Autumn Harvest Survey of Six North China Counties: How to ‘Hold the Umbrella’ Amid Persistent Rain?
It is not just corn; other cash crops have also been affected, and for some farmers, the economic losses may be even more severe.
This article documents the plight and struggle of North China’s farmers under this year’s abnormally persistent autumn rain. The climate has changed; while small and large-scale farmers are fighting back in every way possible, they still lack an “umbrella” to shield them from the risks.
1. Combine Harvesters Unable to Enter the Fields for Urgent Harvest
For the past two months, his glimpses of the sun have been few and far between; the autumn rain seemed endless, stretching from September into October. The soil is now saturated, and standing water from two days ago still lingers in the low-lying areas. Since September, Henan has seen eight rounds of widespread, significant precipitation, with an average of 27.5 rainy days—the highest for this period since 1961. In Handan and Xingtai in Hebei, rain also fell intermittently for over 20 days.
Based on his past experience, corn is planted in June and harvested in September, followed immediately by wheat planting. Now, the rhythm has been shattered by this autumn rain; it is already October, and some villagers have yet to harvest their corn. Uncle Li explained that the corn growth cycle is normally 115 days, but due to the continuous rain, this year’s period has been significantly extended to 140 or 150 days. If it isn’t harvested soon, the corn will lodge, and the stalks will harden, making them difficult to decompose once shredded and returned to the soil.
In some areas, the harvest is naturally later, reaching into mid-October in central Hebei. In Jiezhen Town, Fengfeng Mining District, Handan City in southeastern Hebei, local government officials told us on 16 October that due to altitude and climatic conditions, the growth and harvest periods here are also later. However, corn left in poorly ventilated fields continues to be rained upon, leading to mould and even sprouting.
Jiezhen Town has a corn planting area of 8,000 mu; Zhao Feng (a pseudonym), a local, leases 1,000 mu. In his fields, Foodthink observed that many of the corn ears were infected with blue mould and ear rot. Mould spots spread further along kernels that had been pecked by birds or insects.
The corn in the fields cannot wait any longer. However, growers are finding it nearly impossible to harvest on time. When large machinery, such as wheeled combine harvesters, enters waterlogged soil, it compacts the earth; even if they manage to operate, they often slip or sink into the mud, becoming immobilised.
In Xiaoyizhuang Village, Quzhou, Handan, a villager leasing over 200 mu tried to drive a harvester into the field, but after harvesting only a small patch, the operation had to be aborted, leaving behind a chaotic trail of ruts. In Zhuzhuang Village in Shangqiu, some farmers even kept a tractor stationed nearby to rescue their combine harvesters should they get stuck.
Zhao Feng, who leases a thousand mu in Jiezhen Town, Fengfeng Mining District, owns two tracked combine harvesters. These machines are lighter and distribute weight across tracks, making them better suited for waterlogged land. Yet he still cannot harvest—the tractor used to collect the corn ears still cannot enter the fields. His land is too vast, with some plots extending dozens or even hundreds of metres deep, making manual transport or the use of tri-cycles impractical. For Zhao Feng, 1,000 mu requires 9 to 10 labourers harvesting continuously for ten to fifteen days. But on 17 October, just a few days after the rain stopped, it began to rain again. He has been unable to find the right window to start.
Uncle Li in Shangqiu also hand-harvested over two mu. Because the ground was so wet that his tri-cycle would sink into the mud, he had to cut corn stalks and lay them on the ground to create a makeshift path. However, hand-picking corn is exhausting, and humans are not machines; Uncle Li remarked, “I could pluck one mu on the first day, but by the second, I could only manage half a mu.”
Eventually, Uncle Li managed to use a combine harvester. Much of the corn in the remaining four mu had already moulded, and he had to get it in quickly.
To rush the harvest, many farmers have incurred costs far higher than in previous years. In Meng Village, Xiuwu County, Jiaozuo, Henan, Cheng Xiaolin is a large-scale grower who co-founded a specialised grain cooperative with other local farmers. He noted that while hiring local harvesters provides a subsidy, the local machines are all wheeled and unsuitable for wet soil. Many farmers prefer to sacrifice the subsidy and opt for tracked harvesters from other regions.
In Xiaoyizhuang Village, Feixiang District, Quzhou, Hebei, farmers do not even receive harvesting subsidies. One villager rushed to harvest during a brief two-day break in the rain before the Mid-Autumn Festival; the cost of hiring machinery was 80 yuan per mu, 20 to 30 yuan more than usual. Many other villagers continue to wait; even with wheeled harvesters waiting at the edge of the fields, they would rather delay the harvest than risk ruining the land.
