Tech, Tractors and Cows: A Look Back at the World’s Biggest Farm Trade Show in California

Feb 27, 2025

By Kerry Klein

Set in the middle of California, among blooming almond trees and with views of the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountain range, the World Ag Expo has a little bit of something for everyone.

This convention that takes place each year in mid February is considered the world’s largest outdoor farm show. Here, attendees can test drive all-terrain vehicles, visit a prayer breakfast, and shop for electric saws, mowers and harvesters.

Mikia Littlejohn from Alpaugh comes for the cattle demonstrations.

“Oh, they're just so cute. The noises they make, the moo, their fluffy ears and cute little nose,” she said, laughing.

Cows and cow prints adorn her purse, hairband and t-shirt. She and her boyfriend, John Blake Carter, also just ate a tri-tip sandwich and bought $80 worth of beef jerky.

Each year in the West, this gathering the size of a city rises out of dirt, and it attracts tens of thousands of people from around the world.

Just like a similarly enormous festival that comes together in a far-flung location in the west the Burning Man art and music festival in the Nevada desert the sheer scale of the World Ag Expo can be astounding: 10,000 doughnuts are handed out to workers and volunteers over the 3-day festival; 20,000 cars park here every day; and 200 portable toilets need supplies and regular cleaning.

But that’s where the similarities end. While people navigate the Nevada festival using imaginative, homemade cars, the World Ag Expo has tractors. Where Burning Man highlights communal performance art, the Ag Expo features a national anthem contest and sponsors races to change tractor tires.

And while Burning Man attracts around 70,000 people, Megan Lausten says the Ag Expo is even bigger.

“Typically we see over 100,000 attendees over the three days,” she said a population that’s larger than the city of Tulare itself.

Lausten is the marketing manager for the International Agri-Center, the massive fairground that puts on the Ag Expo. She said planning for this year’s expo started a year ago, and setup took two weeks.

“It's crazy to watch piece by piece and step by step how the grounds just really expand and become World Ag Expo,” Lausten said.

She said the goal of the show is business networking as well as ag education.

“We have seminars, which are great,” she said. “They're free with admission into the show, and they teach you things from livestock to dairy, to water, finance.”

At least one Tulare County school district even gives their students a whole day off each February to attend the show.

And then there’s the food. The smells of grilled ribeye and sausages waft from corner to corner. The line for peach cobbler was more than a half an hour long. (Pro tip: Get it with ice cream.) All food stands at the expo are run by local non-profit organizations, which Lausten said benefitted from more than a million dollars’ worth of proceeds last year.

The calories also help fuel attendees up to wander the labyrinth of 1,200 exhibitors. Many are manufacturers showing off their newest tech, like Switzerland-based EcoRobotix.

“EcoRobotix is showcasing ARA, which is an ultra high precision spot sprayer,” said crop care manager Katerina Lee, standing next to a white hooded device being towed by a tractor.

Her company’s sprayer uses cameras to scan a landscape and artificial intelligence to determine exactly where to spray and not spray pesticides and other products. It was named one of this year’s expo’s top 10 new products.

Elsewhere in the expo, other companies show off autonomous vehicles and robots. Lee thinks high-tech products like these are the future of ag as the labor force dwindles.

“There's no other options for growers to go other than using AI and technology,” she said.

But not everyone here is interested in cutting edge tech.

Damion Cuara just wants the basics: a tractor. A member of the Tachi Yokut Tribe in Lemoore, Cuara says he’s looking to spruce up a piece of land the tribe began cultivating a few years ago. He says they’re considering adding oranges and dairy cattle to the portfolio of pomegranates and pistachios they already grow.

“Most of the property that we do buy is the soil's no good, so we go in, fix it to make it healthy, because as native people, that's what we did,” he said.

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Video: Why Your Food Future Could be Trapped in a Seed Morgue

In a world of PowerPoint overload, Rex Bernardo stands out. No bullet points. No charts. No jargon. Just stories and photographs. At this year’s National Association for Plant Breeding conference on the Big Island of Hawaii, he stood before a room of peers — all experts in the science of seeds — and did something radical: he showed them images. He told them stories. And he asked them to remember not what they saw, but how they felt.

Bernardo, recipient of the 2025 Lifetime Achievement Award, has spent his career searching for the genetic treasures tucked inside what plant breeders call exotic germplasm — ancient, often wild genetic lines that hold secrets to resilience, taste, and traits we've forgotten to value.

But Bernardo didn’t always think this way.

“I worked in private industry for nearly a decade,” he recalls. “I remember one breeder saying, ‘We’re making new hybrids, but they’re basically the same genetics.’ That stuck with me. Where is the new diversity going to come from?”

For Bernardo, part of the answer lies in the world’s gene banks — vast vaults of seed samples collected from every corner of the globe. Yet, he says, many of these vaults have quietly become “seed morgues.” “Something goes in, but it never comes out,” he explains. “We need to start treating these collections like living investments, not museums of dead potential.”

That potential — and the barriers to unlocking it — are deeply personal for Bernardo. He’s wrestled with international policies that prevent access to valuable lines (like North Korean corn) and with the slow, painstaking science of transferring useful traits from wild relatives into elite lines that farmers can actually grow. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But he’s convinced that success starts not in the lab, but in the way we communicate.

“The fact sheet model isn’t cutting it anymore,” he says. “We hand out a paper about a new variety and think that’s enough. But stories? Plants you can see and touch? That’s what stays with people.”

Bernardo practices what he preaches. At the University of Minnesota, he helped launch a student-led breeding program that’s working to adapt leafy African vegetables for the Twin Cities’ African diaspora. The goal? Culturally relevant crops that mature in Minnesota’s shorter growing season — and can be regrown year after year.

“That’s real impact,” he says. “Helping people grow food that’s meaningful to them, not just what's commercially viable.”

He’s also brewed plant breeding into something more relatable — literally. Coffee and beer have become unexpected tools in his mission to make science accessible. His undergraduate course on coffee, for instance, connects the dots between genetics, geography, and culture. “Everyone drinks coffee,” he says. “It’s a conversation starter. It’s a gateway into plant science.”