rachel edmonds

A brief internal review of my blog entries this evening revealed I’ve left out one or two important stops.  In late March with much effort and logistical maneuvering, I had scheduled a flight over North Carolina’s eastern plains to observe the impact of the hog growing industry on the Neuse and Cape Fear Watershed areas.  It turns out I never got around to writing about the flight itself, or highlighting the organization that helped get me up in the air.  ‘Better late than never’ certainly applies in this case.  Plus, I think this entry will be both a pleasure to write and to read.  So off we go:

When I was planning my adventure through the American South earlier this winter, I realized a few difficulties I was bound to face as a road-going traveler.  Traveling by car meant that most of my sites would need to be accessible by personal vehicle.  For most sites on my itinerary this was no problem: parking lots are plentiful in the south, afterall.  But some of the places I wanted to visit and poke around a little bit — take a few photos, do some field sketches, trample around in my rubber boots, etc. — happened to be on private property.  Two such sites were mining areas in Kentucky and hog producing regions of Eastern North Carolina.

I’d heard some stories about people getting shot at in the South for mistakenly trespassing across private property, so I was sufficiently shaken enough to brainstorm a different approach.  I did a little online research one night and came across some great aerial photos of both of these site types – coal mining and hog farming.  The perspective from a small aircraft is different from anything you can find on the ground.  You can see relationships from the air that are not perceived with your two feet on the ground.  Right then and there I got in my mind that I needed to find a way to get in the air.  With surprisingly little effort, I identified an organization that could help me do exactly that:  Southwings.

Southwings motto of “conservation through aviation” translates to a lot of logistical work and relationship building to pair volunteer pilots with parties doing research, surveying, reconnaissance, photography, among other things.  Southwings’ local partner organizations – like National Wildlife Federation, Gulf Restoration Network, and other conservancy based nonprofits – typically “sponsor” the flight and can invite academics, journalists, government leaders, etc. to come along.  They use the unique opportunity to spread the word about a particular issue or controversy impacting the South’s diverse ecosystems and landscapes.  Flights address all kinds of issues: logging, mining, habitat loss, watershed pollution, oil spills, unsustainable development patterns.

I dropped by Southwings’ Asheville, NC headquarters on a cold, blustery afternoon in early March to ask about what I’d need to do to set up a flight to look at concentrated animal feeding operations (CAFOs) in eastern North Carolina.  I received enthusiastic assistance from Caroline Douglas, the organization’s Conservation Program Director.  She suggested I contact Lower Neuse Riverkeeper Larry Baldwin to ask if he’d like to sponsor the flight.   I filled out some forms and left their office with Larry’s cell phone number, excited about the idea of this aerial adventure and what it would bring to my research.

Our flight was finally scheduled for March 18 after more than a few urgent calls and emails to get everyone on board.  But it was set.  Bad weather came in that day (of course) and we reassembled to meet the following day, March 19.  I met pilot Jack Lynch early that morning in the parking lot of the Burlington Hardee’s fast food restaurant.  I followed him into the small airport and parked my car, all the while getting a little anxious as this was only my second time flying in a small plane (first time was a few months earlier – when I flew in Kauai).  It turns out Jack’s plane was a *little* bit nicer than the plane I flew on in Kauai.  Jack owns a stunning state-of-the-art single prop plane manufactured by Lancair Columbia out of Bend, Oregon.  I immediately felt a little safer after observing the care Jack took in prepping the plane for our flight.  We took off with no problems, and headed to New Bern, NC to pick up Larry.  We would take off and land a total of 6 times that day!

