COLUMN: Flee the city for the ‘sweet’ smells of the country

Jeff Morrison Columnist

Even though fewer and fewer Iowans are out working on a farm, the land “out there” still offers opportunities to make a home. In the past decade or so, a lot of people have made their way into rural Iowa without experiencing the entire package of rural life. In this new struggle between urban relocators and the remaining farmers or longtime non-farm rural residents, some interesting twists have developed.

One of these is in legislation relating to hog lots and house construction. The Des Moines Register reported Sunday on a proposal to change a state law that keeps new homes a certain distance from livestock farms. Currently and in the past, the rule works the other way, with new farm operations limited in places to build by existing homes. The non-farmers in the rural areas complain, sometimes very vocally, about the smell produced by any operation involving pigs. As “factory farm” hog operations have grown in scope and number, the smell is greater than that of the past, and so the rural residents do have a point — to a point.

Somewhere along the line compromise must be reached, hence the existence of distance regulations. Regulation of large-scale operations is a sticking point in Iowa politics, and more could be done in the way of sewage and ventilation rules. Sometimes, though, the balance gets tipped back the other way, and it may not even be the factory farms at fault.

The best example of this is a pending lawsuit in Madison County. In April 2003, The Associated Press reported on a lawsuit filed against a small farm by its neighbors. Wayne, Barbara and Briana Tetzlaff claimed Timothy and Glenna Camp failed to control odor and flies after manure was applied to farmland they were renting.

The Camps, as a small farm, were doing what small farmers often do — spreading manure on the ground. The spread manure did what manure often does — stink and attract flies. The case is set to be heard in December, but some know the effects could be devastating.

“Do you have any idea the cases we’d see against pork producers if they win that case in Madison County? It would be enormous,” Todd Wiley, a Linn County farmer, told the Register in Sunday’s article.

For those leaving the city for the country, an Iowa Farm Bureau pamphlet gives some hints, letting them know what they’re getting into. Iowa counties have taken this information and tailored it to their own area. Linn and Warren counties have their pamphlets available online, and much of the language in each is the same. Those who have lived their lives in the country to begin with may find it hard to peruse without breaking into a grin at this education for the city folk.

Take this entry from the Linn County booklet: “Rock roads generate dust. You may contract privately or with the county to have a dust control product applied to the road, but dust is a fact of life for rural living.” If you don’t want your vehicle to become intimately familiar with dust and become a two-tone with the bottom tone being tan, perhaps country roads should not take you home.

Warren County leavens some of the notes with humor. “When property owners fill in ravines, they have found that the water that drained through that ravine now drains through their house.” The county also gets the award for best common sense: “Animals and their manure can cause objectionable odors. What else can we say?”

For those who do decide to move out to the country, farmer or not, all of your senses can be affected. Depending on the wind, the smell of freshly mowed hay or even regular grass will overpower the hogs. During the fall, you can be lulled to sleep by the steady hum of grain dryers on surrounding farms, or by crickets in the summer. If you happen to be outside as one of those rare vehicles passes by, you probably won’t suffer anything more serious than a drive-by waving (and perhaps a stream of gravel dust).

At night, after taking in those sounds and smells, look up into a sky unsullied by the city glow. You can see hundreds of twinkling stars and textbook-perfect constellations disturbed only by a cross-sky swath of the Milky Way. And as you glance across the horizon and see the blue dots of yard lights and the dark orange space over the nearest town, the qualities of rural Iowa that have developed over the past century and a half will be evident. If you’re willing to accept some of the caveats, it can be a wonderful place to live — even if your family has never had the chance to farm.