Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz had just been named as Kamala Harris’ vice presidential pick this week, when his name was mentioned onstage at Farmfest, the annual gathering of all things agriculture where Walz has perennially appeared over the years. Boos rang out.

“You’re not going to find a Democrat in the country who knows more about ag issues,” Rep. Angie Craig, a Democratic congresswoman who represents a district with lots of corn and soybean fields, told longtime farm radio broadcaster Lynn Ketelsen, stumping for the second-term governor against the audience’s pushback.

When Craig mentioned Walz was a “Minnesotan,” a woman from the crowd called out, “He’s from Nebraska!”

The exchange illustrated the precarious situation for Walz as he navigates a national presidential campaign anointed as the rural whisperer. Walz is either the moderate-turned-progressive fond of buffalo plaid and Diet Mountain Dew. Or he’s an ultra-liberal disguised in a Carhartt jacket.

Fewer places in the U.S. this week offered a better chance to tire-kick on the Walz’s ball-capped, rural mythos than Farmfest, the largest gathering of farmers and agriculturalists on Walz’s home turf.

For some attendees, there’s a mantra that sits in many rural Minnesotans’ craw years later that the DFL governor still has not shaken.

“You know what he calls us?” asked Cindy Frensko, a farmer from outside Ivanhoe, in western Minnesota’s Lincoln County — not far from where Walz’s wife, Gwen, grew up. “We’re rocks and cows.”

In a video clip from 2017, Walz is seen trying to cheer up Democrats demoralized over the continual loss of support in rural areas by noting that electoral maps with shades of red and blue often overrepresent actual human voters, with the then-congressman of southern Minnesota saying, “it’s mostly rocks and cows that are in that red area.”

Walz and staffers have long said the clip lacks context, noting he would go on to speak about how rural flight had left many Minnesotans politically orphaned.

Farmfest drew a number of fans of Walz, too, as the governor, who previously served in Congress on the House Agriculture Committee, has long been a fixture for the state’s farm policy advocates.

“Governor Walz is someone who supports agriculture, but he also understands that the farm businesses are also families,” said Stu Lourey, the government relations director for the Minnesota Farmers Union. “So they need child care, they need health care, and [they] are really struggling.”

Under Walz’s guidance, his administration has garnered attention nationally for policies designed to invest in sustainability and biofuels. In 2022, Walz led Midwest states in requesting the Biden administration allow year-round E-15 ethanol blends — a plan approved by federal officials earlier this year.

His administration also championed a range of state programs to provide startup money for new farmers.

Last month, when Walz visited a farm in rural Dodge County, farmer Matt Kruger stood by his side as a product of the loan program that allowed him to buy a farm in 2020 against the backdrop of ever-rising land prices.

“It worked out perfect for my scenario,” Kruger said, “A 30-year-old buying an 80-acre farm is pretty unheard of.”

Back at Farmfest this week, chatter of Minnesota’s governor rising to national prominence peppered between talk of low crop prices and water-logged cornfields. Walz’s critics often cast blame on his handling of the civil unrest in Minneapolis following the murder of George Floyd in 2020, rather than any state policies on fertilizer use or buffer strips.

“How could he let everything burn?” said Kevin Dettman, who farms corn and soybeans in Buffalo Lake, Minnesota.

Dettman, along with his wife, Amy, took a selfie with a Trump/Vance campaign sign at Farmfest. They needed a moment to think when asked which of Walz’s farming policies they disagreed with.

“He wants us to use electric tractors that don’t start in the winter,” Amy Dettman finally said, referring to the Walz administration’s push for cleaner-burning cars.

In many ways, voters’ politics already determine how they feel about Walz. Still, it’s hard for even critics to dismiss his rural roots.

Danny Lundell, a farmer from outside Cannon Falls in southeastern Minnesota, stood in overalls and hung around the shed before morning debates between congressional candidates. “He’s very rural,” Lundell said. “He’s a common man. And he talks to the common, working-class people.”

Leon Plaetz, a farmer from Wabasso, Minnesota, also said he believes Walz knows how working people live. Plaetz smiled as he whispered that he was not a big fan of Trump and Vance. “I can’t say that very loud out here,” he said.

But in the end, Walz’s background and policies may not matter when the nation is so polarized, said Plaetz: “Right now, all people care about is what party someone is affiliated with.”