Big Bushels, Bigger Problems
The True Cost of a Bumper Crop
Monster Wheat and the Economics of Trade-Offs
Well, folks, the August rain finally appeared—two inches!
I’ve been waiting my whole life for an August soak like this to see our short-season soybean varieties hit their true yield potential.
The closest I ever came was years ago, running grain cart for a guy up South near Casselton—he had the sweetest Dakota dirt in the valley (seriously, you could plant Fruit Loops in this ground, and it’d still net you a fortune) and averaged seventy bushels per acre across his entire farm that year.
Seventy bushels is the bee’s knees here in the north country—almost unheard of. Give us thirty-five, and you’ve already exceeded the expectations of roughly 86% of farmers north of Fargo.
It’s a shame that guy turned out to be a complete lunatic who treated bank tellers and food servers worse than the poor souls shoveling coal in the Titanic’s bowels, so in my history book, that bumper crop doesn’t count.
Kids these days call that an asshole tax—no exemptions for guys like that.
Anyway, where was I?
Ah, yes—those soybeans. They’re grinning from ear to ear, pumping seeds into pods like a vending machine stuck on overdrive. And the experts? They predict we’ll crank out enough sugarbeet tons to keep America humming on sugar well into 2025.
At least something’s going right.
But before we get too carried away celebrating, we need to talk about wheat.
Don’t worry, Adam’s not going dark today. Adam is doing just fine.
After my last two pieces under the self-aggrandizing alias of the Stoic Farmer—an identity I use for two noble missions: raising awareness about farm mental health and checking into hotels when I’m knee-deep in undercover reporting—a few folks reached out, asking if I was okay.
Well, let me set the record straight: I’m not just okay; I’m better than okay.
I wrote about the sorry state of mental health in farming because, let’s face it, it’s a full-blown disaster, and we’ve got to pull our collective heads out of the dirt and do something about it.
This year, we’ve got ourselves a monster crop—wheat coming out of every orifice. But, as any seasoned farmer—or economist—will tell you, there are always trade-offs.
Big bushels = Low quality.
It’s a classic example of what those slick-talking economists love to harp on—no free lunch.
Most years, you get one or the other—yield or protein. It’s the classic inverse relationship.
But some folks claim there’s a cheat code. They say the trick to boosting protein is to hit the crop with a shot of nitrogen late in the season, right after it heads and flowers. This little nudge can help you dodge the low protein dockage from some pencil pusher at the grain elevator.
Of course, nitrogen isn’t free, and neither is hiring the crop duster. When wheat prices barely cover costs, it feels more like rolling the dice than farming.
There’s always that year when you pony up the cash, hoping for high protein, only to watch the price tank or the crop refuse to cooperate.
The environment can be a real, cruel weasel. Not for the faint of heart or light of wallet.
Pay the Vig
And don’t even get me started on those so-called "protein discounts"—just another clever scheme by the bushel bandits at the elevator to squeeze a few more bucks out of farmers.
Like most things in farming, there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.
They’re as big a ripoff as the "Twisters" movie I blew twenty bucks on the other night. Someone—whose name escapes me now, but trust me, when I remember, earfuls will be dealt—swore it was good. Whoever you are, the bell tolls for thee.
The dialogue in Twisters is about as subtle as a tornado ripping through a trailer park. How a disaster like that slipped past the Hollywood gatekeepers is a mystery worthy of its own conspiracy theory.
Honestly, I’ve seen better acting from our sleazy officials in Washington.
I don’t know what’s worse—seeing 44% of your wheat’s value evaporate when picking up a grain check or spending two hours watching Glen Powell and a bunch of teenagers drive into tornadoes over and over, only to be shocked when they narrowly escape death for the seventh time.
Gee cripes.
At the risk of sounding like an old curmudgeon, they don’t make ‘em like they used to. The world needs Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt more than ever.
Big Crop = Sick Crop
And then there are the increased disease levels, the bacterial leaf streak, the fusarium head blight, and the vomitoxin.
I wonder if they give these names a touch of Shakespearean villainy to make it easier to rob a guy of half his grain checks with some fancy-sounding mumbo jumbo.
