by Jerry Apps
Josh continued making notes. He also checked to make sure his tape recorder was working.
“For instance, by measuring corn yields—on average we produce 192 bushels of corn per acre—we know how many nutrients such a corn crop requires, and that’s what we put on the fields. Our fields are sampled every four years for yield information. Our numbers are based on crop uptake. We have a 10 percent cushion on nitrogen—we can exceed the amount we put on by that much. If we put on more than that, we are in violation.”
“Sounds complicated,” said Josh.
“It’s really not. It’s how we prevent overloading the soil with nitrogen, phosphorus, and potash, the natural nutrients in manure, and the nutrients needed by a crop to grow.”
“So, what if you have too much manure?”
“We contract with our neighbors, who cash crop corn and soybeans. We pay them to put manure on their fields. They, in effect, are getting fertilizer for their crops and being paid to get it.”
“Very interesting,” said Josh as he continued writing. “Have you considered putting in methane digesters, turning all this manure into electricity?”
“We have, but the numbers just don’t work. Too much water in the manure. Besides, the technology for methane converters needs some work. Methane gas is very corrosive, requires lots of equipment maintenance.”
Josh finished writing and looked up. “I think I’ve got about what I need.”
“You have any more questions, just give me a call. As I said, if I can answer your questions, I will. Always want to cooperate with the press.”
Josh entered the little dressing room, removed his borrowed clothing, showered, and put on his own clothing. He shook hands with Kyle Jorgensen again, thanked him, and was soon back in his pickup and on his way to Willow River.
How could he best write a story about what he had just seen? Clearly, he had been impressed with about every aspect of this big operation. Perhaps these big hog operations, with controlled temperatures, computer-operated feeding, and constant monitoring, were the future. After all, with an ever-increasing global population, people still need to eat. Jorgensen had reminded him of that several times. What more efficient way of producing pork than what he had just seen? He doubted there was one.
As he drove back to Willow River, he couldn’t help thinking of the conditions at the Lazy Z feedlot, where feeder cattle stood in manure and mud up to their bellies when it rained and were moved from pen to pen with electric prods. Here, the pigs were clean, content, and certainly appeared to be treated humanely. Josh was confused. Large-scale farms were surely not all the same. He’d just seen proof of that. He knew what he must write, but he didn’t know what he thought about it. Was he like Natalie, who confessed that she was two people—a DNR employee and her own person? He was a reporter and also someone with opinions—how could he avoid tangling the two?
27. Decision Time
After his visit to Nathan West’s large production farm, Josh wrote a long piece that he titled “The Future of the U.S. Pork Industry?” The piece featured details of his visit to Nathan West Industries’ big hog operation in Iowa and interviews with University of Wisconsin officials, plus the words of local citizens both for and against large-scale farming. In that same edition, he penned the following editorial, titled “Nathan West Industries as a Neighbor?”
The Ames County Zoning Committee meets on Tuesday evening, April 17, 7:00 p.m. in the community room of the Willow River Library. At this meeting, the committee will vote on whether to change the zoning of the former Tamarack River Golf Course from recreational to agricultural use. The Ames County Zoning Committee is facing one of its most important decisions. If it votes in favor, Nathan West Industries will build a large hog production unit on this site.
The committee has invited the public to a listening session, which will begin at 7:00 p.m. and continue until everyone has had his say, or 10:00 p.m. At that time the committee will dismiss the audience and make its decision.
Farm Country News attended the informational meeting held in January of this year about the potential for Nathan West’s factory farm. The discussion was spirited, the views expressed diverse. Farm Country News sees the following as advantages and disadvantages of large, confined animal operations:
Advantages
Factory farms ensure that food will be available at the lowest possible cost to the consumer, as these large farms are able to operate following a business model that emphasizes efficiency with all the advantages of large-scale production.
A community with a factory farm becomes a symbol of the future and how food will be produced using the most modern genetics and the most advanced technological equipment for the feeding and care of animals.
A factory farm employs a substantial number of workers in the community, contributing directly to the community’s economy.
On relatively few acres, a factory farm is able to produce an enormous amount of food.
Consumers of food produced on large factory farms can be assured of a consistent supply throughout the year, whether eggs, pork, beef, milk, or poultry. There will be no times doing the year when the product is not available.
Foods from factory farms, especially meat products, are conveniently packaged so the consumer can use them with little effort.
Factory farms produce a uniform product. Pork chops purchased from a factory-farm supplier are essentially the same month after month, as are poultry, beef, and dairy products.
In a world where population continues to increase, the only way food supplies will be able to keep up with demands is through means of large-scale production such as factory farms.
Disadvantages
Factory farms, especially those producing animal products such as milk, eggs, and meat, produce an enormous amount of potential pollutants—especially manure. When not properly stored and managed, manure can pollute not only the air for miles around but also nearby streams and rivers and sometimes the groundwater.
When a food product is produced in a centralized location, substantial transportation costs result from moving the product from producer to consumer. Food is often transported hundreds of miles before it reaches the consumer.
