Editor’s note:  Animal activists and their proponents in Iowa often identify Nebraska as a state where livestock farming is flourishing despite intensified regulation.  CSIF Executive Director Aaron Putze traveled to southeast Nebraska earlier this year to visit with those who know – farmers and those who work with them.  What he found differs greatly from what activists are saying.  

Last  in a three-part series.

The difficulties livestock farmers face in Nebraska worry Doug Baade, a veteran swine specialist for Farmers Cooperative of Plymouth.

Plymouth is a small town in southeast Nebraska and its past, present and future is tied directly to farmers like Holtmeier.

“We’ve lost too many farmers, including a lot of them that raise 1,400 head,” Doug said as we traveled by pickup across the rolling countryside.  He shook his head silently as the pivots stood motionless.

Not long ago, Doug said he drove by a once-active feedlot that was home to 1,200 head.  It now sits empty.  “The owner just penciled it out with the new laws and decided he couldn’t make it work.  He just shut down.”

Sadly that story is being repeated across parts of Nebraska where families have built their homes and communities by marketing hogs, cattle and milk.

But increasing regulations are just part of the reason why farmers are finding it more difficult to remain involved in their chosen occupation.  Increasing opposition from those opposed to livestock farming is also taking its toll.

Reynolds, population 104, is located 20 miles southwest of Plymouth.  The town is home to an abandoned rail line…and not much else.  Yet some residents are opposing a new hog building recently constructed 3 miles south of town.   

The building site, home to 8,000 hogs, is owned and managed by Bruce Livingston, a life-long farmer “who’s focused on what he does and loves to raise hogs,” says Doug. 

Livingston lives three miles east of the site, adjacent to the Kansas border, with his wife and three children.  His farm employs 25 people, with benefits.  If ever there was a place for livestock farms, this would be it.

“This is the kind of area you need to have livestock,” said Doug while motioning to the surrounding countryside.  “There’s not much out here and what’s here depends on livestock farming. 

“If we can’t raise it here, I’m not sure what the alternative is.”

That’s because crop farming doesn’t pay… at least not much.  Corn and soybean farmers operating in southeast Nebraska can’t depend on Mother Nature.  Instead, they rely on irrigation – or pivots – to make a crop.  That costs money.

“This area is long-time family oriented.  People are proud of their heritage – in fact, you’ll see as many country churches here as anwhere,” Doug said.  “We also have very strong traditional values.  We have a culture that wants to keep the young kids on the farm but we’re prohibiting those opportunities through rules and regulations.”

For Doug, southeast Nebraska shouldn’t be losing livestock, but gaining it.

“In this particular area, there is opportunity for growth… a lot of growth,” he said.  “In fact, this is the kind of area where you need to have livestock.  It’s what we need to survive.”

A drive to nearby Beatrice underscores Doug’s remarks.  There you’ll find three vet clinics, a bustling elevator, trucking companies, three implement dealerships and three major car dealerships.  You’ll also find a community college where Doug’s oldest son, Kyle, is enrolled.

While no one knows what the future will hold for Doug, his family and the communities of Plymouth and Beatrice, one thing is for sure: if livestock farmers don’t flourish, nothing else will.

“There’s a dark cloud on the horizon,” Doug says.  “I hope it lifts.”

Part I - - Part II -- Photo Essay