L-R: Lower Neuse Riverkeeper Larry Baldwin, Rachel Edmonds, Southwings Pilot Jack Lynch

Now for the hog farming part of this story.  A *brief* history is important to understand what things I was going to see on the Southwings’ flight.  Hog farming has been HUGE business in NC ever since the tobacco industry bit the dust in the early 1990s.  Farmers who’d traditionally specialized in tobacco needed to find new ways to support themselves.  Some began raising hogs, chickens, and turkeys in small-scale family operations.  By the end of the decade, some of the largest pork producers in the world (Smithfield, Premium Standard, etc.) figured out ways to vertically integrate the industry and deliver enormous profits to the corporate coffers.  They used their influence at state and national levels to push out independent farmers and later sign them on as contractors.  Animals would be farrowed and fattened by contract farmers in barns on their family land, but the pigs would remain corporate property.  The farmers would be paid a fee for raising the animals, but they would be required to purchase feed and other supplies (hormones, medications, antibiotics) from their corporate “partners”.  Similarly, contract farmers would assume liability and be responsible for the environmental impact of raising hogs they don’t even own.  Many signed on, eager to make money the only way that seemed possible.

Problems regularly arose as contract hog operations expanded across many counties in Eastern North Carolina.  Heavy seasonal rain and hurricanes tended to overflow hog lagoons that capture excrement and liquid waste from adjacent pig barns.  These pig manure filled lagoons are what I planned to observe on my Southwings flight.  Essentially open cesspools, hog lagoons are a major threat to water resources in North Carolina.  Sadly, there are no regulations that govern the decision where to site lagoons on property with streams or wetland areas.  No fool-proof technology for their construction or management is mandated to prevent contamination of shared water resources or wildlife habitat.  Since neighbors tend to complain about visibility of hog farming infrastructure, lagoons are usually built at the rear portions of a property where watershed areas are present.  While out of sight, they aren’t out of mind; lagoon waste spread over farm crops eventually reaches groundwater resources that everyone in the community shares.  It’s a no-win situation.

The flight was an amazing eye-opener and it certainly clarified some issues for me in terms of understanding the relationship of the hog industry to the landscape.  Because the technical aspects of the problem are vast and evolving, simplifying it with a few key graphics is the way I would like to make it more accessible to a lay audience.  I developed this graphic below the other night based on an actual aerial image I found with Google Earth.  Compare the diagram with some of the photos I have included from the flight and try to identify potential hazards.

Conceptual diagram of hog production facilities in Eastern North Carolina

Each of these hog barns holds approximately 2500 pigs. The lagoons here abutting a drainage way hold the waste of up to 20,000 hogs.

Liquid waste is transferred from the hog barns to lagoon through an underground piping system.

What does the future say about NC’s hog industry and its troubled agricultural coastal plain?  I am hopeful that technology will bring us solutions, coupled with some old fashioned regulatory reform.   Agriculture extension offices and universities are studying new models and practical methods for addressing the waste issue.  Some claim to have solved the problem, but corporate pork interests have not promised the capital needed to pay for equipment and training for contract farmers.  So far just lip service.  The day will come when it will not make economic sense for Smithfield and others to ignore the problem.  While vertical integration rules today, it will surely fail if local water resources become unreliable.  Water is the common denominator for all of us.  Industry should resolve to protect local water in the interest of its own longevity.  Just sayin’.

As a followup to my March 19 aerial tour of factory farming operations in coastal N. Carolina, I took an opportunity to drive through the area on my way between Manteo and Louisville, GA.  Here is map showing the route I took:

The drive included pass-throughs of Duplin and Sampson Counties, the most prolific hog producing counties in North Carolina.  I had many expectations looming in my mind (and nose) about what I would encounter.  First, I assumed I would not be able to get away from the smell of hog feces and urine.  Second, I assumed that it would be difficult to identify hog farms from the road.  Third, I expected the entire drive to be depressing.

Turns out my assumptions were pretty off.  Parts of the drive were downright idyllic, although the skeptic in me knows that surface appearances don’t say much about reality – even more so the case when it comes to the question of industrial agriculture.

During the drive, which lasted about 2 hours, I made a point to keep my windows down so I could catch a whiff of the earthly perfume that Duplin and Sampson Counties are known for.  Perhaps the winds were “just right”, perhaps the recent rains were masking odor – I really don’t know – but out on the country roads of Sampson and Duplin Counties the air only smelled of pollen and diesel fumes (that’s considered fresh air out there).  All accounts I’ve read of drives through these places compare the experience to encountering mustard gas on the front lines – it’s downright blinding and can knock you on your butt.

