ORANGES and other Orange Citrus Fruit

Since JeffS didn't know these, here are some more from the same series.

The first two rows, marked "Tunisie" and denominated in Francs, were issued in 1957.
The third row stamps continue the set I already showed, labelled "République Tunisienne" and denominated in mills. The 1m to 30m values were issued in 1960. The 40m and 100m values continued the set in 1977. There are three higher denominations, issued even later, which I still have to find.

JeffS, Morris & Co. was founded in 1869, by James Kent Morris, as a grocery shop in Frankwell, Shrewsbury. Since then they have diversified quite significantly. They sold their grocery business in 2000 but still exist at Welsh Bridge, Shrewsbury with various divisions including Care, Site Machinery, Property, Homes and Joinery. It is still a family run business. See this link. You could enquire with them to see if they have any further information in their archives.

Daniel

Cyanide: The citrus grower’s last resort

By DAILY NEWS | |

PUBLISHED: March 1, 2010 at 12:00 a.m. | UPDATED: August 28, 2017 at 10:54 a.m.


Orange growing in the Inland Empire (edit - in California) was a lot more dramatic before restrictions were placed on the use of deadly chemicals. One fearsome method that was widely used for decades to kill scale insects on citrus trees was fumigating the trees with cyanide gas – the same gas that was used in San Quentin’s gas chamber to execute condemned criminals.



Rows of trees were covered with tents at night because the leaves were susceptible to damage when cyanide was applied during the daytime. In the early days of cyanide fumigation, chemicals were dropped into pots to produce the lethal gas. Later, vaporizers on wheels were used to pump the gas under the tents. For years, men used poles to cover the trees with tents. Later, during the labor shortages of World War II, mechanical tent pullers were used to cover trees and then remove tents.



Once, our neighbor’s horse was terrified to see the enormous shape of a tent rising up in the night on mechanical arms. The horse jumped clear out of his corral and ran away as fast as he could go.



Fumigation tents were left on each tree for about an hour. Of course, the gas was leaking out from under the tents during this time and wafting around the neighborhood.



Fatalities were rare, but some fumigators would pass out while working. They would be dragged to a place with fresh air where they would recover – and usually return to work. The men carried little vials of ammonia with them to sniff when they felt like they were going to pass out. They would say, “If it doesn’t kill you, it won’t hurt you.”



The fumigators would tell us that we didn’t need to leave our home while they were fumigating our orchard. They said it was perfectly safe.



The cyanide gas had a pleasant smell, like bitter almonds.



One time, my grandparents returned home after their grove had been fumigated and were shocked to see their cats lying motionless in the yard.



My grandfather said, “I will bury them in morning.” In the morning, the cats showed up for breakfast.



Were there other pesticides as dangerous as cyanide?



Parathion, a pesticide that replaced cyanide to a large extent, before generally going out of use itself, undoubtedly killed more people.



A chemist thought he could safely learn the amount of parathion that was acutely toxic to human beings by taking a very small dose, and then quickly grabbing the antidote that he had prepared. He swallowed only 0.00424 ounce of parathion, but after taking this infinitesimal amount he was paralyzed so fast that he couldn’t pick up the antidote and he died.



After a grove was sprayed with parathion, signs were placed along the margin warning people not to enter. Parathion, like cyanide gas, has a pleasant scent – a characteristic garlic-like odor.



If I had our Rialto grove treated with cyanide gas or sprayed with parathion now, I, along with the pesticide applicators would be arrested, and everybody living in south Rialto would be evacuated, and the incident would be on the nightly news.



Rialto historian John Anthony Adams, who owns the city’s single remaining orange grove, is the author of “Scammers, Schemers, and Dreamers: The Turbulent History of Early Rialto,” available from online booksellers and from the Rialto Historical Society.

Quite appeeling. Orange you glad I noticed. 

Hmm, dunno. The juice sections are too irregular and the color more of a Ruby Red grapefruit.