More Giant Grasshoppers; Time For St. Urho

THE accompanying photograph is an obvious fake. That doesn't mean giant grasshoppers are not roaming the land.

Just two weeks ago, the Associated Press reported the appearance of "monstrous-looking" grasshoppers in Plantation, Fla.

I kid you not.

Floridians have been so preoccupied with trying to steal the Seattle Mariners that they've let a rare breed of tropical grasshopper identified as genus Tropidacris slip in from the south.

The invading grasshoppers - three times bigger than native ones - grow up to 5 inches long and have the wingspan of a small bird. They are native to Trinidad, Costa Rica and Venezuela.

Harold Denmark, Florida Department of Agriculture official, told the AP: "It almost looks like it is not for real. It is, and it does fly."

That's scary. Grasshopper plagues date to biblical times and have ravished crops from Eastern Washington to Texas. Almost everywhere - except Finland. Thanks to St. Urho.

Oh no! Not another St. Urho's Day column!

Oh yes! The great day is almost upon us. It's Monday, just 24 hours in advance of a lesser-known Irish saint who dabbled in snake chasing.

Urho, patron saint of Finnish vineyard workers, is credited with driving voracious hordes of post-Ice Age grasshoppers out of Finland, saving the threatened grape crop forever. Not to mention the wine.

He did it with a simple Finnish admonition: "Heinasirkka, heinasirkka, mene taalta hiiteen." That meant "Grasshopper, grasshopper, go away." They did. Watta heavy hitter!

Urho (hero in Finnish) is America's most officially proclaimed saint. All 50 states have proclaimed St. Urho's Day.

Congress continues to waffle on a proposal to make St. Urho's Day a paid national holiday. Remember that this election season.

Gov. Dixy Lee Ray made Washington the third St. Urho state in 1978. That's probably why her farm on Fox Island has not been overrun by grasshoppers.

In mid-March of the mid-1950s, Finns in Minnesota got sick and tired of pretending they were Irish. They wanted a saint of their own.

The fertile mind of the late Sulo Havumaki, a professor at Minnesota's Bemidji State University, gave them one. He is the father of the modern legend of St. Urho.

St. Patrick's Day became known as The Day After St. Urho's Day as people everywhere donned royal-purple-and-Nile-green "Urho Go Bragh" hats. A 12-foot-tall oak statue of St. Urho rose in Menahga, Minn.

Even the Norwegians have started to embrace St. Urho. The readerboard of the Crazy Norwegian (isn't that redundant?) Tavern near Northwest 105th and Greenwood shouts: "Crazy St. Urho Day Party March 16."

St. Urho is famed on both sides of the Cascade Curtain. In Cle Elum, they can't wait 'til Monday. The Keg Cellar there will hold its sixth annual St. Urho's Day Extravaganza Saturday.

Many area schools have added St. Urho's Day to their calendars.

So what has all this got to do with monstrous grasshoppers in Florida? I'll tell you what. Since Gov. Robert Graham officially proclaimed Florida a St. Urho's Day state in 1979, they've forgotten the man most feared by grasshoppers everywhere.

Here's what Florida needs to do:

1. Forget about swiping the Mariners to fill the empty Sun Coast Dome in St. Petersburg.

2. Pack the dome's 43,000 baseball seats Monday with people wearing purple and green.

3. Have them face south and chant in unison: "Heinasirkka, heinasirkka, mene taalta hiiteen."

4. Then do the St. Urho Wave after turning back the monster grasshoppers poised to eat St. Pete - Sun Coast Dome and all.

That ought to get their minds off the Mariners.

Don Hannula's column appears Wednesday on The Times editorial page.