinger, nor any of Manna’s grower clients, knew that Jerrold Wayne Myers was low enough to steal a widow’s ax. The Manna scheme was not Myers’ first rodeo. In 2004, he was sentenced to 10 months in federal prison and $532,510 in restitution for fraudulently selling diamond investments in Texas.

After getting nabbed by the feds, Jerry Wayne Myers switched from diamonds to tilapia.

(Photo by Jerry Cone, Wikimedia Commons)

Translated: Myers was a convicted grifter. From 1998 to 2000, he was a partner in Third Day, a Texas-based company specializing in precious stones. (Significantly, “Third Day” was an aptly chosen biblical reference, as was Myers’ title choice of “Manna” when pushing tilapia.) At Third Day, Myers tapped lawyers, doctors, and other high-end clientele to invest in the buying and selling of diamonds, specifically a “fancy colored” collection” valued at $40,000,000.

Yet, Myers had no background or training in diamonds. Zero. After being pinched by the feds, Myers switched from diamonds to tilapia—a shift down the ladder that although far less lucrative, carried much less risk of incarceration.

By 2016, Myers was a tilapia baron. However, 100 farmers and small business owners were growing restless as hellfire.

Bizzaro World

In 2016, on his farm in central Missouri’s Audrain County, livestock producer Matt Van Schyndel scanned the pages of a co-op magazine and spotted Manna’s alluring tilapia advertisement. Several weeks later, Van Schyndel, who was among Manna’s first investors, walked into an office suite at a Bartlesville motel for a dog-and-pony show conducted by Warlick.

“Jerry and Gary were both there,” Van Schyndel recalls. “Jerry was the mastermind and Gary was the puppet. Jerry was crooked to the bone and Gary was hapless, and the two of them together were twisted.”

“Gary said they’d buy our fry and put them into their own grow-outs, and then ship the fish in big numbers to overseas markets in Arabia,” Van Schyndel continues. “Gary said, ‘More and more people want tilapia overseas—more than you can shake a stick at.’”

Van Schyndel went down the tilapia hole with a $25,000 investment, but he got a glyphosate shock when the Manna crew showed up in Audrain County. “The setup guy they sent brought a bunch of IBC totes that he claimed were food-grade. I tore the front off one of them and saw ‘Roundup’ stamped on it. They set up 40 other legit tanks, but the Roundup tote was the sign of things to come.”

Six months later, Van Schyndel was awash in tilapia. He called Bartlesville for pickup and Warlick sent a truck to Audrain County, but the loading process was chaotic, according to Van Schyndel. “All the fish died on the way back to Oklahoma,” he says. “Warlick appeared to have never done this before and the truck’s air pumps didn’t work.”

Myers and Warlick told buy-in farmers that tilapia contracts were sealed with Dubai and Saudi Arabia.

(Photo by Yasmina, Unsplash)

“They made three total pickups at my place, but we only got paid a tiny percent of our investment,” Van Schyndel adds. “Things got increasingly bizarre.”

Bizarre, indeed. Myers and Warlick had no grow-out facilities and no market for the fish. “They actually had asked me to put a grow-out facility on my farm,” Van Schyndel explains, “and wanted me to fork over the money for it. No way. What were they really doing with the fish? I have no clue, but I do know that we all started growing fish faster than Myers calculated, and that’s what crashed their plans. The very last investors never even received their tanks.”

Frozen Fish

In 2016, in northwest Arkansas’s Carroll County, Robert Fairweather had access to several idle, family poultry barns. After observing Manna tilapia production on a friend’s property, Fairweather drove north to Bartlesville.

“Jerry was introduced to me as the primary shareholder. He hovered in the background and Gary did the talking, giving off a used car salesman or televangelist vibe.”

“Gary was really interested in our poultry barns and sold us hard on quail. He said they’d install nesting boxes and every egg would go straight to a cruise ship. He said he had all the licenses to deliver quail across state lines and all the breeder permits. Finally, he gave up on quail and tried to rope us into buying stock. Hour and a half of talking—and he pitched three different pyramids.”

“Jerry was the mastermind and Gary was the puppet,” says Matt Van Schyndel. “Jerry was crooked to the bone and Gary was hapless, and the two of them together were twisted.”

(Photo by Eskeifotos, Creative Commons)

Fairweather was solely drawn to tilapia, but rather than buy in at the minimal $10,000 level, he balked and insisted on a $1,200 good-faith payment, with the remainder due in increments, provided Manna fulfilled its duties. Warlick snatched the $1,200.

Weeks later, Manna tanks and equipment were delivered, as promised, to Fairweather’s barns in Arkansas, but problems began immediately.

“Nothing worked,” Fairweather says. “The tanks leaked right away. The filters were jacked up. The wiring was screwed. They didn’t deliver feed. I was upset, but Gary didn’t answer calls. He was running.”

All the while, Fairweather paid utilities, put in manhours, and bought feed from Amazon. After months of frustration, along with recognition of Warlick’s duplicity, Fairweather threw in the towel during a winter storm.

“I was in Fayetteville and the power went out at our place with temperatures about 10 degrees. My wife called and said, ‘What should I do about the fish?’”

“What the hell were we supposed to do? The fish froze and died.”

Made in America

Patty Labarthe investigates deceptive investment schemes for a living. As director of enforcement for the Oklahoma Department of Securities (ODS), with dual jurisdiction over securities and business opportunities, Labarthe has seen a wide spectrum of violations across a 38-year-career.

However, the Manna case is unforgettable, she says. “They preyed on average, hardworking people, but no one could ever make this story up because it’s so far over the line. People lost tens of thousands, sometimes hundreds of thousands of dollars even beyond their investment because many of them built facilities and paid for extra upkeep.”

Producers paid an upfront fee and received equipment, setup, training, pickup, perpetual buyback of eggs, and a shot at “six figure income.”

(Photo by Didriks, Creative Commons)

In 2015, ODS received a whistleblower complaint from a concerned citizen about Myers and Warlick. As the investigation proceeded, the scheme became clear.

“The investors were a cross-section of America: farmers, blue collar workers, and retirees,” Labarthe explains. “On the one hand, the Manna presentation seemed farfetched, but on the other, Myers and Warlick had a receptive audience because they were promoting a made-in-America, or at least, grown-in-America, opportunity.”

“At the time, Myers and Warlick promoted the opportunity by claiming that tilapia were being imported from overseas where they were grown in dirty waters,” she continues. “Manna promoted US-grown tilapia produced in clean waters. Myers and Warlick stepped in and said, ‘No more dirty fish from foreign markets.’”

“Investors were strung along,” Labarthe adds. “When the tilapia con ran low on steam, they pushed investors to quail investments. Investors could trade out their tilapia opportunity for quail. Or they could trade out for stock. Finally, they were dodging clients offering a vegetable or aquaponics buy-in.”

In February 2017, ODS filed a civil petition against Manna, tracking a massive siphoning of dollars in a year and a half: Defendants accepted One Million Fifty-Two Thousand Ninety Dollars ($1,052,090) from Purchasers beginning in February 2015 through approximately August 2016.

“Cease and desist is good, but we wanted to get money back for the investors,” Labarthe notes. “We filed in district court and went after restitution—but there was almost no money to get back.”

Ride With An Outlaw

Myers and Warlick skated. Despite the diligence of the ODS, no criminal prosecution was initiated.

Warlick professed innocence, claiming Myers was the sole fiend behind the Manna fraud. However, the victims say otherwise.

According to Jerry Wayne Myers, Carnival Cruise Line passengers created a market void that demanded a daily supply of quail eggs.

(Photo by Brook Ward, Creative Commons)

“There’s no doubt in my mind, Warlick was in on it,” Terry Bollinger says. “He told me so many things that were lies that he knew were lies. Whether he got in straight, I don’t know. But as it went on, he became part of the scam as the money got big. He never, never said he was sorry. Not a word.”

Ride with an outlaw, die with an outlaw, says Ed Weaver, 46, a farmer in Cedar County, Missouri, with cattle, sheep, and layers barns, who invested $50,000 with Manna. “One time, on the phone, Gary Warlick told me he’d been suckered by Myers, but I believe he was just a good actor. If he wasn’t a crook at the beginning, then he chose to become one. He crossed the line and didn’t come back. And there sure were never any apologies.”

“Investors were strung along,” Labarthe adds. “When the tilapia con ran low on steam, they pushed investors to quail investments. Investors could trade out their tilapia opportunity for quail ... Finally, they were dodging clients offering a vegetable or aquaponics buy-in.”

