The post Trump Cuts Threaten Federal Bee Research appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Public support for pollinators is nearly ubiquitous. Surveys show that 95 percent of Americans want to protect the bees, butterflies, and other creatures that are essential to ecosystem health and boost crop production, adding billions of dollars in value to U.S. agriculture—especially at a time when pollinator populations are declining. However, the Trump administration is pushing cuts that would make bee research and pollinator conservation slower, more expensive, and far less effective, experts warn.
Through proposed layoffs and budget cuts, the administration has taken multiple actions that threaten an obscure division of the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS): the Ecosystems Mission Area, or EMA, which houses almost all federal biological research.
Eliminating the division was prescribed by the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 agenda, despite the amount of research EMA provides. The 1,200 biologists and staff who work there document contamination in private and public wells, study the effects of wildfire and drought, and track wildlife disease outbreaks, including avian influenza.
They perform long-term monitoring of native and invasive species from avocets to zebra mussels—enabling management agencies to, for example, set sustainable waterfowl hunting limits, manage livestock predators, and keep waterways healthy. They also inventory, track, or study every known native bee species in the country, along with other pollinators.
Efforts to dismantle federal biological research show “a fundamental misunderstanding of what ecology is and does,” said Lori Ann Burd, environmental health director at the nonprofit Center for Biological Diversity. “I don’t believe Americans voted for the end of being able to gather native blueberries, or for the end of wildflower meadows.”
“I don’t believe Americans voted for the end of being able to gather native blueberries, or for the end of wildflower meadows.”
The White House claims that getting rid of EMA would eliminate duplicative programs and stop federal work on “social agendas” like climate change, while trimming about $300 million from USGS’ $1.6 billion budget. Though unspoken, historical records show the proposal also fits a much older, far-right vision of upholding private property rights by eroding the awareness and protection of imperiled species.
But biologists and conservationists nationwide say these cuts would actually dismantle irreplaceable, largely uncontroversial programs and drive out experts whose work is key not only to the government’s ability to manage natural resources, but also to a broad swath of work led by states and nonprofits.
In 2015, the Obama administration announced measures to protect bees, as beekeepers like Steve Corniffe (above), pictured at the time in Homestead, Florida, grappled with colony declines. (Photo: Joe Raedle/Getty Images)
Importantly, dismantling EMA would mean the elimination of the USGS Bee Lab—a tiny, two-person office in Maryland that is a linchpin for the study and protection of all U.S. native bees. “Every bee researcher, possibly every pollinator researcher in the U.S. has at some point worked with the USGS Bee Lab,” said Rosemary Malfi, the conservation policy director at the nonprofit Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation.
With a vast collection of high-resolution photographs, more than 700,000 specimens, and the unrivaled expertise of the lab’s director, biologist Sam Droege, the lab is the only U.S. entity with the resources to identify the nation’s more than 4,000 native bee species. Distinguishing different bees can be exceptionally difficult—but is essential for understanding their health, distribution, and needs.
This makes their work as important for preventing needless endangered-species petitions for bees that are simply hard to find, as it is for protecting the genuinely at-risk ones, Droege told Civil Eats. A federal biologist since 1978, Droege has risked his job to speak in defense of EMA.
“There’s a lot of inappropriately analyzed data out there saying there’s a bee apocalypse, that all bees are declining, but it’s more nuanced than that,” he said. “Wouldn’t you want someone to point that out that has scientific credibility? That’s what we do.”
In recent weeks, Droege has drummed up vocal support for the lab, and hundreds of biologists, volunteers, and partners have written to Congress on their behalf. “But in general, scientists—we’re just doing our job. We’re a little invisible,” he said.
Outside the Bee Lab are many other EMA scientists who could also be fired: Experts like Tabitha Graves, a Montana ecologist whose assessments of the Western bumblebee have become the framework for that species’ recovery in the Pacific Northwest or Wayne Thogmartin, a Wisconsin ecologist whose research on monarch butterflies has been internationally important for understanding their decline.
State agencies, federal resource managers, and nonprofits all rely on EMA’s centralized, consistent, and freely accessible data and guidance, which they say minimizes collective costs and effort.
States aren’t well-equipped to study creatures like bees, which don’t heed their borders, nor to ensure their work harmonizes with that of other states. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which manages protected species, isn’t funded to track all the other species—that’s EMA’s purview. Universities, though full of biologists exploring novel research questions, don’t usually do long-term monitoring. And there are few experts like Droege for any of these groups to hire if they need help.
So without the federal bee research division, “we cannot understand how pollinators are doing,” said Malfi at the Xerces Society—nor how to protect these creatures, without which North American ecosystems and crops (among them blueberries, tomatoes, and squash) would collapse.
Bees are essential to agriculture, including California’s almond industry (above). Researchers at Ecosystems Mission Area say they need to be monitored by the federal government, because pollinators migrate across state lines and international borders. (Getty Images)
In recent weeks, EMA and its research has faced at least five existential threats: two from the Supreme Court and several from congressional budget processes. If any one of them succeeds, EMA could disappear before the end of the year. Most imminently, President Donald Trump has asked the Supreme Court to allow mass layoffs without congressional approval, seeking to fire more than 100,000 federal workers, including reportedly up to 80 percent of EMA staff.
These reduction-in-force (RIF) layoffs have been paused since May by a District Court injunction, which a federal appeals court has so far upheld. Trump’s emergency appeal to the highest court put it on their “shadow docket,” so although justices are now in recess until October, they could rule on it at any time.
Last week, the Supreme Court did rule on a seemingly unrelated case that nonetheless posed a sideways threat to EMA: Federal workers feared that when the court decided to limit nationwide injunctions, it would also undo the RIF injunction that has so far protected their jobs. To their relief, a footnote in the ruling likely blocked its application to this case.
Trump has also asked Congress to drastically cut EMA funding from USGS appropriations, proposing just $29 million for unspecified EMA programs in his 2026 budget request. But appropriations bills require 60 votes to clear the Senate, and tie individual legislators to unpopular cuts. In Trump’s first term, Congress rejected his attempts to gut science agencies, but amid this year’s funding fights, many biologists fear that legislators will not prioritize natural resources.
Trump has also asked Congress to drastically cut EMA funding from USGS appropriations, proposing just $29 million for unspecified EMA programs.
A second threat in Congress may not require any votes at all: In a recent House briefing, Interior Secretary Doug Burgum indicated the administration will send a budget rescission request to Congress later this summer, asking them to claw back a portion of the Interior Department’s 2025 budget, which still has not formally been allocated.
A rescission only needs a simple Senate majority—but if the request comes within 45 days of the fiscal year end (the window legislators have to take up a proposal), Congress could effectively cancel funding without ever needing to vote, since the paused money wouldn’t roll into the new fiscal year. The legally untested move, called a pocket rescission, would free individuals from blame—though it would almost certainly face lawsuits.
One other threat to federal biologists and other workers has so far been neutralized. In June, senators added a provision to Trump’s “Big, Beautiful Bill” that would have given his administration the power to downsize the federal workforce “without obstruction” from Congress or the courts.
If included in this budget reconciliation bill, it would have allowed the administration to implement RIF layoffs without approval from the Supreme Court. But the Senate parliamentarian has ruled that this and numerous other provisions violated Senate rules, so struck them from the bill.
While federal biologists have survived these attempts so far, they underscore the precarity bee research is facing. Many fear the division’s demise is imminent, especially if Congress doesn’t decide its fate through the appropriations process. So while conservation groups and supporters rally behind these scientists, Droege has been gauging other ways to preserve the lab’s collections, which form the foundation of all U.S. bee taxonomy.
The Smithsonian would probably take the lab’s hundreds of thousands of identified specimens, he said, but likely couldn’t provide the hands-on support the lab does. They also wouldn’t take the up to 200,000 specimens that haven’t yet been identified. As a last resort, Droege said, he’d move these to his own home and establish a private lab; at 66, he had no plans to retire, anyway.
“My motivation is not saving my job,” he said. “My motivation is the bees.” With continued study and science-based protection, he added, “it’s not that difficult to keep them around.”
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]]>The post Livestock Producers Seek to Defend Packers and Stockyards Rules from Industry Attack appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Back in the 1990s, when Craig Watts was still raising chickens for Perdue, the fourth largest poultry company in the U.S., his contract included a provision that prohibited him from sharing the document with any third party. If he encountered a problem with the company, for example, he couldn’t solicit legal help to understand what options the contract provided to him.
It’s one small example of the many ways that the country’s powerful meat companies have exerted control over the farmers that raise the animals they sell. In the chicken industry, farmers looking for economic opportunities have long been locked into contracts that require them to pay for expensive facilities, compete with other farmers for pay even though the quality of chicks and feed is dependent on the companies, and make costly upgrades whenever companies say so. And as the meat industry has become more consolidated over the last few decades, the companies have continued to gain power over farmers.
In February 2024, after decades of advocacy, the USDA finalized the first of three rules related to the Packers and Stockyards Act, a century-old law that was intended to protect farmers from abuse by meat companies.
However, that contract privacy provision is also an example of something that has recently changed in favor of farmers.
“We had to get that done away with so I could show [the contract] to my accountant, so I could show it to a lawyer, so I could show it to my wife,” Watts, who became a famous poultry industry whistleblower after leaving the business, said. “Technically, I couldn’t even show it to her.”
In February 2024, after decades of advocacy that Watts played a key role in, the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) under President Biden finalized the first of three rules related to the Packers and Stockyards Act, a century-old law that was intended to protect farmers from abuse by meat companies. In addition to requiring that chicken companies disclose much more information with farmers in terms of the income they can expect, the first rule protected the farmer’s right to discuss the terms of the contract with family members and legal and financial advisors.
The other two rules, now also finalized, created enforceable definitions of discrimination, retaliation, and deception and put limits on how much of a farmer’s pay could be based on the competitive ranking system that companies use.
All three rules were historic, because the Packers and Stockyards Act had no enforceable regulations until the Biden administration. Watts, who now works with the Socially Responsible Agriculture Project to help struggling chicken farmers, was “elated” by the progress, but said it’s too early to tell whether the rules will make a big difference; some provisions haven’t even gone into effect yet.
Even so, meat industry trade groups are already working to stop or overturn these rules.
In October, several groups—including the National Chicken Council and the North American Meat Institute, which represents the country’s largest meat companies—sued the USDA to overturn the second rule, called “Inclusive Competition and Market Integrity.” In the initial complaint, the groups claim the rule is unlawful and that it will harm meatpackers by forcing expensive “compliance and recordkeeping obligations” on them and that companies “may be forced to modify contracting practices merely to avoid the possibility of litigation.”
Now, a critical moment in the legal fight has arrived.
Four groups that represent farmer interests—the Alabama Poultry Growers Association, R-CALF, Latino Farmers and Ranchers International, and the Western Organization of Resource Councils—have asked the court to allow them to intervene in the case to defend the rule. They’re doing so at a time when they’re unsure if the USDA itself will choose to fight back, since during Trump’s first administration the USDA worked to weaken and eliminate Packers and Stockyards protections. To date, there has been no indication from the current leadership as to how they’ll approach the issue.
“Some of these groups have been working on improving these rules since the 1990s. It’s literally been decades, and finally, actual rules were finalized that have meaningful protections, and it’s just too precious a fight,” said Tyler Lobdell, an attorney with Food & Water Watch who is representing the farmer groups in their effort to intervene. “It simply makes sense that they’re at the table.”
Adding to the weight of the case is the fact that the industry’s argument challenges a fundamental piece of Packers and Stockyards enforcement across the board—whether every farmer that brings a case against a company should have to prove that not only were they harmed, but that the company’s actions caused broader “harm to competition.” In other words, while the lawsuit only targets one of the rules, the outcome of the case could impact the others as well.
In response to questions from Civil Eats about the lawsuit but also the agency’s broader approach to the rules, a USDA spokesperson said, “We will not comment on matters relating to litigation.”
A Meat Institute spokesperson declined Civil Eats’ request for interviews on behalf of both the Meat Institute and the National Chicken Council, saying “the lawsuit [to overturn the second rule] speaks for itself.”
R-CALF, which represents independent cattle producers, is one of the groups that has spent decades pushing for rules that would enable the USDA to properly enforce the Packers and Stockyards Act. Bill Bullard, R-CALF’s CEO, told Civil Eats they want to intervene in the case to defend the Inclusive Competition Rule because of its particular importance in the highly concentrated beef industry, where four companies now control 85 percent of the market.
“We think that it is essential in order to reduce the abuse of market power,” he said. “There’s a huge disparity in bargaining power between the producers and the meatpackers.” Producers—the farmers and ranchers who are responsible for raising the animals that meatpackers slaughter and bring to market—are also often susceptible to unfair practices, he said.
The rule in question explicitly defines the kind of unfair practices the Packers and Stockyards Act prohibits on three fronts: discrimination, retaliation, and deception. For example, it states that the prohibition on discrimination means a company cannot treat a grower differently based on race, religion, or sex. It says companies cannot retaliate against farmers for participating in associations or for speaking up about their rights under the law. Under “deception,” it prohibits companies from “employing false or misleading statements or omissions of material information” when entering into contracts, ending contracts, or refusing to contract with a farmer.
Among ranchers selling cattle, Bullard said, fear of retaliation is real. Because if a producer complains about a packer and that packer decides to retaliate, alternative buyers are few and far between.
“Pushing back on this rule sounds so ridiculous, because what they’re saying is, ‘We don’t want this rule because for our model to work and our industry to survive, we must be allowed to discriminate. We must be allowed to retaliate,” Watts said. “You know it’s bad when you have to prohibit retaliatory practices in a regulation, but here we are.”
In the lawsuit, which the Meat Institute spokesperson asked Civil Eats to quote from in lieu of interviews, the lawyers write that meat companies “maintain robust controls to prevent such discriminatory practices, root out such discrimination where it exists, and ensure that it finds no home in their industries.”
The provisions related to deception are of interest to Thong Nguyen, a mild-mannered farmer who goes by Jak. In 2015, his wife spotted a farm with 10 chicken houses for sale on YouTube, where slick videos commonly attract farmers with promises like “A true money-maker for years to come!” Nguyen went into debt to buy the approximately $2 million property in Summers, Arkansas, and soon after began raising chickens for Simmons Foods, a major chicken processor in the region.
“The contract poultry system will never work for the farmer until contracts are done in a way that there is good-faith bargaining, and even then the companies will always still have the upper hand.”
Nguyen realized quickly how little control he had over the entire endeavor, he said. If he didn’t immediately do something a Simmons field tech requested, his next flock of birds might be delayed. “Every time when we thought we have some savings, they would come in to tell us to make updates,” he said. “Either we do it, or we lose the contract.”
Nguyen ran into worse trouble in 2022 when his brother lost his contract raising chickens for a different regional company and went bankrupt. Because Nguyen had put his farm up as collateral for his brother’s property, he took on his brother’s debt as well. In the meantime, his wife’s chronic kidney disease was getting worse.
“I told the manager [at Simmons] in hopes that they would help me out. I told them about my wife’s condition,” he said. “The only way for me to get out is to sell the farm so I can pay off my farm debt and my brother’s as well and hopefully start somewhere new.”
To sell the farm, Nguyen needed Simmons’ cooperation if he wanted to get a fair price for the property. Even though Nguyen financed and built the chicken houses, about three-quarters of an industrial chicken farm’s property value is tied to having an active chicken contract, according to an industry insider who has been working with and for both chicken companies and growers for more than 20 years and has intimate knowledge of farm real estate. (Civil Eats granted the source anonymity because talking to the press could significantly damage their business interests.)
So, if a grower like Nguyen wants to sell a farm, he needs the company to provide a letter of intent confirming they will contract with the new owner to grow chickens. In Nguyen’s case, Simmons was also requiring upgrades that any buyer would have to agree to make in order to secure that contract.
Throughout process, Nguyen felt Simmons was putting up roadblocks and delaying the sale. He believes the company was dragging it out until his contract ended.
“They’ve been giving us false promises. After everything happened, from the start to the end, it seemed like they don’t want me to sell my farm,” he said. “The last time I called and talked with the manager, he told me that he would not let anybody buy my farm or let me renew my farm. They don’t want anything to do with my farm anymore.”
Simmons did not respond to Civil Eats’ request for comment on these claims.
When Simmons decided it wouldn’t provide a new contract to a buyer, the value of Nguyen’s property dropped from close to $2 million to less than $500,000, so selling the property won’t come close to covering his debt.
“There’s a huge disparity in bargaining power between the producers and the meatpackers.”
It’s impossible to know whether having stronger rules against discrimination, deception, and retaliation could change Nguyen’s situation or others like his. But the industry insider said a big reason many situations play out this way is that in the end, companies like Simmons have “little to lose.” If rules on the books made them liable to USDA investigation or lawsuits, that could change.
As Bullard put it, “This rule protects the producer’s ability to address some problems they may have with a packer. Without it, they would have no recourse.”
Nguyen is incensed that the industry is trying to get the rule thrown out. “That’s just going to make things worse for the farmer,” he said. “The farmer should have more protection than the integrator because they are the one that’s putting their all into it . . . sweat, tears, money. They’ve been out in the cold, the heat, the rain. It’s hard work. It’s no joke. And we’re doing this to support our families.”
In the lawsuit, industry lawyers write that the rule would create “a wide-ranging antidiscrimination enforcement power” at the USDA.
That’s illegal, according to their argument, which boils down to this: Because the Packers and Stockyards Act’s primary purpose is “to assure fair competition and fair trade practices in livestock marketing and in the meatpacking industry,” any violation of the act has to threaten not just an individual producer’s livelihood, but competition in the industry.
In other words, the USDA can’t regulate discrimination under the law unless that discrimination somehow makes the whole system less competitive for all growers.
Some courts have upheld that interpretation over the years. However, the USDA, under both Republicans and Democrats, has always maintained the opposite: Individual harm is enough to activate Packers and Stockyards protections. As the farmer groups seeking to intervene in the case wait to see how the agency’s new leadership will handle the lawsuit, a big question is whether that will still be the case.
“If Secretary Rollins changes the agency’s position on harm to competition, it will be a shocking move.”
“If Secretary Rollins changes the agency’s position on harm to competition, it will be a shocking move,” Lobdell, the attorney for the farmer groups, said. “What it would amount to is a massive handout to the largest corporate interests in our agriculture and food system, directly in opposition to the interests of farmers and ranchers.”
For now, everyone’s waiting to find out how the USDA will proceed, and whether the court will grant the farmer groups’ motion to intervene.
In the original complaint, the meatpackers say they will suffer “concrete and imminent harm” if the law remains in place. “The Final Rule . . . requires a wholesale reevaluation of contractual relationships and communications between regulated entities and producers,” they write.
That kind of wholesale reevaluation is exactly what many farmers want. “The contract poultry system will never work for the farmer . . . never, until contracts are done in a way that there is good-faith bargaining, and even then the companies will always still have the upper hand,” Watts said. The most they can hope for, he said, is that the new rules will “be a deterrent to curb some of the most onerous practices companies use against the farmers they contract with and make income at least a little more predictable.”