From behind the steering wheel on the winding country roads, it can be difficult to pinpoint hog farms from other innocuous agriculture operations.  Thinking back to what I saw on my Southwings flight over this area,  farm owners intentionally place barn and lagoon facilities as far back on the property as is possible to keep neighbors quiet.  In Sampson County, though, I noticed some modest signage identifying livestock operations.  The signs, maybe 9″x12″ and dark blue in color, identify the family farm name and whether the animals produced there are hogs, turkeys, or chickens (identified by profile illustrations of the animals).  On one stretch of roadway less than a couple miles long, I counted ten such signs.

Feeling a little bummed that my afternoon drive failed to show me egregious violations against Mother Nature, I decided to change my course and head straight into Clinton, NC.  Clinton is not only the seat of Sampson County, but it is also the home of the Premium Standard Foods processing plant, a subsidiary of Smithfield.  Approximately 9,000 hogs are processed here every day, 7 days a week, 24 hours a day.

This is an aerial view of the Premium Standard plant taken during my 3/19 Southwings flight over coastal N.C.

The plant here has an unusual relationship with its host town because of its location just a few blocks south of the historic main street.  For Clinton residents, it means all the truck traffic coming in (live hogs) and out (loin chops, bacon, hams, etc.) is a part of the town’s rhythm and culture.   A century ago, this sort of building pattern was common where people lived within shouting distance of the most polluting factories.  Today, most noxious land uses prefer to locate themselves in isolated areas with rail and highway access.  This arrangement keeps people from stepping on each other’s toes (or hooves, in this case).

This neighborhood in Clinton, NC receives downwind fumes from the Premium Standard plant.

To add insult to injury, it turns out the prevailing wind patterns in town push all the factory’s fumes into a modest neighborhood that abuts its western property line.  A drive through the neighborhood made my eyes bulge out.  There can be no peace or escape for neighbors with this gurgling steel giant so nearby.  As one of  Clinton’s largest employers, the factory is a critical source of jobs and security for nearly everyone in town.  For this reason alone, I would expect neighbor complaints against the plant are rare.

This tractor trailer hauls hogs to be slaughtered at the Premium Standard plant in Clinton, NC.

The same trucks pull up and offload their contents behind a residential neighborhood on the plant's western boundary.

Southwings, a noble environmental advocacy organization operating out of Ashville, NC, posted a short story on their website that summarizes my flight experience with them on March 19.

Click here.

During my stay in Manteo last weekend, I managed to get over to the Outer Banks and drive around a bit.

The Outer Banks of North Carolina

Leaving Manteo and going over the Crotoan Sound Bridge, you have two directional choices.  Take a left (north) and you pass through the towns of Nag’s Head, Kill Devil Hills, Kitty Hawk, etc.  This route is not for sightseeing.  The towns have little spatial distinction – you do not know when you have left one and entered another.  The highway functions as one long strip mall with lots of chain restaurants, “Wings” gear stores, taffy and ice cream shops, miniature golf places, and condominium developments.   The condo and housing developments are anywhere between 3 and 5 stories tall.  Views to the ocean from this part of the road are obscured.  The housing stock looks relatively new, perhaps built or refurbished in the last 20 years.

Bright yellow Wings stores are all over the place in the Outer Banks.

Your other choice is to take a right and head south along highway 12.  You soon understand why the communities to the north look the way they do.  The first thing you encounter is the welcome sign to the Cape Hatteras National Seashore area.  For the next 40 miles it’s more or less wide and open.  The sand dunes still block your view to the ocean, but commercial intrusion is absent.  Every 5 miles or so, you’ll come upon a new town (Rodanthe, Waves, Salvo, Avon, Buxton, Frisco, and finally, Hatteras) but their impact on the landscape is minimal compared to what you find north of the bridge.

