The Politics of Poop

July 25, 2007

This is a tale about poop and where
it goes.
As the old children’s book says, “Everybody poops,” but not everybody thinks about what happens after they do.
There are poop controversies all over Northwest Michigan involving politics and big money.
Here’s a quick primer on poop in Northern Michigan. Rural folks use septic tanks, which collect the solid stuff, while the watery stuff, i.e., pee, goes into a drainfield, which drips through dirt, making it pure enough to drink. Which is good, because it hits the groundwater, and quite possibly your well.
For years and years, stout-hearted men and women—blessed at birth with no gag reflex—have driven honey trucks and pumped human waste out of septic and holding tanks. They screen the waste to get rid of the big stuff, and spray or inject their brown, liquid loads onto fields.
About 25 percent of Michigan’s 10 million residents use septic systems, according to state figures. 
You might be surprised to learn that human waste—or septage—is used like animal fertilizer and applied to farmland. Corn, rye, or cherry trees suck up the nutrients from the waste. This is actually good for the environment. If nothing is planted, the nutrients—such as nitrates and phosphates—can pollute groundwater, said Matt Campbell, DEQ’s septage program coordinator.

WAITING GAME
There are rules, though. After septage is applied to a field, a farmer must wait 38 months to harvest root crops such as carrots; 14 months before harvesting above-ground crops, i.e., tomato or basil; and 30 days before harvesting crops such as corn or cherries. Thirty days sounds short, but Campbell said that haulers typically fertilize the ground before corn is planted. Otherwise, the trucks would wreck the stalks.
As a note, human waste is not allowed on organic food, said Bob Struthers of Oryana Food Co-op.
I asked Walt Steuer about the “yuck” factor in all this. He’s been pumping septic tanks in Grand Traverse County for 40 years.
“If you’re a city girl, it’s weird. If you’re a farm boy, it’s great—it’s free fertilizer. If someone sees one tampon on the ground, they think it’s a sin. But it’s all in your head, what you think is right or wrong.”
But it’s a practice that’s getting more scrutiny as people move to Northern Michigan. Subdivisions have sprouted in farmlands. Folks don’t like the idea of spraying septage, nor the gagging odor of human waste as it’s sprayed onto dirt. (A new technology that injects the septage below the surface is much less odiferous.) Some fear exposure to disease-causing organisms such as E. coli, salmonella, and parasitic worms. Others say that septage applied in sandy conditions damages pristine rivers and bays because of its high concentration of phosphorous.
“There’s a lot of controversy over this right now because people have the mentality of ‘eeeeew,’” said Madeline Houdek, owner of Houdek’s Pumping Service. “But land application has existed for centuries, ever since the first septic tank was invented. What’s the difference between using human and animal waste as fertilizer for crops?”

TOUGHER REGULATIONS
In 2004, the state Department of Environmental Quality stiffened the regulations on septic haulers. One new law requires haulers to take their loads to a septage facility instead of applying it on land — if the facility is within 15 miles of where they pick up the waste. In 2010, that goes to a 25-mile radius.
That law means the cost of getting your septic or holding tank pumped will double because haulers must pay 12 cents a gallon plus the cost of gas and time.
All this has put pressure on communities to build sewers and treatment plants. Also adding pressure is the fact that nutrients leak from drainfields and cause weed growth in lakes. Yet municipal sewers are expensive (ranging from $10,000 to $32,000 per home). And sewer lines are magnets for strip development.
And let’s say your septic tank slew is hauled to a facility for treatment. Using the magic of microbes, the septage can be rid of dangerous bacteria, viruses, and nutrients. But the facility is left with a thick sludge, which still often ends up on farmland or sold as crop fertilizer.
Following is a whiff of the current poo-problems and how people are struggling to solve them in Antrim County:

It’s All Downhill in Antrim County...

Over in Milton Township, poop is on Keith Termaat’s mind.
Last spring, he was enjoying his retirement from Ford Motor Company. Then he learned that Whit Blakeslee, a septic hauler, had gone to the township’s zoning board of appeals to ask for permission to build a septage silo. He needed a place to store human waste over the winter because it is unlawful to spread septage on frozen ground.
Termaat, a former engineer, did not like the idea of a septage silo, and particularly not uphill from him. “As you know, shit runs downhill,” he joked. He hired attorney Karen Ferguson who objected that the meeting was held illegally (the notice was put in a newspaper that did not meet the requirement of being published for a year or more).
The proposal was shelved, but Termaat soon found out that Blakeslee was injecting more than a million gallons of septage annually into 50 acres of cornfields and the cherry orchard of his farmer friend, Mark White. Five hundred feet of shady woods separates the stream and the cornfield.
There was the “yuck” factor, of course, but Termaat feared that the septage was contaminating Mitchell Stream, a pretty little brook that runs into Lake Michigan a few houses down from his shoreline home. He found notable experts to take samples, and the E. coli counts were consistently at unsafe levels. He told his grandkids they could no longer swim on the Lake Michigan beach near the creek, and that upset him.