(Photo by David Cline, Alabama Extension)

Oklahoman Jim Miller of Pottawatomie County had 24 270-gallon tanks filled with tilapia and lost $25,000 to the charade. “Jerry and Gary didn’t deliver feed; they didn’t answer calls; they didn’t do anything but steal. Gary was hard to read and I don’t know his level of involvement, but I know he used Christianity and his involvement in the Church to get in good with people.”

Robert Fairweather insists Myers and Warlick were in the know from soup to nuts. “They came up with this scheme together. Jerry provided the upfront money and Gary was the pusher. We’re talking about an unreal amount of paperwork, legwork, and phone calls that Gary was right in the middle of, and he’d have to be a severe idiot not to know. Bottom line, I believe both men were sociopaths.”

Fish Fertilizer

What became of the millions of tilapia?

The fish couldn’t be legally sold or dumped into lakes. “I destroyed all of mine—thousands,” Jim Miller says. “I couldn’t sell, process, or turn them loose.”

Ed Weaver grasped at straws: “I researched for something to do with my fish, and I sold a few privately. I tried to market, but I was out of options. I cleaned and froze what I could—and used the rest for fertilizer.”

Terry Bollinger speaks plainly: “I always thought they tasted like hell. Dumped’em all.”

Frontier Justice

On a Facebook account active until at least 2023, Warlick described himself as “Former General Manager at Manna Source Sustainable” from Jan. 1, 2015-Sept. 1, 2017. The Facebook page noted his actions at Manna: “Did the founding promotional startup of this division of Premere Resources Corporation bringing it from $0 to $1.2 million in one years span.”

The irony is stunning, Weaver says. “It blows my mind. Gary and Jerry stole $1 million at a minimum, but there were no criminal consequences. In this country, if you play it right, you can knowingly lie and steal and never be prosecuted.”

“People know some crazy stories, but they’ve never heard nothing like Jerry and Gary,” says Terry Bollinger.

(Facebook photo)

“Neither of them got jail time,” Fairweather echoes. “How could they hurt and steal from this many people, but get off with no penalty?”

In the end, ODC clawed back 2 cents on the dollar. Bollinger, despite a $200,000 hit, received a $2,000 restitution check. “People think this is about financial damage, but its far deeper and raw. The emotional damage is tough to put into words,” Bollinger concludes.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, but Bollinger leaves the reckoning to Providence. “My anger drove me for a good while and I considered delivering frontier justice for all of us that had been taken advantage of. But I knew I’d end up as the one in trouble with the law and hurt my own family. It was the ultimate frustration to hold back because I also knew the law would do nothing to the real criminals. I was right.”

For more articles from Chris Bennett ( cbennett@farmjournal.com or 662-592-1106), see:

American Pie Reborn: How An Iowa Farmer Saved Buddy Holly

Corn and Cocaine: Roger Reaves and the Most Incredible Farm Story Never Told

American Gothic: Farm Couple Nailed In Massive $9M Crop Insurance Fraud

Priceless Pistol Found After Decades Lost in Farmhouse Attic

Cottonmouth Farmer: The Insane Tale of a Buck-Wild Scheme to Corner the Snake Venom Market

Power vs. Privacy: Landowner Sues Game Wardens, Challenges Property Intrusion

Tractorcade: How an Epic Convoy and Legendary Farmer Army Shook Washington, D.C.

Bizarre Mystery of Mummified Coon Dog Solved After 40 Years

While America Slept, China Stole the Farm

Meat Madness: How American Farmers Almost Became Hippo Ranchers

Noah’s Ark crashed into American agriculture—almost. In what ranks among the wildest plans ever hatched by the federal government, hippos were once on the cusp of introduction to U.S. rivers, lakes, and farmland. Simply, hippopotamus farming almost became a reality.

In 1910, fighting an invasive species plague and meat crisis, a congressman and a USDA official teamed up with a solution for the ages: Import hippos from Africa, along with a menagerie of other large mammals, and loose the beasts across the country.

The hippos would eat the invasives, the masses would eat the hippos, the backwoods of America would turn into a zoo, and the Beef Trust would take a crunching kick to the sack when at least 1 million pounds of hippo steak per year hit the market.

All that was needed was $250,000 in funding and a vote of confirmation for House Resolution 23261, the American Hippo Bill. Backed by Theodore Roosevelt, multiple politicians, USDA, and big media, what could go wrong with releasing herds of Africa’s big game from Mississippi to Montana?

Welcome to a Faustian deal in the madhouse of agriculture history.

The Devil You Know

Blame it on the Japanese and their gift that kept on giving.

Sandwiched between the introduction of kudzu in 1876 and the notorious invasive arrival of fire ants in 1918, the 1884 World’s Industrial and Cotton Centennial Exposition in New Orleans featured a door prize from hell. A delegation from Japan handed out booth samples of a peculiarly prolific freshwater, free-floating plant from the Amazon—water hyacinth. Eager recipients rushed home with the botanical version of a gremlin and tossed the plants into backyard gardens or ponds.

Water hyacinth removal in 1939: The Corps deployed machinery scoopers, grabbers, choppers, shredders, rake-wielding manpower, sprays, and oil burns.

(Photo courtesy of Library of Congress)

The result was a near-otherworldly explosion in growth from an alien-like organism that had no natural enemies, reproduced asexually, could double in coverage area every 30 days, and shed seeds that remained viable for over a decade. By the early 1890s, hundreds of thousands of acres in the Southeast’s water world, from Florida to Louisiana and Mississippi, were covered in green floating mats topped by spikes of purple flowers. Despite their beauty, the giant rafts of water hyacinth spanned rivers from bank to bank, grew 100’ wide in unbroken chains several miles long, blocked river traffic, and wrecked the fishing industry.

The clogs of water hyacinth reached phenomenal mass, at roughly 30-50 tons per acre. Initially viewed as a godsend by many in the livestock industry, producers carted away piles of free fodder, but soon realized the feed source was detrimental to cattle health—particularly as cows began dying after consuming chemical-tainted hyacinth when the Army Corp of Engineers began spraying as a control measure. (For more, see Engineers vs Florida’s Green Menace .)

The Corps deployed machinery scoopers, grabbers, choppers, shredders, rake-wielding manpower, sprays, and oil burns—all to no long-term avail. In 1899, Congress threw $75,000 at the hyacinth menace and began searching for an answer. (The botanical battle still rages. Louisiana, for example, currently spends $2 million per year fighting hyacinth.)

Backed by major media, what could go wrong with releasing herds of Africa’s big game from Mississippi to Montana?

(Photo courtesy of Library of Congress)

With no herbicide or mechanical solution at hand, the water hyacinth debacle triggered the exchange of floral invasive for a mammalian invasive, i.e., hyacinth for hippo.

Beware: Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

Boiled Dog

In 1910, the Philadelphia Athletics won the World Series in five, the Tommy Gun was invented, Mark Twain kicked the bucket at 74, 300-plus lb. President William Taft roamed the White House—and America was knee-deep in a meat shortage attributed to overgrazing, herd diminishment, meat monopolies, logistic snags, and population pressure.

Up 21% from 76 million in 1900, the 1910 census tallied a U.S. population of 92 million pining for city life and departing the farm as never before. (Only a decade later, the 1920 census marked the first time in which most Americans lived in urban locations.)

Theodore Roosevelt, pictured in a 1910 big game hunt, backed efforts to bring hippos to U.S. farms.

(Photo courtesy of Library of Congress)

Emblematic of city clamor and looming meat issues, horse flesh at 15 cents per pound (three times less than beef or pork) became a consideration for some, writes Zachary Crockett at Priceonomics: The mindset toward horse consumption began to shift — partly in thanks to a changing culinary landscape. Between 1900 and 1910, the number of food and dairy cattle in the US decreased by nearly 10% ... With the introduction of the 1908 Model-T and the widespread use of the automobile, horses also began to lose their luster a bit as man’s faithful companions; this eased apprehension about putting them on the table with a side of potatoes.

“No longer will the worn-out horse find his way to the boneyard,” declared Ernst Lederle, New York City Health Commissioner. “Instead, he will be fattened up in order to give the thrifty another source of food supply.”

In Chicago, Health Commissioner W. A. Evans moved from equine to canine, championing dog meat in 1910. “To the man who sees nothing disgusting in eating canine flesh, it should prove just as good eating as other forms of meat.”

Aye caramba. Hippo steaks over boiled dog, anyone? Anyone?

Lake Cow Bacon

In January 1909, William Irwin, a fruit researcher at USDA, took the podium at the American Breeder’s Association in Columbia, Mo., and rattled cages with the delivery of an industry-shattering paper: “Animals That Should Be Introduced And Bred For Economic And Profitable Meat Production.”

