On my farm in New Mexico and on farms the country over I have watched, marveling, the onward surge of science in farming. We now have tractors and attachments that pull our heavy equipment and can dig holes, grade roads, clean barnyards, lift loads, and grind feed. We have hens that lay twice as many eggs as chickens did a few years ago. We have alfalfa, wheat, flax, and oats that are wonderfully resistant to plant diseases. We can buy a kind of chemical that kills weeds and, used in another way, stimulates the growth of fruits and vegetables. We have new kinds of sheep and cattle and hogs that give us more wool or meat or bacon; and we have surer ways to keep them healthy and free of pests.
Insecticides make our houses and barns more sanitary and comfortable. We have hybrid trees, hybrid corn, and hybrid onions of almost unbelievably higher yields. Many of the mysteries of the good earth have been disclosed to us, and we use the knowledge to till the soil for its welfare and ours. Airplanes take some of our produce to market; new kinds of packages and processes keep it fresh and wholesome. The corncobs that we used to burn or throw away have been given a good use in industry.
These are results of a few years of agricultural research. More are coming. They, and many more, are told in this Yearbook, in a continuing story that holds a deep meaning for city people no less than for farmers. I have great joy of them, as a fruit of man's brain and hand, of his patient research, ingenuity, will. These developments the American farmer combined with his sweat and skill to perform the miracle of food production during the war. They have had a part in increasing by 70 percent in 25 years the average efficiency of the farm worker in the United States. They reveal the possibility of a self-sustaining American agriculture, and are a manifestation of the resources within us and about us. They can give us a better life, a life more abundant for every family.
But in truth the very bounty of the research and invention here set forth might cause uneasiness. The thoughtful reader is bound to ask one question or many, unlike in wording but alike in intent: Does not the same DDT that kills the Japanese beetle also kill the honeybee? By breeding a new wheat that withstands rust are we not making it more susceptible to a different enemy? Can we never be satisfied—must We go on with research forever? Does not this technology lead sooner or later to overproduction? On such points I have no fear: We did not stop making automobiles, for fear we would wreck them; or leave off erecting dams, lest they burst; or refuse to construct houses because they might cave in. And need we be concerned that life be too abundant, that we and others in the world will have too much good food, too many clothes, too many medicines for our ills, too much leisure to look upward? Rather, let us give thought to getting food to people who need it, feeding ourselves and our neighbors better, putting farm goods to further uses in industry, taking better care of our land, trading willingly and freely, and cooperating effectively to maintain full employment. That—a life more abundant—will come to farmer and city worker from knowing more about each other. To that end this book makes a contribution.