By 18 October, Foodthink learned that across the region—from the Fengfeng Mining District west of Handan to the larger planting areas of Quzhou and Feixiang to the east—those who had successfully harvested were primarily small-scale farmers, carrying corn out bag by bag by hand. Large-scale growers with hundreds of mu, who are entirely dependent on combine harvesters, have yet to bring in their crops.
2. Unable to Dry or Kiln-Dry, the Corn Ears Mould and Sprout
However, freshly picked maize cobs can hold more moisture than when they were still in the field; if they remain damp without being dried, they can mould overnight.
Large enterprises, represented by Sinograin, only accept “dry grains”—maize kernels with a moisture content of less than 14%. Yet, freshly harvested maize typically has a moisture level of 20-30%. Based on previous years’ experience, Henan farmers would spread the kernels across open ground, and they would dry out within two days.
But in rainy weather, a stable, hardened drying ground is a luxury for most smallholders. On mud or brick surfaces, maize cobs are affected by ground dampness, making them prone to overheating, rotting, or even fermenting. With rain continuing to fall, covering them with plastic sheets only traps more moisture inside. As some describe it online: “leave them uncovered and they sprout; cover them and they mould.”
Larger-scale drying areas are even scarcer. In Zhuzhuang Village, Shangqiu, a grower leasing over 100 mu of land has to constantly shift their crop within a limited open space. Larger grain stations and traders, handling massive quantities of maize, must use forklifts to turn the cobs daily.
Uncle Chen, who leases 300 mu of land in Xicai Village, Xian County, Cangzhou, Hebei, is somewhat “luckier” as he has a dedicated, large drying area. After National Day, it rained for a week—not as long as in Handan or Henan—and the several thousand jin of maize he had already harvested remained intact. However, the brick foundation of the drying ground was soaked through, and bricks sank into the mud, causing heavy vehicles to tilt and wobble, which interrupted further harvesting. The couple rushed to hire workers to pour concrete; by 17 October, less than half the work was complete. This project cost them over 100,000 yuan.
In most of the villages Foodthink visited during this trip, villagers pile maize cobs into cylindrical heaps (tuns) in their yards or on rooftops. Uncle Chen took a different approach, buying steel pipes and wire mesh to build square maize racks, which are raised off the ground for ventilation. Uncle Chen proudly told us that his maize suffers from fewer pests, as rain struggles to seep through the husks of the kernels. He also believes his maize was fully mature and the milk had completely dried before harvest, and that his storage method is more appropriate. All of this has helped his maize resist moulding.
Yet, even using racks like Uncle Chen’s, the maize cobs of Li Jun, a maize buyer in another town in the Fengfeng Mining District west of Handan, still moulded quickly. He rented a concrete site and has a large warehouse specifically for maize, and only this year did he spend money to erect maize racks. In Fengfeng, the rain lasted longer, and being at a lower latitude than Cangzhou, the maize matured relatively earlier. They had no choice but to shell the maize quickly and spread the kernels on the ground to dry.
From 13 October, the weather cleared, and they dried the kernels on the concrete ground for three consecutive days. Just as the moisture was finally dropping, the forecast on the 17th indicated another bout of rain the following day. They spent the whole day racing to harvest from the fields: “If we can’t get it in by tomorrow, all this work will have been for nothing.”
Drying is difficult, but mechanical drying is even harder. Smallholders lack drying equipment and are left with two choices: either sell the freshly harvested “wet” cobs or kernels at a low price to middlemen, or dry them simply at home and sell them as dry grains. The latter is more profitable, even after accounting for the weight of the cob and moisture loss. Furthermore, since maize prices fluctuate on the spot market, farmers may store their grain in hopes of selling it at a higher price than during the autumn harvest, sometimes holding on until the twelfth lunar month.
Li Jun also wants to buy a drying machine. A single unit costs at least a hundred thousand yuan, with larger ones costing millions, but since his rented site is not stable, he does not dare to make such an investment.
III. Surviving Drought-Induced Yield Loss, Struggling with Mould-Induced Revenue Loss
From early July to early August, Henan was hit by widespread high temperatures and drought. This period coincides with the critical “grain-filling stage” of maize growth—the phase from the emergence of tassels and pollination to the full maturation of the kernels. To ensure a high number of kernels, good kernel weight, and plump “filling”, water is most essential. Farmers prayed for rain, but it never came. To combat the drought, they had to continuously pump water from tube wells for irrigation.