Irwin advocated for the immediate importation of African mammals to the U.S., starting with hippos in the Southeast to raise 1 million pounds of meat—lake cow bacon—at a yearly value of $100 million. Irwin also recommended the Southeast as a farm home for African buffalo, bushbuck, and reedbuck.

A farmer’s son, and showman to the core, Robert “Cousin Bob” Broussard tried to import a meat zoo to America.

(Photo courtesy of Library of Congress)

Further, Irwin insisted rhinos and giraffes would have “abundant room” in a South-to-West belt. For the Midwest and North, he suggested multiple antelope species, including the red duiker, blue duiker, and dik-dik.

In all, Irwin tagged 100 African mammals as ideal transfers to America: “Because these animals have not been introduced is not a sound reason why they should not be. Seriously, we need every additional species whose flesh is both palatable and nutritious we can find a place somewhere in our great country that will be adapted to the successful propagation of each. Our people will never accept kindly the conditions that according to press reports exist now in Germany, where during 19078 there were slaughtered and the meat sold for food 38,000 horses and 14,000 dogs.”

Neck-deep in water hyacinth, 750 miles south of Columbia, in New Iberia, La., Congressman Robert Broussard heard Irwin’s clarion call: new meat for the masses. Son of a Cajun farmer and showman to the core known as “Cousin Bob” to his constituents, Broussard began cooking up a bill to bring Irwin’s zoo to America.

Cousin Bob’s solution to the meat crisis and water hyacinth constipation? Pods of hippos—lake cow bacon.

Four-legged Danger

Who could Cousin Bob find to gin up support for delivery of thousands of beasts from sub-Saharan Africa to Mississippi or Montana or Minnesota, along with a chain of packing plants beyond the Beef Trust’s reach? How ‘bout a trio of wild boys pulled straight from central casting.

Rugged Theodore Roosevelt, never one to run low on ammo during safaris and never shy to wade into controversy; Frederick Russell Burnham, 5’4”, but with a lengthy shadow as military scout, legendary hunter, veteran of countless wars, and partial inspiration 70 years later for Indiana Jones; and Fritz Duquesne, native of South Africa, classic outdoorsman, soldier, scoundrel, and arch enemy of Burnham.

A 1910 image of a hippo kill from Theodore’s Roosevelt’s big game expedition.

(Photo courtesy of Library of Congress)

On March 24, 1910, bolstered by the combined wildlife knowledge and experience of Burnham and Duquesne, and the scientific gravitas of USDA’s Irwin, Cousin Bob requested $250,000 (just under $10 million in modern currency) for the import of “wild and domestic animals into the United States,” and offered the U.S. government a meat proposal for the ages: House Resolution 23261—the American Hippo Bill.

The House Agriculture Committee, chaired by Rep. Charles Scott, who grew up on a family farm in Allen County, Kansas, sat in rapt attention at 10:30 a.m. Cousin Bob marched in Irwin, Burnham, and Duquesne to tell Congress an animal capable of reaching 5,000 lb. and running in short bursts at speeds of 20 mph was an ideal fit for domestication on and around U.S. farms.

Despite the trio’s insistence on the docile nature of hippos, they were recommending the import of the most dangerous four-legged creature on the planet: Hippos kill 500-3,000 people per year.

American Rhino

Irwin spoke first: “There is not any reason why we cannot raise meat for every person, if we will get at it and get the right animals here.”

His presentation was riveting—and surreal.

Farm by farm, Irwin recommended fencing off sections of land beside waterways, inserting hippos, and pulling in water hyacinth for free fodder. (No matter that hippos generally graze on land and would not have consumed water hyacinth in significant quantity.)

“My idea is that in the South we have the greatest undeveloped resources in the water courses there and in the lakes and ponds there, where I think it is easily possible to add 1 million tons of meat a year to our supply if we will get the right animals.”

Charles Scott, chairman of the Agriculture Committee, was assured that hippos would be an ideal animal for domestication.

(Photo courtesy of Library of Congress)

“The feed (water hyacinth) is there now, going to waste. It is alarming the people in that country. It is giving them great inconvenience through stopping up their waterways, their navigable streams, and I believe there is a gold mine there if we will adopt the right measures to utilize the value of it.”

Irwin suggested hippos for the South, and a litany of animals for the West, although he conceded rhino domestication might prove tricky. “There is not any reason why we cannot find a place in the United States for every one of the more than 100 species of animals that are in existence today and not domesticated ... I don’t not think there is any question about the certainty of our domesticating any of these great animals. Probably the rhinoceros would be the most difficult of all.”

Charles Scott, chairman of the Agriculture Committee, asked Irwin about potential dangers of hippo domestication. Without skipping a beat, Irwin, the USDA expert, offered assurance: “The people who have handled them tell me they are very easily tamed and become very much attached to man.”

Rep. Joseph Howell of Utah, reflecting on meat potential for his home state, asked Irwin if any animals would be a fit for the Great Salt Lake. Irwin’s answer took the presentation to heights beyond hippos and rhinos: “I suppose the manatee might live there if it is not too cold for it.”

Whether dumbfounded, bewildered, or intrigued by Irwin’s manatee advice, Howell’s response is lost to history.

Skill and Brains

Next up at the plate was swashbuckling Fritz Duquesne, who echoed Irwin regarding hippo safety issues: “It is absolutely not dangerous.”

Duquesne assured the committee on the delightful flavor of hippo flesh, and advocated for agriculture industry income based on hippo skin, ivory, and fat production.

Beyond hippos, Duquesne cited giraffes, elephants, cape buffalo, springbok, camels, and wart hogs as creatures that could be “easily introduced into this country.”

Frederick Russell Burnham, legendary hunter, veteran of countless wars, and partial inspiration for Indiana Jones.

(Photo courtesy of Library of Congress)

Francis Burnham, grizzled adventurer and living legend, spoke last, anchoring the testimonials.

“We must not make the mistake of taking one pair of animals and expecting that they will population the whole territory. But with reasonable care and skill and brains, and with the Department of Agriculture having charge of the matter, I do not see any reason why we cannot have great success,” explained Burnham, who was in the process of putting his beliefs into action by transplanting wild pigs and whitetails from Mexico onto his ranch in eastern California.

Fritz Duquesne, classic outdoorsman, soldier, scoundrel, and spy.

(Photo courtesy of Library of Congress)

Burnham’s rationale was grounded in success. At different points in history, European animals had thrived in North America: pig, cow, goat, and horse. And in Burnham’s lifetime, successes and failures ranged from reindeer importation from Siberia to Alaska in 1891; camels from multiple Mediterranean ports to several Western states in 1856; and ring-necked pheasants from China to Oregon in 1881.

However, big game from Africa was a wildly different bone to chew.

Just Plain Critters

The Agriculture Committee didn’t bite on The American Hippo Bill.

Broussard reshuffled the deck and prepared to resubmit the bill the next year. Burnham would go to Africa to nail down logisitcs and Duquesne would go to Louisiana to eyeball the sloughs and swamps. However, the American hippo movement had slipped its moment. (For more, see Jon Mooallem’s superb account, American Hippopotamus .)

Irwin, USDA’s true believer, held out hope, telling The Washington Post: “I hope to live long enough to see herds of these broad-backed beasts wallowing in the Southern marshes and rivers, fattening on the millions of tons of food which awaits their arrival; to see great droves of white rhinoceri … roaming over the semiarid desert wastes, fattening on the sparse herbage which these lands offer; to see herds of the delicate giraffe, the flesh of which is the purest and sweetest of any known animal, browsing on the buds and shoots of young trees in preparation for the butchers block.”

Thirty years after pushing hippo farming, Fritz Duquesne (upper right corner) found infamy as a Nazi agent in the biggest spy ring bust in U.S. history.

(Library of Congress)

Dreams of a perpetual American safari faded with a whimper. Irwin died in 1911; Cousin Bob won a Senate seat and died in 1918; Burnham continued adventuring, building his legend until heart failure in 1946; and Fritz Duquesne careened through incessant escapades, finding infamy after arrest in 1942 as a Nazi agent in the biggest spy ring bust in U.S. history (Duquesne Spy Ring, 33 arrests). Duquesne was released from a federal penitentiary in 1954 due to poor health; he died in 1956 at 78.

Ironically, the largest present population of hippos in proximity to the U.S. Gulf States is in South America. At the height of Pablo Escobar’s drug empire, he imported three females and one male to his private zoo in Colombia. After Escobar’s death, the “Cocaine Hippos” escaped and proliferated. Currently, roughly 170 hippos live in the rivers around Escobar’s former estate, Hacienda Napoles.

As a bizarre sidenote, roughly 2,000 miles south of Cousin Bob’s Louisiana, approximately 170 hippos reside today in Colombia as escapes from Pablo Escobar’s personal zoo.

