The document is a weekly report from James Kirby Snideman, a temporary employee conducting quality inspections of cornfields for Pioneer Hi-Bred in Illinois. In the first week, he provides an overview of his assignment, describing the process of inspecting fields for isolation from contaminants. He also mentions encountering a three-legged dog. In the second week, he goes into more detail about the hybrid seed production process and his role in taking field counts. He recounts a humorous story of being startled by a bee while driving. In the third week, he promises to continue elaborating on his work and experiences in rural Illinois.

1. “The Illinois Reports”
Pioneer Hi-Bred International Supply Department
James Kirby Snideman
Illinois Report I: 1st week of July 2008
To my Supervisor and the Supply Department,
Salutations from the "Land of Lincoln." It's been a
week since my arrival in Illinois and at the behest of
my supervisor I make the first of what will be four
weekly reports. I've included a few other individuals in
this mailing whom I thought would also appreciate the
update. No reply in necessary, just enjoy the sneak
peak into my current assignment. But if it looks too
long, don't feel pressured to read it all--my boss has
to... but you don't. Last week I joined the ranks of
Pioneer's "Goldhat" army--a sizable band of seasonal,
temporary employees who are so named because of
the yellow caps they've traditionally donned. The
Goldhats have been an elemental force in Pioneer's
quality check for many decades, hired year after year
to physically inspect almost every acre of the
company's seed crop--a yearly product totaling
billions of dollars in sales. Old timer's talk of a time
when this group was at odds with the local production
team--being hired by HQ to find errors and problems
and subsequently create more work for the plants.
However, today's Goldhat gang seems to be
sincerely appreciated by our local production team--
assisting the production plants in meeting Pioneer's
ever increasing quality standards.
I've been assigned to the Good Hope production
operation, located in Northwest Illinois about an hour
and a half east of the Mississippi river. Although
stationed out of this plant, I've only been to the actual
facility once. The growing area I have been charged
to inspect is called Green Valley--a very fertile,
mostly irrigated flatland almost two hours east of
Good Hope. The considerable distance from the
production plant to the Green Valley growing area
prohibits frequent visits to the plant, but daily
meetings with production leaders take place not far
from my assigned fields. Those fields are situated
amidst miles of gently rolling plains--once partially
flooded and bare but now drained and put to work.
But for the crops and an occasional tree or house the
land is still mostly empty--though towering clouds and
ever changing weather break the monotony and paint
a canvass that often makes me drop everything I'm
doing and just look.
Upon arrival, the first duty of the Goldhats is to
double check the isolation of all assigned fields. Corn
is an open-pollinated crop, allowing outside forces to
operate as the mechanism for fertilization--the union
of male pollen to female gametes. For corn, wind is
the predominate actor. This can present a problem if
the desired crop is planted too close to contaminants.
These contaminants--as we refer to them--are
nothing more than other corn crops planted by
nearby farmers. These contaminants introduce
foreign pollen which have the potential to adversely
affect the fertilization of our crop. To minimize this
scenario, Pioneer requires specific standards for the
amount of distance--or isolation--which our crop must
maintain from contaminants.
Though certainly not brain surgery, the process of
isolation can be much more complicated than it
sounds. A myriad of field shapes and sizes colliding
in numberless combinations can create some
interesting topographical possibilities. Add to this
sometimes abstruse geography the additional
complication of planting errors (when our planters
make a mistake in the layout of our fields), and you
can occasionally get some rather challenging
isolation issues. However, the bulk of this review
process simply requires the stamina to walk several
miles daily and visibly check the entire perimeter of
every field. With a modest assignment of two
thousand acres I've been kept busy this last week--
and can only imagine the plight of fellow inspectors
who have more acreage and less time.
Additionally, after having witnessed the layout first
hand I have developed a much better understanding
of the challenge of obtaining desired genetic purity for
our product. Many markets where we would like to
ship American seed prohibit our exports if they
contain even a hint of GMO (genetically modified

2. organisms) DNA. Europe, in particular, is especially
picky. But with so many American farmers planting
GMO corn it is virtually impossible to grow seed in
the United States without some contamination.