ENVIRONMENTALISTS
Termaat, a well-heeled and distinguished man, lives in an immaculate home. He uses no fertilizer and no sprinklers. He considers himself an environmentalist and gained a new mission: to start a movement that would end land application of septage in Antrim County. So far, he has raised $12,000 and attracted interest from 150 people (a group called the Milton Neighbors).
On the other side is Blakeslee, owner of Gmoser’s Septice Service—a younger and also a good-looking guy, who defends applying septage on crops. He considers it the ultimate way to recycle human waste, and it helps save money for farmers, who are financially stressed by high diesel costs.
Blakeslee said he is not breaking the law. “If Keith doesn’t like the law, he should change it,” he said.
Blakeslee stopped injecting White’s cornfield and orchard in January. He and White, who also consider themselves environmentalists, said they wanted to know if the septage had anything to do with the high E. coli counts in the stream and are personally paying for a long-term water sampling study. They also need the data to settle a lawsuit from a lakeshore owner who says he can’t sell his house due to the high counts.
The state Department of Environmental Quality is also doing a five-week study as you read this.
So far, everyone’s numbers show the E. coli counts are still high, but generally lower than last year’s numbers. Termaat said the lower numbers prove his case, and believes residual septage and cattle manure are still causing problems. Blakeslee said the high numbers prove it’s not from land-applied septage. And DEQ Aquatic biologist Sarah Holden suspects that wildlife poop might be the cause and maybe a drain field at the lakeshore. It might be several different sources, she said.

TOWNSHIP RIFT
Meanwhile, the issue has created a rift in Milton Township. White said some people will no longer buy corn from him, saying it’s fertilized with human waste (not true—the septage fertilized corn is fed to cows and the cherry trees are too young to bear fruit). Blakeslee has lost long-time customers to another septage hauler.
Blakeslee still wants to build the septage silo, which Ferguson has vowed to fight if he builds it in Milton Township. She said the township is exactly the wrong place for the silo because it’s a high-water table area filled by lakes. Blakeslee counters the silo will be well engineered with a back-up berm and lining in case of a rupture.
Termaat and many others are putting their septage where their mouth is, so to speak, and paying double to get their septage hauled to Grand Traverse County’s septage facility. The environment is worth it, he said.
“Human waste is entirely different than animal waste. Everything that goes into our mouths goes into our waste—birth control pills, anti-depressants, and human pathogens. Seagulls flock to it. Human waste is just isn’t the same as fertilizing with cow manure.”
True enough, but animals are given antibiotics and hormone injections, too, and septage facilities don’t test for or get rid of pharmaceuticals, Campbell said.
Blakeslee contends there is another side to the environmental question. People with tight budgets wait too long to get their septic tank pumped, and the poo really gets out of hand, polluting land and water.
Blakeslee said he still needs the silo because taking his septage all the way to the Grand Traverse County Septage Plant is too expensive. Plus diesel trucks pollute the air.
This septage silo question is critical. If Blakeslee builds it, he said he’ll be allowed to land apply until 2025.
Who knows how this one will end? Probably in court.
The good news: all three parties are sharing their water test results—the Milton Neighbors, the DEQ, and Blakeslee/White. With the results exceeding federal water quality standards, there’s a good chance that the creek will be selected next year by the DEQ for special study. “It will mean a quantum improvement in the water quality,” Termaat said.

Next week: Shit happens in Grand Traverse County.

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Animal Factories

H
ere’s an interesting irony. Three years ago, Michigan banned the practice of applying human waste to fields during winter months, yet there is no such law governing the vast quantities of cow and pig manure from CAFOs — concentrated animal feeding operations.
The 2004 law was enacted because human septage can’t percolate down in frozen soil, said Matt Campbell, DEQ’s septage program coordinator. “And because the septage can’t incorporate in frozen soil, you don’t have the pathogen kill you’d get in the warmer months.”
“That is one of the very weird twists of this whole issue,” said Gayle Miller, legislative director of the Sierra Club of Michigan. “Animal waste is much more significant than human sewage. It’s a highly concentrated solution not only of manure, but also birth fluids, blood, pesticides, cleaning agents and anything else that falls on the floor of a CAFO – even dead animals. Yet the laws governing the disposal of that toxic mixture are extremely weak. Traverse City would never be allowed to dump all their sewage on the ground. But CAFOs that generate much more waste than TC do it every day.”

LIVING A NIGHTMARE
To put this in perspective, the manure output of one large CAFO is equal to the total human sewage of Antrim, Benzie, and Charlevoix counties combined (69,000 people).
CAFOs are even known to spray their sewage on standing corn. In the Sierra Club documentary, “Living a Nightmare: Animal Factories in Michigan”, an opening scene shows a CAFO spraying manure on standing corn, which was fed to cows, which people eat. They aren’t supposed to put it on fields that are used for human food, but waste can seep into a creek, which a neighboring farmer can draw on to irrigate food crops. CAFOs also apply waste to no-till fields where it’s highly likely to run off into surface wasters and stink, Miller said.
Several of Michigan’s CAFOs are owned by former Dutch farmers, who flocked to Ohio, Michigan and Indiana, three states known for their lax agricultural laws. The farmers left the Netherlands earlier this decade after the soils of their low-lying country became saturated with phosphates and nitrates, which cause lakes and streams to choke with weeds and hurt fish. Because of this, the Netherlands tightened its regulations, including the ban on spreading manure during autumn, winter and on frozen ground.
CAFOs and ethanol refineries go hand in hand because livestock eat the corn byproduct produced by the refineries.
That’s relevant here because a company with plans to build a refinery in McBain is now talking to several farm operations about setting up operations, according to Rick Johnson, a partner with NextGen Energy LLC of Livonia, Michigan.
“We’ll take [the corn byproduct] offsite if we have to, but we’d prefer not to do that,” he said.
From Miller’s perspective, the practice of spreading waste on frozen ground is a “disaster waiting to happen –from lagoons breaking to people getting sick from well water contamination. It’s only a matter of time before something awful happens if we don’t tighten up our laws.”

To watch the Sierra Club documentary online, google Living a Nightmare: Animal Factories in Michigan.”