Hog lots' reek has neighbors squealing

Huge operations pit economic need vs. quality of life

By Tim Jones
Tribune staff reporter

April 22, 2002

MT. AYR, Iowa -- In a state where pigs outnumber humans, Ringgold County is hog heaven. For every person in the county there are 33 swine, making their unmistakable presence known through the whim and fancy of the prevailing winds.

Connie Huff knows all about it because her home, tucked into the hills of southern Iowa, is hit by the pungent odor of hog manure from nearly every direction.

"It's unbearable. That's the only word for it," Huff said of the smell that wafts from 16 buildings that house hogs within a 3-mile radius of her home. "You can drive along the road and it'll just gag you."

Manure has long been an accepted fact of life in agricultural states because, by most measures, it is the smell of success.

But the powerful and concentrated stench of hog manure has proved that even the nation's largest hog producer has its olfactory limits. The Iowa legislature this month joined a growing list of states moving to regulate the creation and operation of large, factorylike livestock confinements that house thousands of animals that produce tons of excrement stored in huge lagoons.

Despite the legislative action, the argument over the waste product of Iowa's 15 million hogs is far from settled. And the debate rages on over how much stink can be tolerated in the name of developing and protecting an $8.5 billion industry.

Counties take initiative

At least six Iowa counties, unhappy that the legislature has not given them sole authority to regulate the giant livestock lots, have banned or placed moratoriums on new hog facilities. The state law tightening regulations does not take effect for a year, and then will be phased in over the next five years. Critics, pointing to environmental studies that warn of damage to air and water quality, want stronger action now.

"This is an insult to the people of Iowa," said Lee Little, a supervisor in Taylor County, which last month approved a resolution authorizing a one-year moratorium on construction or expansion of livestock and poultry facilities.

"The state has just sent a message that says we know it's a problem, but we're not going to do anything about it for five years," said Little, who predicted other county governments will pass similar restrictions.

The nearly decade-long proliferation of so-called hog lots has drawn the attention of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and governments in Illinois, Michigan, Ohio, Missouri, North Carolina and other states. North Carolina, the nation's second-largest hog producer, placed a moratorium on new hog operations in 1997. Michigan has agreed to require some large livestock farms to obtain clean-water permits.

In 1999, Illinois passed a law requiring new large livestock farms to have state-approved plans for handling wastes and odors, among other requirements, before construction.

Complaints about large feedlots polluting Ohio streams nearly tripled last year, according to state officials. In Pennsylvania last month, diluted liquid manure from more than 2,000 hogs spilled over from a 770,000-gallon lagoon, swamped a nearby brook and emptied into a town's waterway.

Conflicted feelings

All of this is duly noted in Ringgold, a sparsely populated county that has lost half of its population since the 1940s. Only 5,500 people live here, and large livestock lots--there are about 90 in the county--represent one of the few areas of economic growth in an overall environment of decline. Residents admit to being conflicted about hog lots.

"As a county supervisor, I have to say that the taxes they pay are good and the jobs they create are good," said Royce Dredge, who runs a feed store in Mt. Ayr, the county seat. "But the issue is the odor and if we can protect our groundwater. There's two big `if's' there."

Huff and several Mt. Ayr residents have petitioned the county to ban the placement of any new hog facilities, arguing there is a threat to health.

Worried about home values

"If I go outside and it's real, real strong, I feel short of breath and I go inside," said Vickie Jeanes, a postal worker who wants a ban imposed in Ringgold County. "We're looking 12 to 15 years down the road and wondering what value our home has."

Recent health studies, such as those done in Iowa and North Carolina, found that people living near large hog farms suffer more upper-respiratory problems than those in non-livestock areas.

Dredge said he worries that Ringgold County's refusal to follow the lead of neighboring Taylor County could encourage the entry of more hog operations. "I'm wondering if this won't hurt us, won't saturate us," he said.

Hog lots are just one byproduct of the new agricultural economy, with the competitive advantage shifting to large farms and large livestock confinements, most of them owned by corporations. Fewer small farmers have hogs anymore because of depressed prices.

"This debate brings together the changing structure of agriculture, the viability of local farm communities and the environment," said Paul Lasley, an agricultural sociologist at Iowa State University.

"When a family farmer makes a profit, the local community makes money. When a corporation makes money, they cut the check and send it to outside investors," Lasley said. "The controversy has not been the expansion but who's expanding."

Status of religion, politics

Dick Elliott, Ringgold County's economic development director and manager of a Mt. Ayr farm equipment company, said hog lots have risen to the status of religion and politics--things you don't talk about in polite social settings. The confinements have violated the neighborliness that has been a part of farming for generations, he said.

Elliott owns about 600 pigs and said he made sure to house them in an area where they do not offend his neighbors. That often is not done with the much larger operations, he said.

Lasley said he doesn't expect the argument to end soon. He said technology exists to reduce the environmental threat and the odor problems.

"This problem has been perking along for 12 or 15 years," he said. "But you know, these things take time."