Looking towards the future I can see that if those
markets continue to demand GMO free seed, our
company may be forced to find somewhere else to
supply their demand.
On a lighter note, having walked multiple marathons
in the last eight days I've seen some interesting
things--despite the sometimes prosaic landscape of
rural Illinois. At the top of that list would have to be
the three-legged mutt that followed me for three miles
around field 7487. I've seen canines a lot prettier but
not half so loyal and entertaining. His front right leg
seemed to be amputated flush with his chest so that
that it appeared as if no leg was intended to be there
at all. Every time I stopped to make field notes he
would sit up on his hind legs like an alerted ground
hog and wave his
one free
appendage in the
air. The sandwich
in my shoulder bag
did not have a
prayer--this
mongrel earned his
reward and
received a feast of
roast beef and
Muenster. The loss
of my sandwich
meant a delayed
lunch, but the show
was worth my
extended hunger.
After a hard day's work of walking several miles past
fields of corn, soybeans, wheat, and other crops, I
make my way to my temporary home in Peoria. The
city is a regional hub with just over 100,000
inhabitants, with a long history as a depot--being
strategically located on the always navigable Illinois
river. Although it is Pioneer's policy to house
relocated Goldhat inspectors in hotels I was
graciously allowed to make other arrangements--no
doubt because of my unique status as a full-time
employee. With some intense searching while still in
Iowa I was able to find a respectable accommodation
with everything I needed. Though living in a hotel for
a month would've had its advantages, it also would've
excluded me from cooking and the companionship of
my dog. The thought of subsisting thirty days on fast
food while Parley (my dog) was contracting some
unpronounceable, communicable disease in a kennel
in Des Moines seemed a little less than appealing. I
thank my superiors for allowing this exception. For
their reward I will save Pioneer over two thousand
dollars in expenses related to the cost of renting a
private room versus of a hotel. But I deserve no
praise--I will always choose the practical over the
opulent without any external incentive.
Well, I hope all is well back at headquarters in Iowa
or wherever this correspondence finds you. This
concludes my first report. Tune in next time to read
more about the following step in this inspection
process--"Counts." Additionally, if space permits I
hope to include more details about the science of
seed production and life in Illinois farm country.
Illinois Report II: 2nd Week of July 2008
To my Supervisor and the Supply Department,
Greetings again from Obama-land. This is the second
report of my current assignment in NW Illinois and I
hope it finds y'all healthy and happy. I must confess
that this report is lengthier than the last, but I promise
it to be educational and entertaining.
I left off last time explaining the rationale behind
isolation and my work in reviewing the outlay of our
fields. Currently, my time is consumed with the
additional task of taking "counts." All this work plays
an essential part in the main objective of Pioneer's
business--producing hybrid seed. Before I continue I
think it would be prudent to explain more about the
process of creating a hybrid.
Simply put, to produce a hybrid, two inbreds must be
crossed. What's an inbred? Well, we're not talking
about my Texas cousins from Waxahatchie--although
you got the right idea. This may be more intuitive to
understand if we use an example from dog breeding.
Where canines are concerned, an inbred is usually
referred to as a "purebred." A purebred (inbred) is a
breed so fixed in the display of its physical
characteristics that if you mate two purebreds from
the same breed the offspring will be identical to the
parents. For instance, if you take a purebred
Chihuahua and mate it with a purebred Chihuahua,
then you will get… no surprise, a purebred
Chihuahua. How do you create a purebred? It
requires some natural or artificial barrier which
separates a portion of the species' population. For
Chihuahuas, that barrier was their human owners
who isolated certain dogs that were small (and
annoying!) and selectively mated them over
successive generations until the offspring were
identical (in the way the breeder wanted) to their
parents.

3. Unfortunately--when inbreeding--you also crowd a
breed with a disproportionate amount of genetic
disorders. This happens not only in dogs but also
with humans. The plight of several Amish
communities has recently received much attention for
this very reason; after centuries of intermarriage their
populations are experiencing a noticeably high rate of
genetic disorders.