(Photo by Nasser Halaweh, CC)

In the end, the American Hippo movement withered before it could provide meat for the masses. There are no herds of rhinos in New Mexico or Arizona. There are no pods of manatees in Utah. And there are no rice and soybean farmers in Louisiana or Mississippi raising hippos on the back-40 bayou.

However, there remains a curious appeal in the madcap movement to give Mother Nature a bit of hippo help. As summed by Cousin Bob to the New York Daily Tribune: “We need more critters in this country. Just plain critters.”

For more articles from Chris Bennett ( cbennett@farmjournal.com or 662-592-1106), see:

American Pie Reborn: How An Iowa Farmer Saved Buddy Holly

Corn and Cocaine: Roger Reaves and the Most Incredible Farm Story Never Told

American Gothic: Farm Couple Nailed In Massive $9M Crop Insurance Fraud

Priceless Pistol Found After Decades Lost in Farmhouse Attic

Cottonmouth Farmer: The Insane Tale of a Buck-Wild Scheme to Corner the Snake Venom Market

Power vs. Privacy: Landowner Sues Game Wardens, Challenges Property Intrusion

Tractorcade: How an Epic Convoy and Legendary Farmer Army Shook Washington, D.C.

Bizarre Mystery of Mummified Coon Dog Solved After 40 Years

While America Slept, China Stole the Farm

Company News: Alternative Energy, IPIC Swine Webinars, BI R&D Laboratory

Wed, 15 May 2024 22:09:48 GMT

Roeslein Alternative Energy Plans to Reveal New Biomas Upgrade System

Roeslein Alternative Energy (RAE) gears up for Biogas Americas 2024 May 13-16 in Savannah, Ga. At the event, RAE will introduce a brand-new micro biogas upgrade system it calls revolutionary, which was designed to help producers start monetizing biogas immediately.
The compact, compliant and customizable system features pre-integrated feed and product measurement tools, allowing users to capitalize on expiring biogas production, diversify revenue streams by converting biogas into valuable renewable energy, and benefit immediately with a system for quick set up and operation. This system has a variety of application uses for swine and dairy operations, and landfills.

Iowa Pork Industry Center Continues Swine Production Webinars

The Iowa Pork Industry Center (IPIC) begins its second year of producer-focused webinars on May 30, 2024.

“This program stemmed from producers asking questions and wanting to learn more about select topics,” IPIC director, Laura Greiner, says. “Each session is designed to provide a more in-depth presentation of subject matter with supporting slides to enhance viewer learning.”
The intended audience includes all individuals involved in swine production, ranging from producers, nutritionists, and veterinarians to allied industry.

All webinar series sessions are free and held from noon to 1 p.m. Central time. Registration is required and that link is available on the IPIC webinars page along with links to all session recordings.

Boehringer Ingelheim Unveils New R&D Laboratory in St. Joseph, Mo.

The animal health industry has gained a new state-of-the-art research and development facility in St. Joseph, Mo., as Boehringer Ingelheim hosted a ribbon cutting ceremony on May 8.

In a company release, officials said the new laboratory will streamline the process of transitioning products from development to manufacturing and enhancing BI’s ability to serve animals better.

“Boehringer Ingelheim is not just a global leader in animal health – they are a part of the fabric of our community,” says Kim Young, President KC Animal Health Corridor. “This facility underscores Boehringer’s dedication to leading the industry in research, development and manufacturing. The heart of the Corridor are the companies choosing to invest in the region.”

Caroline Belmont, Vice President of US Global Innovation, Boehringer Ingelheim, recognizes the strong presence the company has in the Midwest.

“This region is a crucial hub for the global animal health industry due to its rich agricultural heritage and extensive livestock farming,” she says. “Boehringer’s strategic positioning in this community allows it to leverage local resources and expertise, playing a pivotal role in advancing the global animal health industry.”

Want to Grow Your Farm? Ask These 10 Questions First

Wed, 17 May 2023 19:57:51 GMT

More than 50% of farmers intend to grow their operation, based on responses in Purdue’s February 2023 Ag Economy Barometer.

(Farm Journal)

If you’re thinking about scaling your farm, Michael Langemeier, Purdue ag economist, says it’s important to first ask these questions.

1. Why should I grow my operation?

Before an operation expands, consider the vision and direction you want your farm to take.

“Are you interested in a commodity-based approach or a differentiated product strategy? Commodities will focus on cost control while products will be centered around value-added production and above-average prices for your crops,” Langemeiers says. “Start here and consider how growth impacts your direction.”

Once an approach is chosen, it’s time to decide which dominoes you want to play in the expansion game.

2. What ways I can grow my farm?

There are many ways to expand an operation: acquire land, new equipment and technology, upgrade facilities, etc. However, Langemeier says some producers need to think outside the box.

“Don’t just think about what you currently do or have always done. This step is a good time to do some soul searching to consider where you want to be in five to 10 years. Do you want to be the same enterprise, or do you want to make changes?”

Langemeier says this soul-searching step is especially important when someone is coming back to the farm.

“We’re seeing that a lot of students who come from farms want to go back, and we have to look into whether there are opportunities there or not,” Langemeier says. “There’s always new interest and ideas that come with the transition back to the farm.”

After establishing how you want to grow, consider your growth approach.

3. What should my growth approach look like?

A strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats (SWOT) analysis is a common growth approach in business. Langemeier says another way to think about SWOT is in terms of internal and external analysis.

“Internal analysis means looking at key resources and capabilities of a team or operation,” Langemeier says. “Does someone possess a unique skill you can maximize? Take advantage of those unique skillsets.”

Internal analysis mainly centers around strengths, but weaknesses play a role here, too. Are there areas in your operation that need professional development? Langemeier says this is the time to work on both.

External analysis, on the other hand, examines economic and market trends.

“The easiest example is in livestock; raising pasture pork, poultry or beef, or offering direct meat from a producer rather than a grocery store, are all growing trends,” Langemeier says. “If you have those opportunities, think about how they might fit into your operation.”

While there’s more risk in external factors, Langemeier says “the risk can be worth the reward” for producers who understand what trends they can support.

4. How do I evaluate my farm’s growth ventures?

Now that the growth options are laid out, how does a producer choose which option to pursue?
These eight criteria can help:
• Strategic fit
• Expected returns
• Risk
• Capital required
• Cost and ease of entry and exit
• Value creation
• Managerial requirements
• Portfolio fit

Strategic fit is one of the biggest points to consider, according to Langemeier.

“A few years ago, many growers were interested in hemp production. I would ask them if hemp would require new machinery and if they were used to dealing with contracts,” he says. “If the answer was yes and no, then it probably wasn’t going to be a good fit.”

He says ease of entry and exit is the second criteria he points farmers to.

“If your farm were to pursue a new venture and it fails, would it mean you could lose the whole farm? Because there will be things that fail,” Langemeier says.

If a specific venture requires a lot of capital, he says it is pivotal to explore how the investment could affect balance sheets in the long run.

5. What skills are needed to grow, especially in people returning to the farm?

Taking stock of employees’ skillsets, this is the part where growers consider the strengths and weaknesses of human capital currently on the farm and those soon returning to it.

“When someone’s thinking about coming back to the farm, that’s the time to assess the skills that are currently needed, and then try to encourage the younger person to garner some of those skills,” Langemeier says. “We might have the skills to expand our operation, but do we have the skills to start a new venture in a different enterprise? Think about it from all angles.”

6. How do I finance?

Are you willing to take on debt to expand? If so, how much debt are you willing to take on? Langemeier suggests looking at debt as enabling you to take advantage of an opportunity, not as a negative.

“If you have 2,000 acres and are thinking about adding 1,000 acres, even if that’s leased ground, you’re still going to need more machinery and people. You probably don’t have that retained earnings, so you’re going to take on debt,” he says. “As long as you’re making a profit on those additional acres, and you can make the debt payment, it’s not a problem.”

Langemeier warns that a small profit margin can quickly turn into an issue when a venture flops. He advises producers keep a somewhat equal balance of debt and projected venture profits.

7. What business models do I use to grow?

Expanding internal growth with retained earnings and debt is a typical business model for most operations, according to Langemeier. He says there’s a new trend in this arena.

“I’ve seen a lot of production ag cases recently where a farm acquires assets from a retiring farm,” he says. “Not only do they farm the land, but they also buy the machinery, the bins and the whole farm. This really works for some operations.”

Another model that’s becoming somewhat common is a joint venture. Agribusinesses use this model frequently, but Langemeier says more mid-sized operations are leaning toward this option.

