Glass Half Full: Parfum de poultry: The infamous dead chicken odor
That’s not the smell of dog food, that’s the smell of the economy
By Traci Cox, staff writer
Posted on January 29, 2007

Harrisonburg is a unique city. Suspended between being a bustling, traffic-infested college town and an agricultural religious community, there are many places, people and sights that emblemize its small-town charm. Although the beauty of restaurants, monuments and buildings tug at the heartstrings of students and visitors alike, one truly powerful aspect about the area that seizes the senses: the horrid, pungent dog-food smell that emanates from the local poultry factories.

Every local has experienced a nostril-hair burning sensation inside their noses after a heavy rain, dense humidity or a snowfall. The identifiable aroma continually hovers within a half-mile radius around the chicken factories but has the ability, like a nuclear bomb, to create a mushroom cloud effect with even the slightest wind.

There are many disgusting scents that are startlingly similar to the fumes coming from the factories: vomit, a litter box, a toilet that went tragically unflushed, or a dead body that has yet to be discovered.

Silent but deadly, this smell often has a more powerful effect than Mother Nature’s recent menopausal weather on the daily lives of students and townies. While it may appear to be a beautiful day as the sun shines and hardly a cloud appears in the sky, the old cliché “looks can be deceiving” seems all too appropriate. No one is lounging on the Quad. People refrain from sitting outside at restaurants for fear of their clothes becoming permeated with the stench of dead chickens. A slight breeze seems more like the wrath of God than a blessing. Suddenly, what began as a picturesque day turns into a stinky one. 

While the smell of slaughtered chickens is unfortunate, the factories’ purposes are not. Employing hundreds of workers and contributing to the local and national market’s economy, the factories are certainly of benefit to the Harrisonburg and Rockingham area. Many immigrant workers who would otherwise be unemployed find their place within the stainless-steel walls of this giant white building.

Tours of this fascinating emblem of the poultry industry are offered daily, promoting tourism, education and the consumption of much-needed protein. Partnerships with healthy, mainstream companies like Chick-fil-A create a web of industry that employs, feeds and supports citizens of this city and the country as a whole.

Although the factories may be a vegetarian and animal rights activist’s worst nightmare, for the majority of the public, the citizens of Rockingham County are proud to be in the vicinity of one of the largest chicken factories on the East Coast.

It’s a fact: without this smelly slaughterhouse, the quality of life of so many members of the community would drastically decrease. Occasionally having to bury one’s head into the collar of a jacket seems a small price to pay. And it’s not just JMU students who endure this nose-crinkling experience every so often; it’s the entire city of Harrisonburg sauntering around downtown with their hands smothering their faces.

While walking out your door in the morning to find you’ve become nauseous is a bittersweet experience, it is important to remember and appreciate the community in which one lives. To some, it may simply be the pungent odor of death, but that reeking perfume represents millions of dollars, industry and labor. In essence, the chicken factory symbolizes the diversity of the area — and that’s nothing to be covering your nose about.

And if you think the stench of processed poultry is bad, consider how the poor chickens feel.

Traci Cox is a sophomore English major.