For Nguyen—and so many others with strikingly similar experiences—it’s too late for that. He’s working through bankruptcy paperwork and driving for Uber to pay his bills while he figures out his next steps. At one point, he had family around to help care for his wife, but they’ve all moved to find work. Looking out at the 10 empty chicken houses with no way to pay off the debt or sell them for what they’re worth, he cries a lot. Thankfully, his wife and his two daughters, especially a “very cheerful” eight-year-old, he said, keep him going.
He thinks maybe, if he tells his story, it will help make the case that more regulation of the industry is needed. That farmers need more protection, not less. “If we give up, no one’s going to be standing up,” he said. “We want to pave the way for other farmers to fight back.”
The post Livestock Producers Seek to Defend Packers and Stockyards Rules from Industry Attack appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post The Pork Industry Asks Congress to Overturn Prop. 12, a Divisive Animal Welfare Law, Yet Again appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In May 2023, nearly eight months after hearing a case brought by the National Pork Producers Council (NPPC), the Supreme Court upheld a California law that banned the sale of pork from systems that confine mother pigs in small crates.
Soon after, Gary Malenke’s phone started ringing. “There were a lot of customers looking for product and a lot of concern about, ‘Hey, where’s my supply gonna come from? Are my shelves gonna be empty?’” he said.
As senior vice president of pork operations for Perdue Premium Meat Company, Malenke oversees a mid-size pork processing plant in Iowa. The pork processed there—for brands including Niman Ranch and Coleman Natural Foods—already meets Prop. 12’s requirements, since gestation crates are not used in their systems. So, he was a logical contact for buyers suddenly concerned about finding pork to sell.
But, Malenke said, after about six months, the calls mostly stopped. On the ground, he’s heard little talk about the law, and from his vantage point, the market has met the moment. “California seems to have aligned with their suppliers in a way where the balance between what’s coming in the pipeline for Prop. 12 product seems to be aligning relatively well with what the demand is,” he said.
That’s not how the NPPC sees it.
The week of April 7, NPPC members, who represent the country’s biggest pork companies, arrived in Washington, D.C. to try once again to convince Congress to overturn Prop. 12. They started the week with an advertising takeover of Politico’s influential Weekly Agriculture newsletter, in which ads pleaded with lawmakers to correct Prop. 12’s “damaging consequences nationwide for both farmers and consumers.”
A screenshot of one of four advertisements from the National Pork Producers Council in the April 7 Weekly Agriculture email newsletter from Politico.
On April 8, Iowa’s Republican U.S. Senators, Joni Ernst and Chuck Grassley, and Senator Roger Marshall (R-Kansas), introduced the Food Security and Farm Protection Act, which, if incorporated into an upcoming farm bill, would overturn Prop. 12 and prevent other similar bills in the future.
The new act is essentially a renamed version of the Ending Agricultural Trade Suppression (EATS) Act, which was first introduced in 2023. The NPPC praised the senators’ “efforts to avert [a] pork industry crisis.”
While the battle over Prop. 12 has been raging for nearly a decade, this is the first time it’s possible to look at the impacts the law has had on farmers and the market for pork. The law’s requirements were phased in starting in July 2023, and were fully implemented in January 2024, a little over one year ago.
Looking for Signs of Crisis
More time is needed for price and farm data to catch up, so analysis is still limited. But based on Civil Eats’ reporting and research, it’s hard to find signs of the crisis NPPC describes, and some available evidence points the other way.
Experts say the premiums being paid to farmers who changed their systems more than cover the cost of the upgrades required. Brands like Niman Ranch, which supports a network of independent small farms, have increased their sales. Many of the country’s biggest corporations, which experts say shouldered more of the costs associated with the transition, increased the performance of their pork segments in 2024 compared to 2023.
Price data is harder to parse: the price of the pork covered by the law has increased in California, but economists say more and better data is needed to definitively say how much of the jump is attributable to the law (versus other factors that impact prices) and whether the initial disruption is starting to ease.
Many people also say the scrambled political landscape that exists around Prop. 12 seems to have shifted more toward support for keeping the law in place. While the Biden administration, Trump’s past and current U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), and many farm-state lawmakers have all sided with the NPPC in favor of overturning Prop. 12, groups from across the political spectrum are dedicated to preserving it.
One coalition working to stop legislation that would nullify Prop. 12 includes diverse organizations concerned about a broad range of issues, from animal welfare and the environmental impacts of meat production to corporate consolidation and state’s rights.
“I think we have done a really good job making the case against the [former] EATS Act on so many different levels. We’ve got very far-right members of our coalition and we’ve got left members of our coalition,” said Christian Lovell, the senior director of programs at Farm Action Fund, a nonprofit focused on anti-monopoly policies and a leader of the effort to protect Prop. 12. “There’s also a lot of market opportunity for producers that do want to meet these standards. That to me is just incongruent with what the industry is describing.”
However, House Agriculture Committee staff said in an email to Civil Eats that they have heard from “over 900 federal, state, and county agricultural stakeholders” asking lawmakers to overturn Prop 12.
“There’s also a lot of market opportunity for producers that do want to meet these standards. That to me is just incongruent with what the industry is describing.”
As a result, Committee Chair G.T. Thompson (R-Pennsylvania) plans to again include language that does so in the next draft of the farm bill, as he did in 2024. Thompson’s provision is narrower than the language in both the former EATS Act as well as the new bill introduced in April, and only applies to livestock (as opposed to nullifying state laws that regulate the production of all agricultural products).
“The threat to producers goes way beyond NPPC and the pork industry,” Thompson said in a statement provided to Civil Eats. “States like California must be held accountable. They cannot be allowed to enact mandates that dictate production standards to producers outside of their borders.”
The NPPC declined a request for an interview, and the organization’s spokesperson did not respond to detailed questions that Civil Eats sent asking for their perspective on multiple points laid out in this story.
One of the messages the NPPC is featuring most prominently is how much more Californians are now paying for pork. Back in 2021, the industry created the “Food Equity Alliance” to push the message that the animal welfare law would hurt low-income Californians due to price increases. Then, they commissioned and publicized an analysis that said bacon prices would rise 60 percent in Los Angeles due to a 50 percent reduction in supply. That didn’t happen. (Longtime opponents of animal rights groups are also behind another new campaign Politico reported on yesterday that includes a website filled with misinformation on price increases in both pork and eggs.)
On its current website dedicated to the issue and in some of its ad campaigns, the NPPC has emphasized that Prop. 12 caused a 41 percent “surge in certain pork prices” and a 20 percent average increase.
Those numbers come from an analysis conducted by USDA economists and published by the Giannini Foundation of Agricultural Economics at the University of California. Using proprietary retail data, researchers attributed a 20 percent average price increase in pork covered by the law in California to the implementation of Prop. 12. (Pork products covered by the law include fresh cuts and bacon; ground pork and cooked products like sausages and hot dogs are not covered. It’s unclear why the law was written to only cover certain products.) Price increases ranged depending on the cut, with pork loin (a category that is mostly pork chops) increasing the most, by that 41 percent. Those increases significantly outpaced average price increases across the country.
However, the analysis comes with many limitations. The data only applied to a seven-month period—the first six months of the law as it was being phased in, plus just one month where it was fully in effect.
It also was not a peer-reviewed study, and Daniel Sumner, a professor of agricultural and resource economics at U.C. Davis and the director of the Giannini Foundation, said that the data acted in a strange way that warranted additional scrutiny. He published it, he said, primarily “because it was the only data available.”
If the average 20 percent jump is accurate, the price disruption would also likely be higher at the start, since costs to upgrade housing for pigs, for instance, occur once at the beginning of the process and markets need time to adjust, said David Ortega, a professor of food economics and policy at Michigan State University. “You would expect the immediate shock and then a bit of a decay as things adjust and you spread costs over more product,” he explained.
But researchers have not yet analyzed more recent data on what has happened in the year and a half since Prop. 12’s full implementation. In response to an inquiry from Civil Eats, USDA Chief Economist Seth Meyer, who was involved in the original analysis, said there was no public data he could provide but that his team had since looked at “subsequent periods” and “the story remained consistent with the initial findings.”
Other numbers provided to Civil Eats that relied on the same source of retail price data between January 2024 (when the law went fully into effect) and December 2024 showed an average price increase for covered pork that would be closer to 10 percent higher than the rest of the country. But the data is limited in a way that doesn’t allow for a one-to-one comparison or more significant, definitive conclusions. It’s also hard to isolate Prop. 12’s effect from other factors, since California’s pork consumption is not identical to other states.
The retail data Sumner works with is on a two-year delay. “I’m anxious to see what actually happened,” he said.
As of the end of April, 387 companies have chosen to distribute Prop. 12-compliant pork products in California, according to the California Department of Agriculture. Those include food-service distributors, like Sysco, and the country’s biggest pork processors, like Cargill.
One of the things Sumner emphasizes is that debates on Prop. 12 always focus on the cost of upgrading the barns that house mother pigs to comply with the law. However, he said, it turns out that the cost of separating Prop. 12-compliant pork from the other pork being produced accounts for much more of the price increases than those upgrades. “Most of it has to be traceability, because the costs at the farm level aren’t that high,” he said. “Everybody agrees on that.”
The bulk of the extra costs, then, fall on the pork processing and distribution companies, Sumner said.
Since the law went into effect, Smithfield, Tyson, and Seaboard, the three biggest public corporations that produce American pork and therefore provide detailed financial accounting, reported increasing profits in their pork segments. (Of course, there are many other pork companies that do not share financial data, and those could show different impacts.)
Since the law went into effect, Smithfield, Tyson, and Seaboard, the three biggest public corporations that produce American pork and therefore provide detailed financial accounting, reported increasing profits in their pork segments.
Tyson reported “significant improvement in profitability” across the company in 2024 compared to 2023. While its pork segment operated at a loss, it reduced its loss by about $100 million last year. Smithfield reported about a billion dollars in operating profits in 2024, nearly four times its 2023 profit.
“This strong rebound reflects our resilient business model, led by another year of record profits in our Packaged Meats segment, our third consecutive year of profit growth in our Fresh Pork segment and a more than $600 million increase in Hog Production segment profitability,” President and CEO Shane Smith said in a statement.
Some of those improvements could be attributed to the fact that the company had a very bad 2023, shuttering dozens of hog operations in Missouri and Utah. But the company attributed the closures to oversupply, not Prop 12. In one of its 2024 financial filings, the company mentioned being an “early industry mover” on Prop. 12-compliant pork.
Neither Tyson nor Smithfield responded to requests for interviews.
That aligns with Malenke’s observation that companies seemed to be catching up and even benefiting from the transition. “As you’ve seen some people convert facilities and supply and demand start falling into place, I’d say there’s not as much of a unified voice against [Prop. 12] maybe as there was two years ago,” he said. “It’s a little more mixed today, because there are people that have made investments, and they’re capitalizing on the market opportunity as well.”
In 2023, Seaboard said it would shift its sales away from California so it wouldn’t have to make changes to its housing for mother pigs. However, the company is now on the list of certified distributors. It reported an increase in operating income in 2024 attributable to “higher margins on pork products and market hogs sold, primarily due to higher sale prices and lower hog production costs.”
That supports Farm Action Fund’s Lovell’s argument around any industry-led effort to blame high food prices on a factor like Prop. 12. “Time and time again, these big corporations really take the opportunity, whenever there’s a ‘supply chain disruption’—whether that’s a change like Prop. 12 or that’s avian flu where yeah, prices go up a little bit—to tack on their own premium,” he said.
Seaboard did not respond to a request for an interview.
Aside from the prices Californians pay for bacon at the grocery store, the pork industry’s other main argument for overturning Prop. 12 is that “small family farmers will be crushed” by the law. On the website, NPPC displays a statistic: 5,000 hog farms lost in the U.S. from 2017 to 2022.
Those numbers are from the USDA Agricultural Census and show the tail end of a trend that started in the 1990s. At the same time the pork industry was shifting to a Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation (CAFO) model and the companies raising and buying animals became more consolidated, farms began disappearing and the ones that remained got bigger to survive. Since the implementation of Prop. 12 began in July 2023, after the end of the available stats, it’s unclear what the numbers from 2017 to 2022 are intended to show.
Farm Action credits the industrialization and consolidation of industries like pork for much of the decline in farms and sees Prop. 12 as an opportunity for farmers that work within that system to get a higher price for their animals. “We’ve seen farmers either changing their operation or just flat-out getting into a new type of system where they’re raising pork that meets the standards.”
After Prop. 12 went into effect, the USDA began tracking the premium paid to farmers. It’s hovered around $5 per 100 pounds of pig, which Sumner says is enough to make the transition worth it. In October of 2023, a group of Missouri and Illinois farmers sent a letter to House and Senate agriculture leadership asking them to reject overturning Prop 12.
Sows at the Willis Free Range Pig Farm in Thornton, Iowa, which was operated by Paul Willis, founder and manager of the Niman Ranch network of 500 farmers. Gestation options for sows in the network include hoop barns, larger open-sided barns, and pastures with huts. (Photo courtesy of Niman Ranch).
“We have invested in substantial and profitable adjustments to our operations—from modifying our production methods, to expanding our supply chain reach, and spending resources to inform consumers about our product compliance,” they wrote. “As independent farmers, product differentiation is a crucial avenue for maintaining our ability to compete and remain in the marketplace against powerful multinational corporations that control the majority of the market.”
Companies like Niman Ranch, which buys from a network of about 500 family farmers that already raise pigs according to higher welfare standards, have also benefited. A spokesperson told Civil Eats the company landed a few big accounts due to Prop. 12, and thanks to increased demand from California (and elsewhere), the company increased its hog numbers 15 percent in 2024 and expects another 10-15 percent increase in pigs in 2025.
These are exactly the kind of small family farms the NPPC claims to care about, Lovell said.
“We know small farms are the most likely to be diversified. We know that small farms are the most likely to have high welfare standards, and we know that small farms are really the most likely to use more sustainable regenerative practices, right? So, I would take issue with the premise of Prop. 12 being incongruent with supporting small farmers,” he said.
Of the pork industry’s big push on Capitol Hill, he continued, “We think their policy is wrong. We think their tactics are wrong. We think that on the merits and on the data they’re wrong. Whether or not they changed the bill name, whatever they want to call it, our coalition will be there to oppose it.”
An earlier version of this article misspelled the name of Iowa Senator Joni Ernst.
The post The Pork Industry Asks Congress to Overturn Prop. 12, a Divisive Animal Welfare Law, Yet Again appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Agroforestry Projects Across US Now Stymied by Federal Cuts appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Austin Unruh is an advanced practitioner of patience. As the founder of Pennsylvania-based agroforestry business Trees for Graziers, he helps farmers plant saplings like honey locust, apple, and mulberry, which take years to reach their full potential.
While Trees for Graziers had been growing even before the Climate-Smart Commodities Program, 80 percent of the projects Unruh had planned for this spring were supported by those now-canceled funds.
“Everything just happens fairly slowly with agroforestry because of the nature of the beast—we’re working with trees,” he said.
Given enough time and care, Unruh continues, agroforestry—farming with trees—can become a keystone of resilient, profitable, and climate-conscious land management. In silvopasture systems like his, which bring trees onto pasture for livestock, cows can beat the summer heat under shade-giving honey locust trees while grazing on their seed pods. Besides keeping animals happier and lowering farmers’ feed costs, silvopastures can sequester carbon as the trees draw carbon dioxide from the air and, through their root systems, deliver it deep into the ground.
Other agroforestry practices such as windbreaks, hedgerows, riparian buffers, and alley cropping can help retain topsoil, prevent nutrient pollution, and provide wildlife habitat. According to the final installment of the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) Sixth Assessment Report in 2023, agroforestry is one of humanity’s most feasible options for reducing climate risks.
The USDA’s 2017 Census of Agriculture was the first to include a question about agroforestry. Over the next five years, the number of farms using agroforestry increased by 6 percent, even as the overall number of American farms fell by 7 percent. Practitioners formed a professional network, the Agroforestry Coalition, in 2022.
As Civil Eats has reported, the federal government gave agroforestry a major boost that same year through the USDA’s Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities program, awarding over $153 million to agroforestry work. Many of the organizations interviewed said the funds helped them hire staff, share knowledge, and implement agroforestry practices on thousands of farms.
An Appalachian Sustainable Development visit to a forest-farming site. (Photo courtesy of Appalachian Sustainable Development)
Unruh said that while Trees for Graziers had been growing even before the program, 80 percent of the projects he had planned for this spring were supported by Climate-Smart Commodities funds.
For nonprofits that support agroforestry, such as Virginia-based Appalachian Sustainable Development, the funding provided greater capacity for technical assistance and market development. Katie Commender, who directs the group’s agroforestry program, was working with one employee in 2020, trying to serve a backlog of hundreds of farmers who had requested site visits for agroforestry advice. Through Climate-Smart Commodities and other grants, she was able to hire four additional staffers and start whittling down the waitlist.
In January, when President Trump took office, that expansion began losing momentum. His administration froze already approved federal grant funding, including Climate-Smart Commodities grants. Farmers said they couldn’t pay for materials during the critical spring planting season, nonprofits began cutting the hours of their technical advisors, and experts were no longer able to attend events where they’d planned to share knowledge.
The administration received multiple court orders to lift the freeze; Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins released $20 million for certain conservation initiatives in February, as well as an unspecified amount for rural energy work in March. Some USDA grant programs were fully unfrozen, while payments for others remain suspended.
An additional roadblock appeared earlier this month, when the USDA announced it would cancel the Climate-Smart Commodities program. While some projects may continue under a different name if they meet certain criteria, the program’s largest agroforestry grant—the $60 million Expanding Agroforestry Project (EAP), led by The Nature Conservancy—was decisively terminated. The future of other individual projects remains uncertain.
“The Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities initiative was largely built to advance the green new scam at the benefit of NGOs, not American farmers,” Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins said in a press release announcing the cancellation.
An hour’s drive northwest from the White House, Sara Brown raises a herd of about 50 beef cattle on 200 acres in Lincoln, Virginia, that her family has owned since the early 1700s. This spring, as part of the EAP, she’d planned to start planting nearly 3,600 chestnuts and other trees across 30 acres of pasture. She hoped to add new forage options for her animals while retaining more water on her land, a concern given the area’s ongoing severe drought.
But after making arrangements to buy seedlings and prepare land, Brown learned in February that $225,000 in grant funding she’d been guaranteed was paused indefinitely. “I think I actually lost a couple of friendships that morning . . . people were in the crossfire of me being in a very bad mood,” Brown said with a rueful laugh.
Alley cropping at an agroforestry farm on the Wisconsin River. (Photo courtesy of the Savanna Institute)
She later learned that Trump’s newly established Department of Government Efficiency had canceled a contract with the Clark Group, a consultancy the USDA had hired to review her grant. And on April 14, The Nature Conservancy notified grantees that its agroforestry project had been terminated by the USDA.The money Brown had been counting on is now entirely off the table.