“One of the advantages of joint-venture contract turkey, laying or finishing operations, especially in the Corn Belt, is that there’s a partner with you,” Langemeier says. “It allows us to grow effectively.”

Finding a partner to go-in on the venture isn’t always easy. However, Langemeier says producers often look in the wrong places.

“Some farmers say they don’t have any outside investors, so I tell them to think about family or non-farm heirs. Pitch it as a way of investing in your business so that you don’t have to make them partners or an operating entity,” he says. “Land, for instance, could be an outstanding source of outside equity with non-farm heirs.”

8. How would an expansion impact my current operation?

When considering growth options, it’s vital to your growth success to consider how each option will impact the farm’s balance sheet and income statement. Langemeier suggests running three projected scenarios — worst, most likely and best case — through a spreadsheet or a software, like the University of Minnesota’s FINPACK system .

If you choose to run the projections by hand, this is the process Langemeier suggests:

a. Impacts on cash flow and balance sheet

“A growth change will impact both — don’t just look at cash flow,” he says.

b. Debt versus equity

“Maybe the change will reduce your liquidity and increase your solvency too much,” he says. “If that’s the case, you can’t pursue that particular venture.”

c. Time management

“There are only so many hours in the day, and some of us sometimes work too much,” Langemeier says. “Say you’re going from conventional to organic, it’s going to be management intensive. Be realistic about what you and your team can handle.”

9. What challenges would an expansion create?

Construction delays, cash flow shortages, depleted working capital, short-term inefficiencies and management bottlenecks are often at play when starting a new venture, according to Langemeier. He advises producers to be proactive.

“If a venture creates massive cash flow shortages and eats into your working capital, you need to have a plan to deal with those issues. If you don’t, it will lead you into other challenges, like inefficiencies, and you’ll end up with a failed venture,” he says. “Make sure you have a contingency plan.”

10. What is my sustainable growth rate?

Calculating a sustainable growth rate means saying what a growth rate would be if retained earnings is the only money used, and then compare that to what a growth rate would be if only debt was used. Langemeier says this equation has other variables that often go unchecked.

In the debt scenario, he says you have to think about the downside of debt — the chance of going bankrupt and variability.

“Even if your operating cash flow is low, the lender still wants his payments,” Langmeier says. “You have to think about the coping strategies to make those debt payments even when corn is at $5, compared to $6.50. Make sure you run all the numbers imaginable.”

The Main First Step When Considering Expansion

With all 10 points in mind, Langemeier says the first stage of growth shouldn’t include producers running to formulate a 50-page business plan. He says step one starts with a conversation.

“You should be having regular farm and family meetings, at least once a year, to brainstorm with your employees and family members about the things you could do differently on-farm, and allot time to consider continued improvement, opportunities and threats,” he says.

According to Langemeier, these meetings will offer more than exploring growth; they will ensure farm, family and employee survival.

Cargill Goes Tech With Plan to Nurture New Wave of Food Startups

Thu, 22 Sep 2022 02:34:37 GMT

(Bloomberg) -- Long synonymous with the buying and selling of U.S. grain, agricultural giant Cargill Inc. is taking a page out of Silicon Valley’s playbook with a startup accelerator that it hopes will identify important new food technologies.

Techstars Farm to Fork Accelerator is a partnership involving Cargill, water and hygiene technology company Ecolab Inc. and venture-capital firm Techstars. The initiative will focus on food security and safety, and will begin accepting applications next month. The first class of 10 startups will go to Cargill’s hometown of Minneapolis next summer and spend 13 weeks building their businesses and raising capital.

“We’re 152 years old and you don’t get that way without the courage to disrupt yourself,” Justin Kershaw, Cargill’s chief information officer, said in a telephone interview. “This is going to be disruptive and we want to be in the mix there and creating the disruption internally and externally.”

Agricultural technology is a burgeoning part of the food and farming industries, as farmers and corporations wrestle with how to feed the world’s growing population in a sustainable way. Early-stage investment in so-called agrifood technology was $4.4 billion in the first half of 2017, up 6 percent from a year earlier, according to AgFunder, a San Francisco-based firm that connects investors with agricultural startups.

Worldwide Interest

For Cargill, the accelerator is another step in its evolution into less traditional and potentially higher-value areas. One of the world’s largest private companies, it has been overhauling its business after posting a rare quarterly loss in 2015.

The accelerator, which will operate for three years, is expecting applicants from around the world, said Brett Brohl, its managing director.

“How do you feed the world in 30 years in a sustainable way?” he said in a telephone interview. “When there’s big problems and there’s big opportunity, entrepreneurs tend to be the one’s that figure out how to solve those problems.”

©2017 Bloomberg L.P.

U.S. Trade Tactics to Evolve with China's Infrastructure Plan

Fri, 04 Mar 2022 16:22:35 GMT

Agricultural Outlook Forum 2022 took flight last Thursday with early morning sessions on trade, carried on Friday when USDA Secretary Tom Vilsack and U.S. Trade Representative Katherine Tai brought agricultural America up to speed on current trade deals with China, as well as what’s in the works.

Where We Are

With the U.S. on the back end of COVID-19 and the conflict between Russia and Ukraine unraveling, Tai says her office is currently focused on three themes: resilience, sustainability and competition.

“We’re working intensively around the development of more resilience and trust in the global economy by figuring out new supply chains that can withstand geopolitical pressures that are rising,” Tai says. “We cannot make decisions for China, but we will continue to press the impacts of its policies on our producers.”

According to Tai, China is many things to the U.S.—rival, competitor and partner. Accountability is top of mind when trying to even the playing field with China, but she says these discussions “have gotten more difficult over time.”

Where We Were

Elizabeth Economy, senior advisor for China in the U.S. Department of Commerce, says China has developed its own infrastructure program, the Belt and Road Initiative, that acts as a major chess piece in the country’s economic puzzle.

She says the Initiative is an expansion of China’s 1990s policy, aimed at connecting its lesser developed regions to external markets through economic “silk road” avenues:
• Hard Silk Road—ports and railroads
• Digital Silk Road—fiber optic cables and e-commerce
• Health Silk Road—medical devices and traditional Chinese medicine

Beyond the economic elements, Economy says there is a political component to the Belt and Road Initiative that started out enthusiastically but quickly turned sour when countries tied to the legislation saw the full scope of the plan.

“Many countries have infrastructure needs that other lenders or donors couldn’t or wouldn’t meet that China fulfilled,” Economy says. “A lot of these Belt and Road projects are done for geostrategic reasons. Even the Chinese government is concerned about the number of countries now coming back to them saying, ‘Hey, we’d like to renegotiate the terms of this agreement.’”

Tai’s office previously initiated conversations with China regarding the Phase One agreement. However, 2021 data that has been released in recent weeks shows continued uneven shortfalls, creating “difficulties” in trade talks.

China’s investment in the Belt and Road legislation peaked in 2016 and has since been on a steady decline. Economy believes China’s changing level of commitment to its “grand scale” infrastructure plan is penning a complete digital refocus for China in coming years, morphing other countries’ interests in China.

Where We’re Heading

Trade negotiations have played out between the U.S. in China in recent months, but Tai says that’s not the only tool her team has in their toolbox. She says negotiations are held internally and externally, while Trade and Investment Framework Agreements (TIFA), or trade pacts, are developed.

“One of the most important types of engagement frameworks are the TIFA—foundational agreements that are there to enhance collaboration and cooperation.” says Tai. “A lot of the gains that we’ve made over the course of the last year in the Indo-Pacific have come out of our agenda to intensify our TIFA engagement. This is our opportunity for innovation in terms of how we bring different ideas and different initiatives to our trading partners.”

At the Forum, Vilsack hinted China may look to join the Comprehensive and Progressive Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP) but will not qualify as it cannot meet the agreement’s standards.

According to Vilsack, the Biden administration also is not ready to join CPTPP until public trust is reestablished and trade barriers are removed.

Jim Wiesemeyer, Pro Farmer Washington policy analyst believes Biden isn’t looking to get back into the CPTPP as this time because “they don’t have the votes, nor the trade promotion authority.”

“When asked, I tell farmers the administration has to be strategizing how they’re going to dance around this changing trade policy focus because of the war’s impact on China,” says Wiesemeyer. “I think they’re looking at one-on-one agreements, which was the approach that Trump preferred—bilateral as opposed to multilateral.”

As for China, Economy says the country tends to pursue its own “narrow” authoritarian interests that it then pitches to other authoritarian countries. She sees growing concern in the security threat that’s posed by China.

“Authoritarian leaning leaders often appreciate China’s effort to sell them surveillance technology or training them on how to do real-time censorship of the internet,” says Economy. “I think the picture really is a mixed one in terms of the global reaction, but very few countries would say that China has proved itself as truly ready to lead on the global stage.”

