It seems the great city of Ocean Shores — known for its pristine beaches, frequent Facebook arguments, and a roundabout whale carving that serves as our unofficial philosopher king — has decided to wade into the great poultry-and-pork debate: Should residents be allowed to raise chickens and pigs in their backyards?

Like all matters of civic importance here, the community is split. On one side, you have the opponents: people horrified at the thought of their property value being forever tainted by the sound of a rooster’s pre-sunrise karaoke set. They worry about the stench of pig pens wafting into their retirement patios, the possibility of contaminated eggs taking down the local bingo crowd, and the sheer unpredictability of farm animals who, as they put it, “don’t know what bedtime is.” These are the same people who complain when a neighbor’s wind chime is too loud, so it’s no surprise they’re bracing for farmageddon.

On the other side are the hopeful pragmatists. They argue, “If it’s done properly, with permits, inspections, and some good old-fashioned responsibility, it can work.” Which, of course, assumes a level of discipline our community hasn’t exactly been famous for. Let’s be honest: we can’t even keep our dogs from roaming the streets like furry gang members, but somehow we’re supposed to believe Farmer Bob is going to keep his pigs corralled?

Then there’s the ecological side effect. Chickens and pigs are basically a five-star Yelp review for coyotes, cougars, and every other carnivore that’s ever dreamed of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Invite farm animals into town and don’t be surprised when the coyotes start filing change-of-address forms. “Ocean Shores: Home of the Free, Land of the Buffet.” Nothing brings a community together like a string of Nextdoor posts titled, “Coyote Took My Hen Again — City Do Something!”

But the real issue isn’t about eggs, bacon, or even coyotes. It’s about us. Ocean Shores is a city that loves to argue over trivial matters while potholes or streets go un-repaired or drag on for decades. This is just the next great debate in a long tradition of dividing ourselves over whether the sky is too blue or the foghorn is too loud.

At the end of the day, the only thing we can count on is that no matter how City Hall votes, the animals will win. Either they’ll be in your backyard—or they’ll be at your back door, asking politely for dinner.

CJ Ripley is a self-described Ocean Shores survivor.