Brown said she’s still planning to plant some trees that she’d already acquired, but is unable to buy many more that had been scheduled to go in the ground this year. She’s paying out of pocket for deer fencing to protect those seedlings as well.
The funding uncertainty also upended technical assistance for farmers. Commender, with Appalachian Sustainable Development, said her team was working fewer hours, with 19 site visits currently on hold, to compensate for missing grant money; others at the nonprofit have been furloughed. Longer-term work to develop markets for high-value agroforestry products like elderberries, silvopasture-raised meat, and medicinal herbs is suspended indefinitely.
That kind of dedicated support is crucial for agroforestry because the practice is still relatively uncommon, said Keefe Keeley, executive director of the Savanna Institute, the Midwest’s leading agroforestry nonprofit. The organization has used federal money to scale up technical assistance staff in six Upper Midwestern states over the past several years, as well as develop demonstration farms.
Similar efforts were underway through over two dozen partners supported by the EAP grant alone. “Seeing a farm where something is happening and imagining how it could work on your own farm is really essential,” Keeley said. “The cancellation of these projects is undoubtedly a setback for farmers in our community who are getting ready to plant trees this spring. It means tens of millions of dollars in lost financial assistance for farmers who want to adopt agroforestry.”
Similar difficulties are occurring for agroforestry outside of the Climate-Smart Commodities program. San Carlos Apache Tribe member Stephanie Gutierrez, Ecotrust’s forests and Indigenous leadership program director, said Ecotrust was awarded over $2.5 million for that work.
The funds, from the American Rescue Plan Act in 2023, supported the Indigenous Agroforestry Network, which connects Native practitioners so they can share traditional and modern agroforestry techniques, including at an in-person meeting attended by many West Coast tribes last year. “The network brought them together to just share and listen and learn from each other,” she explains.
The grant was scheduled to cover work through 2027, and Gutierrez had been planning a new year of meetings and events when, in February, Ecotrust found itself unable to access federal reimbursement systems. Gutierrez said the organization was cut off from more than half of the money she’d been guaranteed. While Ecotrust briefly regained access the week of April 21, it was cut off again April 29. Federal officials haven’t shared any information about why the Indigenous Agroforestry Network has faced this inconsistency or when funding might be permanently restored.
Other agroforestry practitioners also say communicating with the USDA has been challenging, especially in light of the department’s recent staffing cuts. Keeley highlights layoffs at state-level Natural Resource Conservation Service offices, which have made it harder for farmers the Savanna Institute serves to access federal support. Some of those employees are returning after a court order reversed the layoffs of probationary workers, but the legal situation is unresolved.
The Agroforestry Coalition is particularly concerned about the USDA National Agroforestry Center and its 30 years of service. On April 2, the group delivered a petition to protect the center’s employees, signed by over 40 farmers and agroforestry organizations, to federal lawmakers from Nebraska, where the office is based.
“Seeing a farm where something is happening and imagining how it could work on your own farm is really essential.”
The USDA office represents the only dedicated voice for agroforestry in the federal government, said Cristel Zoebisch, who co-chairs the coalition’s policy working group. While the Trump administration hasn’t yet cut the center’s staffing, she said it’s a likely target for future layoffs.
“We wouldn’t have anyone within the USDA that’s focused on figuring out how agroforestry might fit under different federal programs, advocating for that, and providing that information to stakeholders,” Zoebisch said of what might happen if the center is shuttered.
Back in Pennsylvania, Unruh said he’s largely been able to pivot from the Trees for Graziers projects that had been supported by Climate-Smart Commodities, thanks in part to community connections and the local interest in agroforestry. “It wasn’t a surprise, and we had been functioning under the assumption that the money would not come back,” he says of the cancellation news.
Other practitioners may not be so fortunate. Unruh said many farmers taking their first chance on trees are facing significant bills, now with no chance of federal reimbursement. He’s not optimistic that the administration will adopt the long-term thinking needed to promote agroforestry; instead, he hopes that farming with trees will spread organically as the benefits continue to prove themselves.
“We’re here to support small farms, family farms, and that’s language that everyone can get behind. This isn’t just about climate change,” he said. “It’s about seeing more small farms thrive.”
This story has been updated to reflect the most recent information from Ecotrust regarding funding.
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The post Op-ed: Egg Prices Are Soaring. Are Backyard Chickens the Answer? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The end-of-day chitchat among the parents at my kid’s school tends to revolve around the usual pleasantries: soccer schedules, the weather, the latest snow report from Mt. Baker, our local ski resort. On a recent afternoon, however, the talk among the moms and dads as we kept half an eye on a hotly contested game of four-square swerved to a somewhat unusual topic—eggs.
Where was the best place to find them? Which brands were available? Were any stores completely out? Parents rattled off reports of what they had seen at various places, from the big box outlets to the local food co-op, from high-end Whole Foods to discounters like Grocery Outlet and WinCo. “And,” someone sighed, “Can you believe the prices?” I listened and nodded, secure in the knowledge that I had six fresh eggs, straight from the backyard, on my kitchen counter.
“When a few chickens get sick in a facility that has millions of other chickens, the whole flock gets wiped out. As a nation, we have too many eggs in one industrialized basket.”
Eggs are suddenly a conversation starter as the latest wave of highly pathogenic avian flu clobbers U.S. poultry farmers in the worst outbreak of the virus since 2022. In December, some 13.2 million laying hens either succumbed to the disease or were culled as a result of the flu, dominated by the H5N1 subtype. In the first six weeks of this year, 23.5 million have already died. Altogether, more than 159 million poultry livestock in the U.S. have died due to the virus over the last three years.
So far, the risks to humans remains low. However, public health experts worry that the Center for Disease Control’s ability to release updates on the virus might be compromised. The agency recently found that the virus may be spreading undetected in cows and in veterinarians who treat them—but that study was omitted from an agency report released this month, after the Trump administration’s pause on federal health-agency communications.
Meanwhile, in a repeat of the 2022 outbreak, the virus has once again led to a sharp price spike and sent restaurants and shoppers scrambling for eggs. Social media is awash with reports of bare grocery-store shelves. Last week, the average price of a dozen eggs hit $4.95 per dozen—an all time-record. The wholesale price restaurants pay is even higher, recently topping $7 a dozen. Waffle House recently announced that it was placing a 50-cent surcharge on every egg it cooks.
The virus’s impacts on the poultry industry—and, to a lesser extent, on dairy production—may well be the biggest interruption to the U.S. food system since the COVID-19 quarantine, which created a rush on vegetable seeds and baby chicks.
Such shocks to the food system are evidence of some of the inherent weaknesses of an industrialized and highly concentrated agriculture sector. Just 20 firms raise more than two-thirds of the roughly 380 million laying hens in America. To some people, such concentration is an asset, proof of the impressive productivity of modern agriculture. But concentration, it turns out, comes with its own risks—especially with a highly pathogenic virus on the loose.
When a few chickens get sick in a facility that has millions of other chickens, the whole flock gets wiped out. When that happens again and again, in state after state, prices inevitably shoot upward. Concentration may lead to efficiencies, but it also comes with brittleness. As a nation, we have too many eggs in one industrialized basket.
There are, though, other ways of making an omelet. Even though they are not immune from the ravages of the virus, smaller-scale and pasture-raised poultry operations have, so far, shown themselves to be more resilient against the outbreak, some experts say—even if that’s only because their smaller size is a check against hundreds of thousands of birds dying all at once at a single location.
And there’s another option for maintaining a steady supply of eggs: home-scale chicken flocks.
The eggs on my countertop came courtesy of the five laying hens my family keeps on our suburban Bellingham, Washington homestead. Such abundance affords me a measure of detachment when after-school talk turns to egg prices.
But as the virus spreads, and news comes of egg farmers holding emergency meetings in Washington, D.C. and of backyard birds getting sick too, I’ve begun to wonder whether my own chickens are worth the trouble, and whether keeping them is safe for my family.
Bird flu has been with us for nearly 30 years now. Most people first heard the term “avian flu” back in 1997, when a spillover event in Hong Kong led to six human deaths. Since then, human cases have been exceedingly, thankfully rare. But in the intervening decades the once-novel virus has become widespread among wild fowl. It has jumped to other animals, including domesticated cows and wild marine mammals like seals and sea lions. And it has infected humans, though the risk to the public is minimal, at least for now.
The virus can spread by direct contact, as well as through the air, which makes it highly contagious. Biologists estimate that in recent years millions of wild birds have died from the virus. The disease has been especially hard on waterfowl like geese and ducks, though few bird species have been spared. Bird flu has caused deaths of bald eagles, especially chicks before they fledge. An outbreak among the endangered California condors has set back efforts to recover that species.
“What we do know is that the virus is now endemic in some wild birds, like wild ducks that move through our country,” says Carol Cardona, a professor of veterinary and biomedical sciences at University of Minnesota. “We know that is partially why we keep getting these seasonal outbreaks.”
Every year, tens of millions of migratory birds travel from the northern latitudes southward, and they inevitably cross paths with domesticated flocks. During a recent briefing for reporters, Maurice Pitesky, a cooperative extension agent at the University of California, Davis used California as an example.
“During the winter . . . we go from 600,000 resident waterfowl to over 8 million waterfowl. You will see ducks and geese. And we’ve decided to have our poultry and dairy operations overlap with where the wildfowl over-winter. They spatially overlap, and that is where infection can take place.”
After years of repeated bird flu outbreaks, most industrialized poultry operations have implemented sophisticated biosecurity protocols to try to keep their flocks safe. The birds spend the entirety of their lives indoors, quarantined from direct contact with wild fowl. No visitors are allowed on site, and at some facilities staff are even required to shower on the way in and the way out of the barns where the birds live.
So, how is it possible for the virus to get into a high-tech barn? Simple: the birds still need to breathe, which requires a ventilation system of some kind, which allows an entry point for the virus. Phillip Clauer, a professor emeritus of poultry science at Penn State, explains: “In the Midwest, they are working the fields in the fall, and you’ll see dust coming up from the fields, and the geese will land there to glean the extra corn, and they crap in the field. The dust goes aerosol, and that dust travels a long distance. We had one infected layer house in Pennsylvania, and they could tell you exactly what air vent the virus came in from. And then it spread through the whole flock.”
What does that mean for pasture-raised poultry, which spend most of their lives outdoors and therefore are at greater risk of contact with contagious wild birds? Farmers involved in smaller scale and regenerative poultry production insist that pastured birds are less susceptible to the virus, thanks to overall better health and wellbeing.
“In general, birds raised in high-welfare systems with access to pasture and sunlight are healthier and more resilient than birds raised in confinement,” says Tim Holmes, the director of compliance at A Greener World, which oversees the Certified Regenerative and Animal Welfare Approved labels. “In a pasture-based system, the key is having enough space and sunlight for the birds so that the pathogen load does not become too great. The ability [of] birds to forage and express natural behaviors also helps reduce stress, so the bird has a healthier immune system.”
I heard a similar argument when I paid a visit to David Whittaker at Oak Meadows Farm, a pasture-raised poultry and hog operation near where I live in Whatcom County, WA. Whittaker maintains his own biosecurity protocols—he wouldn’t let me enter the barn where about 100 chickens of his breeder flock were clucking around—but his chickens spend most of their lives freely roaming outside, with an epic view of glacier-capped Mount Baker.
Whittaker raises about 6,000 broiler chickens annually on 10 acres, and he has flocks on pasture well into October and November, when tens of thousands of snow geese, trumpeter swans, tundra swans, and ducks of all kinds fly overhead. In the 10 years since he turned his childhood hobby into a commercial operation, he’s never had a bird infected by the virus. “The birds I raise are healthier; they’ve got more resistance to it,” Whittaker says.
How come, exactly? “Just because I’m using high-quality feed, I’m not packing 100,000 or more into a building. They are out on pasture, eating grass.”
Clauer—who made a point to tell me that he has worked with both pastured operations and industrial players—was skeptical of the idea that pasture-raised birds might be less susceptible to the virus. “The more birds you have spread all over creation, the more opportunities you have to interface with wild waterfowl.”
He was also leery of the notion that smaller farms could meet the country’s demands for chicken breasts, turkey dinners, and egg scrambles. “You would need so many small flocks that you couldn’t produce enough eggs. You wouldn’t have enough people to collect the eggs.”
But Clauer didn’t dispute that the high concentrations of birds in industrial facilities (the biggest one he knows of is a 4-million-bird operation in Iowa) come with the risk of high mortality numbers, as well as greater chances of the virus mutating. “If you have a lot of animals, a lot more birds can become infected a lot more quickly. The bigger the flock, the bigger the concern.”
I have to wonder if some of the risk-reward calculus between industrial poultry farms and smaller, pasture-raised ones might start to change if—or when—bird flu becomes endemic in domesticated flocks. Especially now that the virus is going back and forth between cattle and birds, containment may no longer be an option. All the biosecurity measures in the world won’t stop geese from crapping in farm fields. It’s like wearing a hazmat suit to keep away the common cold.
If that’s so, then the way to create a more resilient—which is to say, a more efficient—food system would be to have more poultry farms like Whittaker’s. Of course, the economics of small-scale livestock farming are punishingly difficult and it would require a sweeping overhaul of the food system to get more locally raised eggs from pasture to market.
For that reason alone, we’re unlikely to see a flowering of more thousand-bird flocks any time soon. But there is another route to diversifying egg production from healthy, resilient birds: the kind of backyard flock like mine. “Basically, every couple of families [could have] enough hens to supply their friends and family,” Whittaker says. “Even if a small farm goes out, it wouldn’t matter. That would be the ultimate dream—pretty much everybody produc[ing] their own eggs, if they have the space to.”
Far from being a problem, then, backyard birds offer something of a solution. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, this latest avian flu–driven price shock has reignited interest in backyard flocks. Even if the virus were to disappear tomorrow, retail egg prices will be well above normal for another 12 to 18 months. It will take at least that long for commercial breeding flocks to recover. So this may be the good time to invest in a backyard flock.
If you’re serious about joining the estimated 13 percent of U.S. households that keep backyard chickens, here are some things to keep in mind.
“Every couple of families [could have] enough hens to supply their friends and family. Even if a small farm goes out, it wouldn’t matter.”
Given all the news about bird flu, you’re no doubt wondering whether backyard poultry could put you or your household at serious risk. At this point, the answer is no. Most of the 67 human cases of bird flu in the United States have resulted from people catching the virus from dairy cattle, and most of them have been mild cases. The one human fatality from bird flu took place in Louisiana, where a woman apparently contracted it from dead chickens, but according to all reports the person was elderly and in poor health.
The risk is low, but it isn’t zero, and contact with backyard chickens would put you at a higher exposure. There are, though, ways to mitigate the danger. Clauer says one of the most important strategies for keeping your backyard flock—and you—healthy is to keep them away from wild birds. This can be as simple as ensuring that their living space is secured from feathered visitors by, for example, putting a net above the coop and run.
Beyond that, you’d want to follow some basic biosecurity protocols (the USDA and UC Davis have some good cheat sheets). Keep an extra pair of “coop boots” that you use only for going in and out of the poultry enclosure, so you’re not tracking poop into your house. Secure the birds’ food and water to keep out other critters, like rodents, that can carry disease. And always, always wash your hands after collecting eggs and feeding and watering your hens—an instruction so simple that even young children can follow it.
The next big question is: Are you ready to make the commitment of time and attention? Chickens require a level of care not dissimilar to any other animal companion. They need fresh water and food daily, plus regular cleanings of their coop and runs. They also—and this is harder than it sounds—need to be kept safe from predators.
If you’ve only ever cared for a house plant, you may want to think twice. That said, there are plenty of how-to guides to help you learn the basics, from the encyclopedic The Small-Scale Poultry Flock to the more quick and dirty tips in The Essential Urban Farmer. Maurice Pitesky and his colleagues at U.C. Davis also have a useful library of fact sheets.
Next, you need to ensure that it’s legally permissible to keep poultry in your city, town, or county. Most areas allow backyard poultry raising, but you need to be aware of the idiosyncrasies of local ordinances. Some places have strict rules about setbacks from neighbors’ properties, and many others prohibit roosters (too noisy). You can find a useful guide to local poultry rules at backyardchickens.com. Also: Be sure to check in with your neighbors before hatching your plans, to avoid drama.
Finally, ask yourself if it’s financially worth it to you. An off-the-shelf chicken coop can easily cost $300—and well more if you go for a bespoke model. If you’re handy, you can build one yourself, but lumber ain’t cheap, and even a homemade coop will pinch your pocketbook. You’ll also need some waterers, and maybe even a heated model if, like me, you live in a place with icy winters. If you’re rearing day-old chicks (which run anywhere from $5 to $15 per bird or more), you’ll need a heat lamp system and the proper feeders. Keep in mind that if you do purchase day-old chicks this spring, you won’t get your first eggs for about 20 weeks.
In short, there’s no such thing as a free egg. If you’re launching a laying hen setup from scratch, the payoff horizon may be longer than you wish. But if bird flu does become a permanent challenge for the U.S. poultry industry, the investment will eventually be worth it. “That might not be a bad economic equation for the next two years,” Clauer figures.
I’ve kept chickens for a total of six years in two different states, and by now I’ve paid off my initial investments and ongoing feed costs. During the summer, we’re overflowing with eggs, and routinely give away a half dozen here and a dozen there to friends, family, and neighbors. The egg volume does decline in the winter, yet even without artificial light we manage to get one or two eggs a day up here at the 49th parallel.
But I would keep backyard chickens even if it were a break-even proposition. I don’t raise hens simply as a matter of grocery-bill savings. They provide me with a subjective, but very real, sense of abundance and security.
I keep a large home garden, big enough to produce well more than half of my family’s annual fruits and vegetables. But, being a flexitarian, I can’t live on kale alone. And even though I can’t live off kale frittatas alone either, by producing some of my own protein I cultivate a feeling of ecological resilience, knowing that I’m more insulated from the brittleness—and the injustices and the pollution—of industrialized agriculture.
My small flock represents one additional node in the food production network. Imagine many more nodes like that, hundreds of thousands of new backyard flocks, and you might come to see how every home-scale hen helps strengthen the food system.
I’m convinced that even with all the cost and labor and time, such resilience and abundance is worth the price tag—is in fact, priceless.
An earlier edition of this article misspelled the name of Tim Holmes, the director of compliance at A Greener World.
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]]>Ben Wagner may be a dairy farmer, but that job description is woefully incomplete. He’s also an accountant, squaring the numbers for his central Minnesota farm by hand; a herder, rotating 75 cows between pastures; a crop farmer, raising 300 acres of feed like corn and hay; and a mechanic, repairing the equipment necessary to tend that acreage.
It’s a lot for anyone to handle, Wagner admits, especially for a man approaching his 66th birthday. Thankfully, he has a capable and energetic partner, 25-year-old Jack Schouweiler. Schouweiler, who started out milking cows for Wagner as a teenager and now owns the farm’s herd, has plans to eventually buy the rest of the operation.