In Meng Village, Jiaozuo, farmers had to irrigate every fortnight, doing so four or five times in total; fortunately, the irrigation conditions in the fields were relatively good. However, in some areas, the water table was too deep, allowing for only two or three irrigations in the early stages. Consequently, some large-scale growers with hundreds of mu could keep up with the watering initially, but fell behind after the first few rounds.
In many parts of Hebei, deep groundwater wells are used. In Jiezhen, Fengfeng Mining District, Handan, where large-scale grower Zhao Feng is based, the altitude is over 200 metres. Pumping water from the wells and then pumping it into the fields costs 60 yuan in electricity per hour, yet it still fails to thoroughly irrigate a single mu. Li Jun from Xinpo Town, Handan, also recalled that during the drought, the whole village ran dry. People began pumping water from two large ponds of nearly 50 mu, only stopping when the fish farmers protested.
“The stalk-only maize grew so tall, but produced no cobs, and the leaves curled up at the edges,” Zhao Feng said, caught between laughter and tears at the “stunted” maize in his fields. He spent a fortune on electricity for irrigation, but in the higher-altitude plots, he expects the yield per mu to be less than half of last year’s.
Even for farmers like Uncle Li from Zhuzhuang Village, Zhecheng County, Shangqiu, who irrigated in time and successfully weathered the drought, the maize began to mould while still in the field, meaning it “didn’t press the scale” (lost weight).
Combine harvesters also struggled with the rotting stalks. Because the harvester header has a set height, if the stalks rot from the bottom and the maize falls over, it cannot be fully recovered. Uncle Li said he originally expected a high yield per mu; in previous years he could harvest 90%, but this year it was only 50-60%, with the rest left scattered in the field.
Mouldy maize is also hard to sell, as grain manufacturers have strict requirements regarding mould rates. If it is too mouldy, it cannot even be used as feed grain. Some villagers only pick the good cobs, leaving the mouldy ones on the stalks to be ploughed back into the soil.
Ultimately, on his four-plus mu of land, Uncle Li in Henan harvested less than 3,000 jin of maize kernels—an average of six or seven hundred jin per mu, half of what he usually gets.
IV. The Added Burden of Low Grain Prices
However, severe mould has meant that even the high-quality maize salvaged with great effort is failing to fetch a good price. Uncle Li from Shangqiu, Henan, managed to salvage less than 3,000 catties of maize, but could only sell it for a maximum of slightly over 0.30 yuan per catty. He is heartbroken that four mu of land yielded less than 1,000 yuan.
Another farmer interviewed in Shangqiu stated that the maize he harvested from 2.4 mu was sold entirely at 0.20 yuan per catty, earning him just 200 yuan—a tenth of what he would usually make.
For small-scale farmers like Uncle Li, costs are low beyond their own labour, and their annual farming income is only a few thousand yuan. Even with devastating losses, they can survive thanks to subsidies from children working in cities.
But for large-scale tenant farmers, the costs are much higher. Land rent alone ranges from 600 to 1,000 yuan per mu, with some peaks reaching 1,300 yuan. Faced with natural disasters and market fluctuations, their operational risks are magnified many times over.
Cheng Xiaolin, who contracts 900 mu of land, calculates that he will lose 100 yuan per mu this year due to the reduced yield. In a normal year, a large-scale farmer might only make a few hundred yuan per mu. A grain farmer in Jiezhen Town, Fengfeng Mining District, Hebei, admitted that his only wish this year is that after selling the maize, he can settle the land rent, fertiliser, and seed costs for the farmers, and perhaps be left with 100,000 or 200,000 yuan to sustain his livelihood for the year.
It is not just the farmers who are losing out; the risk of mould has cascaded down the supply chain, and buyers may also face losses. Li Jun bought maize in Nanyang at 0.58 yuan, but continuous rain during transport caused the cobs to sprout in the truck. Upon arrival, the moisture content exceeded 40%—the maximum value a moisture density meter can record. Ultimately, the maize grains bought at 0.58 yuan were purchased at half price; three truckloads resulted in a loss of 50,000 yuan. Another maize trader in Quzhou County, Hebei, bought hundreds of thousands of catties of cobs, all of which had sprouted. If he sells them, he will lose 0.25 yuan per catty of wet grain; if he doesn’t, they may rot further.
Now, Li Jun has four grades of maize in his warehouse: high quality, and those with 30%, 50%, and 70% mould. The proportion of the latter is likely still rising.
Amidst the volatility, villagers still hope for maize prices to rise. In Quzhou, Hebei, although the salvaged cobs have begun to mould and sprout and the collection stations no longer dare to buy more, some villagers still believe they “might not” lose money this year: if the price of wet cobs rises to 0.75 yuan per catty, they might still make a small profit even if a third is thrown away. One hopes this is more than just a bit of “Ah Q” delusional optimism.
