Unless you have been living under a rock, you know Our National Treasure refers to the Buffalo River, our country's first national river. The Buffalo is an old friend of mine. I have floated, swam and fished it many times. I first met the Buffalo when I was attending the University of Arkansas and joined a group of students called the Ozark Hikers. Well, we hiked very little, but I think the Ozark Spelunkers would have been too much of a mouthful for a bunch of college kids.
Yes, we were cave explorers, and pretty unconventional ones. A typical weekend would find us driving around where the Boone Limestone outcropped, pulling up to a rancher or farmer's house with this spiel: "We're from the university, you know that school over in Fayetteville, and we explore caves. Are there any caves around here, and do you mind if we go in 'em?" Almost every rural farmer or rancher in the area where the Boone Limestone outcropped would nod, and soon we would be deep into some cave that probably very few folks knew existed.
I can still hear one old farmer after we asked about any caves on his property, "Yeah, boys, there's one on my back 40, but it ain't no big deal. But one of the Tucker boys went in and said it gets real little, and then there's a big room. Just head off behind the barn down yonder, and you'll see a little opening 'bout 200 yards down across the fence. Watch out for bats and snakes."
That's exactly the kind of cave we were looking for, and in about 15 minutes we were standing there looking at a 6-foot-wide hole in a limestone cliff. Since I was the skinniest of the bunch, I was picked to lead the way. I put on my headlight and 30 minutes later I was into the cave about 200 yards, on my knees with my headlight shining into the darkness, hoping to see the big room the farmer mentioned. The cave was about 10 feet wide to start with, but after about 200 yards it slowly became narrower and smaller until I was crawling, inching along when someone back of me yelled, "Richard, do you see the big room the man told us about?"
"No, but I think the cave may be opening up." I was wrong. Thirty minutes later, after crawling another couple of hundred yards through bat manure, dead bats and mud, I could feel the roof of the cave on my back and the floor of the cave on my stomach. As a lay there in mud and bat guano I figured the Tucker boys must have been midgets, because I was calling it quits.
"Everybody back up!" I yelled. "I can't go any further." I'm not claustrophobic, but there were a few minutes of near panic, since I couldn't turn around in the tight space, and everyone had to crawl backwards for about 100 yards.
I know you're wondering why I'm telling stories about an Ozark cave when I'm supposed to be writing on the Buffalo National River. It's because the caves are the keys to understanding the river. There are over 300 known caves in the Buffalo's watershed, and thousands of small caves, all of which are interconnected, and ultimately all of these caves dump their water into the Buffalo.
A significant part of the Buffalo flows across a landscape created by the Boone Limestone, and a huge amount of water flows out of the Limestone each day into the river. This is the lifeblood of the river. When rains flood the landscape, the water either runs off into streams or percolates down into the Limestone and eventually all of the water not absorbed by the land's topsoil ends up in the river. Of course, the water that falls on the ground and runs off or percolates into the subsurface carries with it a portion of whatever is on the surface of the ground.
If you dump the refuse from 6,500 pigs on fields anywhere on the Buffalo watershed, some of that pig manure is eventually going to end up in the river. Just imagine the amount of waste from a town of 20,000 dumped year after year on the watershed fields, and you will understand the threat to the river.
The factory hog farm is located on the worst terrain in the state and probably in the mid-South. This terrain is called a karst topography. Karst: think of a sponge or Swiss cheese. As rains falls on the fields in the Buffalo National River Watershed, where the hog manure from the holding lagoon is spread, the river will be polluted. That is a virtual certainty. The only question is how much and how long it will take.
As an expert familiar with the geologic setting, I believe the factory farm hog permit should be revoked, because of the overwhelming evidence that the facility will pollute the river. However, establishing the Beautiful Buffalo Action Committee will not stop the hog farm from polluting the river. It can only make watershed recommendations, and the committee has no authority to revoke the permit. The situation is so critical that immediate action is a necessity, and only the governor or the director of the Department of Environmental Quality can stop the Buffalo from being polluted.
Governor, a state agency has made a horrendous mistake in granting a permit to allow the factory hog farm to be located on the worst possible terrain in the mid-South. You should immediately revoke the permit! Your "Pretend to Care Committee" cannot revoke the factory hog farm permit, and unless the hog farm is relocated to a more suitable location, it is almost a certainty the river will be polluted.
What is a more suitable location? A freshman geology student could tell you to move it out of the National Buffalo River Watershed and onto land where the Fayetteville Shale outcrops. It is not fair to just revoke the permit and have the owners of the factory hog farm take a loss. The state is to blame, and the state should step forward and admit they shouldn't have granted the permit, and buy out the hog farm.
Governor, if that doesn't happen, you and the director will be the ones to blame when the Buffalo is polluted. Are you ready for the signs on the boat landings? "No swimming or fishing!"
Richard Mason is a registered professional geologist, downtown developer, former chairman of the Department of Environmental Quality Board of Commissioners, past president of the Arkansas Wildlife Federation, and syndicated columnist. Email [email protected].
Editorial on 10/29/2017