Mission Discovery: Northern Ag Conference

By Michael Raymond Black
Contributing Writer

Early arrival. Lock up the bike and stroll in through the Exhibitors entrance. On first take, it looks like a mini-Big Iron, the equipment festival held at the Red River Fairgrounds. Large Farm Implements dot the arena floor, surrounded by the many display booths. Everyone is fresh and cordial.

I start off with my first drawing, a registration at the Everest 2.0 booth. Evidently some sort of software. A pretty, tall blonde Calgarian tells me I can win a bucket of beer. I’m in. Then she registers me to win some sort of I-Pad thingy. OK.

I stroll away and find myself drawn to the freebies scattered on the tables throughout the arena. Knowing I may end up writing something about my experience, I snag a pad of paper from one, a pen from another, then find a better pad on the next table. A plethora of pads (to go along with the two I had brought myself). My already bloated carry-on/backpack begins to expand like a wad of dough with too much yeast.

I amble down the aisles, reading the company names, products, services, etc., all the while keeping a keen eye out for schwag. My favorite grain bin name pops out: Sukup. I grab a brochure. Being an experienced convention attendee I know that one must pace oneself or you end up schlepping 50 pounds of cheap pens to the car.

Chemicals, crop dryers, farming software, tires, satellite technology, grain bins, you name it, I read it. In a small booth I encounter Jon Prischmann of Heartland Investor Services, Inc. What drew me to him were his five silver dollar coins sitting on his table; I wanted to take them. We chat for a while about stocks, commodities, grapes, the differing psychology a ND investor (action) as compared to the same Minnesotan (inaction). He tells me about a “hedge” where some farmer dudes put down a &.25 in the spring to for something they had to pay $7.39 this fall. Not a good move. Commodities confuse me. He has a call he has to take. I do not get a coin.

Then I meet Ashley. She is a cute, mid-20’s businesswoman working the table for her father’s company, Legacy Steel Buildings. They erect (remember that word) steel buildings and she tells me they are going bonkers in The Oil Patch. Many erections. In fact, her company is erecting a building to house their own ManCamp. Lots of erections. Her Dad is out there as we speak. She is a very nice, attractive woman but what drew me to her? A cap. The Holy Grail of convention schwag. And hers is NICE! It would even match my outfit. As I approach her booth I blurt out “...I want a cap…”. She smiles and politely tells me that they are only for customers who buy a building. So for $40K you get a cap. Rats. I sign up for something and as we chat I repeat “...I want a cap…”. Surprisingly, she says OK. I am stunned but play it cool. I get the cap. I promise to wear it as I circulate throughout the show, a sort of sandwich board dude from the ‘20s in ‘11. She then suggests I also carry a brochure and I do. I am Working.

Now I meet Tom King, the Nitrogen Guy. Nice guy. We talk about AGROTAIN Int’l. and how tomorrow, Wednesday, Dr. Dave Franzen, Extension Soil Specialist, NDSU will be giving a talk on the Main Stage. He likes Tom’s nitrogen. I ask how a NDSU dude can speak clearly and highly of his product? Isn’t there some conflict of interest or something? No, Tom replies, not if you are not greasing his palm or sending him to Cancun bi-monthly. I make a note to self to try to get to see Dave talk about nitrogen tomorrow.

Having not eaten breakfast and seeing the clock on the scoreboard (tied, 0-0) approach 11:00 I am on the lookout for food. All I see are nuts, nuts and more nuts, mostly sunflower seeds. I stock up in case that is to be my diet for the day. I sign up to win 25 pounds of seed to make seeds. Hey, you can always use some extra nuts!

I am beginning to flag so I head up and out of the bowl/playing field the booths are ringing. The first of many ascensions. I am on the Exhibitor concourse so it is quiet. Nice. I park the rolling dresser and snap off some pics. A couple of bags of seeds and a V-8 later, I descend. I see the only Person of Colour for the day striding up the aisle. He is the keynote speaker of the day, Mr. Accountability, aka Walter Bond. I stake out a cushioned seat and settle in for his act. He’s good but it is a tired message (“only you are stopping you” and “sell hopes and dreams”), a kind of Zig Ziglar post-millennium.

I duck out before he is finished to make the “Seed Trait Prospects and Possibilities” presentation in room 203 across the dome in the meeting rooms area. I want to be sure to get there early enough to get a seat in the back should the likely happen. Dry material delivered by a seedman. David Boehm blasts through a century of genetic modification in 10 minutes. Wheat production worldwide has increased only 9% in the past 20 years compared to corn’s 16% rocket launch, ethanol and all. Developing countries are developing a taste for doughnuts. For the past 7-9 years ALL wheat produced has been consumed. This fact screams out for the invention of SuperWheat. Syngenta/Agripro Wheat pays Dave’s way so there is no obvious angst about FrankenWheat. He brushes briefly over the controversy surrounding robo-food but sticks to the facts regarding genomes. Wheat contains 16.1 billion base pairs compared to humans (1/5), corn (1/6) and rice (1/40). That’s a lot of base pairs. Once they corral a pair, it takes 8-10 years to release it on the market, 10-12 for winter wheat. That sounds hard. On average one strain is released every other year. That sounds slow. And a lot of the Dr. Frankenwheats are running out of money. The attorneys are getting involved now too…Genome Patent Law could be a coming practice.

By now the show is winding down. Since I am elevated, I snap off some more pics (I saw one other guy with a camera and he looked professional) and make another lap or two. The gals at Everest tell me they have one more bucket of beer to give away for the day in 20 minutes. I ascend once more to see what is going on in the meeting rooms and find a large contingent intently focused on chemicals. Not my style, so I descend once more, beginning to feel like a Dante character.

The ever-perky Ashley says yes, I may leave, that I have fulfilled my responsibilities as a representative of her erections. Being the cap whore that I am, I ask if I return tomorrow for the other, different cap, would I have to stay all day again? She says no, I would not have to stay all day (psyche; another cap!).

The Calgarian goes swooping past me with a bucket of beer. “Ha, ha, last one!”, she triumphantly crows. Curses. The seeds have stopped working and I decide it’s time for some Spicey Pie. I ascend for the final time thinking “...16 billion pairs of genomes…DAMN!

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