Undaunted by Floods of ‘93, Iowa Farmers Plant Seeds of Their Future : Agriculture: The rivers inundated vast stretches of farmland. But the land survived, and so did its inhabitants. Spring came early; crops are going in.

The farmers of Green Bay Bottom are racing against the rain.

In fields once swallowed by a river, tractors kick up dust, corn planters drop seeds no bigger than a thumbnail and the earth closes around them. The spring planting has begun in earnest.

From the cab of his tractor, Harold Bonar looks over his shoulder as the corn planter cuts 12 neat rows into ground littered with the ashen stubble of last summer’s flood-ravaged soybeans. Nearly all of the 81-acre field has been planted, but thunderstorms are brewing.

And in the hours of blue sky left to him, he must finish planting so the field can be sprayed with fertilizer and weed killer. Ever the optimist, the ruddy-faced farmer smiles and says over the creak-creak-creak of the planter: “Isn’t this peaceful?”

The river that turned Harold Bonar’s thousand acres into a murky sea last year churns muddily along, 2 1/2 miles away, hidden by a rebuilt levee and a ridge of leafy green cottonwoods, willows and maples.

The mighty Mississippi is a comfortable four feet below flood level.

But who knows what summer will bring?

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“You never know it’s a good year until after the crops are in the bin,” said Eric Burch, the 33-year-old father of two who sells seed beans, oats, beet pulp, soy hulls and other farm products from the feed-manufacturing company he operates with his wife, Kay.

From Minnesota to Missouri, the Great Flood of 1993 overwhelmed farmers and fields alike. The swollen rivers of the Midwest overran cities, submerged towns and decimated crops. The flood hit Green Bay Bottom, as this 14,000 acres of prime southeast Iowa farmland is known, mid-season, in the early morning hours of July 11 with a levee break.

Their crop ruined, farmers pumped out the Bottoms and cleared debris from their land--a commercial fisherman took 40,000 pounds of fish from the drainage ditches in which they were trapped. They repaired their sodden homes and waterlogged machinery, all the while knowing the vagaries of weather--namely a wet winter--could set them back farther come spring.

But neither the runoff from winter snow nor the expected ice jams on the river proved onerous. Spring arrived early and warm.

“Just storybook perfect for planting so far . . . ,” said Nick Huston, manager of the riverfront Colusa Elevator Co., from which Wever’s flood-fighting efforts were launched.

“It had to be double perfect because we have to make up a crop too,” added Charlie Miller, a lanky, 52-year-old Iowan who finished planting his 240 acres with corn and soybeans at the end of April.

Last year’s flooding cut the corn harvest in Lee County by half; the soybean harvest fared even worse, according to state figures. A less harsh winter and a record-breaking dry March warmed the soil enough to begin planting a week or two ahead of schedule. Across Iowa, anxious farmers took advantage of the good fortune.

Thirty-five percent of the corn in Lee County was planted by early May, a vigorous start in a state that usually has about 6% of its crop in the ground by then.

“Just beautiful weather--the kind of weather that just makes you feel good to get out and smell the fresh earth,” said Bonar, who has planted 350 of his 1,100 acres.

Bonar, a former Marine, sports the tattoos popular in the Corps: An eagle on his right forearm, “Mom and Dad” on his left. His hands, scarred and knobby, reveal his life’s work. He has lived on a farm for nearly all of his 59 years.

A month earlier, Harold’s eldest son, Rick, died unexpectedly from complications associated with an intestinal ailment. He was 39. Like his two brothers, Rick lived within an easy walk of his parents’ farm on Green Bay Road. Last year, father and oldest son put in the crop, one driving a tractor that pulls the corn planter, the other planting soybeans.

This spring, the father has been a lone figure in the dark fields.

“We just got him a new trailer house,” Bonar said as he droves past his son’s home, “getting him set up, (then) this come along. It’s been a hell of a year.”

But despite his personal pain, Bonar has the clear-eyed outlook of an optimist.

“In another 30 days, this will all be green down here,” said Bonar, who has restocked his hog operation since the floodwaters forced him to sell off his pigs last summer. “I look for a good year myself. You got to look ahead.”

After three days of planting, an overnight rain kept Green Bay Bottom farmers from their land--if the ground is too wet, the earth is sticky and won’t properly cover the seed. But once the crop is in the soil, an inch or two of rain is welcome to ensure that the seed germinates.

“Everybody says a farmer’s hard to please,” said Karl Pieper, who is helping his cousin Mike put in his crop.

But their livelihoods depend on an often fickle partner. In the years before the great flood, too little rain had been the problem. This year, too much rain too soon could harden the soil and keep the young corn from poking through.

Even with the good start this spring, and the weather notwithstanding, Wever’s farmers will have other worries, such as cutworms and corn borers, as they have in the past.

“Farming is not just a job. It’s a commitment,” said Nadine Bonar, Harold’s wife of 40 years. “You can’t farm one week and decide you want to do something else. Once you farm, you’re committed.”

Here, farmers can gauge the moisture in the earth by the darkness of its color when it is tilled. They ride tractors equipped with CB radios and light sensors that flicker when the planter doesn’t drop a seed. In farmhouses, a wife may monitor the weather from a scanner. She is the same woman who can sense rain when the air is too muggy.

While farmers may plant more acres this season--the government land set-asides have been lifted--a bigger harvest could mean a lower price per bushel.

“Some of our neighbors are just now getting their houses fixed (after the flood), so it’s been a long process,” Nadine Bonar said. “But you do what you have to do.”

A sign tacked 15 feet high on a utility pole marks the reach of the swollen Mississippi. It reads, “The Flood of ’93.” The Millers left the wheels on their trailer so they can haul it out “if it floods.” The front lawn Bud Pieper reseeded is finally in need of a mow.