USDA Foreign Agricultural Service (FAS) Administrator Dan Whitley says, “One day, China could just wake up and for whatever reason say, ‘Hey, you know, we’ve kind of had enough of this,’” and shut off U.S. agricultural products to “send a signal to the American agricultural sector or the U.S. government.”

HSAs Offer Health Care, Retirement Savings

Wed, 14 Apr 2021 15:39:17 GMT

Health insurance coverage and healthcare costs are among the greatest challenges for self-employed Americans, including farmers.

One avenue that provides for cost containment combined with the opportunity to save for the future is the Health Savings Account (HSA). “More people are becoming aware of HSAs and using them as a strategic approach to managing their healthcare,” said Nathan Link, Employee Benefits and Individual Health Specialist for PDCM Insurance, Waterloo, Iowa.

To qualify for an HSA, you need to carry a High Deductible Health Plan (HDHP). According to the IRS website , that’s a health insurance plan with a deductible of no less than $1,400 per person or $2,800 per family, with a maximum annual deductible and other out-of-pocket expenses (like co-pays) of $7,000 per person and $14,000 per family.

“HDHPs often have lower monthly premiums than traditional health insurance plans,” said Link. “Clients can save the difference into their own HSA account and use those funds to pay out-of-pocket expenses as needed. With traditional plans, you pay a higher cost whether you use the services or not. An HSA allows you to keep that money if you don’t have to use it.”

As a savings tool, HSAs offer a triple tax advantage*, in that:

Money deposited into an HSA is not taxed.
Account balances are allowed to grow tax-free; and
Funds can be withdrawn tax-free, provided they are used to pay for Qualified medical expenses , including those not covered by health insurance, like vision and dental care.

While your HDHP will be accessed through a private agent or the Healthcare.gov marketplace, you will have to open your HSA account separately through a financial institution. Many banks and credit unions offer them, and most provide options to invest your balance in stocks or mutual funds for larger growth opportunities.

Employers of a spouse working off the farm also may offer an HDHP/HSA package, in which case they likely will have the HSA structure already set up for the company’s employees.

HSAs are individual accounts. If you are married, the account is in one spouse’s name, but the fund can pay for expenses for your spouse and children covered on your health insurance policy. The annual contribution limit applies to the entire couple or family. In 2021, it is $3,600 per individual or $7,200 per family. That limit includes contributions that may be made by an employer.

If you will be 55 or older by the end of the tax year, you can contribute another $1,000 annually as a “catch up” contribution. If your spouse also is 55 or older, he or she can open a separate HSA and contribute another $1,000 to that account, according to OPTUMbank .

When you start using Medicare – typically around age 65 – you can no longer contribute to an HSA. But at this point you can continue to utilize the funds tax-free for medical expenses and/or your Medicare Part B or Part D premiums. You also have the option of using the money for any other purpose you please after 65. But those funds will be taxed as regular income, just like a traditional IRA.

“Before age 65, it’s never a great idea to use your HSA as an emergency fund for non-medical expenses,” advised Link. “You’ll be assessed a 20% penalty, plus the withdrawals will be taxed as income at your regular rate.”

You also cannot use your HSA funds to pay health insurance premiums before age 65. You can, however, tap them tax-free to pay premiums for long-term care insurance.

“If you can cash-flow your medical expenses and leave your HSA untouched, it will be a tremendous retirement savings vehicle thanks to its many tax-advantage features,” shared Link. “But even if you can’t, there is great peace of mind knowing that you have the funds set aside to cover medical expenses if you need them, and that you can maintain control of that money if you don’t.”

*There are exceptions to these exemptions in a few states. New Jersey and California assess tax on both your HSA contributions and they earnings they generate. Tennessee and New Hampshire tax earnings only.

Nebraska Flooding Unlikely to Stop Cattle Herd Growth

Thu, 04 Mar 2021 20:17:34 GMT

Livestock producers are still adding up the totals when it comes to losses they suffered in the last month’s flooding. Tyne Morgan recently sat down with Don Close, an animal protein analyst with Rabo AgriFinance , on AgDay TV for insights as to what that means for supply and demand.

“It sounds like there were more losses of new calves in the western half of the state with the blizzard side of that storm than there was from the flood damage,” says Close. “There were more yearlings and fed cattle lost on the east side.”

As the counts come in, Close expects a full picture to emerge. Part of that picture now includes recalculating the nation’s herd size.

“I still think that cattle inventory numbers are growing,” says Close. “It’s the growth we see from here that’s going to be really, really flat.”

That flattening curve is when compared to the last three years. He expects growth to continue but there are concerns beyond weather that could have an impact.

“If we were to really see a slowdown in the economy that could have some impact,” says Close. “The counter side of that is this export picture looks so bright, particularly with the uncertainties around China that it looks like demand for global protein is going to be there.”

Farmer Survives COVID-19, Hopes His Farm Will Too

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:55:48 GMT

Calving and planting season has been anything but typical for Matthew Raver and his family in Greensburg, Indiana. “I want to say it was March 26 that I got a fever,” said Raver. Raver can now reflect on his battle with COVID-19 and the fever that stuck with him for most of the next 12 days. “I lost 35 pounds while I was sick just because, I mean, I couldn’t really eat,” said Raver. His story started a couple of days earlier while trying to bottle feed a newborn calf. “Mama took a very negative view of that and she sent me flying about five feet,” said Raver. The protective cow’s head struck him squarely in the chest. The pain and soreness from that moment would mask the development of his Coronavirus symptoms for multiple days which, as he said, first presented itself as fever on March 26. “I had been around five different people that had type-A flu and so the assumption was I had the flu,” said Raver. Given his proximity to other confirmed flu cases, he hoped a round of Tamiflu and a few days rest would get him back out with the herd. Coronavirus wasn’t a mystery to his family. Raver started following the COVID-19 story in January and by February he hit his local grocery store hard in hopes of avoiding the panicked rush of shoppers. It turns out, even though he and his family were cautious they weren’t out of its reach. Greensburg%20IN%20Map.jpgBy Monday, March 30 Raver was still feeling poorly and his chest wouldn’t quit hurting. He stopped by a clinic in Shelbyville, Indiana. His flu test came back negative although he did test positive for strep throat and double pneumonia. “They gave me a healthy shot, and they sent me home with a Z-Pack,” said Raver. The next day, he felt better. By day three Matthew says he started to feel downright rotten and by Friday he was weak, dehydrated and headed for the hospital. “They gave me an IV and they said, you can still breathe and you’re way better than most of the people upstairs,” said Raver. “I went home and I felt pretty bad for another three or four days before my fever broke and I have been recovering since.” The battle wasn’t over. His wife Britney, pregnant and expecting their third child in August, also contracted the virus. “We were pretty worried about her and she had a fever for about three or four days,” said Raver. “Then she was fine.” He shares his experience as a cautionary tale. His 6’1” robust frame is proof it doesn’t just attack the fragile and frail.

“I got so weak that when I went to the hospital they had to push me in a wheelchair and they had to bring me out in a wheelchair because I didn’t have the strength to walk out of the building,” said Raver. “I lost 35 pounds while I was sick just because, I mean, I couldn’t really eat,” said Raver. The dehydration attacked his kidneys and his back ached so intensely he couldn’t get comfortable for days.

“The biggest thing we both had is you couldn’t taste anything,” said Raver. “You go to eat food and you couldn’t taste it.” Luckily his two kids remained healthy and symptom-free. He and his wife are both recovering and past the point of quarantine. They’re just ready to get their focus back on the farm. “The other day when I went out and did some physical work helping my dad for about an hour it wiped me out,” said Raver. “With having pneumonia, I got out of breath pretty quickly.” As calving season ends and planting arrives, Matthew can revel in the thought that COVID-19 didn’t take him or his loved ones. He now hopes it doesn’t claim their more than 150 year family legacy. “My only hope is the farm pays for itself and pays for the equipment,” said Raver.

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Packing Plant Storyline is Complex, Nalivka Says

Angus VNR: Tough Transitions Made Simple

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:53:30 GMT

From farming to other businesses where the payroll may span 50 or 60 years, a human relations expert says age differences can become barriers without some focused effort.

“It’s pretty unusual. We would have as many as five generations in the workplace,” says Rodd Welker, president and owner of Eagle Advisor Group. “And I would also add to the fact that we have now the largest generation in the workplace, the Millennials.”

As most farmers and ranchers are over 60, families are exploring how to pass the torch. It helps to share stories and perspectives from each age group.