Pastured dairy farms are declining at a rate of 5 to 10 percent every year, as older farmers retire without a successor.
On a typical workday, Wagner rises to feed the calves, while Schouweiler milks the cows. Afterward, they turn the herd out onto organically managed pasture, where the animals eat freely from clover, alfalfa, and a blend of perennial grasses like meadow bromegrass, orchard grass, and fescue. Their “got a minute?” check-ins often turn into half-hour conversations on the finer points of rotational grazing or organic pest treatments.
“He’s full of questions, full of curiosity and a lot of drive,” Wagner says. “Sometimes he feels almost like he’s my son, even though we’re not related in any way, shape, or form.”
Pastured dairy farms like Wagner’s are declining at a rate of 5 to 10 percent every year, as older farmers retire without a successor. Meanwhile, new dairy farmers typically can’t afford to buy land or dairy cows. That’s bad news for an industry that could be providing milk, cheese, and other products that are not only nutritious but also good for the land and climate.
Enter the Dairy Grazing Apprenticeship. Since 2015, the DGA, supported by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), has worked to help dairy farmers like Wagner transfer their skills, and potentially their businesses, to a new generation. Nearly 70 apprentices have graduated from the program as independent journeyworkers so far, and 59 farmer-apprentice pairs are currently active across the country, helping ensure a future for grazing dairy cows—and for their benefits to local economies and ecosystems.
The USDA is supporting other elements of the apprenticeship, including research into better understanding the climate benefits of grazed dairy, but it is unclear whether that will move forward under the Trump administration, which is by and large unsupportive of climate initiatives. Either way, dairy graziers—from mentors to mentees—are working to expand the industry and save small farms.
Pasture-based dairies, defined by USDA researchers as those where cows get at least half of their forage from pasture during the grazing season, are a comparative rarity in the United States—just 16 percent of the country’s dairy farms. The majority of the country’s 9.3 million milk cows are raised in herds of 1,000 or more, primarily or entirely confined indoors.
The biggest farms can secure the best interest rates on credit, buy inputs at lower bulk rates, and trim labor costs through technology like robotic milking systems and calf feeders. Those advantages have pushed consolidation, causing over 95 percent of the country’s dairy farms to close since 1970.
Jack Schouweiler, left, a dairy apprentice, partners with dairy farmer Ben Wagner, and plans to someday buy the operation from Wagner. (Photo courtesy of Minnesota Board of Water and Soil Resources)
But having fewer, larger dairies is not ideal. Such consolidation is susceptible to market shocks like those caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, often relies on intensive inputs like antibiotics and imported feed, and may emit more greenhouse gases to produce the same amount of milk.
Grazed-dairy operations, on the other hand, can benefit ecosystems, rural communities, and consumer health. Carefully managed grazing, in which cows are rotated through paddocks of perennial grasses, can build soil organic matter and absorb climate-warming carbon dioxide through the grasses’ extensive root systems.
Also, because grazing dairies are generally smaller than confinement dairies, they typically buy more supplies from local businesses, contributing roughly 20 percent more to rural economic development, says Joe Tomandl III, who is DGA’s executive director and the owner of three grass-based dairies in Wisconsin.
What’s more, milk from grass-fed cows contains higher levels of omega-3 fatty acids, which help reduce inflammation, as well as more trace phytonutrients that may have anticancer properties.
Teaching new graziers—farmers who graze cows—is the foundation of realizing those benefits, Tomandl adds. Most land-grant agriculture programs focus on confinement systems, given their prevalence in the industry, so the DGA is one of the few sources that shares pasture-raised dairy skills.
Apprentices in the DGA come from all walks of life, says Jessica Matthews, who manages the program. A graduate herself, she came to the program from the social work field. Some participants are already working in dairy but want to deepen their knowledge and commitment to a grazing approach.
“There tend to be waves of folks that are looking for a second career option, or are maybe burning out in what their chosen profession was, and are interested in doing something that’s closer to working with their hands or working with the land,” Matthews says.
The DGA also recently launched a Spanish-language version of the program, in recognition that over half of the country’s dairy workforce are immigrants, many of them Spanish-speaking. Their participation in the program, let alone in the dairy industry as a whole, might be impacted by immigration policies under the new Trump administration, although it’s too early to know for sure.
Interest in the program is strong: The DGA has 59 apprentices and 120 active apprentice candidates. And with 215 approved mentors, there’s capacity to absorb even more would-be graziers.
Many apprentices find the program through online searches rather than traditional agricultural networks. Amber Donaldson had been interested in farming since formative childhood vacations to her grandmother’s farmhouse in rural Pennsylvania, and was raising chickens and rabbits on her own homestead while working day jobs in food service. She stumbled across the DGA website when looking up opportunities for first-generation dairy farmers and has since apprenticed with two Pennsylvania pasture-based operations.
Her first apprenticeship, with mentor grazier Jeff Biddle at Bear Meadows Farm, threw her into a demanding daily routine. Without any previous dairy experience, she was immediately helping milk up to 50 cows a day, bottle-feeding baby calves, and wrestling with wet bales of feed hay in the mid-Atlantic winter. At the same time, she was taking online classes through the Managed Grazing Innovation Center, the program’s academic component, covering topics like agricultural ecology and soil health.
Despite the hard work and often 16-hour days, she fell in love with the dairy life. “It was the most rewarding experience—every day just waking up, coming outside, and working with cows was the best day ever,” Donaldson says. “Before I started working, I kind of thought my approach toward cows and wanting to have that relationship was naive and unrealistic. But I’ve gotten to see that there are farmers out there that value a really personal relationship with each animal.”
After 18 months at Bear Meadows, Donaldson decided to broaden her experience by working with Dave and Terry Rice of Clover Creek Cheese Cellar. She learned a different approach to rotational grazing, as well as the basics of cheesemaking, and now hopes to use what she’s learned to start a dairy business of her own.
Given the current state of the U.S. commodity dairy industry, where profit margins for milk have been slim or even negative for many years, apprentice graziers need to learn more than just how to raise cows. Mentors help their mentees identify more sustainable paths to running a dairy business, whether through creating value-added products like Clover Creek cheese or selling into the specialty organic market, as Ben Wagner does.
Jack Schouweiler, deep in the milking parlor at Ben Wagner’s farm. (Photo courtesy of Dairy Grazing Alliance)
The DGA is supporting those explorations by building a sustainable market for pasture-fed milk, says Tomandl. The organization recently launched a new effort, the Dairy Grazing Alliance, that brings together more than 35 farmers, consumer brands, government agencies, and financial institutions to strengthen the pastured-dairy supply chain. Tomandl envisions creating hubs of small farms, each managed by a graduate of the DGA, that could provide nationally distributed milk brands with the volume they require.
Another initiative, a nearly $4.8 million study backed by the USDA’s Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities, aims to help mentors and apprentices communicate the environmental value of their milk. The research uses a sonar system called PaddockTrac, pulled over the fields by an all-terrain vehicle, to measure the growth of grass in pastures and correlate it with carbon sequestration and other ecosystem benefits. Graziers can then take the data to potential milk buyers.
The work has immediate on-farm benefits as well, says Tomandl. “The farmer gets management data on how this farm is growing.” The apprentice benefits too, with “an accelerated learning curve on how these grazing wedges are set up and how to better manage the grass on the dairy. It goes hand in hand.” Plus, participating mentors receive a stipend to help pay apprentice wages.
It’s unclear how the research, slated to continue through 2028, might be impacted by the Trump administration. Its funding was authorized by former Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack, not earmarked by Congress. Brooke Rollins, Trump’s nominee to head the USDA, has denied the scientific consensus that carbon dioxide emissions are planet-heating pollutants.
“While we cannot predict how a new administration might approach this initiative, we believe in maintaining its momentum,” says Aaron Shier, government relations director for the National Farmers Union, which represents more than 200,000 farms and ranches across the country. Continuity across administrations, he adds, means farmers can see their projects through to completion, enabling them to learn from the results and adapt to new situations.
Meanwhile, the DGA wants to ensure that existing grazing operations aren’t lost to development or snapped up by large confinement dairies. The average age of a U.S. farmer is 58, and many graziers don’t have family members willing to continue their operations. Apprentices with deep skills and existing relationships with farmers, Matthews says, are perfectly positioned to fill that gap. About a third of the program’s graduates to date have either taken over the farm on which they apprenticed or are working toward that goal.
“Every day just waking up, coming outside, and working with cows was the best day ever.”
Even under the best of circumstances, admits Matthews, it can be challenging for long-time farmers to give up their work. “If they stand at the same place every single day to load a bailer, the concrete has an imprint of the boots that they wear,” she says. “They’re so intricately involved in farming that the mental shift to not farm anymore is really daunting.” To help prepare retiring farmers and apprentices, the DGA recently received another USDA grant to develop best practices for facilitating farm transfers.
Ben Wagner feels a touch of that challenge as he grapples with the changeover of his Minnesota farm to his apprentice Schouweiler. He’s watched as the younger man has added new equipment and pursued new ways of doing things, and he’s still getting used to his new schedule after Schouweiler took over milking duties.
And though the finances of the gradual transfer aren’t as lucrative as a quick sale to an outside investor, Wagner wouldn’t have it any other way. After 20 years of careful pasturing, he’s seen the farm’s soil grow softer and richer, and he’s watched as gophers and earthworms have returned to the land. “Somebody else would come in here with big four-wheel drives and destroy everything, all the soil and all that we’ve build up on it, in three years,” he says.
Instead, Wagner trusts that Schouweiler will continue his legacy of organic, pasture-raised dairy and preserve the soil. He’s grateful for the opportunity to keep his farm in the hands of someone with the same love of the land.
“I would do it over again in a heartbeat, because you see the look on his face,” Wagner says. “There’s a peace, an inner peace, in knowing that somebody’s dream came true. And he’s living the dream.”
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]]>The post Fighting the Corporate CAFO ‘Takeover’ of Rural America appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In 2014, Lowell and Evelyn Trom learned that a farmer wanted to build a concentrated animal feeding operation (CAFO) across the road from their family farm in Blooming Prairie, Minnesota. By then, there were already 10 CAFOs within a 3-mile radius of their 760-acre farm, so they knew the stench the facility would bring.
The proposed CAFO would hold 2,400 pigs and produce as much manure equivalent as a town of nearly 7,000 people. “Enough,” Lowell said, “is enough.” The couple sued, assisted by their daughter, Sonja Trom Eayrs, a Minneapolis family law attorney who felt a deep sense of responsibility to help her elderly parents. Their legal battle took three years, and by the time they lost, nothing had changed—except a county ordinance had been created that made it easier to greenlight even more CAFOs. The CAFO they fought was built and is still operating across the road from their farm today.
The battle inspired Trom Eayrs to become a rural activist and help other communities fight what she calls a CAFO “takeover” of the Midwest. And it prompted her to write a book about her late parents’ experiences: Dodge County, Incorporated: Big Ag and the Undoing of Rural America, published on November 1.
“It tears at the fabric that traditionally tied people together. The days of being a good neighbor and helping one another are gone. The factory farm fights have been so divisive, pitting neighbor against neighbor.”
In the book, Trom Eayrs argues that rural America is transforming into a corporate entity, one CAFO at a time. Since 1990, the number of U.S. hog farms has shrunk by more than 70 percent while individual farms have gotten bigger.
Trom Eayrs writes about the “Big Pig Pyramid,” a three-tiered, vertical integration model in which multinational meatpacking conglomerates sit at the top, followed by “integrators” in the middle tier that own the hogs and provide feed and veterinary services. At the bottom are the contract growers—a mix of fellow farmers or farmers from out of state—who raise the pigs in CAFOs, sometimes with the help of immigrant workers.
Besides causing air and water pollution, CAFOS can harm communities in other ways, Trom Eayres says. If you’re near a CAFO, being outside can be risky: Once, when her dad was harvesting the last of the corn, the CAFO across the road spread its manure on fields surrounding the Trom farm, and she says her dad became so dizzy he had to get off the combine to vomit.
Neighbors end up with an eroded quality of life, trapped inside their houses by the stench and dangerous emissions, she writes. And she describes how battles over CAFOs have led to what she characterizes as intimidation and suspicion, stifling those who would speak out against the feeding operations and creating a chilling effect in towns where mutual respect was once the norm.
Using her hometown and family as the backdrop, Trom Eayrs details the influence of corporate interests and the Farm Bureau at all levels of government. For example, she describes how the agricultural industry backed state Right to Farm laws that limit residents’ ability to file nuisance actions against CAFOs once they’re up and running. The Farm Bureau and allied industrial agriculture interests wield incredible influence in Washington, D.C., regardless of who is in power. Trump is now vowing to eliminate corporate influence within federal food and agriculture agencies, but during his last administration, that influence increased significantly.
Civil Eats recently spoke to Trom Eayrs about her family’s battle against CAFOs, the ways these facilities hurt rural areas, and how communities are fighting back.
Could you describe the social impacts that communities face once these operations arrive?
I don’t think people realize how destructive the CAFO system is to rural communities. It tears at the fabric that traditionally tied people together. The days of being a good neighbor and helping one another are gone. The factory farm fights have been so divisive, pitting neighbor against neighbor. Eventually, we will learn that we need one another.
My family has faced harassment and intimidation for years. I’ve had to file several complaints with the Dodge County sheriff’s office and ask for extra patrols near our farm. Constant garbage [being dumped on our property], harassing telephone calls to my father in the middle of the night. One day, my brother and I were pulling weeds from the bean field, and a couple hours later, the stop sign maybe 100 to 200 feet away was sprayed with bullets.
I’m in a unique position because I don’t live in my home community. I don’t go to church there, and my children never went to school there, so I don’t have to see these people on a daily or weekly basis. But people [who live] in these small rural communities feel this tension.
For me, [the harassment] is confirmation to keep going. Don’t let them intimidate you. Keep digging for information. I know their playbook.
How would you describe the CAFO industry playbook?
It follows the classic teachings of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, which is included in the curriculum in many business schools.
The corporate state has had its eyes on rural areas for years, adopting Right to Farm laws—which I frequently refer to as “Right to Harm” laws—placing the [agricultural] industry in a power position over farm families who have lived on the land for generations.
In repeated CAFO fights, the industry employs the classic sneak attack, laying plans weeks, months, and years ahead of construction. The multi-step process of siting, permitting, and construction occurs in secret, and neighbors are alerted at the last possible moment.
The industry sugarcoats the true impact of CAFOs on the environment, neighbors, and community. They dismiss the seriousness of the dangerous air emissions and often refer to it as the smell of money. Then why was my father vomiting?
This CAFO, located across the road from the Trom family farm, sparked multiple lawsuits. (Photo credit: Laurie Schneider)
It has created propaganda and indoctrination materials, including children’s coloring books. For example, I picked up a coloring book at the Minnesota State Fair that was produced by the National Pork Board and the Minnesota Pork Board. It’s another effort by the industry to polish its image.
Industry insiders repeatedly use harassment and intimidation tactics to silence opposition, including menacing phone calls threatening local businesses that oppose their plans. I also know of residents whose livelihoods were threatened when they showed support for laws that would limit the construction of CAFOs.
Although you wrote that “defeat was all but certain,” your family still decided to fight the CAFO across the road. Why?
My dad was a warrior. He would always say, “All we did was fight that goddamn Farm Bureau.” He was repeatedly asked to join the Farm Bureau, but he always declined. Other people wouldn’t take up the fight. They just allowed the big boys to roll right over them. My dad was sharp as a tack: He understood the seriousness of what was going on, and he could see the big picture.
Toward the end of his life, it started to take a toll on him, and I recall him saying, “I’m tired of being the goat.” In other words, he was tired of being the object of ridicule in the local community. I purposely went to church with my dad. I could see that he was essentially persona non grata in my home community. People wouldn’t speak to him.
These large industrial operations [still] impact my family and the daily use and enjoyment of our farm. The choking stench coats your nose and throat, and you have to immediately retreat indoors. I have a large family, and our farm has served as the central gathering destination for many gatherings over the years. [Now, there are] no more family reunions. No more picnics. No more weddings and wedding receptions.
What are the most effective tools rural residents can use to fight CAFOs in their communities?
Number one, education. People need to understand the big picture, that rural America is slowly, methodically, being corporatized, and that the industry is very good at operating under the radar. The corporations derive their strength in two ways. They’ve got market control, and they use their political ties and connections to force their corporate agenda onto the American public. They have a combination of market power and political power, and they will do anything to stay in power.
Number two, organization. Go door to door, talk to your neighbors. Reach out to state or national organizations for assistance. At the end of the day, it’s really a fight between community and corporations, which is why I call the book Dodge County, Incorporated: I want to drive home the fact that corporate governance has found its way into local governance. That’s happening at every level—at the township level, the county level, the state level, and the national level.
Dodge County citizens, joined by the Land Stewardship Project, are shown protesting the proposed Ripley Dairy on the county road bordering the Trom family farm. (Photo courtesy of the Land Stewardship Project)
In my book, I talk about the [successful] battle against the Ripley Dairy, which was going to be three or four miles north of our farm over 20 years ago. That fight, a citizen’s effort that included members of my family, went on for three or four years. That was successful because the neighbors worked cooperatively and with the assistance of the Land Stewardship Project, which had experience in these fights. They were a critical partner. It was an effective and organized protest.
There’s a group in western Wisconsin that has done phenomenal work. They had a bipartisan group in six towns and were able to adopt planning and zoning at the local level to limit the proliferation of CAFOs.
You write in the book that “this journey of heartache and sadness has turned to hope and determination to fight for Big Ag reform.” What did you mean by that?
When factory farm sites come up [in their towns], people feel very isolated. They don’t know where to turn for help. They don’t understand the enormity of the issue.
But for me, in the last 10 years, I started making connections with folks all over the Midwest and a number of different organizations like Farm Action and Food & Water Watch and realized that we were not alone. That’s empowering.
What do you hope your book will achieve?
People in these rural communities have a trail of abandoned schools and abandoned churches, and they are going to realize that they’ve been played, they’ve been rolled over by the big multinationals. I think [this book] is going to be eye-opening for some of these folks.
I’m hoping that the book will provide some historical context and a deeper level of understanding, and then help people understand what they can do in their own communities to move forward.
Not everyone lives near a CAFO. What can they do to help fight the “CAFO takeover”?
People need to be mindful of what they’re eating. What’s the source? Did this come from a corporate factory farm, or is it from a local, independent farmer who lovingly raised this animal?
Also, it’s not enough for people to sign a petition to fight a CAFO. We need to educate politicians. We need to roll back these Right to Farm laws that are designed to benefit corporations. And that’s going to take [effort from] everyone.
This interview, conducted via phone and email, was edited for length and clarity. This article has been updated to clarify CAFO ownership and workforce structures.
The post Fighting the Corporate CAFO ‘Takeover’ of Rural America appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post The Fate of Denver’s Last Slaughterhouse Is on the Ballot appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>With her silver rings and turquoise bracelets, Mercedes Ortiz Gutierrez cuts a stylish figure. Her black cane with golden finishes could be mistaken for another accessory if she didn’t lean so heavily on it. Gingerly, she shuffles to the gray couch in her one-bedroom apartment in Thornton, Colorado, just outside Denver and five miles from the slaughterhouse where her life irrevocably changed.
