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Fistful of Poultry The transition from Interstate to country roads is an abrupt one.
As such, it seemed only right to adjust the soundtrack accordingly. So I cranked the dial from KSMU-NPR to KITO-Countrypolitan. The radio fare went from Whaddya Know and Prairie Home Companion to Webb Pierce, Reba McIntyre, and Waylon Jennings (rest his soul). I was headed for McDonald County, Missouri -- home, on any given day, to some 26 million chickens. Theirs is a strictly temporary residency, since the life of your modern American chicken is 7 weeks, at best. That’s all the time it takes to raise poultry from chick to broiler. After that it’s off to slaughter. Parts is Parts McDonald County is home to two massive chicken slaughterhouses and packing operations, which together convert 3 million chickens per week into cellophane-wrapped carcasses or parts. You know what they say -- parts is parts.
Nutrients and Fouled Waters The technical (and euphemistic) term for the pollution is "nutrients" –- in other words, excusing my French, chicken shit. Millions of tons of it are liberally applied to area fields, and have been so applied for about 20 years. The land won’t hold any more, and it runs off into adjacent streams. You can see and smell the result: Stinking, fouled waters, carpeted with algae.
Some of the assembled folks were quite influential, including Leaford Bearskin, Chief of the Wyandotte Tribal Nation and a member of the Ottawa County Planning and Zoning Commission.
Here’s the deal Simmons would offer farmers:
Whew, what a deal! What it amounts to is this: In exchange for signing over the farm, Simmons will dictate every waking moment of a grower’s life. Mono-Generational Corporate Greedheads Not only is this a really stupid business deal, the growing facilities are a blight on the landscape. They stink and they pollute the surface and ground waters. Which is why the good people in places like Southwest Missouri and Northeast Arkansas are so upset. They feel as if their clean country living is being ripped away by the aspirations of –- in their words –- "mono-generational corporate greedheads." After touring the area and looking at some really beautiful scenery subjected to some really ugly stuff, I was sufficiently depressed to head south to the Lone Star State. Before departing, I shook hands with a number of folks and offered the assistance of the Sierra Club in combating the invasion. Then it was down US 69 and then the Indian Nation Turnpike to Paris. That’s Paris, Texas, of course -- not that other one in Tennessee. Ken Midkiff, Paris, TX Up to Top |
The turn-off at I-44 in Joplin, Missouri, onto State Highway 43 is a quick departure from the world of semis, RVs, and freshly waxed SUVs with darkly tinted windows (drug smugglers, no doubt) to heavy duty pickups, ‘79 Camaros, and muck-spattered Jeeps.
In the process, the slaughterhouses use and discharge somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 million gallons of wastewater daily. The untreated water is deposited directly into the Elk River and Cave Springs Branch, both of which feed into the Grand Lake of the Cherokees, just a few miles across the border in Oklahoma.
What has Leaford and the others up in arms is the threat of Simmons Industries, one of the polluting culprits in McDonald County, recently announcing plans to move into the adjacent Oklahoma counties of Ottawa, Delaware, and Craig in a big way. Simmons was thwarted in its initial venture -- in which 90 confinement buildings containing up to 26,000 chickens each were to be constructed. The company is now seeking contract growers.