Dept. of Agr., to be read at the 7th Annual Meeting of the N. N. G.
A.)

It is probable that the prominence given the walnut growing industry in
Oregon and the Northwest is greater than the finished product will
justify at present, yet it is growing all the time in spite of the
methods in use. I say in spite of the methods rather than because of the
methods in use, for the reason that hundreds of thousands of trees have
been set out in the last ten or twelve years, a majority of which have
failed to meet the expectations of the would-be growers. These
expectations, however, have been based largely on the statements of boom
literature of those who have trees and lands for sale. We have much land
in Western Oregon that is suited to the growing of walnuts, and some
trees and orchards that are doing well, but there are more individual
trees that are giving their owners profits than there are orchards.

The industry will continue to grow, I will repeat again, in spite of the
cultural methods we use, but we must certainly change our methods or our
trees, or both. The excellence of the Oregon walnut is beyond question.
The gold and silver medals that we have captured, as well as the
testimony of dealers who are bidding for our product for their fancy
trade, is evidence of its excellent quality. But there are many things
that enter in the making of the perfect nut. Even after the tree has
cast down its golden shower of the finest product, the gathering,
washing and drying makes for the sweetness of the nut. When I see men
who make a success in other lines of horticulture and farming pulling
out walnut trees because they have planted a cheap lot or are too
impatient for the harvest, and others bringing sackfulls of the finest
nuts to market, discolored and dirty from having lain on the wet ground
for days and weeks, I sometimes think that it is a long, long way to
Tipperary.

But my heart's right there, and our association is doing heroic work,
although but two years old; we get our committees together two or three
times a year, compare notes and crack the whip for another run. Then
when we get together in annual convention there is something doing. We
cut out the frills and get at once to business. No welcomes by the mayor
and response by Colonel Long Bow with a brass band, but rather like the
women at the fish market: "Have yees any nice fish, Mrs. Maloney?"
"Indade, I have, Mrs. Flanigan." "They stink." "You lie." And th