Then 46, Gutierrez had been working at Superior Farms for two years, skinning slaughtered lambs and cleaving off their noses, tongues, and hooves. She also restocked the facility’s paper towels, soap, and aprons. On July 25, 2020, her hands clutching gallon containers of soap, she descended the stairs to the plant’s storage room.
Her manager had just ordered her to hurry. Rushed and unable to hang onto the handrail, Gutierrez misstepped, her right foot landing awkwardly on one of the stairs. X-rays later confirmed she’d fractured her ankle, becoming one of the thousands of workers injured in an industry that is both physically and mentally hazardous.
This November, Denver voters will decide on a ballot initiative banning all commercial slaughter in the city. If it passes, Superior—the city’s only remaining slaughterhouse—will shutter.
At the clinic, she was given a boot, crutches, and medicine. But as the days went by, the pain worsened. She initially returned to work, but doctors soon forbade her from doing so. A few weeks later, she claims Superior fired her. “Fundamentally, I no longer served them,” she said in an interview.
In the following months, Gutierrez’s pain was so severe she couldn’t sleep or shower. She was eventually diagnosed with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, a chronic pain following injuries that doesn’t resolve as expected.
In November 2022, Gutierrez settled a workers’ compensation claim with Superior for $77,000. When asked for comment, Bob Mariano, Superior’s Director of Marketing, told Civil Eats that the company worked with the Colorado Department of Employment to manage her case throughout treatment. Once she reached “maximum medical improvement”—where additional treatment is unlikely to improve a condition—Mariano said a financial settlement based on workers’ comp regulations was a standard last step.
To Gutierrez, the compensation she received was not nearly enough. “It’s not the same anymore with the pain,” she said.
This November, Denver voters will decide on Initiated Ordinance 309, a ballot initiative banning all commercial slaughter in the city. If it passes, Superior—the city’s only remaining slaughterhouse—will shutter. This would eliminate at least 160 jobs but, according to animal rights activists, also stop the suffering of the 300,000 lambs slaughtered there every year.
But what might appear as a choice between animal welfare and workers’ livelihoods is actually more complicated: Stories like Gutierrez’s suggest some workers might also suffer at Superior, while several experts believe closing one slaughterhouse could worsen conditions—for animals, workers, local economies, and the environment—in and around other meat processing plants. It’s now up to voters to decide: Will getting rid of their city’s last slaughterhouse do more harm than good?
In 2020, America watched as outbreaks of COVID-19 ravaged meatpacking plants, killing hundreds of workers and infecting thousands more. As former President Donald Trump ordered the plants to stay open, neither employers nor the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) did much to protect employees, who continued to fall sick and die. With slaughterhouse operations slowed, industrial feedlots grew overcrowded. Hundreds of thousands of animals were killed using “depopulation” methods like suffocation and drowning.
Yet, according to Austin Frerick, author of Barons: Money, Power, and the Corruption of America’s Food Industry, industrial farming has faced little consequence for its actions (or lack thereof). “They paid a fine, which is the cost of doing business for them,” he said. Bills introduced by members of Congress to add protections for workers have not gone anywhere.
Over 600 instances of non-compliance with U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) standards have been documented at Superior’s Denver facility since 2019.
“I think people are just feeling like [there’s been] such a failure of federal and state officials to do something,” Frerick said. “So, they’re now trying to least do something locally.” Berkeley, California, will consider a slaughterhouse ban in this year’s election. Further north in California, the elimination of concentrated animal feed operations (CAFOs) is also on Sonoma County’s ballot.
To Pro-Animal Future, the group behind Denver’s initiative, Initiated Ordinance 309 is a pilot—the first step in a plan to scale to bigger cities and subsectors of industrial farming. Sheep production in the United States makes up less than 1 percent of the nation’s livestock industry. Unlike chicken or beef, lamb is a higher-end product, popular mostly for special occasions and among Middle Eastern, Caribbean, and African customers. Others may not even notice lamb’s disappearance from supermarket shelves.
Denver also offers an ideal laboratory for testing initiatives: Only about 9,000 signatures are needed to get a citizen-initiated measure on the ballot here. Compare that to say, Portland, Oregon, where over 40,000 signatures are required, and Denver—even with its longstanding reputation as a “cowtown” that hosts the annual National Western Stock Show—looks appealing to activists.
Pre-seasoned lamb steaks prepared by Superior Farms in Denver, Colorado, which are sold at Walmarts across the U.S. (Photo credit: Raksha Vasudevan)
The livestock industry argues the targeted closure of Superior, which processes up to 20 percent of U.S. lambs, would only scramble the sheep supply chain and create higher prices for consumers. They also claim it would ruin the livelihoods of Superior’s employees, many of whom live in Globeville, a primarily immigrant, low-income neighborhood.
Polling conducted by Superior earlier this year showed that voters were evenly split on the issue, but in September, the Denver Democrats’ Central Committee officially opposed the initiative, citing the loss of good jobs and associated benefits. With liberal voters in the city likely to follow the party’s lead, the ban’s chances of passing appeared slim in early fall, especially considering that Pro-Animal Future had only raised about $244,000 for their campaign by the end of September.
Meanwhile, “Stop the Ban,” a coalition of livestock industry associations, local restaurants, and labor unions that oppose the measure, has amassed over $1.6 million from donors such as the Meat Institute, the American Sheep Industry Association, the Colorado Livestock Association, the National Pork Producers Council, the National Milk Producers Federation, the National Cattlemen’s Beef Association, and Iowa Pork Producers.
“We take Pro Animal Future at their word when they say this is just the first step in their campaign to eventually ban meat,” said Ian Silverii, founder of the Bighorn Company, which handles Stop the Ban’s public relations. “We’re intent on stopping them now.”
Animal rights activists, meanwhile, continue to vie for voters. In early October, Direct Action Everywhere, a network of animal rights activists, released undercover footage captured inside Superior this summer. Video footage shows what activists call potential legal and ethical violations: one lamb that appears to be conscious after slaughter; another with a prolapsed uterus, untreated and headed to slaughter; and workers laughing, spanking animals, and simulating sex acts with machinery on the slaughter line.
“It’s clear that Superior Farms is engaging in not only animal cruelty as prohibited by state law but also in violation of the federal Humane Methods Of Slaughter Act,” Chris Carraway, an animal rights specialist at the University of Denver’s Sturm College of Law, told media following the release of the footage.
Superior disagrees. “Nothing included in the footage we have seen is evidence of extreme violence, animal cruelty, or halal violations,” Mariano told Civil Eats. “This is yet another example of proponents of the slaughterhouse ban misunderstanding or misrepresenting standard, legally compliant parts of the slaughter process in an attempt to shock voters and influence an election.”
Denver’s voters will now decide if they want such slaughter—legal or not—happening in their city.
At the Superior plant in late August, Keyri Reyes, 28, was shivering in a puffer jacket inside Superior. The killing room was not in operation that day, but on a fast-moving assembly line, dozens of Black and brown workers carved large hunks of meat into chops, spareribs, and other cuts. Reyes, towards the end of the line, barely finished garnishing the lamb steaks with sprigs of rosemary and garlic and squeezing them into plastic packets before the next round barreled toward her. The pre-seasoned cuts would soon be sold at Walmarts across the country.
Despite moving quickly, Reyes was cold: The factory floor resembles a refrigerator, a far cry from the balmy air of her native Honduras. “Poverty obligates one to leave one’s country,” she told Civil Eats. Reyes has dark, lively eyes and hands that gesture animatedly as she talks. But she hasn’t necessarily escaped poverty here, earning $19.30/hour—just a dollar above Denver’s minimum wage. Denver regularly ranks among the country’s most expensive cities to live, and even with this comparatively high wage, Reyes must share a rented house with six other people.
“There’s a lot of folks that maybe that’s one of the first jobs they’re able to get when they move to the community.”
To offset the relatively low pay, Superior offers an employee stock ownership program (ESOP), which it touts as a rare perk in meatpacking. Frank Sabedra, who’s worked in maintenance at Superior since 2022, says the ESOP, along with the company’s 401K match and the camaraderie within his team make Superior a far better place to work than his previous employers, Amazon and FedEx. “I plan on working here for the rest of my life,” he said.
Currently, less than a third of its Denver employees are currently vested in the ESOP (employees become eligible after three years), according to Mariano. Reyes, who’s been at Superior since 2021, doesn’t know if she is or will ever become an employee owner. Part of her confusion stems from being hired through an agency: She only became a direct employee of Superior two years ago. Either way, with limited English, a seven-year-old, and a mother to support, her options are limited.
Reyes’ situation is not unusual among Superior’s employees. “They have employed folks that have trouble finding work in other places,” said Nola Miguel, director of the Globeville Elyria Swansea (GES) Coalition, which works to improve affordable housing and health equity in the community. “There’s a lot of folks that maybe that’s one of the first jobs they’re able to get when they move to the community.”
If the ban passes, Austin Frerick fears pushing out a smaller, independent player like Superior from an already consolidated industry might result in less competition for workers—and even lower wages. He also wonders if it might simply displace the problems associated with industrial farming to another location: likely a more rural town, with less oversight than a large, liberal city. But Pro-Animal Future contends that Superior is not following the rules as it is.
According to records acquired by Civil Eats through a Freedom of Information Act request, over 600 instances of non-compliance with U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) standards have been documented at Superior’s Denver facility since 2019. Inspectors observed cuts labeled as halal even when not prepared according to halal practices, and products backdated by over a week.
Other violations included fecal contamination on carcasses, inadequate ventilation, and flies spotted in various parts of the facility—all of which threaten to spread bacteria like E. coli and Salmonella. (Superior points out its compliance rate with USDA regulations is 98.31 percent, which is nearly on par with the 2024 industry average of 98.9 percent.)
OSHA has also documented multiple accidents and safety violations at Superior, including amputation of a thumb in 2022. Adan Hernandez, who worked at Superior from 2006 to 2021, told Civil Eats that he was often forced to do multiple jobs when the line was short-staffed. “Sometimes I was ripping limbs off and also opening the throat of sheep,” he said. “These are things that one has to pay attention to.” With workers at slaughterhouses already cutting at speeds that experts call “dangerously fast,” doubling his tasks felt like asking for an accident.
Last month, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) fined Superior $119,200 for violating chemical safety standards, for ventilation, labeling, and ammonia detectors. Hernandez said ammonia leaks were common at the plant, as was clogged drainage that led to interior flooding. “The water would get up to the knees,” he said. “The [animals’] excrements were floating, blood, everything.”
Superior acknowledges that “just like a home–sometimes we have to deal with a clogged drain.” They emphasize that they have a valid sewer permit, that chemical leaks did not expose workers to chemicals, and that they chose to participate in a Supplemental Environmental Project (SEP) with the EPA that surpasses required standards to prevent ammonia releases.
Mariano also noted that Superior’s employee-owners “take their own safety very seriously and take appropriate precautions against the various risks inherent to any kind of industrial work. They also ensure strong health benefits to provide care and treatment for employee-owners in the rare instances when workplace injuries occur.”
They note that OSHA has only recorded three accidents at Superior in the past decade—but companies are not required to report minor injuries to OSHA, meaning injuries treated with first aid, or that employees choose to seek treatment for on their own, could be missing from this record. When Hernandez got cut on the leg at work, he ended up paying for his own treatment; he said the clinic that Superior sent workers to was slow. He ended up with a hematoma and six stitches.
A metal scrapyard, a shuttered warehouse with cracked windows, and modular homes border Superior’s facility in Denver. Typically, the meatpacking industry locates its facilities in rural and low-income areas, entrenching their poverty and degrading their natural environments. Globeville, home to more than a dozen meatpacking plants in the early 1900s, is now one of the country’s most polluted zip codes. Locals complain of noxious odors from the Purina plant and an oil refinery, car exhaust from two major highways, and the “killing smell” that wafts from Superior.
Behind the facility snakes the South Platte River, where Superior discharges its stormwater. According to the Colorado Department of Public Health & Environment, Superior has violated the Clean Water Act since at least 2018 by failing to report monitoring of pollutants in its discharge. Available data shows the facility exceeded benchmarks for solid effluents by almost 800 percent earlier this summer.
Superior claims the solid effluent reading was erroneous, and that the Water Quality Control Division of the State of Colorado has awarded them a “No Exposure Certification,” meaning their infrastructure is sound enough to prevent any accidental pollution of the South Platte River.
Three out of four slaughterhouses that discharge pollution directly into rivers and streams, meanwhile, are within one mile of low-income or BIPOC communities, according to the EPA. Air and water pollution from slaughterhouses can also contribute to headaches, breathing difficulties, and nose, eye, and throat irritation—all common complaints in Globeville, where locals are hospitalized for asthma-related conditions 63 percent more often than the state average.
Though one study by the Common Sense Institute, a conservative think tank, predicts Superior’s closure would actually increase emissions from the construction of a new slaughterhouse and longer trucking routes, experts largely agree that transport accounts for a tiny proportion of meat’s emissions. They also point out that a new facility would likely be more efficient than a 70-year-old slaughterhouse, and therefore generate fewer emissions. Shutting down Superior, then, might not impact overall greenhouse gas emissions from industrial farming—but it would likely improve air and water quality in Globeville.
It might also lead to land in Globeville becoming more sought after. With its proximity to downtown and the hyper-gentrified River North Arts District, luxury apartments have recently sprung up in the area. Property taxes have also skyrocketed in Globeville, threatening to displace long-time residents.
Pro Animal Future points to Blueprint Denver, a land use plan that designates Superior’s parcel as a mixed-use community center. If the ban passes, they claim the property could be converted to something more “community friendly,” like a park or recreation center. But a city spokesperson said the owners will ultimately decide what redevelopment, if any, happens.
Nola Miguel, at the Globeville Elyria Swansea Coalition, wants to see the land turned into affordable housing or another employer for her working-class neighbors. But she knows there’s no guaranteeing that under the ballot initiative.
“I don’t think it’s been fully vetted and processed, or that the community has even been asked about it, other than very few meetings,” she said. “This is typical of how policy happens in GES. It’s not formed with the neighborhood.”
In Greeley, 65 miles northeast of Denver, loom the industrial giants of Colorado factory farming: JBS, Cactus Hill Ranch, and Double J Lamb Feeders. Superior confirms that most of its lambs come from these “feeders,” industrial operations that pack thousands of animals into outdoor pens. Such large-scale outfits make up the majority of Colorado’s sheep production.
“When you’re that big, when you’re doing 20,000 sheep, you have access to capital,” said Frerick. Meaning: The closure of a single slaughterhouse is unlikely to put these corporate giants out of business.
Aaron Smith, the Gordon Rausser Distinguished Chair and Professor of Agricultural and Resource Economics at U.C. Berkeley, also doubts the sheep industry as a whole will suffer if the ban passes. Total lamb consumption in the U.S. is unlikely to change, he said, but processing might shift to other places. Recent history reinforces this: In 2020, Greeley’s Mountain States Rosen plant, America’s largest lamb processing facility at the time, went bankrupt. Despite a short-term disruption, new facilities in Brush, Colorado, and San Angelo, Texas, swiftly helped absorb the demand.
However, Nick Maneotis, a third-generation rancher in Craig, Colorado, worries that Superior’s disappearance might spell the end of his family’s mid-size operation. Maneotis, 53, and his father, 78, raise about 4,000 lambs a year, all of which end up at Superior either directly or through feeders.
“There’s really nowhere else to go with them,” he said. “Colorado Lamb Processors in Brush only do whole carcasses, so that they don’t cut down to individual cuts to supply to restaurants.” He suspects restaurants will replace Superior’s cuts with imported meat from Australia and New Zealand, which already make up over 60 percent of lamb consumed in the U.S.
A recent Colorado State University study tried to quantify these industry-wide impacts, predicting up to 2,700 job losses from ranching to animal feed to trucking. But other experts criticize this study as overly pessimistic. Smith, for one, believes that Colorado’s robust job market, with 1.5 openings per unemployed person, can absorb most affected workers in the industry.
The ballot initiative also stipulates that the city prioritize Superior’s workers in “workforce training or employment assistance programs, including those provisioned by the Climate Protection Fund.” In 2023, this fund supported training and placement in “green jobs” like solar installation, urban forestry, and facility and water quality management. But some Superior employees object to outsiders dictating what jobs they should do.
With a sigh, Reyes, still in her puffer jacket, said would consider a “green job.” “If there’s no other option, then there’s no other option,” she said. For years, her life had been narrowed by circumstances outside her control. This would just be one more constriction.
But she has a plan.
“More than anything, I want to build my house in Honduras,” she said. In four years, Reyes hopes to have saved enough money to build a home next to her mom’s house in El Rosario and open a little grocery store, a pulpería. She’ll be not just an employee, but an owner—this time, for sure.
This article was updated to correct Aaron Smith’s title at UC Berkeley.
The post The Fate of Denver’s Last Slaughterhouse Is on the Ballot appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post For Contract Farmers, the Election Could Change Everything—or Nothing at All appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>This spring, Minh and Nhu-Hai Ngo were so stressed out by being at home on their farm in Vienna, Georgia, they made plans to visit family in Vietnam. When they spoke to Civil Eats, Nhu-Hai was already there. Minh, a soft-spoken farmer, was getting ready to join her. He sounded defeated.
“I go outside, look at the [chicken] houses, and it’s just empty,” he said. It was the first time in nearly eight years that the houses weren’t packed with birds owned by Tyson, a $21 billion company.
Minh started raising chickens in 2016, when he and Nhu-Hai took out a federal loan to purchase a farm with eight long metal barns built for housing poultry. Every few months, Tyson employees dropped off chicks and feed. They came back six weeks later to fetch fattened birds ready for slaughter.
After five years, in 2021, Tyson demanded that Minh install new fans and controllers in the houses, even though the old ones worked just fine, said Nhu-Hai, who handled the finances. So, despite the debt they still had from the initial farm purchase, the couple took out another loan. Less than three years after that—in October 2023—a Tyson production manager sent a letter with an ominous heading: “RE: Expiration and subsequent non-replacement of Broiler Production Contract.” Tyson was ending its relationship with the Ngos, effective January 26, 2024.
In 1992, the top four chicken companies controlled 41 percent of the market; today, they control 60 percent.
Ever since, Minh and Nhu-Hai have been fretting over how to come up with the money to pay back the bank. They put the farm on the market, but Nhu-Hai said it’s now nearly worthless, without an accompanying contract to grow chickens. (There is little else, after all, that one can do with eight windowless metal barns, each longer than a football field.)
“They give you just enough to survive every day—that’s it,” Minh said, of Tyson’s approach to compensation. “And then they make sure you spend any money on the houses.” Tyson did not respond to a request for comment.
