Oregon Public Broadcasting

 Idaho's milk output has doubled in the last ten years, dwarfing potato production.  The state now produces more milk than Washington and Oregon combined.  All that milk takes a lot of cows.  But how many?  Critics say the agencies responsible for regulating Idaho's dairy industry really don't know.  And if you can't count the cows, they say you can't control the environmental problems that come with factory farming.

From the Magic Valley, Guy Hand reports.

Hand: "So where are we?"

Hasse: "We are at the Jerome County Courthouse . . ."


Alma Hasse walks quickly toward a red brick building on a gray December afternoon.  Jerome County is home to many dairy CAFOs, or concentrated animal feeding operations.  These factory dairies can house thousands of cows each.

Hand: "And why are you coming here?"

Hasse: "We are coming here to physically examine the CAFO files and to see what we come up with in terms of cow numbers."


Cow numbers are at the root of Hasse's concern.  Counties, like Jerome, issue permits limiting dairies to a specific number of cows.  That way, officials try to control the amount of manure and other pollutants that these new mega-dairies produce.  But Hasse and many others suspect that cows are not being accurately counted.

Hasse: "Hello!  Here I am.  How are you?  Good to see you . . . "


Thats why she and a small group of supporters have gathered to glean information from county records.  But once they begin examining those records, the group finds few answers.

Hasse: ". . . OK 2160 animal units, 2366 animal units.  What am I missing?"

Halper: "One point four, sixteen ninety times one point four, sixteen ninety . . . "


The whole exercise soon devolves into a kind of unruly math class.  The county forms bounce between what are called animal units and actual cows.  Many of the places where totals should be on those forms are blank.

" . . . we are legally allowed access to these records . . . "

But before the group can dig much deeper, Jerome County Commissioner Charlie Howell and county planner Nancy Marshall appear and ask the group to give back the records.


Howell: " . . . we would appreciate it if you would return the files at this time."  

Marshall says the county doesn't have an employee available to sit with the group as they pour over files.  She wants them to make a written request.


Marshall: "I need to set up time for somebody to come in..."


Commissioner Howell is visibly upset.  He at first refuses to talk about the dairy industry.  It's, after all, a contentious subject in the Magic Valley.  Milk brings money to an area that needs it.  Idaho producers grossed over a billion dollars last year - but milk also divides neighbor against neighbor.  Wells have been tainted by manure, air blackened with flies.  Property values near dairies have plummeted.  Those negatives lead many residents to believe there are just too many cows in the county.

Commissioner Howell: "That's probably the third most common complaint we get."

Hand:  "Really?  That they think there are more animals than the permits allow?"

Howell: "That's correct."


Hand: "How do you deal with that?  Do you have somebody that goes out and actually counts cows?"

Howell: "We do not.  And at this present time Im not sure if any county in the state has that.  And that's where the conflict comes in . . . If you want to cut to the chase, it's always about money.  How much can the county afford to go hire an enforcement officer to get somebody to stand there and count cows on somebody's dairy?"

 
That's why county records can be incomplete and confusing.  Cash-strapped counties instead rely on the Idaho Department of Agriculture to actually catalogue cow numbers.  Marv Patten, the department's Dairy Bureau Chief says they don't physically count cows either.  Just imagine standing amid ten thousand cows with a pencil and paper .

Patten: " . . . and you're going one cow, two cows, three cows, four.  That can be very time consuming and then the degree of accuracy would be very, very suspect."


Instead, the Department of Agriculture uses a math formula.  They take the pounds of milk a dairy says it produces per day and divides that by what they figure a cow's daily output should be.  Then they factor in calves and cows that aren't milking and come up with an estimated total.  Because most large dairies are computerized, Patten says inspectors can double check their totals against the dairies own records.


Patten: "You can do your formula and you can actually go in and say, OK, push the button there on your computer and how many animals does you computer actually say you have?"

Marv Patten says the ag department estimates are usually close to a dairy's own computer numbers.  But they aren't close enough say critics like Diana Obenauer, another Jerome County Commissioner.


Obenauer: "I think there's a discrepancy in what Marv Patten says and what actually is on the ground.  Our numbers don't mach.  The state numbers don't match and the county numbers don't match.  And so obviously the system is broke and it needs to be fixed."


Several Idaho counties impacted by factory dairies, including Jerome, have declared moratoriums on new and expanded facilities.


Obenauer: "... so that we could basically say OK, before we go any further, before it becomes a real crisis here, lets get a handle on how many cows we actually do  have and can this county sustain that number."


But the dairy industry has lost patience with a series of county moratoriums.  On December 26th they sued Jerome County to stop a planned moratorium extension.  Bob Naerebout is with the Idaho Dairymen's Association.


Naerebout:  "We just look at it as a way to try and stop producers in their operations and we can't tolerate that.  I mean there are economic impacts when they put on moratoriums."

 
Naerebout claims the dairy industry generates 22 thousand jobs, directly and indirectly, in Idaho.  That industry has now sued two Idaho counties and threatens to sue a third.  If successful, those lawsuits could force commissioners to allow more cows, counted or not, into their counties.