“You have the different generations, different generations are going to do things differently. It may not be run exactly the same way, but trust the process. Trust the fact that you’ve empowered them, you have shared your knowledge, your experience, and they’re going to ask you maybe do some really cool things, some better things with that family business,” he says.

Welker says the family element can make for stormy seas in navigating transitions.

“Businesses in general have a hard time about talking about some of the tough stuff,” he says. “Family businesses can really struggle about being transparent and vulnerable and open and talk about some of those struggles and issues they may be having, conflict that they’re experiencing.”

Change takes time, but finding common ground will connect better than focusing on the differences.

“For Baby Boomers that maybe are concerned about, okay, what happens next? Again, this is where you’ve got to trust the fact that if you’ve done the right things and that you’ve shared your experiences and shared your knowledge to the next generation that you’ve got to trust that it’s going to pay dividends,” Welker says.

It’s going to pay to know how to engage with every age group, in fact.

“There is so much evidence that with a diverse generational team, you can accomplish so much more, because you’re bringing in all those different backgrounds and experiences and expertise that I don’t have as a Baby Boomer. But bringing in a Millennial on my team, what can we do now?” he asks.

Welker says generations work best together when they invest in relationships and break down perceived generational barriers.

Perdue Launches P&S Investigation After Tyson Fire

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:51:06 GMT

U.S. Secretary of Agriculture Sonny Perdue has directed USDA’s Packers and Stockyards Division to launch an “investigation into recent beef pricing margins to determine if there is any evidence of price manipulation, collusion, restrictions of competition or other unfair practices.”

Perdue’s request comes as part of USDA’s “continued efforts to monitor the impact of the fire at the beef processing facility in Holcomb, Kan.

“If any unfair practices are detected, we will take quick enforcement action. USDA remains in close communication with plant management and other stakeholders to understand the fire’s impact to industry,” the statement from Perdue said.

Perdue’s actions were supported by cattlemen’s groups. National Cattlemen’s Beef Association President Jennifer Houston said Perdue’s announcement “demonstrates the government’s understanding of the extreme strain placed on the cattle industry by the plant fire in Holcomb, Kansas.”

Houston encouraged USDA to “look at all aspects of the beef supply chain and to utilize internal and external expertise in this investigation. We believe it adds transparency that will help build confidence in the markets among cattlemen and women.”

The Iowa Cattlemen’s Association also applauded the decision. In a statement, ICA said over the past two weeks, cattle producers have expressed concern that changes in the live cattle and boxed beef markets since the fire are unjustified. ICA has been working on behalf of members across the state to provide market certainty via monitoring and fully supports an investigation.

“We recognize that there are market fundamentals at play,” says David Trowbridge, Iowa Cattlemen’s Association President, “But given the extreme effect the current market conditions are having on Iowa’s cattle industry, we believe it is in our members’ best interests to eliminate any doubts regarding the market reaction.”

Overdone? Cattle Markets Continue Retreat After Tyson Fire

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:50:42 GMT

Cattle markets continued reeling Tuesday on news Tyson Foods was forced to close its Holcomb, Kan., beef processing facility due to Friday night’s fire.

Tuesday saw both Live Cattle and Feeder Futures close substantially lower.

The front-month Live Cattle futures closed locked down their daily limit losses of $4.50 and set contract lows today. The daily expanded trading limit will be $4.50 again on Wednesday. Meantime, November feeder cattle futures closed down $5.60 and notched a contract low. Feeder cattle futures will also see expanded daily trading limits on Wednesday, at $6.75.

Wholesale beef prices continued to move sharply higher, jumping another $7.74 for Choice on Tuesday to close at $226.36. Select was up $2.79 to $200.58.

“Feeder futures prices closing limit down is inconsistent with what you would expect when grains are trending lower,” says Sterling Marketing president John Nalivka. The WASDE report on Monday sent grain futures prices sharply lower, which typically has a positive influence on Feeder futures.

Two limit-down days is overreaction, Nalivka says.

“Cattle feeders and packers will scramble and find a home for the cattle displaced by the Holcomb fire,” Nalivka says. “The biggest issue will be if packers can find the labor to run the extra shifts needed to increase their kills.”

Sufficient labor remains a constant worry for packers, which justifies Tyson’s pledge to pay its idle Holcomb workers for 40-hour work weeks until the plant reopens. It can’t afford to let those workers move to new jobs if Tyson plans to reopen.

For cattle feeders, Nalivka says it will be critical not to let marketings slow to the point where carcass weights are increased.

“In the short-term, it will be key to hold weights under a year ago, which is assuming that demand remains steady, and I think it will,” Nalivka says. “We’ll know more how this will play out in the coming days, but I expect we’ll look back on Monday and Tuesday’s markets and see overreaction.”

Grasshoppers Challenging California Ranchers

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:50:38 GMT

Ranchers in Plumas County, Calif., are dealing with an invasion of grasshoppers on summer ranges.

Officials say the clear-winged grasshopper, commonly known as the “devastator,” increased in population due to last year’s warm fall weather. Plumas County is located in the Sierra Nevada mountains between Chico, Calif., and Reno, Nev.

Butte County Farm Bureau Executive Director Colleen Cecil told the Chico Enterprise-Record that many ranchers in Butte County move their cattle to the higher elevations in Plumas County for grazing during the summer. She said the onslaught of grasshoppers is reducing the forage available for cattle.

Donald G. Miller, entomology professor at Chico State, said the grasshopper is called the “devastator” for good reason.

“This species has a history of outbreaks in Butte County and throughout California,” Miller said. “I’ve gotten calls before that there were large numbers of grasshoppers that just sprung up over night, eating everything they could find. I strongly suspect this is the species that’s causing problems for Butte County ranchers. These insects can eat over a third of their body weight. They will eat just about any type of vegetation, they don’t care. They will not pick and choose between certain crops, they will eat anything they can find.”

UC Cooperative Extension Livestock and Natural Resources adviser Tracy Schohr told the Enterprise-Record the grasshoppers can grow exponentially and have major population bursts if warm weather conditions permit.

“Right now they are continuing to move,” Schohr said. “There have been records of them moving more than 60 miles in one day, just to find more vegetation.”

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Tyson Holcomb Fire May Slow Marketing Pace

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:50:38 GMT

Friday night’s fire that shuttered Tyson Foods’ Holcomb, Kan., beef packing facility will have far-reaching implications for both cattle markets and associated industries.

In a statement issued Saturday, Tyson said the plant will be closed “indefinitely,” which means about 27,000 to 30,000 cattle will not be harvested for each week the plant is out of operation. With a fed cattle market already in the summer doldrums, the timing of the fire couldn’t be worse for cattle feeders.

“It will definitely hurt front-end demand,” Sterling Marketing president John Nalivka told Drovers. “There’s the potential that with Holcomb out of commission the marketing pace will slow down and carcass weights will increase. That could certainly take the bloom off this fall’s fed cattle market.”

Speculation about the impact the fire has on Monday’s CME cattle futures was rampant on social media Saturday. Nearly all of those speculating called for both Live Cattle and Feeder Cattle markets to trend lower. Friday’s close before the fire was weak, lending support to ideas another break lower is ahead.

One industry participant who wished to remain anonymous, told Drovers Saturday, “This fire will impact all fat cattle regions as well as all feeder cattle markets.”

Those with cattle scheduled to ship to Tyson in Holcomb next week – and until the plant reopens – are scrambling to determine where and when those cattle can go. The Holcomb plant is about mid-way between Tyson’s Amarillo, Texas, plant and its Lexington, Neb., facilities.

But, Nalivka says, “beef slaughter capacity utilization was running about 92% to 93% before the fire. This could throw a wrench in the whole thing.” Tyson’s Holcomb plant was harvesting 4.5% to 5% of the industry’s weekly slaughter.

If the slaughter capacity now becomes so tight that cattle are left looking for a final home, some are speculating the fire could also trigger further scrutiny on America’s packers and their alleged monopoly.

“This (reduction in slaughter capacity) could pour fuel into the lawsuits that are already in progress,” the anonymous source told Drovers. He further speculated, “Will the guys in Kansas that are 100% committed to Tyson cut any kind of deal they can to get cattle gone, and magnify the problem with being committed to one packer?”

While cattle feeders have an anxious weekend to fret over the market and where they’ll send finished cattle, the impact of the Tyson fire also will have a dramatic impact on the Garden City area. Tyson said 3,800 people work at the plant, and their jobs will definitely be affected by the plant’s closure.

However, a Tyson spokesman confirmed the company will pay Holcomb plant employees “a weekly guarantee until production resumes. We are here to ensure our team members are taken care of. We understand that this is a difficult time.”

Dozens of other businesses and workers will also see an impact. Truck drivers, local businesses and the whole community will feel the pain as Finney County’s largest employer takes a forced time out.

