Soo-wee! ...... Phooey!

Sick of pig farm stench, Tewksbury group seeks law

Neighbor David Powers, with his son in his backyard, calls the pig farm stench unbearable. (JIM DAVIS/GLOBE STAFF)

TEWKSBURY - As David Powers drove past the pumpkin patch and corn maze at Krochmal Farm last week, the farmer in the field waved, making a very unfriendly hand gesture. Obscene, in fact.

Tewksbury may be a picturesque New England town, but a fight over a pig farm's stench has the community in an uproar, frustrating public officials and turning neighbors into bitter enemies.

Pig farm owner John Cave Sr. feels under siege, saying he's only trying to earn a living. "Get used to it," Cave said of the smell.

In this town 30 minutes north of Boston, there are no rules overseeing pig farming. That's because historically, pigs have outnumbered people. Not anymore.

Today, one of the largest pig farms in the state sits in the midst of a growing suburban community of 30,000. Pigs live in neighborhoods where sport utility vehicles rule and backyard swimming pools are increasingly the norm. At Krochmal Farm, named for farmers who tilled the land generations ago, more than 900 pigs live in a barn perched atop a 500,000 gallon manure pit, all of which sits a light breeze away from vast tracts of ranch houses and minimansions.

Stranger still, the exact number of pigs at the farm is apparently a poorly-kept secret. Making that figure public jeopardizes national security, state and local officials have said.

"We have a unique situation here," said state Senator Susan Tucker, Democrat of Andover, who is leading an effort to regulate the farms. "When families can't go outside on hot summer days, something is wrong."

With Tucker's backing, and in the absence of state rules governing pig farms, a group of residents has banded together to petition for stricter rules for swine farmers. Residents will have to vote on the measure - the first of its kind in Massachusetts - Oct. 2. The petition will then need approval by the state Legislature, even though it will affect only Tewksbury.

The new rules would require swine farmers to get a permit from a newly established authority. They would also be asked to file manure management, pest control, and environmental plans with the town. Problems, including vile odors, would be reviewed by the new permitting authority, which could revoke a pig farmer's permit.

According to state agricultural officials, there are 58 pig operations of 10 pigs or larger in Massachusetts, mostly in Western Massachusetts. What makes Tewksbury special is that despite its proximity to Boston, it is home to not one but three pig farms: Krochmal Farm is joined by the smaller Lipp and Olivera farms, which did not return a reporter's phone calls.

Lou-Ann Clement, town health director, said she has fielded 144 complaints about foul odors since Jan. 1, nearly all about Krochmal Farm. Earlier this year, health department workers began visiting the scene of complaints and using their own sense of smell to document the intensity of the odor, using a scale of 0 ("no smell") to 4 ("horrible"), she said.

Most of the complaints rate a 3 or 4, she said, noting that the problem has been a drain on town resources.

"It's a sniff test," Clement said, "and it's time-consuming."

State and local officials said they are aware of no device currently used to measure a smell's offensiveness. And under state law, the smells emanating from farms "engaged in generally accepted farming procedures" are exempt from state nuisance laws. This includes smells from pig and cow farms.

Left with few alternatives, Tewksbury residents have logged their experiences with bad smells on Powers's website, Tewksburyodor.org, where Powers has raised the ire of pig farm owners by complaining about the stench of the Krochmal pigs and rallied other residents to do the same.

Recent entries complain about stinking garbage on Morningside Drive, the stench of manure on Carleton Road, and unbearable combinations of the two on South Street. Some residents blame the Krochmal pig feeding operation, which involves boiling leftover restaurant and supermarket food. Others erupt after the manure is composted and spread on the corn- and pumpkin-growing operation.

Some complaints come from residents at a luxury subdivision next to the farm, even though the people who live there signed a legal document recognizing the farm's existence at the time of purchase and the pig farm was there long before the residents.

Powers, the pig farm opponent, lives nearby in a Cape-style house with his wife and two young sons. A graphic designer and manager of two Subway sandwich shops, he wants people to know he's not some "yuppie who doesn't like farms." But three years ago, he said, the pig stench went from bad to unbearable when Krochmal Farm expanded its pig operation before they had legal permission to do so.

It became "horrific, like the bottom of a dumpster," Powers said. "I don't think a factory farm should be in a suburban Boston neighborhood."

Powers has pieced together information about the farm, using public records searches and satellite maps. If that seems like spying, it is. Local health officials refuse to give information about the number of pigs on Krochmal Farm, saying to release that information violates Homeland Security rules protecting the secrecy of the nation's food supply.

Clement did confirm that the farm underwent an unauthorized expansion, which was approved by local officials because the building was deemed sound.

"Basically they built a new pig barn . . . without the necessary approval or building permits," she said.

That angered neighbors, and the town ultimately fined the Cave family for building the barn without proper construction permits. Powers said was deeply disturbing to think that the town's pig farms could expand without public notice.

More than 300 people signed a petition in favor of the new pig regulations that would penalize pig farmers who threaten the environment and quality of life. Of particular concern is whether manure runoff from the farm will seep into wetlands.

"Everybody knew there was a pig farm" in the neighborhood when they moved in, Powers said. "Nobody knew they would turn it into a factory farm."

It's a view state officials have little sympathy for. Scott Soares, assistant commissioner of agricultural resources, said the Krochmal pig barn is "state of the art." Neighbors should have questioned whether the pig population would rise before moving there, he said.

"It comes down to people really understanding what agriculture is. It's not a hobby for these folks, it's a way of life," he said.

It's not a bad way of life. John Cave, Jr. and his brother Greg both live in large houses in the luxury subdivision near the farm.

Standing near a pumpkin patch in a T-shirt stained with sweat from working on the farm, John Cave, Sr. said the notion of a community-wide vote to regulate his operation is infuriating. And tossing aside national security concerns, he openly stated he has "in the neighborhood" of 900 pigs, none slaughtered on site.

He blamed problems on Powers, calling him a troublemaker and saying that years back, he would've resolved their disagreement man to man, "the old-fashioned way."

"I don't want to lose what I've worked all my life for," he said. "It stinks."