even better acronymic possibilities.
Isabel said, “If y’all’re thinking about raising animals,
what’s wrong with hogs?”
“Ostriches are easier,” said Lee. “They don’t need
routine shots, there’s a strong market for their hide and
they’re a red meat that’s lower in fat and cholesterol
than pork.”
“Plus their waste is not a problem,” said Emma,
wrinkling her pretty little nose. “They don’t stink like
hogs.”
“Yeah, but hogs is more natural,” said Isabel.
“Think of the pretty feather dusters,” I said, playing
devil’s advocate.
“You laugh,” said Lee, “but did you know that some
manufacturers use ostrich feathers to dust their com-
42
HARD ROW
puter chips? They attract microscopic dust particles yet
they don’t have any oils like other birds.”
“You can even sell the blown egg shells at craft fairs,”
said Emma.
As they touted the bird’s good points, Isabel kept
shaking her head. “I’d be plumb embarrassed to tell
folks we was raising ostriches.”
“But it’s something we can think about,” Seth
said and added them to the list he was making on his
notepad.
“What about cotton or peanuts?” asked Andrew.
“We’d maybe have to invest in a picker or harvester,
but neither one of ’em would be all that different from
tobacco.”
Robert’s youngest son Bobby had been listening qui-
etly. Now he said, “Don’t y’all think it’d be good if
we could switch over to something that doesn’t require
tons of pesticides on every acre?”
“Everything’s got pests that you gotta poison,” said
his father.
“Not if we went organic.”
The other kids nodded enthusiastically. “The way the
area’s growing, the market’s only going to get stronger
for organic foods.”
“You young’uns act like we’re some sort of crimi-
nals ’cause we didn’t sit around and let the crops get
eat up with worms and bugs and wilts and nematodes,”
Haywood huffed. “Every time we find something that
works, the government comes and takes it away.”
“Because it doesn’t really work,” said Bobby. “All
we’re doing is breeding more resistant pests and endan-
gering our own health.”
43