Many factory farms are vertically integrated, which means one company, such as a pork producer, owns everything, from the farms growing the feed to everything along the production line, including the hogs— from the time the little pigs are born until the meat products are in the grocer’s case. This can be an advantage for the pork producer, but it crowds out others, such as family farmers who want to raise hogs for market.
Food safety can be a problem on factory farms. Because large numbers of animals are confined in one location, once a disease organism is established, it can raise havoc. A 2010 case of salmonella in eggs from factory farms in Iowa led to illness among hundreds of people who consumed the contaminated product. In another case, E. coli–related illness from contaminated hamburger resulted in the recall of thousands of pounds of that product.
Many of today’s meat and dairy products are in the hands of but a few large producers and distributors. The small family farm has been shoved aside, unable to produce a product as inexpensively as the factory farms.
Animal protection groups consider factory-farm treatment of animals confined in close quarters—with no access to sunlight and fresh air— inhumane.
The day after the article and editorial appeared, Bert came into Josh’s office carrying a copy of the newspaper. “Good writing,” he said. “This ought to get people talking; at least now they’ve got some information, a better idea of how these big hog operations work.”
“I did the best I could,” Josh said. “I worked hard on these pieces.”
“It shows. It’s the kind of thing a newspaper can do well—get behind the scenes, dig out the facts. Keep the emotions and opinions at bay. I liked your summary of the situation, the advantages and disadvantages of factory farming.”
“After doing a bunch of r
esearch, talking to the folks at the university, and visiting the big farm in Iowa, that’s about the way I see it. I suspect some folks won’t agree with what I wrote—but at least it should get them thinking,” said Josh.
“Well, that’s what a good newspaper is supposed to do. Give people the facts and then encourage them to make up their own minds,” said Bert.
28. Tamarack Museum
A bright sun, a clear blue sky, and temperatures predicted to climb into the low fifties greeted Fred and Oscar when they climbed into Oscar’s rusty old Ford pickup on a mid-April afternoon.
“Why’d you say we should go to Tamarack Corners today? Be a good day just to stand on the riverbank and watch the Tamarack hurry by,” said Fred.
“Because we’re gonna visit the museum, that’s why. I told you that yesterday.”
“You did? You sure? You sure you told me yesterday?”
“Fred, I think you’re startin’ to lose it. I for damn sure told you yesterday about what we had planned for today.”
“How come we’re visiting this museum, anyway?” asked Fred.
“’Cause there’s something I want you to see.”
“I don’t care much for museums. They remind me too much of when I was a kid.”
“What’s wrong with that? You were a kid once, weren’t you?”
“Yup, I was, but my old man had me workin’ like a man by the time I got to be twelve years old.”
“So did my old man, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t once kids. Besides it’ll do you good to see this new museum, Fred. Do you good. Take your mind off your troubles.”
“So, goin’ to this museum is gonna cure my arthritis and fix my bad back.”
“I didn’t say that. I said it would take your mind off your troubles. Make you think about something different.”
“So, now you’re complainin’ about how I’m thinkin’.”
“Nah, just come on along and see the place, and maybe you’ll learn something. Besides, I gave them one of my old hog troughs, a wooden one my dad made that we used for years to feed our pigs.”
“So, that’s the reason you’re draggin’ me along to the museum: to see that old trough you used to feed pigs. Hell, we had one just like it. Probably still sittin’ out in the shed. Probably in better shape than yours, Oscar. Ours was about four to five feet long, made out of two pieces of wood, held together in a V shape, with square pieces nailed on each end to make it sturdy.”
“Ours was just like that, and it’s in the museum and yours ain’t,” Oscar said, smiling.
“Geez, going to a museum to see a hog trough. Your old one, besides.”
“There’s more at the museum than the hog trough, Fred. Lots more.”
“Well, there’d better be. Hog troughs remind me of work, remind me of carrying two five-gallon pails of water, with a couple scoops of ground corn and oats dumped in each. Water’d spill on my pants when I walked from the pump house to the hog pen.”
“Yup, I remember doin’ the same thing. Especially remember how heavy them two pails was. My pa said carryin’ two was easier than one. When you carried two, you were balanced—one hanging on the end of each arm. That’s what he said. I expect he really just wanted me gettin’ the work done faster.”
“Something else I remember about our old trough,” said Fred, the cobwebs in his mind receding into the shadows.
“What was that?”
“Them pigs of ours was always hungry, and when I came carrying them pails of slop they’d come a-runnin’ from the far end of the pen—we had about twenty of ’em. Ran like bats outta hell they did. When I started pourin’ the slop into the trough, they’d fight and bite and squeal. You had to stay out of the way, or you’d git yourself bit.”
Oscar smiled when he heard the story. “Yup, same thing on our farm. Our pigs did the same thing. They’d bite each other’s ears, push and shove, do the best they could so they’d be first at the trough. Every damn one of them wanted to be first.”
