Orchard operator fights to use cannon
Facing noise complaints, he says it protects his apple crop from hail
A series of hailstorms devastated the Southern Vermont Orchard's apple crop in 2007.
This summer, the owner resorted to using a hail cannon, a noisemaking machine that produces sound waves that he believes disrupt the formation of hailstones.
Scientists snicker at such devices. But users swear by them. As for the neighbors, they just swear.
"It sounds like artillery fire," said Gregory Connors, a 38-year-old software designer whose children have been awakened by the booms.
The effectiveness of hail cannons has been disputed for decades. But the devices have enjoyed a resurgence in recent years, with farmers in California, Colorado, Michigan, Mississippi, Nebraska, Ohio and Texas employing more modern ones.
"There is no science behind it," said hail expert Griffith Morgan Jr., a retired meteorologist from Westminster, Colo. "The science that is presented is absolutely bogus. I have no reason to believe this can work."
Southern Vermont Orchards owner Harold Albinder paid about $40,000 for his cannon after hail ruined $600,000 worth of his crop in four storms in 2007. The device, which is about 16 feet tall, is solar-powered and uses acetylene gas ignited by a spark plug. The orchard's manager activates it by cell phone when radar shows a hailstorm approaching. It fires a blast every six seconds, for up to 30 minutes at a time.
This summer, hail damaged crops in part of his 230-acre hillside orchard but left the apples within 1,200 feet of the device untouched, Albinder said.
But oh, the noise.
The booms reverberated through the Bennington valley. Some people in this town of 15,700 thought the noise was from construction work or from history buffs.
"When my wife and I first heard it, we thought it was a battle re-enactment," said Town Manager Stuart Hurd.
Soon, townspeople were complaining to Bennington officials and employees at the Apple Barn, a roadside store and gift shop where the orchard's apples are sold.
"I had a woman come in here and yell at my employees," said Lia Diamond, Albinder's daughter, who runs the store. "There were phone calls. Very unkind."
Connors erected a hand-lettered "No hail cannon" sign on the road leading to the orchard and lobbied town officials to silence it.
Three times, police cited orchard manager Lee Herring, who erected an L-shaped barrier out of 800 hay bales to try to muffle the noise. It wasn't enough. The booms still exceeded the 45-decibel nighttime limit of Bennington's noise ordinance, and Albinder has agreed in the middle of the summer to stop using the cannon for now, in exchange for dismissal of the citations.
But Albinder argues that his cannon is protected under Vermont's right-to-farm law, which exempts certain agricultural practices from local ordinances. Whether that argument would succeed in court is unclear. In 2003, the Vermont Supreme Court said the right-to-farm law did not protect an orchard from a neighbor's lawsuit over noise from its pallet-manufacturing operation because the orchard was not making the equipment before homes began springing up nearby.
If a farm changes its practices, "the right-to-farm law does not necessarily protect that new farm practice," said Phil Benedict, a state official.
Albinder said he will ask the Legislature to override the town ordinance.
"This is my livelihood," he said.