Posts Tagged ‘farming’
“The earth is bountiful, and where her bounty fails, nitrogen drawn from the air will refertilize her womb.”*…
As the Iran War continues to unfold, there is understandably a great deal of concern about energy prices (and the prices of things that depend on energy). We might forget that the Middle East is also crucial to the world’s fertilizer supply– though not for long, as farmers (along with everyone else in the food chain, all the way down to all of us eaters) are beginning to feel the pain.
But, as Diana Kruzman reports, even as fertilizer trade concerns are growing, a revolutionary sourcing alternative has emerged– one that could make a huge positive difference if it proves out at scale…
The world has an almost insatiable demand for nitrogen. Crops need it to grow, but although it makes up 78 percent of our atmosphere, plants can’t just pull it in from the air the way they do with oxygen. Instead, they rely on bacteria in the soil to convert it into nitrate, a form they can use; in the case of agriculture, think of fertilizer spread by humans. Leaving aside organic options like cow manure, most farmers use ammonia produced mainly from natural gas using a technique called the Haber-Bosch process, which was invented in 1909. [See also here.]
Haber-Bosch is expensive and energy-intensive, responsible for up to two percent of the world’s annual greenhouse gas emissions. It’s also spurred a global nitrogen pollution crisis; as much as two-thirds of nitrogen fertilizer applied to crops is never used, and the excess escapes into the soil, air, and water, raising the cancer risk in nearby communities and contributing to climate change.
Researchers have been trying to find an alternative way to get nitrogen to plants for decades — turning to everything from microbes to human urine. But so far, these scientific advancements haven’t translated into much practical change for farmers, who for the most part still rely on ammonia (which, granted, is getting greener, but is increasingly vulnerable to global price shocks).
That could soon change with the growth in popularity of a new technology known as plasma activated water, or PAW. Around the U.S., scientists and startups are experimenting with this high-tech solution, which uses electricity to pull nitrogen from the air, mix it with water, and create fertilizer straight on the farm. The concept, on the surface, seems suspiciously rosy — on-demand nitrogen, in a form plants can use, at just the cost of electricity (and the initial price of the machine used to make it). But early adopters have told Offrange that it genuinely works…
… PAW uses electricity to transform air into plasma — the fourth state of matter (besides gases, solids, and liquids), which typically forms at high temperatures. When the plasma comes into contact with water, it encourages chemical reactions that form nitrates — the type of nitrogen that plants need. Though this process was actually invented in 1903, even before Haber-Bosch, it required so much energy that it never achieved widespread use.
But in recent years, those energy needs have gone down thanks to the development of “cold plasma” technology, which operates at less than 60 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s also used for medical sterilization and food safety, and over the last decade researchers have worked to develop new ways to apply it for agricultural production…
More at: “Pulling Nitrogen From the Air” from @dkruzman.bsky.social.
* Nikola Tesla (who, around 1900, imagined and experimented with something like the Birkeland–Eyde-based plasma process described above)
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As we count on creativity, we might send healthy birthday greetings to a man who explained one of the central ways in which we depend on the food that we eat, William Cumming Rose; he was born on this date in 1887. A biochemist, he researched amino acids, discovered threonine, and established the importance of the nine essential amino acids in human nutrition (that’s to say, the amino acids that our bodies cannot synthesize and that we must consume in our food). He received the National Medal of Science in 1966.
“Where grows?–where grows it not? If vain our toil, / We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.”*…
Even as agricultural land is becoming a coveted investment (as manifest in the purchases of billionaires like Stan Kroenke, Bill Gates, and Jeff Bezos, and by institutions like Nuveen and the Canadian Pension Investment Board and by publicly-traded REITs like Farmland Partners and Gladstone Land Corp), there’s another class of investor– with a very different use case– on the hunt. Joy Shin and Ryan Duffy report…
Last year, a datacenter developer started working the phones along Green Hill Road in Silver Spring Township, PA, outside Harrisburg. Mervin Raudabaugh got the call: a mystery buyer wanted to buy his 261 acres of farmland. The developer offered him $60,000 an acre for the land the 86-year-old had farmed for six decades. Mervin turned it down, selling to Lancaster Farmland Trust for <$2M instead, thereby locking the soil into agricultural use. “I was not interested in destroying my farms,” he told a local Fox affiliate.
Two things about this story might have been unthinkable a generation ago: that anyone would offer a farmer nearly $16M for that land, and that it’d be worth more dead (paved over) than alive (producing food).
The Supermarket of the World
For the better part of a century, that’s what America was. From 1959 through 2018, the country ran an agricultural trade surplus every single year, peaking near $27B in 1981, when soybeans, corn, wheat, and rice flowed out of the heartland in volumes that functioned as soft power and hard trade leverage. (When the Soviet harvest failed in 1963, Khrushchev had to buy American wheat through private US grain companies: at market rate, without credit, shipped on American vessels, which was a humiliation leveraged by his enemies to oust him the following year.)