For the Ngos, the situation is uniquely and intimately distressing. However, it’s a common story among America’s chicken farmers, because companies set up the system to place the risk of capital investments on farmers, while they control pretty much everything else. And as the industry has become more consolidated, their power has grown.
Over the past three decades, under both Democrat and Republican administrations, concentration across the meat industry has accelerated. In 1992, the top four chicken companies controlled 41 percent of the market; today, they control 60 percent. In pork, those numbers are 43 vs. 67 percent. In beef, 71 vs. 85 percent.
Economists predict market abuses are likely to occur when control by the four top players in any sector exceeds 40 percent. “What a monopoly does . . . is it uses its market power to raise prices for consumers or to raise prices in a stealthy way by reducing quality,” explained Christopher Leonard, author of The Meat Racket, while moderating a virtual Farm Action event called “Justice for America’s Poultry Growers” in July. “At the same time, on the other end of the ledger, they suppress what they pay producers . . . and they capture the profits that are in the middle. It’s a pretty simple playbook.”
Now, as the election approaches, many experts and farmers say the outcome could determine whether the farm economy continues toward consolidation and monopoly, or whether—if the next administration enacts policies to restore a more competitive marketplace—it shifts power away from corporations and toward farmers.
They’ve got good reason: Upon taking office, the Trump administration immediately scrapped rules meant to protect farmers and was generally passive on antitrust enforcement. Meanwhile, shortly after being sworn in, the Biden Administration announced it would tackle consolidation with an executive order on “promoting competition in the American economy.” The order included a long to-do list for Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack to, among other goals, “address the unfair treatment of farmers” and a directive for the chair of the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) to “address the consolidation of industry in many markets across the economy.”
Some farmers and advocates say the Biden administration has delivered on an impressive number of those priorities, while others see its passionate rhetoric as disguising a lack of meaningful progress. Many predict that as president, Vice President Kamala Harris is likely to advance efforts to confront consolidation in meatpacking, but without a formal policy document, it’s hard to know exactly how. Most say that despite Trump’s populist language and popularity among commodity farmers, his focus on deregulation and actions during his first term point to a future with more power for meatpackers and less for contract farmers.
Industry groups that represent the biggest companies, including the National Chicken Council and the Meat Institute have repeatedly pushed back on the characterization of consolidation and harms to contract farmers as an issue, calling the Biden Administration’s efforts “a solution in search of a problem.”
However, experts like Austin Frerick—author of Barons and former co-chair of the Biden campaign’s Agriculture Antitrust Policy Committee—say the problem of consolidation and its multiple impacts on Americans represents a real opportunity for candidates. “The piñata is so big, and it’s saying, ‘Hit me, hit me,’ especially in meat markets,” he said. For example, recent reports show that some of the largest meat companies including Tyson and JBS USA have used their power to skirt child labor laws and to fix prices, raising the cost of groceries. “Someone’s eventually going to latch onto this. The politics are just too good.”
“(The companies) say we’re independent, but we’re not independent,” said Jonathan Buttram, a former contract chicken farmer who is now president of the Alabama Contract Poultry Growers Association, during the Farm Action event. “How can we be independent when we have the debt, we have all the dead chickens, and that’s basically all we have? They own everything else. They make you feel like a sharecropper.”
Americans have been here before. Worker abuses perpetrated by turn-of-the-century meat barons prompted Congress to pass the Packers & Stockyards Act in 1921, in part to “assure fair competition and fair trade practices, to safeguard farmers and ranchers.”
More than 100 years later, however, after a mind-numbing series of false starts, there were still no rules on the books to enforce the law when President Biden took office. Former President Trump is partially responsible: During the Obama administration, Secretary Vilsack got some rules started, but Trump immediately threw them out when he took office. Trump then went a step further, dissolving the office that was set up to enforce Packers & Stockyards and moving oversight of the law to the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s (USDA) Agricultural Marketing Service (AMS).
“AMS’s job is basically promoting the largest corporations, including meatpackers and grain traders, so to say, ‘You have to hold these companies accountable, but your bigger mission is to promote those companies,’ that gave us a lot of concern,” said Angela Huffman, president of Farm Action.
When Vilsack came in with a directive from Biden to restart work on Packers & Stockyards, he didn’t reverse that decision. However, under his watch, the USDA has finalized or proposed multiple rules that have earned the support of a wide range of farmer groups, including the National Farmers Union and the American Farm Bureau Federation. “We’ve been really happy that the Biden administration has taken this up,” Huffman said, and she’s been surprised by how vigorously they’ve pursued it. “Our big concern is just with the pace.
A USDA spokesperson said the agency used maximum resources to expedite the pace but that the rulemaking process is complex.
Huffman sees two pending rules as the most important for contract poultry farmers, and notes that if they’re not finalized before the election, an incoming president could throw them out immediately. Given that’s what Trump did the last time around, there’s reason to believe he would do it again, while Harris would likely let them stand. However, support of the rules doesn’t always break down along party lines: Some Republican lawmakers have attempted to roll back progress on the rules by attaching policy riders to legislative packages, while a few Democrats have made requests to slow down the process in ways that echo meat industry requests.
Others are frustrated by the fact that the rules seem to flit around the edges of deeper reform. For example, one of the most controversial aspects of contract farming in the chicken industry has long been the “tournament system,” so called because wages are turned into a competition, with farmers paid based on how fat their chickens are compared to those at neighboring farms. If implemented, the rules could set minimums for base pay and require companies to provide more information on how their pay rate is calculated. The fundamental structure of the tournament system, however, would remain.
Experts at organizations like the Open Markets Institute say that while the rules would help, the system itself is unfair and therefore violates the law and should be banned outright.
The National Chicken Council, on the other hand, says the Packers and Stockyards Act already prohibits anti-competitive practices and that some of the rules would increase costs, including to farmers.
Another rule would require companies to provide more details on the purpose and costs of upgrades when they demand farmers make expensive improvements to chicken houses, like Tyson did with the Ngos in 2021. But Nhu-Hai said there’s only one thing that would really make a difference for farmers: if the pay covered the upgrade. “Otherwise, you still have to be more in debt. It’s not worth it.”
Still, some farmer advocates see big potential in small tweaks to regulations, and Biden’s USDA did deliver on another major priority of independent cattle ranchers: In March, the USDA finalized a new “Product of USA” rule so that meat carrying that label will now have to come from animals born, raised, and processed here. It’s a change that comes after years of work, to ensure American farmers don’t face unfair competition from cheaper imports that carry the USA label.
During Trump’s presidency, Secretary of Agriculture Sonny Perdue famously told a group of struggling Wisconsin dairy farmers that “In America, the big get bigger, and the small go out.”
Secretary Vilsack’s language couldn’t be more different. Since the USDA released the 2022 Farm Census data earlier this year, statistics on consolidation and the loss of small and mid-size farms have been a fixture in his regular speeches. At a recent Field Day at the Rodale Institute in Pennsylvania, for example, he shared the fact that in 2022, the largest 7.5 percent of farms took in 89 percent of overall farm income, “which means that 1.7 million farms had to share 11 percent.”
“How can we be independent when we have the debt, we have all the dead chickens, and that’s basically all we have?
He also noted that 544,000 farms have gone out of business since 1981. “If you took every farmer today in North Dakota and South Dakota and added them to the ones in Minnesota and Wisconsin and those in Illinois and Iowa, as well as those in Nebraska and Colorado and those in Missouri and Oklahoma, you’d have roughly 544,000 farmers,” he laid out, for emphasis.
One of the key actions his USDA has taken to save small- and mid-size farms has been to invest in slaughterhouses and processing plants that work with farmers at that scale. The reasoning is simple: If there are more smaller, independent plants to buy and process animals for small farmers, competition will increase and the big packers will have less power.
In January 2022, the USDA announced a plan to invest $1 billion in competitive meat infrastructure. In July of this year, the agency said it had already distributed $700 million to that end.
But many experts say that because the big packers have already gotten so big, new, smaller plants will never be able to compete. “The reality is that the meat markets got more concentrated these last four years. JBS made a purchase. Tyson made a purchase. Cargill got back into the chicken industry,” Frerick said.
A spokesperson for the USDA emphasized that many of the smaller plants have not even opened yet, and that reversing decades of concentration will require a long-term commitment to a whole-of-government approach.
“From the very first days of the Biden-Harris Administration, USDA has been working to promote competition in agriculture by making landmark investments that diversify agriculture processing and support small and rural businesses, modernizing the rulebook under the Packers & Stockyards Act, and implementing wide-ranging policies to address the harms that market concentration poses to farmers and consumers,” the spokesperson said in an emailed statement. “These unprecedented actions will help to bring transparency, choice, and integrity back to the markets and serve the interests of farmers and small- and mid-sized independent processors alike.”
The USDA’s actions on other fronts have strengthened large companies: Vilsack’s USDA, for example, gave Tyson a $60 million Climate-Smart Commodities Grant. Under Trump, Brazil-based JBS, the largest meat company in the world, got the largest pork contract in a program meant to compensate American farmers for trade deficits, netting nearly $78 million. (In both cases, the administrations have said that the money is passed through to farmers.)
Where Frerick thinks real change could happen to reign in consolidation is in antitrust regulation, which the Biden administration has also been pushing forward after appointing antitrust crusader Lina Khan to chair the FTC. Kahn has met with Iowa farmers about consolidation in the fertilizer industry, and in 2023, she led a significant update to the government’s merger guidelines. “The FTC and DOJ [Department of Justice] now have much stronger guidelines. Over time, I think that’s going to make a big difference, regardless of who’s president,” Huffman said.
As to the two candidates angling to move into the White House next year, neither has said much or published detailed positions on meat industry consolidation.
However, Harris recently said she plans to crack down on food industry mergers, and the 2024 Democratic Party Platform mentions concentration and notes the Biden administration’s work to “make livestock and poultry markets fairer and more transparent.” Her past actions also provide some clues: Huffman said that when Harris was a senator, she voted in favor of checkoff reform, another big priority for groups working on curtailing corporate power in the food system.
Frerick said it will all depend on who Harris appoints to lead the USDA. Because while he is emphatically disappointed in the Biden Administration’s performance on corporate consolidation, he thinks much of the failure lies in Vilsack’s ties to industry. If Trump wins, on the other hand, based on the former president’s last term, “everything bad will get turbocharged,” he said. While farmers have become a sort of emblematic picture of a typical Trump voter and many support the former president this time around, across a diverse agricultural landscape, there are also many who agree with Frerick’s opinion.
Carlton Sanders has been advocating for farmers since his Mississippi farm went into foreclosure in 2017, after, he said, the company he grew chickens for drove him out of business using discriminatory practices (which were later documented by the USDA). During the Farm Action event, he told a story of going to D.C. to meet with Trump during his first term. “He checked my case and my records, and he said I should get back to Mississippi and be proud that Koch Foods is providing jobs for the Mississippians. He said he won’t help with nothing, and he did not,” Sanders said. “Donald Trump is definitely not gonna help the chicken farmers.”
The 2024 Republican Party Platform does not mention corporate power, antitrust issues, or farmers in the meat industry.
As for Minh and Nhu-Hai Ngo, at the end of the day, they’re not sure it matters who is in office in Washington. They are desperate to get out of the chicken business altogether, and Minh is thinking about going back to driving a truck. But they also just heard that Tyson sold its local operations to a smaller company that may be offering new contracts to farms in the region. So, they waver as they reason it out: If they can’t sell the barns or make loan payments and a company comes along offering a contract, will the least terrible option be to get back in?
In August, after half a year of empty barns, they were increasingly anxious about their financial predicament. It seemed, Nhu-Hai said, that as long as companies like Tyson could amass unlimited wealth and power, elections would do little to change the course of their future. “Sometimes, I don’t feel like it makes a big difference,” she said.
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The post The US Weakens a UN Declaration on Antibiotic Resistance appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Last May, the United Nations (U.N.) released the first draft of a global plan to tackle antibiotic resistance that aligned with a call from world leaders’ expert advisors to take “bold and specific action.” That included a commitment to reduce the use of antibiotics used in the food and agriculture system by 30 percent by 2030.
But when those leaders meet at the U.N. on Thursday to adopt the Political Declaration on Antimicrobial Resistance, that concrete goal and others will be missing from the latest draft.
After months of negotiations and edits to the proposal, these ambitious—and likely effective—commitments have been replaced with a toothless target: to “strive to meaningfully reduce” antibiotic use in agriculture. Now, experts and advocates are concerned that this new, vague provision, among other weakened commitments, will be included in the final declaration.
“I think it’s a serious mistake,” said Andre Delattre, the senior vice president and COO for programs at the Public Interest Network, which has advocated for reducing antibiotic use on farms as a matter of public interest for years. “We’ve known for a very long time that the overuse of antibiotics in animal agriculture is really problematic for public health. Saying we’re going to reduce without setting targets just shows we’re not as serious as we should be about the problem.”
The news comes at a pivotal moment. While the urgency of antibiotic resistance as a public health threat is well known, a new study released last week upped the ante. According to a systemic analysis of the problem, researchers predicted deaths directly caused by resistance will increase nearly 70 percent between 2022 and 2050, rising to around 2 million per year globally, with another 8 million deaths associated with the issue.
In the U.S., the largest volume of antibiotics are used in animal agriculture. Also, the preventive dosing of animals with medically important drugs—that is, drugs for treating humans—is still routine. This use of drugs can drive the development of resistant bacteria that then threaten human lives. Reducing or eliminating the use of medically important antibiotics in livestock would slow the development of resistant bacteria, experts say, safeguarding the efficacy of important drugs for longer.
“It is estimated that by 2050, as many as 10 million people globally will die annually from antibiotic-resistant infections unless the United States joins with other countries to quickly take aggressive action to address this issue.”
U.S. officials were at least partially responsible for weakening the U.N. declaration’s commitments on animal agriculture. The advocacy organization U.S. Right to Know obtained a document showing that the U.S. was one of a few meat-producing countries that suggested deleting the 2030 goal. The organization also cites the fact that a Washington, D.C. trade group representing the animal drug industry objected to the goal. In response to questions about involvement in the U.N. declaration, a U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) spokesperson referred Civil Eats to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA). FDA officials did not respond by press time.
Steve Roach, the Safe & Healthy Food Program Director at Food Animal Concerns Trust (FACT), has been tracking U.S. policy on antibiotic use in agriculture for years. He said that on the international stage, he’s seen the U.S. “actively undermining” stronger policies time and time again.
“The U.S. always seems to be aiming for something weaker,” he said. For example, he said the U.S. worked to keep targets for the reduction of antibiotic use out of international food safety standards. The U.S. was also one of five countries—all top users of antibiotics in animal agriculture— that did not sign onto an earlier global agreement, called the Muscat Ministerial Manifesto on AMR, that did include targeted reductions.
And Roach said that this approach on the global stage mirrors how federal agencies continue to approach the issue at home. “We’ve been calling for targets for years, and FDA is always saying, ‘We don’t have enough data to determine how much use is inappropriate. So, therefore, we don’t support targets,’” he said.
The FDA does track the volume of medically important antibiotics sold for use in animals, but it is still not tracking exactly how those drugs are being used on farms. Instead, it has funded small pilot projects and is now in the process of working with the meat industry on a voluntary reporting system.
The agency outlined some of those efforts in a letter sent to Senator Cory Booker (D-New Jersey) last week. The letter was in response to concerns Booker raised in July about updates he felt would weaken guidance the FDA creates for the industry on responsible antibiotic use. Booker’s team was far from satisfied with the agency’s response and said that after more than a decade of attention, they found it incredibly troubling that basic issues of data collection and setting concrete targets were still unresolved.
“It is estimated that by 2050, as many as 10 million people globally will die annually from antibiotic-resistant infections unless the United States joins with other countries to quickly take aggressive action to address this issue. That is why I am deeply concerned that the FDA has caved under pressure from special interests for decades and failed to take any meaningful steps to address this overuse in industrial livestock production,” Booker said in an email to Civil Eats. “Not only has the FDA been unwilling to use its legal authority to reduce the massive overuse of antibiotics on factory farms in the U.S., but the agency is now actively working to block international commitments to address antimicrobial resistance.”
In 2016, the agency banned the use of medically important drugs on farms solely for the purpose of making animals get bigger, faster. That change led to a big drop in overall drug use. But pork producers and cattle feedlots still routinely add antibiotics to feed and water, often for long stretches, and drug use in those sectors has been rising over the past two years.
At the end of August, the USDA reported its recent testing even found antibiotic residue in about 20 percent of beef samples labeled “raised without antibiotics.” And over the past year, companies that once committed to moving their supply chains away from routine antibiotic use have been backtracking.
Multiple experts expressed dismay over what they said now feels like continued steps away from stronger regulations that can adequately protect public health.
“The U.S. government will do whatever it can to fight the serious public health threat of antimicrobial resistance—as long as that action has no impact on anyone whatsoever, as long as nobody has to make any changes to what they’re doing,” Roach said. “It’s really disappointing, because the U.S. could be a leader on this issue, and it just consistently chooses not to.”
In the absence of government leadership, Delattre said, watchdog groups will have to work harder.
“The commitment as it’s drafted now says it’s supposed to aim for meaningful reductions by every member country. Those numeric targets represented an idea of meaningful reduction,” he said. “Whether they’re in there or not, they’re the sort of thing we need to aim for, and it’s what we’ll be holding the U.S. farm animal industry to going forward.”
Read More:
What Happened to Antibiotic-Free Chicken?
Medically Important Antibiotics Are Still Being Used to Fatten Up Pigs
The FDA Is Still Not Tracking How Farms Use Antibiotics
Poultry Implosion. According to a lawsuit filed today, an ambitious plan to create a poultry company dedicated to slower-growing chickens involved rapid company growth that led to its downfall—and ultimately harmed farmers raising its birds. Although Cooks’ Venture set out to raise healthier birds under better farm conditions, it replicated the contract system used by bigger industry players like Tyson and Perdue, placing financial risk on the shoulders of producers.
In the legal complaint, farmers say the company’s leadership misled them by misrepresenting the financial health of the operation. As a result, many took on debt to house and care for the chickens in anticipation of a long-term payoff. When the company went out of business without notice, it left farmers in the lurch. The lawsuit also alleges the individuals in charge of the company conspired with the Arkansas Department of Agriculture to kill more than a million chickens after the company folded—so they wouldn’t have to process them or pay farmers for the flocks—and left farmers to clean up the mess.
The lawsuit will be one of the first brought under new rules finalized by the Biden administration intended to better enforce the Packers & Stockyards Act.
Read More:
The Race to Produce a Slower-Growing Chicken
The Continuing Woes of Contract Chicken Farmers
Food-and-Climate Funding. As companies, advocates, and investors gather in New York City for Climate Week, multiple organizations are calling attention to the flow of capital toward food and agriculture systems that accelerate climate change—and how to redirect those funds.