The same is true for corn. Farmers in this country use
to save a portion of their harvest and replant the
same crop the following year. Repeated for several
generations this practice naturally selected for corn
plants which were best adapted to the famers' land--
but also depressed yields by shrinking the gene pool
of the population and displaying recessive genetic
disorders. However, it was discovered that if two
inbred varieties of corn could be mixed with each
other, then the usual result was a HYBRID with a
substantial increase in yield! This phenomenon is
known as heterosis--or hybrid vigor. The hypothesis
generally used to explain this effect argues that when
two inbreds are mixed the genetic disorders are
covered up and the result is an offspring with superior
adaptive ability.
Interestingly enough, hybrid vigor can also be
demonstrated in canines--as well as most other
sexually reproducing organisms. With dogs it is
widely understood that most mixed-breed pups tend
to be stronger, healthier and live as much as 50%
longer than their purebred (inbred) parents! And what
about humans? Well, although we sometimes like to
think of ourselves as different we are all really too
mixed to find any purebreds. Cat Stevens was right.
Now, the challenge of creating hybrid corn is that,
unlike dogs, corn plants contain both the male and
the female organs. To mix dogs is rather simple: put
a stud with a bitch, blare some Barry Manelow over
the boom box and presto--pregnancy. Unfortunately,
because
corn has
both male
and female
organs, if
you plant
two different
inbreds right
next to each
other they
will not only pollinate each other but they will also
pollinate themselves. The result, each ear of corn will
contain some kernels that are a hybrid and some
kernels that are an inbred. While this is progress, it is
certainly not a product for which farmers would pay
good money. The solution, designate one inbred to
be the female and another to be the male. The
female inbred will be neutered (removing its male
organ) and the male inbred will only be used for its
pollen (or sperm) and then soon thereafter destroyed.
Thus, self-pollination will have been inhibited and the
resulting seed crop will be 100% hybrid corn. Now
that's marketable. In fact, it’s a multi-billion dollar
industry in the U.S. alone!
Of course, managing this process sounds much
simpler via email. In reality it requires intense
physical labor and scrutinous supervision to ensure
the correct mix of inbreds. As one of the Goldhats, I
am currently being used to take numerical surveys--
or "counts." I sample a thousand plants in each field
over a representative area and tally four main
observations: female shed, female silk, male shed
and pull. The data I collect not only helps in the
current management of the crop but will also be
utilized by regulatory organizations and our
production team at
headquarters to
review the resultant
harvest. With an
introduction to seed
production out of the
way, I hope in my
next report to
elaborate on these
observations.
Before I go, a short story from the country. The other
day while driving home after a long day's work, I was
winding down to an NPR broadcast on conserving
energy. Feeling rather green by driving my 40 MPG
Honda Civic, I decided to go one step further and
choose windows over the AC. I rolled down the glass
and invited nature's breath to lick my skin cool. Being
a little overzealous with the power-window-controls I
discovered that with slight manipulations I could
adjust the wind's vector and maximize its cooling
potential. Down in back, and the wind moves to the
right. Up in front, and it moves to left. Down in the
back just a little more and... WHZZZZZZZZZZ, A
HUMONGOUS BEE FLEW IN AND SLID RIGHT
DOWN MY SHIRT! I screamed like a school girl on
fire, lost control and donutted off that country road
like Lindsay Lohan on her way to rehab. Alive but still
under attack I jumped out of my vehicle and loudly
flung myself about like... well, like someone with a
bee down their shirt. I tore off my clothes in a wild
frenzy of yelps. It wasn't until I was half-naked and
several hundred feet from my vehicle that I noticed
the old local sheriff had pulled up right next to my car
and was standing watch--with one hand on his door
and the other on his holster. I walked back slowly, my
heart racing, trying not to look like the crack fiend I
just impostered. Extremely nervous and still
breathless from the bee bout, I called out to the
sheriff in broken English, "I... (gulp) swerved... bee
down... (gulp) shirt... I, uh... (gulp)." Immediately
realizing how ridiculous I sounded, and having
arrived at my car, I stopped talking and just panted

4. heavily--shirt in hand and sweat on face. Those
couple seconds of awkward silence had me prepared
for the worse. The sheriff finally responded in full
country twang, "Son, that's jest 'bout the funniest
thang I've ever seen." He full-heartily laughed and I
cautiously joined in, still not sure if I would be
required to "spread 'em." He made a friendly
approach over my car and asked me if I was alright.