Then, in 2019, the curves crossed. The U.S. has since run a deficit in four of the last six fiscal years. Last year, we imported $43.7B more in agricultural products than we sold.
Washington has started saying the right words. Last month, the USDA and Department of War signed a memorandum designating agriculture as a national security priority. Multiple bills linking food security to national security percolated through the last Congress. If you talk to the right folks in Washington, you’ll hear agriculture now being discussed the way semiconductors were in 2021 — as a sovereign capacity that a serious country cannot offshore.
All of which sounds right, none of which changes what is happening on the ground. Because the ground is the problem.
In real estate, you think in square feet, in proximity, in comps. Farmland trades in acreage, water tables, growing seasons, and soil composition. And right now, profitably farming that acre is just about the hardest it’s ever been.
Since 2020, seed costs have climbed 18%, fertilizer 37%, fuel 32%, and interest on operating loans 73%. Labor is up 50%. These costs never came back down after the 2021-22 supply chain shock, but crop prices did, creating a double squeeze on farmers. Farmland has appreciated nearly four-fold from ~$1,090/acre in 2000 to $4,170 in 2024.
Some 40% of U.S. farmers are over 65. The American Farmland Trust estimates nearly 300M acres will change hands through inheritance in the next two decades. When it does, the math facing each heir will look a lot like Mervin’s. What would you do: keep farming a business with collapsing margins, or if one was offered, take the check?
A Collision of Old & New Economies
Datacenters, chip fabs, and other megaprojects need what farms need: flat land, abundant water, reliable power, and access to transport.
In Loudoun County, VA, ground zero of America’s datacenter buildout, farmland already lists at $55,000–$79,000/acre, a significant premium over the statewide average because markets are pricing in the possibility the land will convert from farmland to computerland.
Conversions are large and getting larger. Meta’s $10B compute cluster in Richland Parish, Louisiana, sits on 2,250 acres of former soybean fields. Samsung’s new $17B fab occupies 1,200 acres outside Taylor, Texas, a town that once called itself the largest inland cotton market in the world. Micron’s $100B megafab is going up on 1,400 acres of former agricultural land and wetlands in Clay, New York. These are some of the largest private investments in American history, and among the most economically and strategically consequential bets we’re making as a country. You can’t help but notice the symbolism of it all: each is being built on rural land that was growing something one or two generations ago.
Datacenter developers, who already need some PR help, have seen local opposition to these projects emerge as a real planning risk, with farming families showing up at county meetings to argue that once the land converts, it will never come back.
Nobody should pretend this is irrational. A fab generates more economic value per acre than any soybean field ever will, the jobs pay better, and the strategic logic of onshoring chips is sound. But the math that makes each individual conversion obvious is the same math that, in the aggregate, leaves you structurally short on food. The country is losing about 2,000 acres a day, with 18M more projected to convert by 2040.
The Flow of Capital
As Washington works to subsidize the farming, to the tune of $10–$15B in federal support each year, Wall Street is betting on the land underneath it leaving farming.
Nuveen Natural Capital, a subsidiary of TIAA, manages $13.1B in farmland across 3M acres globally and recently launched a REIT targeting $3B in new capital. Those holdings have appreciated far beyond what crop income would justify, because it follows the pattern of a conversion optionality play: buy well-located agricultural land at agricultural tax rates and wait for rezoning.
Nearly 95% of American farms are still family-run, but most are modest operations. The 6% of farms generating $1M+ in sales produce 78% of everything, up from 69% just five years ago. Farming has developed the power-law distribution of a winner-take-most industry, except the winners don’t get to set their own prices. The family farm persists in name, but the economics (and economies of scale) increasingly push it to operate like a corporation or exit.
And institutional investors have some strange bedfellows on their side of the orderbook. Foreign investors held an interest in nearly 46M acres as of 2023 – 3.6% of all privately held farmland – up 85% since 2010. Canada alone holds 15M acres. China, which cannot feed its population from its own soil, built COFCO International into a state-backed grain trader that does $38.5B a year and accumulated millions of acres globally. Saudi Arabia was pumping Arizona’s groundwater through Fondomonte, a state-linked operation growing alfalfa for export, until Arizona killed the leases in 2023. Those countries treat productive soil as something worth a sovereign premium, and something you want to physically control…
[The authors recount the history of “Agro-Doomerism” and consider the (largely technological) potential solutions to the conundrum: “This is a hard problem, but it is a solvable one, as shown by the long history of technological revolutions in agriculture. Today, a set of technologies that were each too expensive or immature a decade ago have converged to the point where the raw inputs for a farm, ex land, can get radically cheaper, all at once.” They enumerate some of those potential saviors, and conclude…}
… The long arc of agro-doomerism and technological revolutions say there’s reasons for optimism. Many times before, the “math” said we’d run out of food; many times before, new science, systems, and processes came along that changed the denominator and proved the doomers wrong. Hoping and praying for AGI or another Norman Borlaug [the father of the Green Revolution] to save our bacon is not a strategy, but abundance-oriented technology stacks that don’t force a zero-sum choice between preservation and productivity might be. We should look at systems that help unfallow and uplift acres, making farmland competitive enough that we don’t pave over too much and one day realize we want the topsoil back – or our ag trade deficit erased.