These towns within the Cape Hatteras National Seashore have an interesting relationship with the National Parks Service.  Their beaches are managed by NPS whose mission includes safeguarding viable habitat for many species of migrating water fowl and shore mammals.  The NPS regularly closes sections of the coast where it is believed species of concern will nest.  Whenever the NPS announces closures, the towns cry foul play.  Closed beaches mean tourists fail to stopover, bypassing each town’s modest taffy and fudge stores, excursion operators, cafes, and beach gear shops.  Vestiges of public protest mark the roadside.

Endangered plovers are a bird species that will cause areas of the Outer Banks to close this season.

The scope of problems facing the Outer Banks is not merely commercial or economic in character. It is downright physical.  As a series of barrier islands, the Outer Banks are in a state of southerly migration.  Shifting sands here have created trouble for its tourism-based economy.  The government has made efforts to fight nature back.  Ten years ago, the iconic Cape Hatteras lighthouse was relocated almost half-mile inland to prevent the structure from literally falling in the sea.  Below a photo of the lighthouse location before it was moved:

You can go to the old lighthouse location and get a view of the new location in the distance, as I did below.  As the biggest tourist attraction in the Cape Hatteras National Seashore area, there was little question that the lighthouse needed to be “saved” from coastal erosion.  Many millions of dollars were spent to relocate it.  Still, there is little understanding of how long the investment will last given the latest predictions about sea level rise.

The granite slabs show the footprint of the original lighthouse location.

My trip to the Outer Banks was originally scheduled to have a 4 day stop on Ocracoke Island, the most southerly island within the National Seashore area.  I ended up canceling the Ocracoke leg of the trip, so none of my work there was done.   I intended to spend time investigating how Ocracoke’s version of tourism differs from tourism in towns outside of the boundary of the National Seashore area (Kill Devil Hill’s, Nag’s Head, etc).  The following questions are interesting to me: To what extent do activities for tourists in these designated areas have a distinct dependence on a healthy landscape?  How is the identity of the village of Ocracoke tied to these park assets?  Does Ocracoke intentionally forgo opportunities to develop parts of the island as a way to distinguish itself from other parts of the Outer Banks?

Before two days ago, I’d never set a foot in Manteo, NC.  But arriving there on Friday evening,  I knew exactly what I should look for and where to go.  Not once did I make a wrong turn.  I even knew where to find the post office (at the Chesley Mall).  It was a strange feeling, indeed.

This town of 1000 or so people is a place most students of landscape architecture and city planning at UC Berkeley are very familiar with.  We use the town as a case study of community design and planning in classes taught by Randy Hester and Marcia McNally.

Located on Roanoke Island, about 8 miles from the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, Manteo suffered decades of decline after the Outer Banks highway project bypassed the town.   In the early 80s, Prof. Hester and his wife Marcia McNally began working there with NCSU students on a plan for the town’s economic and physical revival.  The fruits of their labors are evident today in Manteo, which offer residents and tourists a sense of traditional village life along the NC coast.  Click here to look at my Manteo photo album.

The purpose of my visit to Manteo was mainly to resolve a deep curiosity I’ve had about the place since I first learned about it five years ago.   The town’s struggle to find a balance between tourism and its historic economic drivers (fishing, boat building) also seemed a good fit for my fellowship project.

My Manteo visit took place during what people in the tourist trade call the “shoulder season” – the sweet spot between high season and the off season.  The shoulder season in Manteo means that you will not encounter crowds.  You can find parking in a snap.  Hotels want to give you 3 for 2 offers (stay 3 nights for the price of 2).  Though few restaurants are open, the ones that are serving are pleased to see you.  Out on the boardwalk, absent the throngs of out-of-towners, I was able to clearly observe how locals use public spaces in Manteo.

