Maxxa Bloom. Photo by Sturgeon.

Within a few miles of Los Banos you can find people whose businesses provide us with cotton, tomatoes, corn, wheat, barley, oats, safflower, alfalfa, beef, milk, eggs, wool, lamb, walnuts, almonds, prunes, apricots, sugar beets, garbanzo beans, grapes, honey, cantaloupes, and honey dews. And I've probably left a few crops out. But all these people have three things in common.

• First, they are all actual people. They are friendly, honest, hard-working folks.
• Second, their reputations have been badly besmirched by environmentalists, animal rights nuts, big city politicians, and reporters. So they are anxious to get their story out to anyone who will listen.
• And third, they tend to be a little "edgy" around strangers. They have been badly beaten up in the news media and they suppose that the average city person is a "hostile."

When I was growing tomatoes and cantaloupes, two retired gentlemen from San Jose used to stop by occasionally. They came for the great duck hunting near Los Banos. They'd bring a bottle of wine, or a frozen duck, or some such thing. They'd go out and pick a few melons or a box of tomatoes. I can't remember their names now, and I never did know how they happened to pick me out as their "official supplier," but I was always glad to see them.

Pima Bloom. Photo by Sturgeon.

Take a bottle of wine or a six-pack of beer and introduce yourself. Get the story. Go see the crops, the animals, whatever is going on there. And then when you want a cotton plant to show your child's pre-school class, you'll get a dozen of them.

Just bear in mind that your mission may be a little tricky. The farmer may be really busy that day. Go back another time. The farmer may think you are some sort of reporter, out to do an exposŽ. Don't take any notes, and don't pack a tape recorder!

The first farmer you meet may be one of those cantankerous old goats. If so, you're in luck. Once you get to know them, they're the best kind.