Finally, perennial wheat could provide a last-ditch solution to the dilemma faced by dryland wheat farmers. Although production costs have increased dramatically, the price of soft white winter wheat has remained static, dampened by increased production in Australia, Argentina, and other countries with lower input costs. In contrast to the large physical area that these wheat farmers control, their political power has dissipated. Even though the wheat industry contributes an impressive $1.2 billion to the state’s economy, the farmers themselves number barely 2,500, a small voice in a diverse state dominated by west-side urban voters. Unfortunately, those urban voters see little in wheat farming for themselves.

“People probably won’t go hungry if Washington farmers don’t grow wheat,” says Jones. “There are plenty of exporting countries that would be happy to fill the void instantly.” Most of eastern Washington’s wheat is shipped to Asia, where it is used in pastries.

Because of this lack of political clout, farmers have little recourse against political pressure. “They lost on burning. There are huge salmon issues looming,” says Jones. “They’re just going to continue to have a tough time, because there’s not enough of them.”

Low input, reduced soil erosion, increased wildlife habitat, carbon sequestration—all these factors would raise the environmental image of a beleaguered industry. Maybe, say the dreamers, such a system could lead toward a truly sustainable agriculture. Aesthetically, the region might even more closely resemble the original prairie to the east, if not the shrub-steppe of the dryer areas.

A particularly intriguing part of this vision recalls the argument made by one of WSU’s first visionaries, William Spillman. Spillman was recruited by President Enoch Bryan in 1894 to teach agriculture at the fledgling Washington State Agriculture College and School of Science. Spillman stayed in Pullman only eight years. But in that short time he not only taught agriculture, he also coached the football team, traveled the state offering scientific advice to farmers, and independently rediscovered Mendel’s laws of genetic inheritance, one of four scientists worldwide to do so.

Not surprisingly, Spillman was recruited away from Pullman by the USDA. But he returned to the Palouse in 1924, where he gave a series of lectures on “Balance Farming for the Inland Empire.” He warned that a single crop, wheat, could sustain neither the regional economy nor the rich loess soil. Only by diversifying, only by bringing livestock back into the system, he argued, could the area’s agriculture endure.

Eighty years later, Schoesler notes a somewhat ironic problem with his stand of perennial wheat. It just won’t quit. Following harvest, rather than setting its stock in its seed and dying, his perennial wheat not only didn’t die, but started setting heads again.

“Years ago, producers grazed their stubble,” he says. “In some parts of the country, they still graze winter wheat. I’ve told Jones and Murray, let’s put sheep on it after we get excessive green-up.”

So now imagine not only four million acres of farmland safely anchored with stands of perennial wheat, but herds of cattle and sheep grazing it in the fall and winter, giving you something to watch on your drive through eastern Washington.

But Jones and Murray stress there’s still a lot of work to do before that vision can be initiated. One of the most serious problems still facing them is disease. Not only will perennial wheat be susceptible to the same diseases as annual wheat, says Murray, there will be other viral diseases that are generally not that great of a problem with annual wheat. Because of its very nature, perennial wheat, once infected, carries the virus into the next year.

So Jones and Murray are cautious. They know that their wheat will be accepted only when they have all the kinks out.

Continued

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