“Something else I remember,” said Fred. “The smell. God, do I remember the smell. Nothing stinks worse than pig manure. Mix a little mud in with it, and some spilled pig slop, and you got yourself a smell that lingers, stays with you down through the years. Never forget the smell of a pig pen. You just never do.”
“I agree with you there, Fred. Which reminds me. Did you read the piece in the Farm Country News about that big hog farm in Iowa?”
“I did. That’s the same outfit that’s planning to put up a hog farm here in the valley. Pretty interesting story. That reporter guy, Wittmore, got himself inside one of their big operations. Sounds like Nathan West knows what they’re doin’ though. Remember what he wrote about how the pigs don’t fight over what’s in the trough, because there ain’t no pig troughs, just a fancy feeding place where they git to eat, one at a time.”
“I’m still not too sure we want one of them big operations here in the valley. Remember, we just had twenty or so pigs on our farms. They’re planning to raise thousands of them,” said Oscar. “And none of them ever gets to set foot outside. They never get to see the sun and the blue sky like we’re seeing today.”
“Oscar, you sound like you’re stickin’ up for the pigs. The only reason them pigs is on this earth is so we can eat ’em. That’s all there’s to it.”
“Maybe so. But there’s still something kinda nice when you see a bunch of pigs, maybe ten or a dozen or so, out in a green pasture with their little ones runnin’ along behind ’em. Sight to see. Yup, a sight to see.”
“Oscar, sometimes I wonder about you. You want our taxes to not keep goin’ up, or not? You want people to have work so they can pay your bills? This is a new day. A new day. People are doin’ things different from when we were kids. Them Nathan West folks appear to take good care of their pigs.”
“Maybe so. But I’m still worried about all this. Worried where the country is headed with these big operations, these big factory farms jumpin’ up all over the place,” said Oscar.
The two old men drove on toward the museum in Tamarack Corners, neither saying anything. There was one other car in the small parking lot.
“Well, you ready to see my old hog trough?” Oscar asked, a big smile spreading across his face.
“Damn old hog trough. Seein’ it will bring back a bunch of bad memories.”
29. Zoning Committee Meeting
Emily, let’s go over the material we’re presenting at the Ames County Zoning Committee tonight,” suggested Assistant Professor Randy Oakfield. “I need to be brought up to speed.”
“There’s no need,” answered Emily Jordan. “I’ve checked the figures a couple of times. We’re ready for this evening.”
“Still, I’d like to look over the data.”
“The surveys are in my apartment, and I just put my laptop with the PowerPoint presentation in the car. Trust me, everything is in good order.”
By 6:30 p.m., the community room of the Willow River Library was filled to capacity. The room had 150 chairs, with people standing in the back of the room. Josh sat in the front row with tape recorder and camera at the ready. Billy Baxter from the Ames County Argus, with a camera hanging around his neck, stood off to the side. Josh noticed Ben Wesley sitting toward the back, with a clipboard for note-taking. He also spotted Oscar Anderson, who had spoken up at the winter meeting. Several people coming into the room greeted Ben and shook his hand.
Cindy Jennings, member of the Ames County Board and chair of the Ames County Zoning Committee, called the meeting to order and made a few brief comments.
“We all know this is an important meeting, and we want to hear what you have to say. But please, let’s be civil; don’t interrupt when someone else is talking, and try not to repeat what someone else has said. And to make sure everyone has a chance to speak, we are holding you to three minutes. We have a timer: when it beeps, finish your sentence and please be seated. I’d add one more thing—please turn off your cell phones.” She reached into her pocket
, removed her Blackberry, and turned it off. “Almost forgot to turn mine off,” she said, smiling.
Marcella Happsit, president of the Tamarack Historical Society, held up her hand and was the first to speak. “I would like to read a letter I recently received from Nathan West Industries,” she began slowly:
Dear Ms. Happsit,
Thank you for the opportunity to visit your wonderful museum and your tour around your fine village. We at NWI wish to be good community neighbors.
As a small gesture of our good-neighbor policy, we are prepared to fund the building of a new library for Tamarack Corners, including the purchase of books and computers. We will also establish a fund to pay for library staff. Tamarack Corners has a rich history, going back to the logging days of the late 1800s. I’ve learned that the Tamarack River Trading Post supplied the logging crews that floated logs down the Tamarack River on their spring logging drives. The Trading Post replenished food supplies and sold the log drivers new clothing and equipment, such as axes and pike poles. We are prepared to fund the creation of a special exhibit about this rich history for your museum.
Also, as we have become acquainted with the village’s history we have learned about Mortimer Dunn and the Tamarack River Ghost. We will fund the creation of a life-sized statue of Mortimer Dunn and his dog, to be placed in front of your museum.
Sincerely,
Ed Clark
Regional Representative
Nathan West Industries
“And,” Marcella concluded, “we have already commissioned an artist to create the statue. This is a rare opportunity for the Tamarack Corners community. I can’t see how we could possibly not favor Nathan West Industries becoming one of our neighbors.”