Purdue Extension Service

Vanderburgh County, Indiana

Land Use -- Farmers' and Urbanites' Views

By Larry Caplan, Extension Horticulture Educator, Vanderburgh County, IN

For the Evansville Courier and Press, January 24, 2000

I was at the grocery store last week, when I heard a commotion over by the canned vegetables aisle. I ambled over, and saw two of my neighbors: Amos Farmer, and Bob Urbanite. They were both getting red in the face, and I could guess what they were arguing about.

"I've got the right to enjoy my property!" Bob Urbanite declared. "It's unfair of you to be creating all that dust and those nasty odors on your farm when I'm trying to have a backyard barbecue."

"Now, listen here," replied Amos Farmer. "I've been farming this piece of ground all my life. So did my daddy, and his daddy before him. We've been fertilizing our fields with cattle manure for nigh on about 100 years. You built your house out next to my farm two years ago, and you've been belly-achin' ever since!"

"We wanted to move out to the country, and get away from the city," said Bob Urbanite. "We thought it would be peaceful and pleasant out there. Instead, we listen to you driving your tractor back and forth at all hours of the day and night! In fact, last Saturday, when I had a chance to sleep in, you were out making a racket at 5 in the morning!"

"Young feller," said Amos Farmer, "I've got a job to do. I've got to get fields planted, fertilized, and sprayed. And I've only got so many hours of daylight to do it. So, I've got to get started early, and sometimes I don't get to finish until real late at night. That's what farming is!

"Furthermore," Mr. Farmer continued, "I don't appreciate you throwing trash in my fields. I damaged my planter last month, running over a tree branch."

"That's not trash," Mr. Urbanite replied indignantly. "I'm just putting my grass clippings and yard waste out as a mulch for your crops. I thought you'd be pleased that I was helping you out! I'm just doing what Mr. Caplan from the Extension office said is good for my garden."

I groaned silently -- I'd never recommended using tree limbs in the garden. I pretended to be reading the nutritional information on the label of a can of creamed corn and started sliding away. Mr. Farmer's voice reached me as he continued.

"You're not helping me!" he yelled. "In fact, you and your neighbors have been making it downright difficult to do my job. You let your dogs run wild, and they chase my livestock all over. Last week, dogs killed three baby chicks that my kids were raising for 4-H."

"My dog doesn't chase animals," Mr. Urbanite huffed. "He's been well trained. But you're a fine one to talk about crossing fields. Every time you spray those nasty chemicals, they cross over into my yard and kill my garden! I lost ten tomato plants last summer to your weed killers. And my wife is scared to death when she thinks about what those poisons are doing to our health!"

"Now hold on a minute," Mr. Farmer retorted. "Why did you plant your garden right against the fence? And I handle these pesticides all the time. I live right in the middle of my fields, my kids play in the yard, and I eat the food out of my own garden. If the chemicals were that dangerous, I wouldn't use them!"

"And speaking of kids," he continued, "I'll thank you to keep your kids out of my fields! They busted three fences, and drove their go-carts through my soybean field. If they get hurt on my property, I'm liable! And I saw a burnt area out by the barn yesterday -- if your kids want to smoke, have 'em smoke on your property!"

"My children don't smoke, and they know better than to play with matches," Mr. Urbanite insisted. "Furthermore, we're not the kind of folks to sue a neighbor. But speaking about driving -- and those are 'all-terrain vehicles,' not go-carts -- I'm getting sick and tired of being stuck behind your tractor on the main road. I left the city to avoid traffic jams! Why don't you stay on the farm roads?"

"You durn fool!" thundered Amos. "This WAS a farm road! Least, 'til you and your neighbors talked the county into having it paved. You city folks tail-gate me, and honk at me, and shout some pretty unfriendly things as you pass me on those blind curves. The next time you need to get somewhere, use the highway!"

At this point, Amos Farmer and Bob Urbanite looked like they were going to come to blows, right by the canned peas. I felt I had to do something to calm them down.

"Gentlemen, I think we can all agree that you each have a legitimate concern," I said. "Mr. Urbanite, you don't much care for the noise, odor, dust, and pesticide drift. Mr. Farmer, you seem to be take exception to having Bob's yard waste, pets, and children in your fields. What can we do to come to some sort of understanding?"

"This here feller needs to know that he lives next to a farm," said Amos Farmer. "I'd have thought that seeing all that 8 foot tall corn when he was building his house would have been a clue."

"Of course I knew I was near a farm!" replied Bob Urbanite. "It's why we built out here! We wanted to be in the country! We just didn't know that farming is so, well, messy."

Things looked like they were going to heat up again, so I quickly jumped back in. "Mr. Urbanite, I know that Mr. Farmer is one of the most knowledgeable growers in the area. He's done everything that Purdue recommends to cut down on chemical usage, herbicide drift, and livestock odors. But, farming is a dangerous and messy business, and I do mean business! Farms have the noise, odors, and chemical problems of many industries. Did you realize that you were moving next door to a industrial operation?

"And," I continued, as I turned toward the grower, "Mr. Urbanite has a perfectly legal right to live where he does. That property has been zoned for residential usage for over 5 years. What with farm prices being as poor as they've been, more and more farmers are selling out to developers all over the Tri-State. You've got to be aware that you're getting more neighbors, and it's going to continue. And these new neighbors are expecting a certain quality of life.

"How's this for an idea," I offered. "Mr. Urbanite admits he doesn't know what modern farming is all about. Amos, why don't you give him and his family a tour of your operation? Let him and his family see how clean your farm is, and how the animals are cared for. You might even show him the damage a four-wheeler can do to your crop.

"And Bob, you can be a little more neighborly yourself. Why don't you and your neighbors buy more of your fruits and vegetables from Mr. Farmer? And I'm sure that if you ask for permission ahead of time, Mr. Farmer would let your kids fly their kites and play in that east field he's taken out of production."

The two men looked at each other, and then at their shoes. Finally, Amos Farmer cleared his throat and said "Tell you what. I'll try to be a little extra careful with my spraying, especially on those windy days. I'll even try to let you know a few days before I'm going to disc my fields, so you don't get dust blowing through your open windows."

Bob Urbanite scuffed his foot and replied, "That's all my neighbors and I really wanted. I'll do a better job keeping my kids and pets in my yard. In fact, we're planning a neighborhood party for next weekend. We'd be pleased if you and your family could come on by, and get to meet your new neighbors."

Amos Farmer grinned, and stuck out his hand. "Why, that's right neighborly of you! We'll bring some tomatoes and cider."

Bob shook Amos' hand. "Thanks! And later this spring, do you think you could spare a little manure for my wife's garden?"

"How many truckloads do you want?" Amos asked. The two neighbors walked off to the checkout line together. And I, feeling good about myself, headed over to the frozen foods area for a container of Rocky Road. Low fat, of course.

For more information on land use issues, please call the Purdue University Extension Service at (812) 435-5287, and ask for publication ID-221, "The Rural/Urban Conflict."