In case there was any doubt that a major North Carolina industry had its fat in the fire over at the legislature, consider this little vignette (mid-day Wednesday): A group of activists had surrounded a well-dressed woman in one of the Legislative Building's interior courtyards. They were coming on pretty strong, while a few lawmen in uniform kept an eye on things.

Suddenly a member of the group thrust a gallon jug full of something brownish at the woman. Against her better judgment, it seemed, she accepted.

And found herself in proud possession of a jug of what might have been labeled "eau de lagoon." She looked ... disconcerted.

In North Carolina agricultural parlance, a lagoon is a pond in which can be found the bodily excretions of a whole bunch of hogs. The aforementioned activists were not lagoon fans. But many is the hog producer who likes his lagoons -- or, at least, sees them as the best way to get rid of what his animals have just gotten rid of themselves. Best, because they're the cheapest, even if they're smelly and pollution-risky.

Last week happened to bring the climax of a long-running effort to ban the construction of new hog lagoons in the state. The General Assembly -- with the industry's acquiescence -- finally obliged, while also agreeing to spend public money to help some farmers adopt cleaner methods of waste disposal. A sporting gesture, to be sure.

Yet the bill as approved failed to require a phase-out of lagoons and a transition to better waste-disposal technology. Anti-lagoon folks were frustrated. And their frustration was magnified because there even seemed to be an incentive not to make the changeover. Hog farmers would be encouraged to sell the methane gas they could capture from lagoons to the electric companies for power generation.

Even as the legislature was settling for modest progress on the hog clean-up front, it also turned out that North Carolina -- No. 2 nationally in hog production -- was priming itself for a still larger herd.

Envision the production cycle that extends from the huge barns in our eastern counties where hogs are confined while they reach market weight all the way to the grocery store case where we select our bacon, sausage and pork chops.

A hog at the mid-point of the cycle is likely to find itself being trucked to the Bladen County community of Tar Heel, where whatever passes for its porcine soul soon will be separated from its body.

Tar Heel is the site of the world's largest hog slaughterhouse, operated by Smithfield Packing, subsidiary of Smithfield Foods. That company is the Goliath of pork production. It grows hogs, kills them, cuts them up and sells the meat under several labels, including its own.

The number of hogs that meet their demise at the Tar Heel plant is mind-boggling. A state permit, required because of water-quality issues, sets the kill at a maximum of 176,000 per week and a bit shy of 8.5 million per year. Recently, the permit was re-issued, and from the hogs' perspective matters only got worse. Once certain anti-pollution upgrades are completed, the slaughter ceiling will be lifted to 195,000 per week and 9.5 million annually.

One reason the state's hog industry has not been too exercised about a temporary rule against new farms and lagoons that has been in effect for several years is that the local slaughter capacity was maxed out. But with that yearly capacity increasing by a million hogs, it only stands to reason that hog growers -- assuming they think they can sell more pork, either here or abroad -- will want to enlarge their farms.

With new lagoons banned, will a jump in production spur the changeover to new waste-disposal systems? Or will it just mean more hog mess piped into existing lagoons? Guess we'll find out.

And here's something else to keep an eye on. Smithfield long has been locked in a conflict with its labor force over conditions at the Tar Heel plant. Workers -- about 5,000 of them -- who process the hogs at a relentless pace must deal with an array of health and safety hazards.

The company says workplace conditions have improved and also touts its good pay and benefits. But advocates for the workers cite what they say was an increase in injuries between 2003 and 2006. They also say injured workers are vulnerable to being fired.

The workers' past attempts to organize have drawn responses from the company condemned as unfair by the federal government. Whether another union election will be held, and on what terms, is still very much an open question.

But surely the workers will have reason to be concerned if they must kill, gut, slice and package up to 12 percent more hogs over the course of a year. It's another aspect of North Carolina's immense hog industry that needs careful oversight from public officials determined not to let profits become an excuse to foul the environment or to abuse people trying to make a living.