V. Years of Disaster: Crops Rotting in Queue
Although there is still a window for sowing winter wheat before the first frost, some farmers worry that the delay, coupled with falling temperatures, may lead to reduced yields. Cheng Xiaolin explained that the “tillering rate” (number of tillers) will be lower, meaning fewer ears of wheat. Where a single grain might have produced four or five tillers, it may now only produce one, inevitably reducing the harvest. To compensate, farmers have no choice but to buy more seed: “It used to be 25 catties, now it has to be 40, and later we’ll have to add even more.”
Farmers in Zhuzhuang Village, Shangqiu, who choose to plant garlic after the maize harvest, are even more anxious. In previous years, garlic would already have grown three to four leaves by now, but this year they cannot yet sow, and the garlic seeds at home have already sprouted. According to agricultural experts, the latest date for sowing garlic is 20 October; if all else fails, it must be in the ground by November. Time is running out.
Other crops have suffered similar losses. Recently, during the peak of the fig harvest, Xiao Zhu, a resident of Zhuzhuang Village, has been working since 5 am. On 18 October alone, he picked over a thousand catties, but many figs had split; he threw away two to three hundred catties in a single day—roughly what he would normally harvest in a whole day. Due to the rain, he can no longer sell the figs as fresh fruit and must dry them all for sale as dried fruit.
It was not until after 3 pm that he found time to pump out water. After the continuous rain, knee-high waterproof boots are required to enter the fig orchard. At the peak of the waterlogging this year, the water almost exceeded the height of the boots. One elderly woman working in the village had to go home to change her boots after they filled with water.
Due to their proximity to Bozhou, Anhui, which is a renowned national centre for chilli trading, many large-scale farmers in Zhuzhuang Village, Shangqiu, have contracted land to grow cash crops such as traditional Chinese medicinal herbs and chillies. The costs for these crops are much higher; the cost per mu for *Atractylodes* can reach over 10,000 yuan. When faced with the disasters of the last two years, these large-scale farmers’ losses can reach hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of yuan.
Yet, the disasters they face differ each year. Last year, Zhuzhuang Village in Shangqiu was hit by extreme rainfall. According to meteorological station data, between 7 am on 15 July and 7 am on 18 July, the average precipitation in Shangqiu reached 295mm, with five observation stations recording over 500mm—nearly half a year’s rain falling in just three days.
“After last year’s rainstorm, the provincial roads were completely flooded; children were out catching fish. There was nowhere to pump the water because the water levels in the ditches and on the road were the same. My fig orchard was submerged for six full days,” said Xiao Zhu. Ultimately, many of his fig trees drowned in that storm and had to be dug up.
Many villagers in Zhuzhuang still have vivid memories of that storm, but although there have been no torrential floods this year, the prolonged period of overcast and rain has been equally rare. “Last year was a total crop failure; this year we have some yield, but it’s more exhausting.”
The continuous disasters have become the final straw for many, leading some to quit farming. This year, land rents in Zhuzhuang Village have begun to fall; rent that was originally 1,000 yuan per mu has dropped to 800, and what was 800 has fallen to 600.
VI. Technology and Equipment Moving North with the Rain
Amidst these autumn rains, some agricultural machinery not previously used in North China—such as tracked harvesters and drying towers—has begun to prove its worth.
Tracked maize harvesters are not common in either Henan or Hebei. In the Feixiang District of Quzhou, Handan, where the terrain is flat and maize cultivation is central to Hebei, heavy wheeled combine harvesters have traditionally been the most popular choice. The villagers of Guangxiaoyizhuang in Feixiang District bought 15 of them. Powerful and efficient, they are the farmers’ favourite, capable of threshing the maize while simultaneously shredding and removing the stalks. Although a single machine can cost as much as 300,000 yuan, some were able to earn back 150,000 yuan in a single year. Tracked harvesters, by contrast, are viewed by some farmers as inefficient and slow. In the areas we visited, only the Fengfeng Mining District in Hebei had introduced tracked harvesters two or three years ago. Because this region is mountainous and hilly with fragmented plots of land, the tracked machines—with their lower centre of gravity—are far less prone to overturning when turning in the fields.
Amidst the autumn rains, drying towers have become a “lifesaver” for farmers desperate to save their harvests. Cheng Xiaolin was the owner of the first drying tower in Xiuwu County. In 2023, noting that large-scale farmers produced vast quantities of grain and were increasingly reluctant to rely on sun-drying, Cheng believed that industrial drying would become the future and invested over a million yuan in two drying towers.