Given meat’s outsized climate impacts, the global meat industry is at the top of the list. A group of 105 food and environmental organizations sent a letter to the world’s biggest private banks demanding they halt new funding for industrial livestock production and require meat and dairy clients to report emissions reduction targets. Meanwhile, Tilt Collective, a new nonprofit promoting a rapid shift toward plant-based diets, released a report highlighting investment opportunities. According to its analysis, investments in transitioning to a plant-based food system could reduce energy emissions far more than investments in renewable energy or electric vehicles, while also delivering other benefits, like reduced water use and biodiversity loss.
Nonprofits that work directly with the biggest food and agriculture companies are also in on the action. The Environmental Defense Fund released a report for investors on how they can play a role in reducing methane from livestock, while Ceres updated its investor-focused reporting on the 50 biggest food companies’ greenhouse gas emissions reporting and reductions. Their data showed that only 11 of the 50 companies reduced their overall greenhouse gas emissions compared to their base years, while 12 increased emissions. Lack of progress on emissions reductions was largely linked to the food companies’ supply chains. So while many companies did cut emissions from their own operations by shifting to renewable energy, for example, they struggled to reduce those that happened in farm fields and feedlots, which typically represent about 90 percent of a food company’s overall emissions.
Read More:
The IPCC’s Latest Climate Report Is a Final Alarm for Food Systems, Too
Methane From Agriculture Is a Big Problem. We Explain Why.
Fresh Cafeteria Fare. A lengthy progress report on California’s farm-to-school grant program—the largest in the nation—found the state’s efforts are paying off. More local food is getting into schools while supporting farmers. Between 2020 and 2022, the California Department of Food and Agriculture (CDFA) distributed about $100 million to increase locally farmed food served in school cafeterias. The results of this program—which includes farm-fresh meals and nutrition education efforts—disproportionately benefitted students from lower-income families who were eligible for free or reduced-price meals. At the same time, the funding went primarily to small- and mid-size farms, more than half of which were owned by women; more than 40 percent were owned by producers of color.
Participating farms were also much more likely to be organic or transitioning to organic production compared to the state average. They were also likely to be implementing and/or expanding other environmentally friendly practices.
Still, despite California’s advantages over other states—namely a super-long growing season that overlaps with the school year and a plethora of farms selling fruit, vegetables, meat, and dairy—the total money spent by school grantees on local food represented just 1 percent of total food budgets. And schools cited many challenges common across the farm-to-school landscape: price constraints, processing capacity, and staffing. “The challenges around changing a complex school food system are substantial,” said Dr. Gail Feenstra, one of the researchers involved in the report, in a press release. “Fortunately, the state’s strategic and innovative investments in the entire farm to school supply chain—meaning funding for school districts, farmers, and also their regional partners, combined with support from CDFA’s regional staff—are beginning to address those long-standing challenges.”
Read More:
New School Meal Standards Could Put More Local Food on Students’ Lunch Trays
Farm-to-School Efforts Just Got a Big Influx of Cash. Will It Help More Schools Get on Board?
Pandemic Disruptions Created an Opportunity for Organic School Meals in California
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]]>The post Why Are US Agricultural Emissions Dropping? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The fall has become the season for reviewing climate progress, book-ended by two major climate summits. First comes New York City Climate Week, held between September 22 and 29, followed by the most important global climate event of the year, the 2024 United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP29), which will be held in Baku, Azerbaijan, from November 11 to November 22. There, global leaders will gather to fulfill the legally binding promise of the Paris Agreement: to keep worldwide emissions at a livable threshold.
In recent years, curbing emissions from agriculture and the broader food system has become a bigger piece of the conference’s programming. And this year, the most influential group in American agriculture has been pointing to big strides made.
“The impact that the drought is having on pasture is forcing the culling of cattle and reducing the cattle herd.”
The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) annual emissions inventory report showed that emissions from the agricultural sector dropped by nearly 2 percent, falling from 10.6 to 9.4 percent of total greenhouse gas emissions between 2021 and 2022—the sharpest drop of all sectors in 2022. In response, the American Farm Bureau’s president, Zippy Duvall, attributed the shift to U.S. farmers adopting climate-friendly practices through “voluntary and market-based programs that support farmer efforts in sustainable agriculture practices.”
However, the report doesn’t support the conclusion that a bump in conservation practices drove the drop in emissions. Instead, while there is plenty of uncertainty, the most likely causes are fewer cattle burping methane and less fertilizer use. Concentrated feedlot cattle farming and fertilizer production are among the biggest drivers of emissions from agriculture.
It’s a significant conclusion, because in the past, industry groups have fought all efforts to draft climate policy around reducing meat and dairy consumption and chemical fertilizer use. Going into climate event season, with the clock ticking even louder, that could happen again.
Duvall is right about farmers adopting valuable conservation practices. For example, many more are planting cover crops, with acreage increasing by 17 percent between 2017 and 2022. But despite the proven environmental benefits of these practices, their real climate impact is still in question.
However, the impact of reducing methane is well understood. And in its report, the EPA explicitly states that the drop of methane emissions was “largely driven by a decrease in beef cattle populations.” Through no fault of their own, ruminant animals, like cattle and sheep, exhale methane as they digest their food. Known as enteric fermentation, this is a top driver of human-related methane emissions in the U.S. In 2022, these emissions decreased by 2 percent, contributing to the overall drop.
Why were there fewer cattle? The decline in numbers isn’t due to any regulations on methane or herd size—a frequent Republican talking point—but rather the impacts of climate change. The record-breaking drought since 2022 has dried the landscape and shrunk the available grassy pasture for raising cattle, explained Ben Lilliston, the director of rural strategies and climate change at the Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy. As a result, farmers have had to make hard choices to prevent the overgrazing of this limited green pasture.
“The impact that the drought is having on pasture is forcing the culling of cattle and reducing the cattle herd,” said Lilliston. “So, when you have fewer cows, you’re going to have fewer enteric [fermentation] emissions coming from the cow itself.”
And it’s not just methane. The EPA also reported lower nitrous oxide emissions from feedlot manure, captured in manure lagoons, “which are major sources of both methane and nitrous oxide,” said Lilliston. “So, when you reduce the cattle herd, you affect both those sources of emissions.”
This relationship has generally held true over time. The EPA has observed a consistent relationship between the size of cattle herds and fluctuations in methane emissions from enteric fermentation. As the report states, “this increase in emissions from enteric fermentation from 1990 to 2022 generally follows the increasing trends in cattle populations.” The agency pointed to how “emissions increased from 2005 to 2007, as both dairy and beef populations increased.” Now, as cattle herds decrease, that trend has reversed.
The multi-year drought continues to devastate ranchers, which could mean further declines in emissions. “Based on USDA statistics, cattle populations have continued to decrease in 2023 and 2024, which tend to drive methane and nitrous oxide emissions from the enteric fermentation and manure management categories as described in the GHG Inventory,” wrote an EPA spokesperson in an email.
The drop in nitrous oxide emissions could also be driven by less fertilizer use, related to the dramatic surge in fertilizer prices in 2021 and 2022, beyond what farmers could afford. This coincided with Russia’s attack on Ukraine, which disrupted fertilizer supply chains. In response, the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) noted that farmers made different business calculations: “Some producers may have chosen to reduce the overall acreage planted, while others chose to maintain acreage but change crop mix or modify other practices,” the USDA commented in a 2022 report.
This is likely especially true for farmers growing corn, the most widely planted crop in the U.S., primarily grown to produce ethanol. “Corn is the main driver of nitrogen fertilizer use,” said Lilliston. But as fertilizer prices surged, “a lot of commodity farmers responded by planting more soybeans, which doesn’t require as much fertilizer,” he noted.
Rather than a permanent shift, this suggests a more temporary fluctuation. Lilliston expects nitrous oxide emissions to rebound in the EPA’s next report, as fertilizer prices leveled in 2023 and the U.S. produced a record corn crop.
“Ultimately, it seems primarily the big story is that there’s less production of U.S. agriculture and [therefore] less emissions. Farmers aren’t necessarily producing food in much more climate-smart ways than they were in 2021, just producing a little bit less of it,” said Dan Blaustein-Rejto, the director of food & agriculture at the Breakthrough Institute.
“The EPA report is really not meant to assess the impact of conservation programs or specific farming practices,” added Blaustein-Rejto. “[It] certainly is not looking at the effect of specific voluntary programs or other efforts,” he said.
In general, agricultural emissions experts interviewed for this article agreed that the EPA’s annual greenhouse-gas emissions inventory reflects such a brief snapshot of time that it can be hard to tell if it indicates a larger shift in the food system or a fluctuation based on agricultural market changes and disruptions. The EPA also continually refines its methodologies for calculating emissions, which can make it hard to compare smaller shifts in emissions included in the reports.
‘There’s so much uncertainty in those predictions that I would hesitate to really read too much into any small variation from year to year, outside of demonstrable changes and practices out on the landscape,” said Steven Hall, a professor in the Department of Plant and Agroecosystem Sciences at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “The emissions inventories published by EPA are subject to substantial uncertainty.”
“I think the EPA is doing an admirable job at trying to estimate this,” he added. “It’s sort of an impossible task.” The report, perhaps, most clearly shows that we still have work to do in transforming our systems for growing food.
And it points to two simple things that policy wonks and world leaders could be spending more time debating: How climate policy should and could tackle emissions from beef production and fertilizer use. “Unfortunately, the 2022 reductions were not part of a planned strategy to support farmers in a transition toward less emitting, more resilient agricultural systems,” said Lilliston in a commentary on the EPA report. “Instead, the reductions were the result of sudden shocks that caused enormous harm to farmers and their animals. Volatile prices make it nearly impossible for farmers to plan ahead or transition to more diverse cropping systems that require less fertilizer use.”
Going forward, he argued, policy conversations should prioritize transitioning away from industrial animal agriculture, which also depends on fertilized corn for feed. “Instead, policymakers continue to defer to the wants of powerful global grain and meat companies, while climate-related events, such as drought, wildfires, and floods, warn us that change is coming, ready or not.”
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]]>The post How a Vermont Cheesemaker Helps Local Farms Thrive appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post ‘Shelf Life’ Peeks Into the Nooks and Crannies of the Cheesemaker’s World appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>“Milk is one of the simplest things in nature,” says Jim Stillwagon, an eccentric cheesemaker standing in his cluttered kitchen somewhere in the Pyrenees. “When a child vomits on your shoulder, those are the earliest vestiges of cheese.”
Stillwagon’s strange philosophical musings on curd set the tone for Shelf Life, a new documentary about the parallels between cheese aging and human aging. Produced by Robyn Metcalfe and directed by Ian Cheney (whose films include King Corn and The Search for General Tso), Shelf Life premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in June, where it won the award for Best Cinematography in a Documentary Feature.
Filmed in more than six countries over three years, Shelf Life takes us inside the work spaces of artisan cheesemakers and specialists to observe them at their craft: through the halls of underground cheese vaults in Vermont. Under the microscope with a cheese microbiologist in California. Behind the scenes of the World Cheese Awards in Wales. Into a children’s classroom in Japan for a cheese-making lesson. And to the cheese-laden dining-room table of an award-winning cheesemonger in Chicago (see “Five Questions for Alisha Norris Jones,” below).
Cheesemaker Jim Stillwagon in his kitchen somewhere in the Pyrenees. (Photo courtesy of Wicked Delicate Films)
Wonderfully diverse in scope, we even get to visit an archeologist’s dig site in Egypt to learn about cheese in the afterlife, observe a traditional hand-pulled cheese practice in Tbilisi, Georgia, and descend into the shadowy basement stacks of a cheese librarian in Switzerland. Metcalfe calls this remarkable cast of characters “the poets of the cheese business.”
Shelf Life captures the vast and complex universe of cheese, acknowledging its place in the food system without getting into its politics—even when there’s a lot to say: The global cheese market is estimated at around $187 billion, according to one report, but this monetary worth comes with a sizable carbon footprint. According to a joint study by the Environmental Working Group and the firm Clean Metrics, dairy-based cheese is the third-highest contributor to greenhouse gas emissions, trailing behind beef and lamb.
Some have advocated for vegan cheese as a potential solution to environmental troubles. But dairy-based cheeses play an important role in local economies and culinary traditions worldwide, enriching people’s stories and ways of life—something Shelf Life celebrates.
Although film is a relatively new medium for Metcalfe, her connection to the food industry goes back to her grandfather, Roy Diem, who worked with entrepreneur Bob Wian to build the first Bob’s Big Boy. Metcalfe grew up spending time at the restaurant, famous for its double-decker hamburger. She went on to study historical food systems at Boston University, where she earned her Ph.D., and taught modern European food history at the University of Texas, Austin. At one time, she conserved rare breeds of livestock in Maine.
Metcalfe has authored several books on the food supply chain, including Food Routes: Growing Bananas in Iceland and Other Tales from the Logistics of Eating (featured in Civil Eats’ 2019 summer book guide). She also founded Food+City, a nonprofit storytelling platform that delves into how cities are fed, and the Food+City Challenge Prize, a pitch competition funding food-tech startups around the world.
We spoke with Metcalfe recently about why she made the documentary, the future of vegan cheese, and how aging builds character both in cheeses and humans.
What inspired you to make a documentary about cheese—and why now?
The first urge to pursue this subject came from an unanswered question I had as I finished a book called Humans in Our Food. My interest in food, oddly, is not so much about the food; it’s about the systems that bring the food to the table. Often, they feel industrial and disconnected from humans.
One of my curiosities was, what are the food stories we’re not hearing? Who’s missing and unseen? I sensed that it was the people building pallets, working in food service, driving trucks, packing, and all of that stuff. I wondered if what we imagine about them is true—for example, that they’d all rather be doing something else. Or that they’re working for very little money, are pretty much exploited, kind of a sad picture, and not very smart. Some people think, “Well, if you were really smart, you would not be doing that work.”
What I did [for the book] was travel all over the world and look at a really simple dish, like a slice of pizza in New York or a rice ball in Japan. Then, I went to see who brought those things together. In doing so, the answer I got was, these unseen people are aspirational. For many immigrants in particular, it’s the way they get in and up and move onward. Some of them, surprisingly, love their jobs. Not all of them, but the assumption was so much one way, and I discovered it’s much more nuanced. One group I was really curious about was affineurs, people who work in caves. [You] might be familiar with going through a winery and seeing people who age wine, but not many people know who’s in caves aging cheese.
The second thing is that, in becoming older, I was really put off by the conversations that people wanted to have with me even a decade ago, which were, “Oh, are you still doing X?” It was all about decline and being careful and not taking any risks and certainly not building up, but designing down. It was disturbing to me. This is not what anyone wants to hear. And how much of it is a self-fulfilling prophecy, after all?
So, I’m holding this thought about how cheese ages and I thought, “I wonder if we can learn something about aging a cheese, which gets better over time or transforms [and becomes] what it wants to be in terms of character. Might we push back on this human conversation of decline?” Those two things are why I chose this subject. It wasn’t because I was a cheese lover who wanted to make a film about cheese and found a way.
Did making ‘Shelf Life’ turn you into a cheese lover?
At one point, I got a cheese certificate at Boston University because that’s how you learn about things. But if someone said to me, “Robyn, what’s the difference between these two blues?” or asked me to tease out all the different flavor molecules, I would be absolutely helpless. [But cheese is] a wonderful lens to look at life.
A cheese expert feels the rind that develops during the aging process. (Photo courtesy of Wicked Delicate Films)
What were some challenges you faced when filming?
It was a challenge getting [the cheesemakers] to talk about aging. I mean, how many people do you know who like to talk about aging? People, especially younger generations, want to be relatable and supportive, and they’re curious about being older, but it’s an awkward conversation.
(Instead,) everyone wanted to share their cheese [process]. We would get responses like, “Thank you for contacting us. This is how we make our cheese.” But we weren’t actually that interested in the how but more the why. That was very hard, because people are over the moon about cheese and want to talk about it. So, we spent more time getting to know our characters before they felt they had told us their story about cheese and would speak to us about other things.
Did you learn anything new or surprising from the conversations about cheese and aging?
Absolutely. There were a lot of really fun little paradoxes. Initially, we talked to a cheese-making nun who was featured in a New Yorker article [but didn’t make it into the film]. She had a very interesting spiritual approach to what’s going on with cheese. I was really surprised to see how you could draw a metaphor about cheese as a body. Generations of microbes transform the cheese. They eat the cheese, then they die, and leave it for the next generation of microbes . . . changing the landscape of that cheese as it develops into its character.
Also, I appreciated cheesemaker Mary Quicke’s comments about multiple peaking. People talk a lot about how I’ve “passed my peak,” “I’m not in my prime,” or “Are these the sunset years of my life?” I was surprised by her clarity and understanding that you have a lot of peaks, and you’ll have more peaks. There’s not a limited supply of peaks; it’s just a limited imagination.
Were any of the people you interviewed for the film concerned about climate change?
Some people were attaching sustainability to their farming practices—for example, Jasper Hill, in Vermont. But some of the cheese companies and cheesemakers we spoke to are so small-scale that, in most cases, climate concerns never came up. Jasper Hill uses milk from, shall we say, a largish dairy and sort of sits on the edge of artisanal and scale. That’s the conundrum, isn’t it? If you want to have good food available at a low cost to as many people as possible, then you have to get bigger. In Shelf Life, you can see that Jasper Hill already has a robot flipping cheese.
A quality control group in the underground cellars at Jasper Hill Farm in Vermont. (Photo courtesy of Wicked Delicate Films)
As a historian, were there specific experiences or people you encountered while filming that stuck with you more than others—for instance, the notion that cheese, for Egyptians, was a food they envisioned in the afterlife?
I could relate to the archeologist in Egypt trying to read artifacts and divine a story from them. Historians often don’t have the actual pieces of things and are always groping and learning how to tell the story. I was surprised to hear about the Egyptians’ concept of cheese, because you don’t read much about that.
I was fascinated by the use of old historic buildings being used to age cheese, like old breweries, for example, and some of the bunkers in Europe. Or weird places like subway halls. These repurposed spaces bring up a terroir sort of conversation about the minerals, the humidity, the bacteria, and all of that. I’m not in the cheese business, but all these moves for new sanitation standards—removing the bacteria and original wooden shelves where cheese has aged—are disheartening, because often it’s that magic elixir of all those things that make cheese special.
These conversations have been edited for length and clarity.
To find a screening of Shelf Life, or to host one, visit https://www.shelflifefilm.org/
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]]>The post Senator Cory Booker Says FDA Proposal Could Worsen Antibiotic Resistance appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>A pending proposal from the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) could “worsen the catastrophic impacts of antimicrobial resistance” if finalized, according to Senator Cory Booker (D-New Jersey).
On Tuesday, Booker sent a letter to commissioner Robert Califf expressing concerns about changes to “duration limits” in the FDA’s revised guidance on antibiotic use in animal agriculture. Continuously using drugs for long stretches is known to lead to antibiotic resistance. And just as antibiotics are now prescribed for humans for the least number of days possible, the FDA has long recognized the need to set limits in feeding them to groups of pigs, chickens, and cows.
