An Amish Response To Orchard's Manure Problem

Editor’s note: This article was submitted Saloma Furlong. Saloma Miller Furlong spent her first twenty-three years in the Amish community of Geauga County, Ohio. She is the author of two books, Why I Left the Amish and Bonnet Strings: An Amish Woman’s Ties to Two Worlds. She appeared in two Emmy-nominated PBS documentaries “The Amish” and “The Amish: Shunned” that premiered on American Experience. She is the author of the blog About Amish.


What is happening in Orchard, Nebraska, sounds reminiscent of what happened in Kentucky in the city of Auburn several years ago that led to two Amish men being jailed for failing to use catch bags on their horses. Now the Amish are boycotting the city of Auburn.

The conflict of what to do about horse manure on public roads in Amish country is not likely to go away anytime soon. Their population is doubling every 18 to 20 years because of their large families and retention rate of 85%. As of June 2015, there are Amish living in 31 states and in one Canadian province.  So the Amish perspective is not only here to stay, it is also spreading. 

Horse dung is basically reprocessed grass with a few oats in the mix. In fact, composted horse manure is sold at gardening outlets for use in organic gardening. And yet some see it as a costly liability. People who want to require Amish to clean up after their horses seem to be saying, “Make my world perfect,” or “keep my world sterile,” whereas, Amish know that the world isn’t sterile or perfect — it actually includes horseshit. 

I grew up Amish, so I know both sides of this issue. From inside a buggy, one has a close-up view of horse manure being a natural outcome. Riding behind a live animal with instincts is precarious and one soon learns that horses are touchy about their backsides. This makes utilizing a catch bag a dangerous idea. Stopping a buggy on a city street to “clean up” is just as dangerous. 

I’ve been a motorist for more than thirty years, and have driven through my share of horse manure. The “older” piles are like driving over dry grass. It’s the fresh heaps that one can feel and hear coating the bottom of the car, and it’s not the best-smelling stuff on earth. But I’d rather smell it than the exhaust from a car that is burning oil or a truck spewing black smoke. And like many others, I like to travel through Amish country and admire their pristine farms and buy their crafts, baked goods, and produce. I see horse manure along the roads Amish travel as a by-product of these advantages — I simply cannot have one without the other. 
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This conflict has cropped up in newer Amish settlements such as those in Milaca, Minnesota (2015), Loyal, Wisconsin (1970); Brown City, Michigan (1987); Huevelton and Gouverneur, New York (1975); and Negley, Ohio (2010). In 2006, there was a mystery in my home community of Middlefield, Ohio, about who was stealing horse manure from the town streets and parking lots at night, threatening the job of the person hired for cleaning it up. Perhaps someone figured out how to turn it into a pile of money. 

There are creative ways of dealing with horse manure. I think the Amish should clean up in parking lots when their horses are tied to hitching posts and won’t cause traffic problems. Someone could also be hired to clean up the horse waste from the streets at dawn, or another low-traffic time of the day. 

The easiest solution is to get used to it. Manure happens. We can try to avoid it, but I don’t think we’d succeed. And the best solution of all is to collect the horse manure and compost it for sale or for use in community organic gardens. With a little imagination, this “problem” can be turned into an asset.