Steve Mohoney (left), of the Clinton County Soil & Water Conservation District, gives dairy farmer Dale Tetreault his first look at "Bigfoot". (Photo by David Sommerstein)
Over the last 30 years, plastics
have become indispensable on America’s
farms. They save farmers time and money.
The problem is agricultural plastics are
filling up landfills. In some places,
farmers actually burn the plastic. That
releases dangerous chemicals into the air.
David Sommerstein reports
on a new effort to bale plastics and recycle
them:
Transcript
Over the last 30 years, plastics
have become indispensable on America’s
farms. They save farmers time and money.
The problem is agricultural plastics are
filling up landfills. In some places,
farmers actually burn the plastic. That
releases dangerous chemicals into the air.
David Sommerstein reports
on a new effort to bale plastics and recycle
them:
Farmers must have been paying attention when Dustin Hoffman got that
famous piece of advice in ‘The Graduate’.
“I just want to say one word to you, just one word.”
“Yes, sir?”
“ Are you listening?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“Plastics.”
Plastics are all over the farm today. Plastic greenhouse covers. White sheets
to wrap hay bales. Black plastic feed troughs.
(sound of moving troughs)
Dale Tetreault shakes a tall pile of the feed troughs on his dairy farm in
northern New York State.
“They’re a hard plastic and they hold molasses and minerals.”
Tetreault says the plastics are handy – essential, really – to keep feed fresh
for his 500 cows. But the material’s hard to re-use because it gets dirty and
tears easily.
So Tetreault’s left with a decision – spend a thousand dollars a year to truck
them to the landfill. Or burn them, polluting the air and water.
“Yeah, exactly, I mean, we’re not talking about some light piece of plastic
here. We’re talking about heavy duty plastic.”
A new machine is giving Tetrault a third alternative. It goes by the name of
Bigfoot.
(sound of motor starting up)
Bigfoot is a portable hydraulic press. It crushes used plastic and ties it up
in bales.
“Quite an interesting contraption, that’s for sure.”
Tetreault’s been saving up used farm plastics for a couple months for this
test run.
“Alright, we ready to try this?”
That’s Steve Mahoney, a farm educator with the local soil and water
conservation district. He bought Bigfoot with a $35,000 state grant.
(sound of engine running)
Mahoney and some farmhands stuff dirty plastic sheets into the baler, then
Bigfoot crushes it down. That makes room for more.
(crushing sound)
“Okay, so go on back up.”
Mahoney teaches the farmhands how to run Bigfoot. With the help of the
local farm extension office, he’s baled plastics at nine farms so far. He
wants all of the area’s farmers to share Bigfoot, to keep plastics out of the
landfill or burn pile.
“It’s an obvious problem on the farms. It’s necessary, but the disposal of it
is a problem.”
The big plan is to recycle the plastic. Mahoney’s coordinating with a
recycling firm in Minnesota to pick up 40,000 pounds of plastic bales. They
could be made into plastic lumber or shingles or road filler.
The thing is, there isn’t much of a market for low-grade, dirty plastic right
now. Lois Levitan directs New York’s Ag Plastics Recycling Project at
Cornell University. She says as fuel costs rise and more farmers bale their
plastic, that might change.
“Markets want to know that there’s a certain quantity of product at a
certain level of quantity and they’re going to become increasingly interested
when they know there’s a steady stream.”
(sound of Bigfoot machine popping out a bale)
“Ok, that’s it, that’s the finished product.”
Steve Mahoney presses a button and out pops a thousand pound bale of
plastic. Farmhand Lennie Merculdi brushes his hands.
“Put it this way, trying to put it in a dumpster, to the barn, and never having
enough room for the garbage, that’s not good either. What’s a few minutes?
You get rid of the plastic, it’s convenient, you tie it up and away it goes.”
For The Environment Report, I’m David Sommerstein.