Conversations I overheard tended to reflect on slow pace of things around town, but how it will all change “just like that, after Memorial Day.”  I observed several group of rambunctious teenagers making the most of the cold afternoon, playing tag and defending their turf from each other – some kids were grouped at the corner of Jule’s (Bicentennial) Park and others congregated out on the lighthouse pier.  For readers here who have not studied Manteo, then none of this stuff probably reads very interesting.  But if your curiosity has been tickled, just click here to find out for yourself.

I apologize for the span of more than 1o days without writing anything on here.  I was off the road for a week a few days back visiting family.  I’m just a bit intimidated at all the writing I need to do to get caught up.  I’m hoping this little prep entry will get me in position to knock out a few more in the next couple days.

What I’ve seen and done since the last entry:

1.  aerial tour of hog farms of Duplin County, NC

2.  various technology campuses in the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill area

3.  a pilgrimage to the town of Manteo on Roanoake Island, NC

4.  a day of driving along the outer banks, Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, getting my Mazda3 stuck in the sand (d’oh)

This is where my front tires became immobilized today.

5.  various barbeque meals (that means pulled pork in NC)

As I promised, there is good stuff to come.  Had my car not required a tug out of the sand today, I would have knocked out two entries by now.  Sending a big thanks to AAA contractor Mike of Nag’s Head, NC.

I will find out shortly if the small aircraft fight I have worked for weeks to organize will take place.  Although the forecast for the Raleigh-Durham area is supposed to be idyllic this Thursday, conditions for coastal North Carolina include drizzle and low visibility.  I’m waiting to hear from my Southwings pilot for the green or red light.

In many post-industrial cities of the American South there is measurable excitement when the terms “life science”, “biotech” or “nanotech” are mentioned.

Southern cities that have experienced a difficult transition period out of manufacturing are today optimistic about a future that embraces science-based jobs.  Cities are partnering with their universities to embark on ambitious development endeavors that not only create new places for academic research, but also places that serve broader economic development goals.  As state and private universities try to address the need for physical expansion in an environment of endemic budget cuts, they find themselves simultaneously courting investment and resources from the private sector.

The result of the courtship is the well-publicized “research and technology park”.  With a start in 1950′s at the Research Triangle Park (a collaborative effort between cities and universities of Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill, North Carolina) the newest technology parks are marketing themselves as a lifestyle choice, not simply stand-alone employment centers.  Design of the research park campus now addresses issues never previously considered such as walkability, schools, energy sustainability, reuse of the urban fabric, pedestrian environment, mass transit, and access to consumer and lifestyle services.

Although traditional industrial parks still thrive, as seen in Chattanooga’s Enterprise South Industrial Park, campuses that focus on bioscience and related technologies appear to have a greater growth potential.  Cities in North Carolina (Winston-Salem, Greensboro, Raleigh and Chapel Hill) have taken steps to build their life and biosciences sectors through partnering with their most prestigious academic institutions.  Even the state’s land grant and historically black colleges and universities are getting in on the action.  The University of NC  at Greensboro and the North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University recently unveiled the Gateway University Research Park where a Joint School of Nanoscience and Nanoengineering will be located.  University officials expect that over the next 20 years, Gateway University Research Park will contribute $250 million to the economy of the region.

One the Gateway’s web site the following is written:

“This novel joint venture between NCA&T and UNCG is designed to facilitate collaborations between world-class researchers and businesses – to move scientific discoveries from the lab to the marketplace benefitting the local community, region, and North Carolina by transforming cutting-edge intellectual properties into thriving business ventures.”

This week I will meet with a former mayor of Chapel Hill and both the campus architect and landscape architect of University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill to hear and see work in progress on Carolina North.  Carolina North is how UNC Chapel Hill plans to expand its physical boundaries and cultivate the economic sectors with the greatest potential for growth in the region.  These individuals, among many others, played key roles in laying the groundwork between the Town of Chapel Hill and UNC to meet mutual growth goals.  They are also the key informants on how this research campus will eventually look, feel, and function.  Carolina North’s design aspires to be a model for sustainable building for the entire region.