I was asked to tell the story of a pig farm, a CAFO (concentrated animal feeding operation) that is, in my little town of less than 5,500 citizens, called Richelieu. My town is on the Richelieu River, outlet of Lake Champlain which divides New York and Vermont. Living in the province of Quebec, in Canada, things are a little different than is the U.S. of A. But not much. 

Aerial photo of site of CAFO before it was built, Richelieu River in background 

PROVINCIAL POLICY

First of all, I must explain that the nitty-gritty of agriculture is decided on the provincial level here in Canada. So about 10 years ago, our province decided we should go global, and because of our short summers, it was decided that the way to make money was to export pork. It was also decided that raising pork on litter (straw or woodchips) was not efficient enough. I also suspect that the concrete industry had some say in deciding the pigs should live all their lives on concrete grids over concrete slabs, with mechanisms to rake the results of the spaying down of the animals and buildings with plenty of water, storing the watery, sloppy mess in concrete pits. The sloppy mess to be rid of eventually on surrounding farm land…

The whole scenario is well described in The Meatrix.

The sad tale is relived much the same way everywhere: small farms are getting eaten up by the big. Here we call them "intégrateurs", integrators, a bit like your Smithfield Foods. Forests and back woodlots are cut down to make room for growing the only plant that can take the acidic liquid pig manure that's been marinating for the last couple of months in the pit: corn, GMO corn, that is. Corn that's fed to the pigs, and so on, and so on...

During the past ten years, the CAFO cancer had been spreading all over the province: it was now creeping near cities. Rivers in the agricultural areas were polluted so much you could almost walk on them. Now the cancer was looking for more places to take over, like Richelieu, my town, really a distant suburb of Montreal, our metropolis. A bit of family farm agriculture was already in Richelieu, but no big pig farms yet. But two enterprising brothers decided they would get on the bandwagon, even if the swine industry was in deep trouble by now.

IT MAKES FRONT PAGE

The local newspaper had it on the front page on September 6th, 2005: the two brothers would build a 5,800 pigs farm, with two manure pits, near the Richelieu river, and the spreading of the manure would be done on their property, well drained farm land all along the Richelieu River, upriver from the surface water intake of the drinking water system of three towns. Upriver from a provincial preserve that protects the only known spawning area of an endemic endangered fish: the Copper Redhorse.

Now the swine industry, a bit like in the USA, is conveniently friendly with the government, the environmental part of the government and the agricultural part of the government. The farmers have a union, a syndicate, a monopoly that bullies everybody: the farmers, their neighbors, the town mayors and councilors, everybody. You could say that the laws are made as to accommodate the pig industry, not the organic family farm, nor his neighbor, nor regular folks.

So when that newspaper article on September the 6th, 2005 came out, nobody except a few City Hall employees knew about the piggery. But the province had already given the permit: it was a done deal. There was to be an information meeting, so that we could be told what the plans were. But we could not stop it. We tried. In vain…

WE GAVE IT OUR BEST SHOT

We formed a citizens' group, 600 paid memberships. We marched. We put signs up on our front lawns. We wore pins. We met our MP, the minister of Health, of the Environment, of Urban Affairs. We emailed our Prime Minister, had a postcard mailing campaign going. We were on TV, on the radio, in the newspapers. We had a website, but that didn't work very well, because people in the countryside here don't have high speed Internet. Some of us even got together and wrote a 350 page book on the subject!

The crisis made people sick, especially during the spreading of liquid manure (oh, yes, even before the piggery was built, the brothers would import the stuff from other farms).That starts in April, and goes on till November, no matter what the law says.

Here, because of the climate, and because corn is an annual plant, the land is bare during most of the year: plants start to grow in May; the corn is harvested in September or October, depending on the rainfall. So the rest of the year, soil erosion is terrible, especially during the spring thaw. The river is reasonably clean during a drought, the water coming from Lake Champlain, but at every rainfall, the water turns muddy, full of silt.

The author in the Richelieu River, in 1955 

MEMORIES OF A CLEAN RIVER

And because of the piggery, I now know what the silt is carrying. I used to swim in the river 40 years ago. Not anymore. My dearest memories of my childhood are from playing and splashing and diving near, around and in the river. Those that have lived in the 50’s may remember the scorching summers, the daily thunderstorms, the still nights. It makes me so sad that the new generations won’t get to know the pleasures of having intimate contact with nature by floating in a natural watercourse. I remember the minnows swimming between my toes, the multi-colored shiny pebbles begging to be plucked from the bottom of the river, the flow of the water caressing my body on its way downstream. How I miss all this. I feel like a kitten weaned too young from its mother, all my life yearning for something that I will never feel again. 

Before the piggery was built, people in Richelieu used to talk to each other, planning meetings, frantically looking for ways to make people listen. The go-ahead of the piggery tore the social fabric of our town apart. Now, most go along with their business, feeling bitter about the whole affair: we feel we did everything we could to stop the pig farm, but nobody with any clout helped us. Silence from the doctors and the nurses. Silence from Public Health who says private well owners are responsible for testing their water and keep healthy. Nothing from the Environment, who say people swimming in rivers do so at their own risk anyway.

THE PRICE OF TAKING A STAND

Through the years, I keep complaining publicly, writing letters to the editor, going to city hall meetings, still wearing my pin. But I have paid the price, as have others. Some have received letters of intent to sue; some have had a crushed turtle dumped in their driveway. I used to order firewood to heat my home: I've had to stop, because the last time I received my load, it was covered with smelly liquid pig manure. I had to wait for months before I could get near enough to stack it. On a call-in radio show, my husband said that pig farms should be inspected more often, more severely controlled: next day, we had 2 used pig artificial inseminators dumped on the street in front of our home. Children walking by were playing with them: I shudder at the thought of the illnesses they could have contracted that morning.

I’ve always taken solace in contemplating the river, reassuring myself that no matter what happens, the water will always flow to the sea, dirtier than it used to, but nevertheless, doing what rivers do. Sometimes I need to pick myself up and remind myself why I’m doing all this: the sight of ducks bobbing on the surface, a heron waiting for dinner, an osprey keeping a sharp eye for fish, all these creatures still enjoying the river give me the courage to carry on.

I’ve started taking pictures of the most beautiful parts or the river near my home, trying to spread the hope that the Richelieu River is still worth saving. Maybe the combined technology of the Internet and digital photography will make it easier for me. 

I've been accused of being a trouble maker, a disturber of the peace, because I won't accept what's been done to us, to the air we breathe, to the water we drink, to the soil that should feed US, to the food on display on the shelves of our chain grocery stores.

An injustice is not less so because time has gone by. 

My goal is to be able to swim safely in the river before I die, and I won't stop until I can, or until I do.

 The author by her beloved Richelieu River, in a more recent shot