Despite Controversy, Fur Farming Rather Mundane

See also "Making a Living Out of Mink", by Baird Helgeson, Post Bulletin, Feb. 5, 2000.

By Baird Helgeson

Few people understand the allure of mink fur like Jim Galazen. "It is such a beautiful product," said Galazen, owner of Kersten's Furs in downtown Rochester. "It is so beautiful and designers can do so many things with it."

But behind the glamorous world of mink fashions is a fur industry terrorized by animal rights groups. While fur farming is a quiet and often solitary pursuit, the opposition has proven to be violent and masterful at eluding authorities.

Minnesota is the third-largest fur-farming state in the nation. Animal rights groups have not attacked any agricultural industry with the same vengeance as the fur industry, said Teresa Platt, executive director of Fur Commission U.S.A., a California-based organization that promotes the industry.

Making An Impact

Activists such as Katie Fedor of Minneapolis have given all fur farmers pause, Platt said. Fedor, a leader with the Animal Liberation Front, an animal rights organization thas been described by the FBI as a "domestic terrorist" group, has a history of participating in or having knowledge of animal releases around the country.

"Animals in fur farms suffer psychological stress from confinement while waiting to die," Fedor said. Animal Liberation Front members "are using all means necessary to end all cruelty to animals. We approve any actions that help free animals in captivity."

While in college at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul, Fedor was arrested and charged in Austin for protesting Hormel Food Corp.'s Spam Jam, the annual festival celebrating the company's famous canned meat product.

The sometimes violent and illegal tactics of animal rights groups have had an impact. Many fur farmers in the region declined to be interviewed for this article, fearing animal rights activists would target their operations. None of the fur farmers would give their exact location or discuss their business in any way that could tip off animal rights activists to their location.

Animal rights activists have a list of many fur farms in the state, but not all. "And we want to keep it that way," Platt said. Fur industry officials have a list of names of animal rights activists around the country.

Work Goes On

Despite the controversy surrounding fur farming, the farm work is fairly mundane. It revolves around the reproductive cycle of the animals, fur farmers say. Mink breed in February and March and their young are born in April and May.

The routine is nearly the same each day. Grind food into a chunky paste, feed the animals, check for illness and repeat. But the threat of terrorism is never far from their minds.

Mink farmers feed their animals a pasty mix of special cereal, dog food, eggs, cheese, turkey livers and fish. A mink farm of 3,000 animals or more can go through two tons of food a day.

Most mink feed would otherwise end up in a landfill. The eggs, cheese and dog food are usually outdated, said Kent Disse, a Minnesota fur farmer. The food is fine for animals to eat and turkey livers are never in short supply.

The brownish paste is slathered on the top of the 6-inch by 2-foot mink cages, allowing the animals to nibble on it at will.

The machinery and the food can get expensive. Mink farmers order the food by the truck load and are masters at finding deals. Some mink farmers in the region have capitalized on the recent closure of a dog food company and bought truck loads of leftover supply.

Still Ill-Tempered

Mink can be sneaky and ill-tempered creatures. Seventy years of captivity and breeding have done little to calm their ravenous ways. They have become slightly less irascible over the years, but not much. "They used to go crazy when an airplane would fly over," said one southern Minnesota mink farmer.

The average life span of a farm-raised mink is 1.7 years, which is slightly longer than their life expectancy in the wild, Platt said.
Mink farmers use carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide bottled gas to kill the animals. Those are the only methods of euthanasia endorsed by the American Veterinary Medical Association. Animal rights supporters reject all euthanasia techniques, no matter how humane.

Several Raids

Activists have raided several area mink farms in recent years and so far managed to outfox authorities. In August 1998, Animal Liberation Front members cut holes in the fence at the Zumbro River Fur Farm, on the outskirts of Rochester, and "liberated" nearly 3,000 mink.

Later that day, Animal Liberation Front officials issued a press release to local authorities and the media taking credit for the act. No arrests were made, but authorities are still investigating.

Within days, the same group took credit for a mink release in Beloit, Wis., that freed more than 3,000 mink. Again, Liberation Front officials issued a press release taking credit for the act. Again, no charges were filed.

The organization's "tagging" of such crimes infuriates authorities, said an FBI agent in the Twin Cities who tracks "ecoterrorism" in the region. But it reveals a pattern about the perpetrators. Anyone who commits an act of environmental terrorism and claims credit on behalf of the Animal Liberation Front is automatically a "member." There are no membership rosters, no boards of directors, just a collective sentiment that is enough to inspire certain people to commit crimes.

Authorities believe the perpetrators are typically ad hoc bands of two to six individuals who focus on hitting specific fur farms.

Animal rights crimes have cost fur farms more than $175 million over 10 years, according to a report by the U.S. Justice Department.

The Animal Liberation Front is an underground organization that formed in Britain in the 1960s and has now spread to the U.S., where the FBI classifies it as a "domestic terrorist" organization.

The organization's attacks on fast food restaurants, leather stores, medical research labs and fur industry facilities have gained the attention of state and local law enforcement agencies, Platt said. Fire bombing and arson attacks have increased in frequency and seriousness. ALF raids on fur farms have also escalated, resulting in the deaths of thousands of mink and the loss to farmers of millions of dollars, she said.

Pushed Out of Business

For some fur farmers, the pressures of staying competitive mixed with the fear of being targeted by animal rights groups is pushing them out of business.

"What they are doing is working," said a southern Minnesota fur farmer. "They are getting a lot more serious. I don't know what they are capable of. But it has reached a scary level and I don't know what's next." Scott Stevens, co-owner of the Zumbro River Fur Farm, said he has received numerous death threats and had protesters at his farm as recently as December.

But animal releases tend to be more dramatic than effective, Platt said. The animals frequently die in the wild or quickly circle back to the farm. Many mink end up killing each other, starve or get run over by cars.

So animal rights activists have turned to more extreme measures. On March 11, 1997, animal rights activists targeted the Utah Fur Breeders Agricultural Cooperative, which provides food for the state's $20 million-a-year mink industry. They planted five pipe bombs in trucks and an office that blew shrapnel 800 feet as the co-op burst into flames, according to news reports. Two families living on the premises escaped without injury.

Fur farmers like Disse worry about the escalation of terrorism. Disse, who has 30,000 mink, has hired security guards, bought guard dogs and installed a security system. "I am not taking any chances," he said. "This is like a war."

For further information contact: Teresa Platt, Executive Director, Fur Commission USA, 826 Orange Avenue, #506, Coronado, CA 92118 USA, (619) 575-0139, (619) 575-5578/fax, furfarmers@aol.com, www.furcommission.com.

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