BUA YAI, Thailand—On the edge of a moist practice field here, Kam, a four-year-old water buffalo, is getting ready to drag a plow across some broken ground. A "buffalo guru" rubs soil into the animal's head, and whispers some words of encouragement. "We are going to train you—you should pay attention," the guru says. "If you don't make a good plow, people will kill you and eat you. We love you." (More after the break.)
Welcome to buffalo school, the latest effort to help the horned Asian animals overcome an increasingly obvious fact of the global economy: There aren't enough jobs for them. One of the creatures' key skills—pulling plows—is being made redundant by tractors, which are rolling into Asia's hinterlands in the same way that Fords and John Deeres swept the American plains decades ago. It takes a lone buffalo twenty days or more to slog through the acreage that a tractor can plow in a single day. Buffalo are "too slow"—if they can plow at all—laments Somsak Baitalum, a 53-year-old central Thailand rice farmer who once used the animals before upgrading to a Nagano NT350 four-wheel-drive tractor that comes with 12 speeds (including three in reverse) and a shaded canopy. Such machines never get tired, adds Pornipa Wasusatien, manager of a local tractor shop. Thailand's buffalo population dropped 26% from 1998 to 2008, as more farmers tasted technology, United Nations livestock experts say, with the animals all but disappearing from some villages. Authorities are distressed by the trend. Many of them believe the animals provide a more sustainable source of farm labor than tractors, since they don't require costly fuel. Thai officials are trying various strategies to get more farmers to use them. One program involves a Bangkok-based buffalo and cow bank, which lends out animals to farmers who might not otherwise use them. Farmers pay back their loans by handing over the animals' first-born female calves, which then can be lent to others. The bank now has about 33,000 buffalo on loan across the country. Thailand's agriculture ministry, meanwhile, has doled out cash grants to villages to buy more of the animals. But some villagers re-sell their buffalo to slaughterhouses for use in meatballs, which are popular at Bangkok noodle stalls. Komin Mongkolpanya, a 58-year-old government livestock officer in Bua Yai, four hours north of Bangkok, is undaunted. Mr. Komin pleads with farmers not to give up on the animals. He touts their many benefits, including the fact that their dung can be used as fertilizer, and reminds farmers of the high price of petrol—a compelling argument a few years ago, when oil prices hit record highs. With so few buffalo in the fields, many farmers have forgotten how to train them. That helped inspire Mr. Komin's latest project, the buffalo school, where animals can learn various plowing tactics. Throughout Asia, many farmers are replacing their water buffalo with more efficient modern tractors. WSJ's Patrick Barta reports on efforts in Thailand to keep the iconic beasts of burden on the job. Launched a few years ago on the grounds of a government-funded agricultural "knowledge center" near Bua Yai, the school relies in large part on volunteers who like to hang out with buffalo. Farmers pay 150 Thai baht, or roughly $5, per day for training. The program usually takes four to six weeks. Mr. Komin scoured the area for suitable trainers. It wasn't easy. The school's guru, 61-year-old Thongsit Seladon, came from a nearby village and impressed Mr. Komin with his mastery of traditional training techniques. "I told him, you are so good, and I want to appoint you as the teacher of the buffalo school, and he said yes," Mr. Komin recalls. To recruit potential students, Mr. Komin promoted the buffalo school on local cable television programs. He also met with village elders and his guru to set up a curriculum. Enrolled buffalo must be at least three years old. Occasionally, teachers reject a buffalo if they don't like the look of its face and suspect it may be a troublemaker. A first, delicate step involves threading a rope through the buffalo's nose, which a farmer uses to guide the animal. The process can cut through the animal's nostrils, so it requires skill to complete successfully. Teachers walk the animals regularly until they get used to being pulled by the nose. They must work slowly; the animals can get injured by stumbling on a root or suffer some other mishap. Some "get angry and frustrated and they won't take any orders," Mr. Komin says. To calm them, teachers rub their skin. Next comes the plowing training. Novices begin by pulling a log over the ground to get used to the work. Later, they begin pulling more sophisticated instruments, like a blade that divides the soil. Often, the teachers get a more experienced animal to demonstrate how it's done. When the animals prove they're able to handle various plows, they still have to pass one more big test: Turns. The ability to make turns is vitally important. Directionally challenged animals won't know what to do when they reach the edge of a field. Right turns are especially hard, because the farmers typically lead the buffalo with a rope on the animal's left-hand side. That makes left turns feel more natural. After training is done, the animals are usually returned to their owners for deployment in the fields. Mr. Komin, who tries to check up on the buffalos' performance once they get back on the farm, says he knows the odds are still against them. There are some happy endings—such as when the school sells a star pupil. One particularly promising buffalo, Yai (or "big" in Thai), was sold to the government livestock department for 18,000 Thai baht, or roughly $575, and transferred to another community to help train buffalo there."I'm very proud of him," Mr. Komin says.
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