Burn ban casts pall on grass seed growers' future

ALBANY, Ore. - A waft of dust rises behind green John Deere combines as they churn in annual ryegrass, catch seeds and spit out straw.

George Miller's head-to-toe denim is spotted with dirt. Miller, 54, a third-generation grass seed grower in Albany, gazes over his farm and a picture-perfect backdrop of trees, foothills and a blue sky of cotton ball clouds. Straw blankets the ground, so deep in parts that a shoe can sink 5 inches.

"I've got a 2,000-acre park here and it's all mine," he says. "Nope, I never get tired of it."

It's harvest season in the Willamette Valley, but after this year's legislative session, the future of Oregon's grass seed industry is hazy. For decades, farmers in the valley — known as the world capital of grass seed — have burned to clear fields of pests, weeds and plant diseases and prepare them for the next year's crop. This year, Miller and most grass seed farmers in the Willamette Valley will burn for the last time.

Change is coming at a moment when grass seed farmers already worry about the bottom line. Without field burning, farmers expect to work longer hours, face increased expenses and use more herbicides. The industry will be forced to adapt, a trade-off for neighboring communities to breathe cleaner air.

"The burn ban is not the end of the grass seed industry in Oregon," says Matt Herb, research director of OreGro, a broker for local grass seed growers. "The problem is that in a time when the world is in recession and the valley is hurting, we've just been slapped in the face."

Field burning has ignited debate in Oregon for decades. Every summer, farmers would burn their fields, and valley residents would complain about smoke and dust in the air. Health experts seconded their concerns. During the U.S. Olympic Track and Field Trials in Eugene last summer, growers agreed to suspend field burning temporarily, and opponents said the state put the health of elite athletes over the health of Oregonians.

Rep. Paul Holvey, D-Eugene, pushed for a ban for years. This year, the bill narrowly passed on the last day of the session. Burning in the Willamette Valley will be slashed immediately from 65,000 to 20,000 acres. By 2010, the law allows only 15,000 acres of burning — for areas of steep terrain and for species that need thermal treatment for crop yield. Burn fees will double from $8 per acre to $16 per acre.

Though grass seed growers may initially struggle to adapt, Holvey says, the law's exceptions minimize economic harm. A few farmers "are putting out 40 percent of the fine particulates in the entire Willamette Valley," he says. "There's got to be a balance between other industries and the health of people."

In some ways, the ban is the culmination of the phase-out that began in 1991. Just miles from the Miller farm is the site of a 23-vehicle crash in 1988, a tragedy that became a flash point in the field-burning debate. The wreck killed seven people and injured 38 after smoke blew onto Interstate 5. In response, the Legislature ordered a gradual phase-out of burning, from 250,000 acres to 65,000 acres.

Last year, less than 8 percent of the valley's grass seed acres burned, according to the Oregon Department of Agriculture.

Still, Herb, the grass seed broker, emphasizes the financial impact. He estimates that preparing a field without burning costs about $110 an acre with reasonable diesel prices — a total that is based on hours of labor in the field, herbicide and pesticide costs and machinery costs. Burning costs about $50 an acre, he says.

In the current economy, grass seed growers pay more to produce grass seed than to sell it, says Bill Young, a grass seed specialist at Oregon State University.

Young says that although grass seed sells for about 18 or 19 cents a pound, farmers spend about 22 to 26 cents to grow it — a margin that's not sustainable unless the demand for grass seed bounces back.

With the cheapest method of clearing fields off the table, farmers say harvest seasons will become harder and longer. Over the summer, harvesting seed becomes a race against the clock. If fields are not cleared in time, the quality of the year's yield and preparation for the next is affected.

Instead of burning, grass seed growers will need to plow multiple times, chopping the straw into small pieces that are swallowed by the soil. Herbicide and pesticide applications will increase. Crop rotations will be more frequent.

Exchanging more pesticides for less burning is still a plus for public health, Holvey says. "Pesticides are a very site-specific application that, if done correctly, do not create exposure for thousands of people. So comparatively, the smoke is much more dangerous."

Aimee Code, the water quality coordinator for the Northwest Coalition for Alternatives to Pesticides, calls grass "a chemical-intensive crop, with or without field burning." She suggests that farmers grow rust, mold and mildew-resistant grass varieties or spot check grass before spraying — a technique that saves time and money.

Code acknowledges that there is not enough demand for organic grass seed currently, perhaps because U.S. consumers do not feel directly impacted by herbicides on grass seed as they do on fruits and vegetables.

But consumers want a high-quality product, says Tom Silberstein, field crops agent for Oregon State University in Marion and Clackamas counties.

"It's just like buying a box of corn flakes and there's oat flakes in there," he says. "What do you want? You want what's on the box."

The shift away from field burning hasn't been all bad news for growers. The Legislature approved $175,000 this session for a bioenergy facility to turn grass straw into ethanol.

And Japan, Korea and Taiwan have been buying leftover hay to feed livestock, though those sales have dropped along with the economy.

For now, the recession and changes in the industry don't disturb the continuing churn of combines on Miller's farm. Miller has seen tough years before, and even with the prospect of longer days ahead, he seems serene.

"Farmers are notorious for picking up the pieces and moving on," he says. "Whatever Mother Nature or others give us, they just sidestep it. And they'll do it many generations after me, I'm sure."

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Information from: The Oregonian, http://www.oregonlive.com

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