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Grasshoppers
Ruining
Nebraska
Correspondence:
Beatrice,
Gage County,
Nebraska
May
30, 1875
Editor
Pomeroy’s Democrat:
As
our
local papers
are denying the existence
of the grasshoppers
in our midst, where innocent
parties might be induced
to immigrate
to this country, and thereby
entail misery and want
upon themselves
and families, I deem
it
my duty to write
to you
to correct
these, misstatements, and prevent as far
as possible, the misery that would follow a heavy immigration.
The
year
of
'73 was almost
a failure in
the corn
crop and long
before the crop of '74 would have ripened that of ‘73
was
consumed. But
that of '74 never
ripened.
Drought, hot winds and
grasshoppers
made a complete and total failure
of it. The drought shortened the wheat and
the wet weather in
the fall spoiled
thousands
of bushels
in
the stack.
This
spring many farmers were compelled to buy
their seed wheat, oats and barley,
having
been forced to feed everything
to their
stock during the winter.
All
without exception,
of course,
had to buy
their
seed corn. The
spring
was wet, cold and
backward, but
the farmers worked with a will
and determination never
before exerted by them and the result
was
that there
was more grain sown and in
better
condition than ever before. By the time
the green grain made its
appearance above ground, Mr. Grasshopper was on
hand to attend to
it
and at the present
writing they have taken
hundreds of aces
in
this county alone. Now to
illustrate
the
situation here I shall take
one case, that of J.
K.
Petbond, which is an extreme
case.
I heard that they were eating
everything
he
had so I
went to see for myself. I found
that they had taken his crops so complexly that
some of his fields were as bare as
the streets of
your city,
there not being the least
sign of
vegetable life upon
them, where
but
a few
days
before had stood
most luxuriant
young grain.
They
have taken seventy-two
acres for
him,
and before this reaches you he
will not have an acre
of wheat,
oats, barley or
corn. There
are at
least ten insects
to each
plant. The road
running through and the bushes, weeds, etc. on the east side of his farm
were literally
covered
with them, one
sitting against
the other
as close
as they could
fit.
He gathered
some dry weeds
and made a "funeral
pile'' mixing
some hay with the weeds to
insure rapid
burning then
we went to work
on a circle about thirty
feet in diameter, driving the
grasshoppers towards the pile.
In the solemn act that they so quickly and fast smothered the fire in three places.
In an hour afterward
I passed the same spot and could not see that the ranks had been thinned in the
least. Your eastern readers have seen
bees of a summer’s evening gathered on the front of a hive, covering it
completely. In a precisely similar
manner the hoppers were gathered up logs, bushes, weeds and the bodies of trees
extending up some trees to the height of sixteen feet. Now there are quite a number of farmers eaten
out in the same manner and some others that are not injured yet. But
yet hope can any man reasonably entertain that he will escape with such a numerous
and capable enemy surrounding him.
They are confined to the bottoms, mostly
as yet; but when they get done with the lowlands they will of course attack the
uplands. They seem to be the natural enemy
of man in fight for bread and life, for they eat everything he plants except sorghum
and peas. They go in bodies and their
general direction is southeast. So,
taking into consideration hard times generally, partial loss of in 1873. That loss in 1874 and the condition of the
country at present, I think it is criminal upon the part of anyone, be he
editor or not, that will conceal the facts as they exist for the purpose of
inducing immigration or keeping on the credit of the country. For the benefit of all who may wish to cry “pilgrim”,
“core head,” etc. I will state I have
lived here for seventeen years, having immigrated to this county (Gage) in
April, 1800, and know where of I write.
Sometime in the seventeen years have
these pets of Pharaoh petered this country and every second year on an average
a drought. What hope can we have for the future?
Yours truly,
A. J.
Petbond.
Pomeroy's Democrat
- June 12, 1875
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