Read more about the fire here:

Fire Shutters Tyson Plant Near Garden City

What Makes A Bull Worth $ Millions?

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:50:34 GMT

On a cold February day in North Dakota this year, an Angus bull named SAV America 8018 sold for a world record price of $1.51 million. Sold at Schaff Angus Valley’s annual production sale at the ranch near Saint Anthony, N.D., the bull’s hefty price suggests his genetics are superior. But what could possibly make a bull worth that much money, you ask?

The answer may be in the life story of Hoover Dam, a recently departed bull raised by Iowa breeder Hoover Angus . Born in January 2008, Hoover Dam spent the final 10 years of his life at ORIgen , a breeder-to-breeder bull stud service where his semen was collected on 901 days. Those collections produced 238,813 units of semen approved for sale.

By the time the bull’s owners made the decision to bring his life to a dignified conclusion, 233,396 units of Hoover Dam semen had sold for a total of $4,514,565, with 15,406 A.I. certificates sold to register the progeny with the American Angus Association.

Sold at $40 each, those A.I. certificates generated another $616,450 in gross sales to push his total of semen and certificate sales to $5,131,015. Hoover Dam was the ORIgen semen sales leader in 2012, 2013, 2014, 2016, and 2017.

As of his passing, Hoover Dam has 15,821 Angus progeny with AHIR weaning records. He has been used on four continents with semen exported to Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Canada, Mexico and Russia.

Although there are no official public records with which to compare, Dick Beck, Vice President of Sales and Marketing at ORIgen, says “Hoover Dam is the only sire in history owned exclusively by Angus breeders to have ever reached or surpassed that sales total.”

Hoover Dam was so popular with breeders, Landi McFarland-Livingston with Hoover Angus said, because “he was a calving ease bull, so he was used on a lot of heifer herds. But both purbred and commercial breeders liked his calves so well that they used him again for the second, third and fourth calves. Hoover Dam had a lot of repeat customers.”

If SAV America 8018 matches the sales totals for Hoover Dam, his $1.51 million price tag will be a good investment.

However, it might be a stretch to think sales of SAV America 8018 semen can equal the ROI that Hoover Dam produced. That’s because two-thirds interest in Hoover Dam sold in 2009 for $47,500, according to McFarland-Livingston. That would put the value of Hoover Dam at $71,250.

Therefore, Hoover Dam’s total semen and certificate sales equaled about 72 times his purchase price. To match that, semen and certificate sales of SAV America 8018 would need to reach $108 million.

Yet, it is early in the life of SAV America 8018, so we won’t know how that investment develops for a while.

The details of Hoover Dam’s influence on the Angus breed, however, are much clearer with detailed records. For instance, Hoover Dam was among the top 10 bulls of the Angus breed for progeny registrations in 2012, 2013, 2014, and 2015. He was one of only four bulls in the breed on the “Top 10” list of sires each of those four years, and the only bull of those four bred in a herd that registers less than 1000 head per year.

In the 2019 American Angus Association Pathfinder Report, there are 85 daughters of Hoover Dam that are active Pathfinder Dams, nearly five percent of the daughters that have enough age to be eligible. Hoover Dam himself earned Pathfinder honors his first year of eligibility.

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Angus Bull Smashes World Record Price Selling for $1.51 Million

BLM Relocates Red Rock Horses

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:50:34 GMT

Too many horses and too little water. Those circumstances forced the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) to relocate 237 horses from the herd grazing 160,000 acres in the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area 20 miles west of Las Vegas, Nev.

The BLM used a bait and water trap to capture the Red Rock horses and they were transported to the Ridgecrest Holding Corrals in Ridgecrest, Calif. The horses were scheduled to be examined and put into the BLM’s wild horse and burro adoption program.

The growth of the Red Rock herd had strained the water and vegetation resources.

“Without emergency action, the condition of the wild horses in the Red Rock HMA is expected to deteriorate, potentially resulting in the death of horses within a few weeks,” a statement from the BLM said.

Relocation to the Ridgecrest facility has drawn some interest as that area was hit by a 6.4 magnitude earthquake on July 4, and a 7.1 magnitude earthquake hit July 5 just seven miles north. The area has experienced several smaller aftershocks since.

But BLM says the decision to relocate the horses was solely about food and water, plus the Ridgecrest corral suffered very little damage from the earthquakes.

To adopt or purchase a wild horse or burro, visit www.blm.gov/whb .

Feeder Cattle Higher, Feds Steady To $1 Lower

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:50:30 GMT

Prices for fed cattle were generally $1 lower for the week ended August 2. Cash fed cattle traded in the North at $113 to $114 per cwt., while cattle in the South sold at mostly $111. Dressed sales in the North were mostly steady to $2 higher at $183 to $185.

Feeder steers and heifers sold at auction steady to $2 for the week, though Agricultural Marketing Services reporters said some offerings in the Northern Plains were $2 to $5 lower compared to last week’s sharp increase. Some steers in the Southern Plains sold $6 to $7 higher in special sales.

The choice beef cutout closed $2.56 higher at $214.73, while Select was $2.29 higher at $190.63. The Choice/Select spread was $24.10 per cwt.

Cattle Slaughter under federal inspection estimated at 626,000 for the week, 28,000 less than last week and 2,000 more than last year.

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U.S. And EU Announce Beef Deal

Derrell Peel: Beef Product Seasonality

Fri, 20 Nov 2020 05:50:30 GMT

Most agricultural markets exhibit regular patterns of prices through the year, known as seasonal patterns. Price seasonality reflects the net effect of seasonal tendencies in both supply and demand. In the cattle and beef industry, widely varying seasonal price patterns exist for all classes of cattle as well as for each of the many beef products produced in the industry. Some seasonal patterns have shifted in recent years with evolving exports markets, etc. The following discussion is based on average seasonal price indexes for Choice beef primals and wholesale products over the past three years (2016-2018).

The boxed beef cutout value represents the net aggregation of the primary muscle cuts of the beef carcass. Boxed beef cutout values typically vary by about 13 percent, from a seasonal high in May about seven percent above average to a seasonal low in October about six percent below average. The boxed beef cutout includes values for four major primals; rib, loin, chuck and round, as well as brisket, short plate and flank. Each of the four major primals has distinct seasonal price patterns that are the net effect of various beef products that are derived from the primal.

The rib primal is the highest value primal on average and consists primarily of the ribeye in various fabrication specifications (boneless versus bone-in, etc). For example, the boneless ribeye (IMPS* 112A) has a seasonal pattern that includes a lower peak in May at 11 percent above average and the highest peak in November, 13 percent above average, with a seasonal low in January of ten percent below average. Ribeye prices thus tend to vary about 23 percent from high to low during the year. The rib primal in total varies by 14 percent from a June peak nearly eight percent above average to a January low about six percent below average.

The loin primal is more complicated with several products originating in the loin primal, each of which has different seasonal price patterns. The loin primal overall has a seasonal price range of 26 percent varying from a seasonal high in May and June 14 percent above average to an October low about 13 percent below average. The tenderloin (189A) is the highest value beef wholesale product with a seasonal pattern that varies by 18 percent from a seasonal peak 12 percent above average in November to a seasonal low about seven percent below average in September. This pattern contrasts sharply with the strip loin (175) which has a very wide seasonal price range averaging 57 percent from a May/June peak about 36 percent above average to a November low about 21 percent below average. Sirloin products such as the bottom sirloin flap (185A) and tri-tip (185D) have seasonal patterns generally similar to strip loins.

End primals (chuck and round) generally have very different seasonal patterns to middle meats with less seasonal variation compared to rib and loin primals. The round primal varies by nine percent from a peak in January six percent above average to lows two to three percent below average from July through December. The round includes numerous products, such as inside round (169) that peaks in March about seven percent above average with a seasonal low in September about seven percent below average. Outside round (171B), however, has a seasonal peak in January 14 percent about average with a minor peak again in October and a seasonal low in April eight percent below average.

The chuck includes a broad set of products that vary widely in value and seasonal patterns. For example, the top blade (114D), source of Flat Iron steaks, ranges from a seasonal high seven percent above average in May to a February low six percent below average. The clod (petite) tender (114F) ranges from 38 percent above average in April to 20 percent below average in September/October. The chuck roll (116B) ranges from ten percent above average in October to a low seven percent below average in July. The overall chuck primal varies only seven percent from a January peak four percent above average to two percent below average from July to December.

The beef values that cattle producers ultimately see as determinants of cattle prices are the result of a diverse set of beef products with widely ranging values and seasonal patterns. Many beef product values vary sharply at various times of the year as a result of seasonal demand and supply influences.