"Yes," I said, "except for this big bite on my..." and I
desperately began to explain myself. His laughter
caught me mid-excuse, and I was soon relieved as
he admitted I didn't do anything wrong. He said he
saw me lose control and then run out of my car, and
just wanted to make sure I was alright. We looked my
car over and luckily found no damage. Then under
the shade of a nearby tree we had one of those
intimate conversations you can only have with a
stranger. He leaned against a signpost and I against
the trunk and we exchanged biographies. His was
naturally much longer and filled with some great
advice. Except for his service in Vietnam he has
always lived in rural Illinois. I asked him how he could
do it--live a life some would say was so simple. He
smiled at my ill-phrased query but responded without
guile: "A lot of folks are always reaching up--but I've
always tried to reach out. Life, son, ain't about who
y'are or what y'are or even where y'are. It's about the
people around you. Remember that, boy." I did. We
talked a bit longer and then he received a call and
had to leave. We shook hands and then parted. As I
got back into my car and continued my drive home
(with my windows up) I thought about all the people
I've met here in the mid-west... and thought about
how right the sheriff was.
From the crossroads of the Heartland and the
Cornbelt, I send my regards. Until next report…
Illinois Report III: 3rd Week of July 2008
To my Supervisor and the Supply Department,
Hello again from rural Illinois. The dog days of
summer are upon us and--in spite of the extra chores
that long days bring--I hope everyone's been finding
time to have some fun. Amidst the hustle and bustle
of soccer games and pool trips, BBQ's and crawfish
boils—I hope y'all find a few minutes to enjoy my third
report from the fields. For those of y’all that braved
the verbosity of my previous entries, your reward: yet
another long recount--though hopefully worth the
read.
Last time I wrote I gave an in-depth look into the
science of hybrid seed production. This time I wish to
elaborate on a few details involving the physiology of
corn which will help to further elucidate my current
duties. Also, I hope to share some insight I've
gleaned while spectating on the job our managers do
with the copious amounts of additional, temporary
labor hired for this critical period.
If you remember from my last report I mentioned how
a mature corn
plant contained
both male and
female organs.
The male organ
is called the
tassel. It sits at
the top of the
corn plant and
disperses pollen.
The female
organ is the ear.
This is the part
we are most
familiar with.
Before your
shuck an ear of corn, you find it wrapped in several
modified leaves and with lots of hairs pouring out of
the top. Those hairs are known as "silks." Follow
those silks down and you will find each one
connected to an individual kernel. What does the silk
do? It serves as a canal for the pollen to reach the
kernel. You see, each kernel is in reality an
unfertilized egg and must be carefully protected. That
is why the ear is wrapped up so tightly. But being so
encased, the corn plant has to find a way for the
pollen--or sperm—to reach the kernel--or egg.
Millions of years of evolution has provided the
solution: the kernels can stay safely wrapped up
while silks grow out of
each one--waiting en
masse at the top of the
ear like a thousand
impatient receptacles.
Once a grain of pollen
lands on a silk it grows
down and fertilizes a
kernel. Repeated
enough, the result will
be an ear of corn jam-
packed with fertilized
kernels.
For the successful cultivation of hybrid corn, this
process of fertilization must be closely managed. This
requires several "managers" and generous numbers
of temporary workers. As part of my duties I am
encouraged to meet with the managers of my area
daily. We typically sit down around lunch time and
exchange vital information concerning the de-
tasseling of female inbreds, silk dates and shed
counts--as well as any special concerns.