In less than three years, according to data released by Xiuwu County, the county possessed 13 drying towers by 2025, with a daily drying capacity of 1,200 tonnes. Cheng estimates that the number of towers in Xiuwu County will increase further next year, with several other businesses already preparing to expand.
Yet, the number of drying towers in Xiuwu County remains limited. These past few days, Cheng’s towers have been running non-stop, 24 hours a day; workers are eating and sleeping at the plant, only returning home briefly to change clothes. Still, the maize harvested in the rush continues to pour into the collection stations. When the warehouses are full, the grain is piled in the courtyards, where it must be dried as quickly as possible.
Sun Ming, who grows traditional Chinese medicinal herbs, has put his drying room to a more modest use this year, helping with the autumn maize harvest. While the room was designed for drying medicinal herbs—making it an inefficient choice for maize—the extreme dampness of this year’s crop left him with no choice but to use the available facilities to mitigate losses. Neighbours have also approached him to dry their maize.
With nothing to do during the rain, Sun Ming, a graduate in automation, tinkered with a small-scale dryer. He drew the blueprints himself and commissioned local factories to machine the parts, spending 3,000 yuan to build a simple drying system. The machine dries the maize using hot air generated by burning either firewood or pellets made from maize cobs.
Using this homemade dryer, Sun Ming processed the remaining two or three thousand jin of his own maize. Although it has not yet proven its full utility this year, it may become a means of self-rescue in the future. Sun Ming believes that if the weather continues to be as erratic as it was this year, those with 6 to 10 mu of land might find it worthwhile to have such a dryer.
However, as these devices are still limited in number across Hebei and Henan, they have become a focal point for government departments providing disaster relief to farmers this year.
Previously, the Ministry of Finance, in conjunction with the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Affairs, allocated 484 million yuan in central fiscal funds for agricultural disaster prevention and relief. This funding supports seven affected provinces, including Hebei, Henan, and Shaanxi, in accelerating the emergency harvest of crops, drying damp grain, and draining farmland. As of 10 October, the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Affairs also deployed 246,300 tracked harvesters to meet the needs of the Huang-Huai-Hai region.
At the local level, to alleviate the pressure of the emergency harvest, Henan deployed nearly 8,000 tracked maize harvesters by 15 October and included the modification of headers for tracked grain harvesters in the agricultural machinery purchase subsidy scheme. Simultaneously, the province utilised 832 regional machinery service centres and 742 emergency operation teams for the harvest. It also published the locations and contact details of 4,963 drying machines across the province and allocated 50 million yuan in relief funds for machinery subsidies, harvest grants, and equipment dispatch.
Hebei strengthened its emergency response for agricultural machinery. During the “Three Autumns” season, the province expected to deploy 730,000 pieces of machinery, including 220,000 large and medium-sized tractors, 76,000 maize harvesters, and 168,000 wheat seeders. A reserve of 568 tracked maize harvesters and 1,292 grain drying towers was also maintained for emergency use.
Yet, during our visits in mid-October, none of the farmers we spoke with in Hebei or Henan reported using machinery deployed by local authorities or benefiting from the special funds.
Agricultural insurance is also playing a role. Some farmers who purchased maize insurance received compensation, though the amounts were modest. Thanks to a payout of roughly 100 yuan per mu, Cheng Xiaolin nearly broke even, and some farmers in Zhuzhuang Village received payouts of around a hundred yuan.
The question remains: how many farmers are these measures actually reaching, and to what extent are they reducing the losses caused by the disasters?
In Lubianqiao Village, Jiaozuo, a villager encountered by Foodthink earned only 200 yuan from his 2.4 mu of maize this year. In the nearby fields, vast quantities of maize have moulded, yet no insurance compensation was granted. “The agent said this situation doesn’t count as a total crop failure. The villagers got into a row with him, and he just turned around and walked away. Now he won’t answer the phone. The power to settle the claim is in their hands; if they say it’s not covered, there’s nothing we can do,” he said.
In the experience of farmers, drought and flooding are the two most common disasters. Drought is manageable through pump irrigation, but flooding is what they fear most. In the face of climate change, the wisdom farmers have accumulated over generations is failing them, leaving them with few means of self-rescue. As similar disasters may recur, who can “hold the umbrella” for farmers beneath the rain?
Sun Ming, Zhao Feng, and Li Jun are pseudonyms
Foodthink members Ling Yu and Yu Yang also contributed to this article
Editor: Tianle