Hurricane endangers citrus crop

The Washington Post

WAUCHULA, Fla. -- Orange farmers call one of their earliest-ripening varieties "Pineapples." But, in the days after Hurricane Charley tore through Florida's inland orange country, the fruit on the ground looks more like green racquetballs. Small. Hard. Useless.

Florida produces more oranges and grapefruits than any other state; the industry has an economic impact in Florida of $9 billion a year.

But the hurricane arrived a couple of months before an orange is supposed to be dislodged from its branch. The storm stripped oranges and grapefruits from countless trees. In some of the worst-hit fields, two or three oranges dangle from each tree and thousands lie on the ground. In other places, trees are split down the middle, lying on piles of soon-to-be-rotting citrus.

Great chunks of that citrus juggernaut could be imperiled, though the damage is still being assessed. The storm last week shredded swaths of seven of Florida's biggest citrus-producing counties, responsible for one out of three oranges and grapefruits raised in the state.

Charley arrived at a jumpy time for citrus growers here, who were already rattled by recent battles with inexpensive imports and a huge dip in sales attributed to the popularity of low-carbohydrate diets, which discourage drinking orange juice. Some growers worry that the devastation will force many out of the citrus business.

Frances Causey, 92, has watched Florida's best-known crop get its color all her life, a life of frost and drought and economic catastrophes.

"We've had ups and downs, but we've never had this," she said.

Causey watched as Charley ran roughshod through her groves. The house sits up on a bluff, overlooking Wauchula, one of the dozens of small towns in Florida's interior raked by the storm's winds.

The citrus business, like any agricultural endeavor, has its own calculus of supply and demand. The misfortune of Charley will likely produce higher prices for the farmers whose groves went unscathed.

"They'll benefit from our loss," said John Causey, nephew of Frances Causey. "Maybe five years from now, we'll benefit from their loss."