5. Despite the sometimes intense conditions the mood
is usually blithe and always jocular. Being the new
guy I'm often at the center of the jest. For those
familiar with my daily health regimen, it should come
as no surprise that lunch time for me consists of a
mountain of steamed vegetables: potatoes, carrots,
broccoli and green beans. Though I pride myself on
the health of this habit the old farm boys that daily
surround me are not impressed. I often feel like I
wore a Speedo to the church picnic. "Where's the
meat?!" I regularly hear. Shamefully I reply--amidst
hisses and jeers--"Just veggies today." Well, to
appease the assembly I put my lunch aside one day
last week and joined the gentlemen in town for a
"proper" meal at the local eatery. Going for the safe
bet I selected the
grilled chicken
sandwich.
Encouraged to be
more manly by my
fellow Pioneer
peers, I decided to
live wild and make
it a grilled chicken
"melt." And live wild I did! Not only was the grilled
chicken FRIED (I'm guessing as a way to re-heat it)
but the bread was fried as well. Topped with a Valdez
spill of processed cheese and oily mayonnaise, this
meal literally contained more fat than I consume in an
entire week. But all in a valiant effort for fraternity.
Watching these men up close I've had the
opportunity to examine several different styles of
leadership. The subject has been on my mind since
visiting a local homeless shelter and having a very
interesting conversation. Eager to be involved in
some of the same activities that occupy my time in
Des Moines, after I arrived in Peoria I walked
downtown and inquired about any open shelters. I
found one in service and offered what little free time I
could as a volunteer. I'm not sure that I've made
much of a difference with my visits but I have been
able to lend a little encouragement to a few new
friends. One such is a mother about my age. She isn't
currently homeless but being at risk she stops by
regularly and maintains her connection with the
counselors who work there. She had her boy when
she was fifteen. Now he's eleven and according to
her "a little devil." She of course loves her son but
complains about how difficult it is becoming to get
him to do anything. Her orders are often ignored until
voices are raised and threats are issued. After visiting
with her on several occasions I felt impressed to
share a little advice. I humbly admitted my naivety as
a parent but offered my experience as a boy.
The greatest control you can have over a young man
is not the kind of control that derives its power from
caveats of retribution. Though certainly necessary at
some stages of youth, threats of punishment only
work as long as a parent is feared. All too often single
parents are unable to maintain that fear and children-
-boys especially—are lost to a world of unbridled
pursuits. But, I explained, there is hope. There is a
kind of power which so permeates a boy's being that
it can rein him well into manhood. What is that power?
Admiration. Respect. Love! All fill a boy with an
immense desire to please. And that desire can keep
a boy in line better and longer than the meanest
commination. I told her about my father who for a
stretch raised ten children on his own! It was his
lightest touch that concretely steered me. I admitted
to my new friend that this isn't easy. Not yelling and
never punishing in anger while continually offering
encouragement and support is no easy task. It takes
a lot of patience and conscientious action. But it
really is worth it.
The next day at work I reflected on that conversation
and took special notice of the way my fellow Pioneer
employees managed those around them. It seemed
very clear to me that what applies to parents and
children equally applies to managers and the
managed. I observed how when things got tense the
most effective managers were those who had the
admiration of their subordinates. It was a valuable
lesson to learn.
And that concludes my third report. My fourth and
final report will be delivered in a week or less--as my
work here is winding down. Until then, continue to
enjoy the summer and thanks for all the replies.
Illinois Report IV: 4th Week of July 2008
To my Supervisor and the Supply Department,
This is my fourth and final report from rural Illinois.
Yesterday was my last day in the fields and with my
work here concluded I eagerly anticipate my return
home. This has been thirty days of hard work—but
labor much enjoyed. With plenty of hot days spent
traversing colossal landscapes, a collection of cuts
from corn leaves, and lacrimal-fluid-inducing humor
shared over rowdy lunches with untamed farmers--
this business has gotten it all from me: BLOOD,
SWEAT, and TEARS. Thursday morning I'll be back
in the office, but before I part I wish to leave y'all with
one final thought: my appreciation for the way
Pioneer does business.
I have always been fascinated with the development
of an organization. It excites me to discover where
certain behaviors--now well established and almost

6. fully habitual--have their origin. For Pioneer Hi-Bred
International it has become standard to strive for
excellence in quality as well as fairness in all
transactions. But where did this culture of good
behavior come from?
While working in the fields this last month I have had
the opportunity to explore the answer to that question.