Oh, woe is me, my crop hath been cursed by vomitoxin, and my wheat proceeds slicethed to bits!
The Heavy Burden
Though the crop is massive, those big heads are so heavy that the straw can’t hold up. It buckles under the weight, and suddenly, you’re dealing with a laid-down crop that slows the combine to a crawl.
When the crop goes down, it’s not just the combine feeling the strain—it’s you, too. Every pass through the field feels like dragging a reluctant mule through the mud. You’re on edge the whole time, knowing that one wrong move could jam the machine or leave bushels lying in the dirt.
A slow, frustrating grind wears on your patience, equipment, and body. The sun might be shining, but it’s hard to see the bright side when you’re inching along, watching your time—and money—slip away.
It’s like being in a bad marriage: everything looks good on the outside, but inside, you’re melting down and just trying to keep the damn thing together.
Trade-offs Are Everywhere
But it’s not just the crops that come with trade-offs—life’s full of them.
Whether you make one more round in the field or spend an extra hour in the shop instead of at home, there’s always something tipping the scale.
Take family, for instance. Every hour spent chasing that perfect crop is an hour missed at home, and before long, you start noticing the small sacrifices adding up.
I’m not the only farmer who regrets missing a kid’s game or a family dinner because I was out in the field. It’s not just about the bushels—it’s about the moments you can’t get back. Those trade-offs keep you awake at night, wondering if you’re making the right choices for the farm and the family.
And don’t even get me started on the trade-offs with new technology. You know the drill: stick with Old Faithful—the machine chugging along for years—or dive into the deep end with the latest gadget that promises to turn your farm into a Star Trek episode.
Sure, that new combine might shave a few hours off harvest, but it also comes with a loan payment that’ll keep you up at night.
At that point, you might be better off spending twenty bucks and two hours watching Twisters—witnessing Hollywood’s slow-motion implosion right before your eyes.
Tragic.
Finding Balance in Life’s Richness
As if the rains weren’t enough to lift my spirits, they also allowed me to visit what I’d argue is the most beautiful place on Earth—West Hawk Lake in Eastern Manitoba.
It’s a spot that tickles the fancy and the funny bone simultaneously. As Scott Galloway says as he closes his newsletter, “Life is so rich.”
Let me tell you, it truly is.
Stepping away from the fields, even for a little while, reminds you of what’s important.
It’s easy to get so wrapped up in the day-to-day grind that you forget to appreciate the beauty around you.
Living with the Trade-Offs
So, what’s the takeaway here? Whether wrestling with a flat-as-a-pancake bumper crop or making choices that ripple beyond the bottom line, trade-offs are inevitable.
Embrace them.
Own them.
And for the love of all that is holy, don’t let the pressure of getting every answer right paralyze you. Sometimes, you’ve got to roll with what you’ve got, take the lumps with the wins, and play the cards you’re dealt like you’re bluffing a bum hand at a high-stakes poker table.
As we round the corner into the next leg of harvest, keep this in mind:
The markets are still a fickle beast, but with any luck, the rains are behind us, and we’ve got the grit to ride it out.
Big bushels might mean haggling with the elevator man trying to wring every last cent out of your grain check and extra hours wrestling with laid-down straw, but that’s the trade-off we navigate daily.
Just like in life, it’s all about balance.
Balance isn’t just a trendy word; it’s the heartbeat of farming. Just like you balance moisture and nutrients in the soil, you’ve got to balance life—between work and rest, old ways and new ideas, profits and principles.
It’s a delicate dance, and sometimes you’ll trip over your own feet, but it’s the only way to keep moving forward without losing your soul to the grind. The rains may give us life, but the balance keeps us thriving.
And as a little bonus, here’s one last glimpse of Lewis sneering down at everyone because, in his mind, the entire world is beneath him.
Stay sharp, stay humble, and here’s to getting the better side of your trade-offs. ✌️
Balance, something native for every day. Thank you for this great piece. It’s like being inside your head listening to a conversation with yourself. Balance.
😂😂 “Oh, woe is me, my crop hath been cursed by vomitoxin, and my wheat proceeds slicethed to bits!” This is gold 😂