Welcome back to 10 Minute Tuesday this week, Gavin Colis, Gear Guy Colis. Don't forget it.

Roer Vassalo and Calnas in studio. This is going to be our addition to of a history lesson.

And today we're going to be talking about the Dust Bowl and Duck Stamps.

Love this. And that was spurred on by this because we had the

trivia question with Mike Anderson about the dust bowl. Okay. And so it made me kind of look into this and it

became very interesting. So, um, Oklahoma Panhandle. It's April 14th, 1935, 3 o'clock in the afternoon. The sun disappears,

not behind the clouds, behind dirt, a wall of dust, as what some have measured at thousands of feet

high and nearly a thousand miles wide rolls across southern

plains like a moving mountain range. That's what people in the newspaper clippings back then said.

It was like watching a mountain range move in on them. That's crazy. I have read that as well.

Static electricity cracks in the air all around you. You can hear static electricity. Visibility drops to zero. People

said they could see less than a foot in front of their face when this thing moved across.

People kind of stumble indoors. An Associated Press reporter standing in Boise City, Oklahoma

would later write three little words rule life in the dust bowl of the continent.

If it rains.

It didn't, by the way.

The dust bowl didn't begin with a storm.

It began with a plow.

Between 1900 and 1930,

more than 30 million acres of native prairie were converted into crop land across to Great Plains.

That's a lot of fucking land, by the way. 30 million acres. I wonder how many that is in miles? Like square miles. I don't know. Look it up. Yeah, look it up. I got you. Continue. Those prairies weren't empty grass. They were ecological armor. Deep-rooted native grasses reached five to 15 feet into the soil at that time.

Isn't that insane, you guys?

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