No where is this culture more evident than in the
actual production of our product--on the soil where
we grow our seed. Being able to see us in action right
alongside our competitors I can more fully appreciate
the extra effort Pioneer makes to insure quality. We
have the highest standards regarding isolation--
requiring more land to raise a bushel of hybrid corn
than most anyone. We hire the most hands to keep a
watchful eye on the mating of our inbred lines. We
use the best equipment and technology to insure
everything is done as correctly as possible. In
addition, the company goes to great pains to maintain
a relationship of trust with its employees, its
contracted farmers, and its customers. As one
example, our hiring of seasonal laborers illustrates
this point profoundly.
Remember how I
mentioned the
process of
"neutering"
female inbreds to
insure a near
perfect mixture
with male inbreds.
This means that
each female
tassel must be
cut and then
pulled upon
reaching maturity.
This is first done
mechanically with
large, huge-
wheeled devices.
These machines
are never perfect
and subsequently a field is required to be cleaned by
hand. Every row of corn must be individually eyed
and any remaining female tassels must be removed
by hourly laborers. It is often discussed among
management how crews of migrant workers are more
effective at this job. They work longer hours, work
faster and usually do a better job. Thus, the
detasseling work can get done within a shorter period
of time--ultimately saving money by decreasing the
window of opportunity for quality concerns. However,
despite the apparent advantages of migrant labor, a
concerted effort is made hire labor from local pools--a
significant portion of which tend to be high school age
individuals. "Why," I asked, "do we do this?" The
reply: "Not only do many of the locals depend on this
extra summer income, but for many it has become a
rite of passage, a tradition among family members.
We have out in these fields third generation
detasselers. If we decided to no longer higher these
kids, many would be disappointed and upset--and
that's a cost savings we can't afford."
All of this means that we spend more dough than
most of our competitors to grow an equal amount of
seed. Resultingly, the price tag for our product
reflects the added investment and a premium is
charged for each bag of seed. Some would argue
that this is simply part of our marketing strategy--a
ploy to be recognized as the quality leaders within the
industry and thus capture market share. While I admit
our marketing department wastes no time in
capitalizing on our position I am unabashedly
confident that the way we do business has less to do
with stratagem and more to do with a cultivated
culture of ethics. Many reasons explain why this is so
but I point to one I feel is paramount: the intentions of
our founder. I shy at giving one man so much credit
but I also love the idea that one man can make such
a difference.
Henry Agard Wallace
was the founder of
Pioneer Hi-bred and also
the thirty-third Vice
President of the United
States. For the sake of
brevity I'll only introduce
him as a man of vision--
but implore you to read a
little more about him
when you get the chance.
He did much to advance
the productivity of agriculture during this last century,
as a scientist and breeder but also as a statesman.
He cared immensely for the plight of the common
man and made their cause his cause. He adamantly
believed that if men were to become free throughout
the world then they must first be free from hunger
and malnutrition. He started and ran Pioneer with that
mission in mind. Though operating as competitively
and efficiently as any other business, Pioneer was
different in its culture from the very beginning--
placing profits second to service. Indeed, for years
during the great depression Pioneer operated at a
loss to continue offering its much needed seed to
struggling farmers.
Fast forward to today--a time when corporate
corruption on the scale of Enron is dismissed as
commonplace--and you wonder if any of Wallace's
legacy has survived. Well--honestly--the very nature
of corporations (which Pioneer has since become)
requires that the final direction come from
shareholders whose ultimate goal is profit. So open
altruism may have become obsolete. But I can say

7. that Pioneer has definitely retained a culture that truly
does give more than lip service to quality and trust. In
my short experience with the company it seems
evident that the bottom line is not punctuated with
dollar signs but annotated with an awareness of our
role and responsibility within the larger community.
That brings me pride to belong to such an
organization.
And that concludes my fourth and final report. To the
dedicated few who've endured these seemingly
sempiternal logs--know that I am grateful for your
readership. To be in the mud with a friend--even one
in company by correspondence--turns the rainiest
days into a sunny Sunday morning. Thanks again
and see you at the office. Farewell from the farmland.