Down on the farm

Frank and Liz Batcha live at ground zero of the debate over development in agricultural land.

Their Blaine County neighborhood consists of one other occupied home, a barn under construction and acres of farmland.

Across the road sits a brewing lawsuit.

The Batchas live in the Prairie Sun "agricultural subdivision," parceled up farmland in the Bellevue Triangle between Pero Road and Browning Lane, south of the city of Bellevue.

The Batchas own one of the subdivision’s 19 parcels, which range in size from 20 to 40 acres cut from a quarter section (160 acres) of farmland.

According to a real estate sign at the entrance to the subdivision, a 20-acre parcel costs $175,000.

The Batchas live on one of the 20-acre parcels and grow hay on 14 of their acres. Liz breeds and trains high-end quarter horses. She owns eight horses at the moment.

With all the open space and solitude, Prairie Sun seems like a nice place to live and aside from an ongoing water dispute, the Batchas like it there.

Some people say they shouldn’t.

Opponents of development in farmland believe the subdivision doesn’t belong there, and that a 20-acre horse ranch is not agriculture use.

One opponent of such development, contract barley grower John Fell Stevenson has sued the county over Prairie Sun developer Steve Kessler’s plan to build more homesites on land across the road from the Batchas.

Stevenson and others in the farm and ranching community think their commercial operations are not compatible with neighboring subdivisions.

Large-scale operators like Stevenson fear lawsuits from people who move to farmland, then find they don’t like being kept awake by late-night hay-cutting and other seasonal operations. When the crop is ready or the weather is about to turn, the crops must be brought in.

But the Batchas, who have nothing to do with the lawsuit, don’t mind living in a farm district. In fact, they sought it out.

Loud farm machinery and the spray from irrigation pivots is to them what the sound of the subway is to someone from the city.

"Living down here is great," Liz said. "I like having my own land and my own space."

Her husband Frank is a doctor with offices at both hospital campuses of the Wood River Medical Center. They’ve lived in Prairie Sun for a year and half.

Both are from rural Ohio and bought their parcel in Prairie Sun because they like the open space. A 20-acre parcel in the Midwest is considered a farm.

Liz finds the argument that people shouldn’t live next to farming operations because it might bother them to be ridiculous.

"If agricultural people are buying out there, I don’t see any problem," Liz said. "This is what I grew up with, so this is what I expect."

Frank agreed.

"You’ve got to have the right kind of people on the land," he said. "If a rooster bothers you, you shouldn’t be living on a farm."

Although the Batchas are newcomers, they’ve gotten to know some of the local folk and buy hay from a farmer down the road.

Frank thinks county measures to prevent landowners from selling to developers are wrong. The county has instituted a moratorium on subdivision applications to give officials time to study their options for controlling development in agricultural areas.

Frank described some of the farmers he’s met as "land-rich but cash-poor," and said they should be able to subdivide what is usually less-than-prime farmland.

"To say to these people after all these years of hard labor that they can’t enjoy the fruits of their labor, that’s unfair."

The only issue for the Batchas is getting irrigation water to their property.

Under the arrangement at Prairie Sun, the water comes off a pivot line that supplies the 480 acres of undeveloped land. Delivery has been inconsistent they said.

"I bought water rights with this land, and I can’t get my water," Liz said. "Somebody with agricultural knowledge would not have set up the system the way they did."

If she was getting the water she needed, Liz said she would be able to keep her quarter horses fed and have a pretty good little horse ranch.

Liz said she makes money raising horses, but it’s not their main source of income.

"You can raise enough to support your operation and break even on your start-up costs eventually."

Their little ranch works for them, despite the large-scale operators’ contentions that it can’t happen.