The bet worth making is 1) to never bet against America, of course, and 2) that something similar will happen here: that productivity, not preservation alone, will close the gap. This is a generational opportunity, a category deeply in the national interest, and a sector wanting more capital, technology, engineers, and founders to show up. Those who get there first will be serving a gigantic market, and attacking a problem that Washington has acknowledged is existential but has no idea how to productively solve.
The supermarket of the world was built on cheap land and cheap water. Neither are cheap anymore, and both are being bid up by us – via population growth – as well as the industrial renaissance that we care so deeply about. But that doesn’t mean we can forget foundational inputs – literally – to our way of life…
Farming vs. fabs (and data centers)… American agriculture is caught in a collision between old and new economies: “The Supermarket of the World.”
* Alexander Pope
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As we contemplate cultivation, we might note that this, the third week in March, is National Agriculture Week.
“Make hay while the sun shines”*…
Hay, the foundation of the diet of grazing animals, is central to American agriculture. The USDA forecasts 2025 hay production at 123.5 million tons (grown on about 50 million acres countrywide), of which, about 3.24 tons are exported (generating over $1 Billion in revenue); the balance is consumed domestically.
Most of that hay is baled for storage and transport (in rectangular or round bales) using special (and increasingly expensive) equipment. But as Katie Hill reports, 115 years ago, before the advent of those motorized balers, a homegrown invention redefined stacking hay in the West. Some ranchers still see no reason to upgrade…
A scan of the horizon in Montana’s Big Hole Valley reveals plenty of examples of the land reclaiming what once belonged to it. Derelict jackleg fence. Log calving sheds with caving roofs. Rusting Chevrolets and spools of barbed wire. A giant compost pile of livestock carcasses, bones protruding from the mulch like seashells at low tide.
Then, every five miles or so, an old, spindly implement punctuates the scenery. It’s tall, maybe 30 feet, resembling a giant see-saw permanently out of balance. It’s not so much a stairway to heaven as it is a halted conveyor belt to nowhere; there’s no grain silo or corn crib nearby for a machine like this to fill up from above. Regardless, its efficacy in stacking giant piles of hay is clear from its construction. Grass grows tall around its base of rough-hewn lodgepoles, as if the earth might swallow it whole if it stayed put for another century.
This contraption [pictured at the top] is known as the beaverslide, patented in 1910 by Big Hole ranchers Herb Armitage and D.J. Stephens. The haystacking device consists of a wide, sliding fork at the base of a ramp and a cable pulley system rigged to the ramp’s underside. In practice, ranchers use a team of horses or a motorized vehicle with a winch to pull one of the cables perpendicular to the beaverslide, which in turn hoists the fork up the ramp, bringing a giant pile of hay up with it. (Ranchers rake cut hay onto the beaverslides with old buck rakes.) At the top of the ramp, the hay falls to the other side, forming three-story piles that can reach 25 tons in weight, depending on who you ask.
Details on the manufacturing and distribution of the beaverslide — named for its origins in Beaverhead County — are slim. The prevailing story is that ranchers often made their own, then made duplicates for neighboring ranches upon request, according to Big Hole rancher lore. Over the last few decades, the contraption has largely become a relic of a bygone era. But it’s not entirely obsolete, as some ranchers still use their old beaverslides today. With modern challenges like ballooning upgrade costs and the ever-present battle over a rancher’s right to repair their own equipment, the analog beaverslide makes more and more sense for those still using one with every passing hay season…
… he Kirkpatricks recall memories of neighbors being stuck in the middle of winter with broken-down bale processors and hungry cows. The closest repair shop in Jackson, an unincorporated community of roughly 20 people, is 42 miles south. The next closest shops or available technicians might be 53 miles away in Butte or 73 miles away in Dillon.
Many big-name mechanized implements run on trademarked chip technology that requires a trip to an authorized dealership for servicing. Even ranchers like Humbert who otherwise possess ample repair knowledge don’t have access to the diagnostic equipment necessary to solve problems on the fly. This might sound like sacrilege for an industry that lives and dies with rural, self-sufficient communities, but a bill calling for a rancher’s right to repair their own equipment died in the 2025 Montana legislature.
