Manure pit accidents are more deadly than not

When someone is overcome by gases in a storage pit or lagoon, survival is unlikely and rescuers can also be killed.

Title: Family & Farmstead Editor, Successful Farming Resides In: Warren County, Iowa Hometowns: Indianola, Iowa & Shadehill, South Dakota Education: Grand View University Expertise: Family features, health and safety, parenting, homesteading Twitter: @LisaFoustPrater Summary Writes the Family section in each issue of Successful Farming magazine, plus contributes to Agriculture.com. Background Lisa spent the first five years after college working in several roles for CMF&Z, an advertising and public relations agency in Des Moines, Iowa, serving agricultural and other clients. She started her career with Successful Farming magazine in 1999, working primarily for the web team and writing product reviews for the magazine. She later wrote for the Living the Country Life magazine and website and has written and edited several cookbooks and other books for Successful Farming and Living the Country Life. Today, Lisa is the Family & Farmstead Editor for Successful Farming, sharing interesting family features, heartfelt editorial columns, and important health and safety information with our readers. Lisa grew up in Indianola, Iowa, aside from a chunk of her childhood spent in Shadehill, South Dakota, population 8. She and her husband, Jayson, enjoy farm life in southeast Warren County, Iowa, where they and their three sons — all Eagle Scouts — have a small herd of cattle. Their two oldest sons are studying journalism and public relations at Northwest Missouri State University, and their youngest is a senior in high school. Education B.A. in Mass Communication, Grand View University ARTICLES AUTHORED BY LISA FOUST PRATER:

Working in a manure pit is one of the dirtiest jobs on the farm, and it’s also one of the deadliest. The majority of people who are overcome by the gases in a storage pit or lagoon do not live to tell the tale.

According to a study from Purdue University, 11 accidents involving livestock waste storage facilities were reported in 2022. Eight of these resulted in fatalities, one of which was a 16-year-old boy.

Between 1975 and 2021, 486 incidents were reported; 288, or 59%, were fatalities.

The average age of these victims was 37, which is significantly lower than the average age of U.S. farmers.

“This indicates that youth and less experienced farmers were more prone to agricultural-waste-related incidents,” the study says.

The most common task leading up to these injuries or fatalities in 2022 was performing maintenance tasks in or around manure storage structures, including pump repairs. This is true with all cases documented since 1975.

Examining data from over the years, the overall trend shows a steady increase in these accidents. Reasons may include more aggressive surveillance, larger capacity agricultural waste storage and handling facilities, and a rising number of livestock confinement operations.

“The upward trend, especially the higher number of incidents after 2015 should, however, be of concern,” the report states.

Manure pit accidents frequently claim more than one victim. Five members of the same family died from asphyxiation due to methane gas in a Michigan manure pit in 1989. A 65-year-old dairy farmer, his 28- and 37-year-old sons, 15-year-old grandson, and 63-year-old nephew climbed into the pit one after the other, trying to save family members who had been rendered unconscious.

Five people, including 9- and 11-year-old girls and their parents, died in a similar fashion in Virginia in 2007. A Pennsylvania farmer and his 14- and 18-year-old sons perished in their manure pit in 2012, and in 2021, three brothers in Ohio died trying to save each other.

When manure held in storage areas breaks down, it produces and releases deadly gases such as methane, hydrogen sulfide, carbon dioxide, and ammonia. Not only do these gases pose a danger in and of themselves, but they also displace oxygen in a confined space.

Cheryl Skjolaas, an Extension agricultural safety and health specialist at the University of Wisconsin, says these gases can quickly reach toxic levels. At just 100 parts per million, hydrogen sulfide is immediately dangerous to life.

“It’s that rotten egg smell, but our olfactory system gets taken over by that gas. We can smell it at very low concentrations, but then it takes over our sense of smell and we no longer smell it,” Skjolaas says.

Other signs indicate the air is not safe to breathe. She says eye irritation is the first red flag, followed by tearing of the eyes, headache, fatigue, dizziness, and trouble focusing.

Having good ventilation can help bring oxygen into the area, but Skjolaas says the only way to know the air is safe to breathe is to use a gas monitor.

Simply being near a pit can be hazardous when manure is being agitated. That process releases concentrated deadly gases into the surrounding air very quickly.

It’s also important for farmers not to have a false sense of security by thinking a particular manure pit is safe because they’ve never had problems with it before. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, dangerous conditions regularly come and go.

In the case of the Michigan family who lost five members in one incident, that particular manure pit had previously been entered on numerous occasions without incident.

Jerry Nelson of Volga, South Dakota, is a retired dairy farmer, author, and regular contributor to our website, Agriculture.com. He’s also one of the lucky few to survive after succumbing to manure pit gases.

In 1988, 30-year-old Nelson crawled into the manure pit on the family dairy farm to unplug a pump. “Unbeknownst to me, hydrogen sulfide, which is heavier than air, was lurking at the bottom of the manure pit. When I bent over to work on the pump, I stuck my head into a puddle of the toxic gas,” he says. “Within moments of entering the pit, I started to feel woozy and immediately began to scramble back out. I didn’t make it. My father found me floating in the manure.”

First responders hauled him out of the pit. He wasn’t breathing and they couldn’t find a pulse. Because he was covered in manure, someone poured a bucket of water on him. He moved a little when the cold liquid hit him, and that’s how the rescue squad knew he was still alive.

Nelson was rushed to the local hospital, where the ER doctor told his family he had zero chance of survival. His wife, who was just 28 years old at the time with two small boys, demanded he be flown to a larger hospital in Sioux Falls. Nurses, pulmonologists, infectious disease specialists, surgeons, and neurologists worked tirelessly to save him.

“At one point, there were as many as nine IV bags hanging from poles parked beside my bed,” he says. “The tubes running into and out of me were a feat of plumbing that rivaled the inner workings of the Death Star.”

Nelson spent more than three weeks in the ICU. “It was a big deal when I was weaned off the respirator. It was a big deal when I moved out of the ICU,” he says. “It was a huge deal when — five weeks after I entered the hospital — I was able to go home and resume my life.”

Nelson says the support of his wife, family, and community got him through this ordeal.

“Graying hair, aching joints, and a memory that is beginning to closely resemble a sieve don’t bother me in the least. I shouldn’t even be here; each day of the past 35 years has been a freebie, a bonus,” he says. “Every sunrise that I get to see is a gift. Every sunset that casts its orange glow across our little farm is a wonder.”