Score another point for the beaverslide…
Read on for more fascinating background: “Why Don’t You Beaverslide?” from @katiehillwriter.bsky.social
Watch the “technology” do it’s work here:
* A Tudor expression dating back to the mid-16th century, and used figuratively since 1673
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As we honor old ways, we might recall that it was on this date in 1974 that Island Records released Country Life, the fourth studio album by Roxy Music.
“The duty of a good Cuisinier is to transmit to the next generation everything he has learned and experienced.”*…
Five years ago, we marked the passage of Lynn Olver, a reference librarian who pretty much single-handedly created and maintained The Food Timeline: history of human eating habits for 20,000 years. Worried that her life’s work might lie fallow and spoil, her family was searching for a new host.
Happily, one was found. Later in 2020, Virginia Tech University Libraries and the College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences (CLAHS) offered Virginia Tech as a new home for the physical book collection and the web resource– and the site lives on…
Ever wonder how the ancient Romans fed their armies? What the pioneers cooked along the Oregon Trail? Who invented the potato chip…and why? So do we!!! Food history presents a fascinating buffet of popular lore and contradictory facts. Some experts say it’s impossible to express this topic in exact timeline format. They are correct. Most foods are not invented; they evolve…
Dive into “The Food Timeline,” courtesy of @vtliberalarts.bsky.social.
See also (the source of the almanac entry below) chef James T. Ehler‘s marvelous FoodReference.com– “on this date” history and more.
(Image above: source)
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As we dig in, we might send healthy birthday greetings to Gilbert Blane; he was born on this date in 1749. A Scottish physician who served on the Sick and Wounded Board of the Admiralty, he instituted health reform in the Royal Navy. Perhaps most memorably, he was largely responsible for requiring citrus juice (lemons, later limes) on all naval vessel to prevent scurvy.
“Wheat feeds the West, rice sustains the East”
Tomas Pueyo on why this is so… and what that has meant for culture and history…
What’s your staple, bread or rice?
This is a momentous fact, for it might have determined politics, culture, and wealth.
How? Well, bread comes from wheat, and rice from… rice…
… Wheat and rice are not harvested in the same places. Rice and bread are the predominant food where rice and wheat are respectively the predominant crops. Here’s another way to look at the same data:
This, in turn, is determined mainly by this:
… But this doesn’t fully explain it since it also rains a lot in Ireland, for example, but nobody grows rice there. You need the heat found closer to the equator: Rice grows in hot, wet, flat, floodable areas, whereas wheat prefers cooler, drier, better drained areas.
Flooding rots wheat but can 3x the yields of rice. That makes wheat well adapted to hills, whereas rice can only survive on hills when they are terraced.
This sounds like just a fun fact, but it ain’t. Because rice generates twice as many calories per unit of area.
This means that rice nourishes families on half the land that wheat requires. Which means population density in rice areas can be twice as high as in wheat areas, or four times with double cropping. A hectare of land can feed 1.5 families with wheat and 6 with rice.
Yet rice paddies also require a lot of work—twice as much as wheat. And that work is almost year-round: preparing paddies, raising seedlings in nurseries, transplanting every single seedling by hand into flooded fields, managing water, pumping it, weeding, harvesting, and threshing—often followed by a second rice crop or a winter crop. These tasks peak during transplanting and harvest, creating critical seasons where a huge amount of work must be done in a short window of time.
Crucially, this labor cannot be delayed—if you miss the planting window or harvest late, the crop is ruined. As a result, rice farmers developed reciprocal labor exchange: neighbors help each other transplant and harvest in time. The timeliness pressure meant rice villages became tightly cooperative communities to ensure everyone’s fields were tended before it was too late.
Wheat farming historically had a more seasonal rhythm with periods of relative quiet. Wheat is typically sown in the fall or spring and then mainly just left to grow with the rain. Aside from episodic weeding or guarding the fields, there was less continuous labor until harvest time. Harvest itself was a crunch period requiring many hands with sickles—European villages would collaborate during harvest, and farmers might hire extra reapers.
These differences made these regions diverge across politics, culture, and economy…
Read on: “How Bread vs Rice Molded History,” from Pueyo’s Uncharted Territories.
* adage
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As we deliberate on our diets and their destinies, we might recall that it was on this date in 1887 that Chester A. Hodge of Beloit, Wisconsin received patent No. 367,398 for ‘spur rowel’ barbed wire (consisting of spur shaped wheels with 8 or 10 points mounted between 2 wires). It was one of many patents for barbed wire (e.g., here), which spread across the American West rapidly (thanks, in no small measure to the guy featured in the alamanc entry here)– and (by protecting farmers from foraging open-range cattle) paved the way for the expansion of wheat (and other kinds of) farming.
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