However, in the proposal, Booker said, agency officials went in the other direction and eliminated a 21-day limit for the most critical drugs, replacing it with guidelines that allow courses to be determined on a case-by case-basis. “This will set a dangerous precedent by prioritizing the needs of the regulated industry over the FDA’s primary mission to protect public health,” Booker said. “I urge you to finalize Guidance for Industry that meaningfully protects medically important antibiotics from overuse.”
Antibiotic resistance is a looming public health threat that already directly causes the deaths of 1.27 million people (and contributes to the deaths of 5 million) globally each year. Overuse of important drugs (i.e., those that are also used to treat infections in humans, usually referred to as “medically important”) on industrial farms is a key contributor to the problem. As a result, a draft of a United Nations declaration expected to be finalized this September calls for completely ending the routine use of essential drugs in agriculture aside from the treatment of sick animals.
The meat industry in Europe has already taken significant steps toward that goal, but some of the biggest companies in the U.S. have recently been backtracking. Last week, less than a year after Tyson made a U-turn on its decision to eliminate antibiotics in its chicken production, Bloomberg reported the company is also cutting its antibiotic-free beef offerings.
While the overall volume of medically important antibiotics sold for animals is still down compared to a high in 2015, it has been rising in both pork and beef production over the past two years. The FDA is still not tracking exactly how those drugs are being used on farms. However, older U.S. Department of Agriculture data showed cattle feedlots routinely add antibiotics to feed for periods of several weeks or more to “prevent, control, or treat” disease. And in the most recent data collected, some pork producers reported using important drugs primarily for growth promotion, a practice that has been illegal since 2017. In that data, producers reported feeding chlortetracycline to nursery-aged pigs for an average of nearly 46 days.
Chlortetracycline is an active ingredient in several of the close to 100 important drugs approved for use in animal agriculture that still do not have defined duration limits. Since 2003, the FDA has required companies to define limits on how longs drugs can be used as part of the approval process, but many drugs still used today were approved prior to that change.
In its 2019 goals for antibiotic stewardship, the agency said it would “work over the next several years to establish targeted durations of use, so that veterinarians have clear labeling indications and instructions on how long to use a medically important antimicrobial drug.”
But Booker’s letter claims that in revising the documents it publishes to set guidelines for the industry, the FDA is doing the opposite. Booker says the FDA previously required safety precautions for the use of some antibiotics—those most critical to human health—in animals, including limiting overall use to 21-day courses. These new revisions, he says, will replace that limit with directions that say “duration of use will be revised on a case-by-case basis in light of, but not limited to, animal species, disease risk period, and animal management husbandry practices, etc.”
“They’re really letting the industry decide how long [antibiotics] need to be used,” said Steven Roach, the Safe & Healthy Food Program Director at the Food Animal Concerns Trust (FACT). “Our biggest concern is they’re putting animal health ahead of human health.”
Roach is also a senior analyst for Keep Antibiotics Working, a coalition of public health and environmental groups that fights to prevent the development of antibiotic-resistant “superbugs.” In March, a group of organizations in the coalition—including FACT, the Antibiotic Resistance Action Center at George Washington University, and the Center for Food Safety—sent a letter to the FDA laying out many of these same concerns. Booker’s letter amplifies their message.
In response to a request for comment, the FDA directed Civil Eats to a previous response to the Keep Antibiotics Working letter, in which the agency disputed the group’s characterization of FDA eliminating the 21-day duration limit in its revised guidance. “Twenty-one days is not intended to be interpreted as a standard maximum duration,” the agency wrote. The new language, it said, “was added to address the varying differences across animal production systems, and does not change the qualitative risk rankings . . . nor does it limit the Agency from considering additional use restrictions.”
Booker’s letter, however, lays out more specific questions for the agency to respond to—and many of the questions read like he’s looking for answers that could inform Congressional action. For example, he asks whether the agency feels it lacks the authority to suggest drug makers adopt a 21-day duration limit, something Congress could grant through legislation. He also asks what might enable the agency to take more definitive action to curb antibiotic overuse on farms.
“Given the slow pace of action to address the critical public health threat of antibiotic resistance, what additional resources or authorities does the FDA need to take prompt action to protect public health from antibiotic resistance?” he writes.
Of course, regulating animal agriculture is not a popular issue in Washington, D.C., and the current political climate makes it difficult for lawmakers to move any legislation. “Congress could pass legislation that would do this, but that’s really hard to get done right now,” Roach said. “But I think having them ask questions is helpful. Any pressure on them from Congress to do what’s right is helpful.”
Read More:
Medically Important Antibiotics Are Still Being Used to Fatten Up Pigs
What Happened to Antibiotic-Free Chicken?
The FDA Is Still Not Tracking How Farms Use Antibiotics
Bye-bye to BVO. Last week, the FDA took definitive action on another front when it declared that brominated vegetable oil (BVO), an ingredient used in soda and other drinks to prevent liquids from separating, is no longer considered safe, effectively removing it from the food supply starting in August. Public health experts have been sounding alarms about the ingredient’s potential health risks for years, which prompted industry leaders—including PepsiCo and Coca-Cola—to remove BVO from their products in advance of the law changing. California also banned the manufacturing, distribution, and sale of foods and beverages containing BVO last year. But hundreds of drinks sold by major retailers may still contain the ingredient. “The FDA’s decision to ban brominated vegetable oil in food is a victory for public health. But it’s disgraceful that it took decades of regulatory inaction to protect consumers from this dangerous chemical,” said Scott Faber, senior vice president of government affairs at the Environmental Working Group, in a press release.
Read More:
Op-Ed: The Rise of Ultra-Processed Foods Is Bad News For Our Health
Michael Moss on How Big Food Gets Us Hooked
Historic Heat Protections. During a week when soaring temperatures threatened the health and safety of individuals in cities all over the country, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) proposed the first federal rule intended to protect workers from injury and illness caused by extreme heat. If finalized, the rule will require employers to evaluate heat risks, develop plans to control heat hazards, and implement solutions such as providing drinking water and rest breaks when heat is a threat.
While it applies to all industries, the rule has major implications for farmworkers, who die of heat-related causes at a rate that is 20 times higher than in other professions. As climate change intensifies heat conditions, some states have passed laws requiring farm operators to provide field workers with protections including shade, water, and breaks, while others have banned local laws that would protect farmworkers from heat.
“This is a bittersweet moment for farmworkers. Every significant heat safety regulation in America at the state, and now federal, level was written in the blood of farm workers,” said United Farm Workers president Teresa Romero in a press release. “Today, the federal government put itself on the right side of history by seeking, for the first time, to establish the precedent that every worker in America has the right to shade, water, and rest while working in temperatures that could kill them.”
Last year, 112 Democrats in the House and Senate called for the Biden administration to implement a workplace heat standard. OSHA has yet to publish the rule in the Federal Register. Once it is published, a public comment period will follow before the rule is finalized. Industry groups will likely mobilize to halt or weaken it, and a Trump administration would likely prevent the rule from being finalized.
Read More:
As the Climate Emergency Grows, Farmworkers Lack Protection from Deadly Heat
Florida Banned Farmworker Heat Protections. A Groundbreaking Partnership Offers a Solution.
Nighttime Harvest Protect Farmworkers From Extreme Heat, but Bring Other Risks
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]]>The post Bringing Back Local Milk, Ice Cream, and Cheese appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>At Jersey Scoops in Loleta, a small, unincorporated community in Northern California’s Humboldt County, the ice cream is as fresh as it gets. From pasture to parlor, its organic, butterfat-rich milk travels less than 10 miles, produced by a herd of Jerseys pasture-raised on the misty coast.
The shop’s freshly churned ice cream—with surprising flavors like Foggy Pebbles, made with cereal-soaked milk, and Danish Butter Cookie—has been drawing crowds. Since taking over a long-shuttered creamery earlier this year, Jersey Scoops has given the sleepy downtown a much-needed boost; customers routinely spill over to the park across the road, cone in hand, creating a potential reason for new businesses to fill the empty storefronts that once housed a cheese factory, bakery, and laundromat. Beyond Loleta, Jersey Scoops’ rainbow-labeled pints are making waves at local farmers’ markets, stores, and restaurants.
“We want to reinvigorate the community and revive Loleta’s dairy legacy.”
While revitalizing the community, Jersey Scoops adds a high-value outlet for a perishable product, strengthening the industry overall. But the owners of Jersey Scoops didn’t get here on their own; they leveraged a $60,000 grant from the Pacific Coast Coalition’s Dairy Business Innovation Initiative (PCC DBII) to secure both the space and equipment.
Despite the region’s history as a dairy powerhouse, locally made ice cream was previously nonexistent, says Thomas Nicholson-Stratton, who launched the venture with his husband, Cody. The ice cream shop is an extension of the Nicholson family’s sixth-generation, 120-acre farm in nearby Ferndale. Since taking over the dairy a decade ago and branding it Foggy Bottoms Boys, the couple has been bucking convention and helping their rural community navigate changing economic tides.
Foggy Bottoms Boys co-owners Thomas and Cody Nicholson-Stratton with their son at Jersey Scoops. (Photo credit: Will Suiter Photography)
“We want to reinvigorate the community and revive Loleta’s dairy legacy,” Nicholson-Stratton says of the 2,200-square-foot, eight-employee operation, noting the town’s history as a key producer of powdered milk. The scoops are also a platform for amplifying the dairy’s “very deliberate name,” he says, derived partly from the farm’s location on the foggy banks of the Eel River, but also reflecting its owners’ sense of humor: “We want to diversify the face of farming, because there are few places where young and queer people can see themselves in the field.”
The PCC DBII is one of four such initiatives across the country, funded by the United States Department of Agriculture’s (USDA) Agricultural Marketing Service. The national program helps small and mid-sized dairy producers squeeze more value out of milk by diversifying their products and markets, reducing waste, and innovating packaging and processing. With family dairies drying up in droves—the U.S. has 39 percent fewer dairies than five years ago, despite the same number of cows producing 5 percent more milk—the support aids smaller players in countering the forces of an increasingly consolidated industry.
A crowd forms outside Jersey Scoops during its ribbon-cutting weekend. (Photo credit: Will Suiter Photography)
The DBII also aims to strengthen the economic health of small and rural communities, says project director Carmen Licon-Cano. Foggy Bottoms Boys ticks many of the initiative’s boxes, creating a local milk product, she says, while invigorating a struggling downtown and adding a fresh take on the industry. “They’re really a shining example of the program.”
California, the nation’s leading dairy state, produces nearly a fifth of the U.S. milk supply, mostly on industrial farms in the Central Valley. These farms hold, on average, around 2,300 cows. (Herds in Wisconsin, the second-largest producer, average 177 cows.) Across the nation, mega-dairies are becoming the norm, as more farms mirror the Golden State’s confined animal feedlot operations (CAFO).
These highly productive operations maximize returns in an industry with crushing profit margins. However, critics highlight their outsized environmental impact, including excessive water use and pollution caused by concentrated waste, as well as greenhouse gas emissions. CAFOs also face scrutiny for animal welfare issues due to confinement and extreme production demands. Meanwhile, the perishability of dairy’s main product exposes the industry to supply chain disruptions. At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, failed shipping logistics forced farmers to dump millions of gallons of milk.
“It’s difficult for small businesses like us to be profitable. A lot of people don’t understand why my cheese costs [four times more than] Walmart’s.”
The 2018 Farm Bill established the DBII to spur innovation in the dairy industry and address the downward trend in milk consumption nationwide, caused at least in part by the proliferation of other beverages, including plant-based milks. Since then, the USDA program, which is overseen by Agricultural Secretary Tom Vilsack, a former dairy industry insider, has added post-pandemic support, both financially and technically, for producers and processors.
The initiative aims to “uplift the dairy sector” and strengthen local markets, says Susan Pheasant, director of California State University Fresno’s Institute for Food and Agriculture (IFA), which hosts the Pacific Coast Coalition DBII. With $165 million in total funding to date, regional DBIIs address the specific needs of four individual markets—northeast, southeast, midwest, and west coast. The PCC DBII includes academic partners such as Oregon State University as well as industry groups like the California Dairy Innovation Center. In addition to piloting new equipment, recipes, and processing techniques, the universities facilitate worker training and certificate programs in cheesemaking, food safety, marketing, and other specialized areas.
Some regions have expanded their focus to include climate-smart ranching practices, including managed grazing and resilient cropping systems, which can mitigate the environmental and climate impacts of industrial livestock production. But that hasn’t been the PCC’s focus, Pheasant says. As the last DBII to be established, in 2019, the region has received significantly less funding, so it has only focused on dairy processing. The PCC’s relatively modest grants target small and mid-sized operations, she says, to create an equitable field for producers.
For smaller enterprises, however, even modest grants can be transformative, Pheasant says. One artisan cheesemaker, for example, used a $100,000 award toward a cheese cutter that creates precisely measured wedges, eliminating an onerous manual task and allowing them to tap a new market that operates on uniformity and volume. And, because family, minority, and women-owned businesses often face greater challenges in securing capital, the funding can be “a real game changer,” she says, enabling them to compete at a far greater scale. “It’s a story that gets replicated through these small producers,” she adds.
“As an artisanal creamery, we need products that can really differentiate us from larger [operations],” says Todd Koch, owner of TMK Creamery in Canby, Oregon. Half an hour outside Portland, the 50-acre family farm is known for its ice cream and freshly churned cheddar, made from the milk of 20 pastured-grazed cows and sold a stone’s throw away at the farm stand and in a few local restaurants.
Several years ago, Koch collaborated with Oregon State University to develop a vodka distilled from whey, a byproduct of cheesemaking. “Cowcohol” has become one of TMK’s signature products, enabling the creamery to diversify with a premium, shelf-stable offering while minimizing a costly disposal problem.
Using a $140,000 DBII grant, TMK Creamery is now developing a filtration system to fully extract their whey’s remaining lipids and proteins—which are fed back to the cows, another savings. “It’s difficult for small businesses like us to be profitable,” Koch says. “A lot of people don’t understand why my cheese costs [four times more than] Walmart’s.”
“We’re an important fabric of these rural communities.”
These innovations often have ripple effects. At Nico’s Ice Cream, in Portland, Oregon, owner Nico Vergara concocts his frozen treats using a specialized blender imported from New Zealand. The machine swirls scoops of fresh fruit into the cream—both sourced from farms in nearby Willamette Valley—to create “a light and airy, soft-serve-y texture,” Pheasant says. “It’s one of a kind.”
In just three years, the 25-year-old entrepreneur, who started off with a seasonal pushcart, has opened two shops and now distributes pints to about 60 grocery stores in Oregon and Washington. Using a $40,000 DBII grant, he’s acquired an additional fleet of machines and is working toward nationwide distribution. With flavors that nod to Vergara’s Latino background, such as chamoy, a pickled fruit-and-pepper sauce, and Tajín, a brand of chili and lime seasoning, the company aims to broaden its product line and cater to an increasingly diverse consumer market.
With a third store in the works, Vergara’s success reflects the country’s voracious appetite for dairy—and the industry’s capacity to satisfy it. Despite waning milk consumption, Americans still consume a lot of cheese, yogurt, butter, and ice cream. Between 2021 and 2022, the average annual consumption of dairy products rose by more than 12 pounds per person, to an average of 667 pounds. And though the science is inconclusive around the health impacts, dairy products remain a staple in food assistance programs as a source of protein and other essential nutrients.
As the ballooning demand continues to shape market forces, the shift towards fewer, larger farms is inevitable, says Charles Nicholson, associate professor of agricultural and applied economics at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. With smaller-scale dairies harder hit by labor shortages and fluctuating milk prices, “this long-term trend would be hard to change with public policy or private initiatives [alone],” he says.
A few sleek Jersey cows from the Foggy Bottoms Boys pastures. (Photo courtesy of Foggy Bottoms Boys)
Nevertheless, the DBII and similar programs play an important role in supporting individual businesses and local communities, Nicholson says. And although his research found that diversifying milk production through more complex processing isn’t a sure path to profit, concentrating innovation close to the source tends to reduce the financial risks.
Ultimately, maintaining a diversity of production practices and locations bolsters resilience within the industry, Nicholson says, making it less vulnerable to disruptions in regional supply chains and climate-related issues. Consumers also benefit from greater access to a broader array of local and regional products.
The PCC also supports innovation through a larger lens, says PCC’s Lincon-Cano, providing office hours and technical assistance in equipment training and testing, as well as developing business and marketing plans. And by offering resources such as webinars and certificate programs in Spanish, the expanded access helps diversify the industry’s enterprise base, she says, which remains largely white despite the large number of Latinos in the greater workforce. Together, these strategic investments can contribute to a resilient, less consolidated system, one more closely tied to local economies and communities.
As one of California’s oldest cheesemakers, Rumiano Cheese has a storied presence in the North Coast’s dairy shed. The company sources organic milk from 23 family farms, all of which pasture their herds within a 100-mile radius of the company’s Del Norte County cheese plant. “We’re an important fabric of these rural communities,” says Rumiano’s chief executive officer, Joe Baird, noting that many of the farms (including Foggy Bottoms Boys) supply them with milk. Many of these connections go back decades, he says, “so we don’t want to screw it up.”
Rumiano is using a $200,000 DBII grant to develop packaging for ready-to-serve and party-size cheese trays for the growing convenience market, which typically depends heavily on plastic. The funds will go towards retooling existing equipment to make new containers with more sustainable materials and less polymer, Baird says, and distinguish the brand from conventional competitors.
With industrial-scale operators flooding the market with “literally a billion pounds” of cheese, Baird says, innovation is vital to the survival of smaller producers. The diversity of players helps foster innovation, “just like tech and Silicon Valley,” he adds. Local dairy also supports the North Coast economy, which has been impacted by price collapses in cannabis, one of the region’s primary cash crops.
Smaller, family-run operations also have a deep commitment to their land and herds, Baird says. Organic and independently certified to meet animal welfare standards, these producers maintain regenerative practices, grazing cows in rotated paddocks to improve soil and pasture health.
These approaches often run counter to the commodity-driven model of CAFOs. Although pasture-based operations can vary in both size and practice methods, foraging requirements tend to limit herds to the hundreds, not thousands, says Steve Washburn, professor emeritus at North Carolina State University’s department of animal science and an expert in pasture-based and organic dairy production.
Run well, smaller-scaled systems have several advantages over confinement operations, Washburn says. Proper rotational grazing relies on pasture as the primary forage, cutting feed costs. Additionally, because cows spread manure uniformly across the paddocks, the waste enriches the soil and emits far less methane than it would decomposing in a collection pool.
Perhaps most importantly, the promotion of more small dairies creates a healthier agricultural ecosystem. The more dairies, the more farmer “eyes per acre,” Baird says, referencing Wendell Berry. “That’s why we’re so committed to supporting the viability of family-scale farms.” And without support for innovation, he adds, “this ecosystem is very much at risk.”
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]]>The post Medically Important Antibiotics Are Still Being Used to Fatten Up Pigs appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Because scientists have identified antibiotic-resistant infections as a serious public health threat that kills more than 35,000 Americans annually, regulators at the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) have been working to reign in the misuse and overuse of antibiotics in animal agriculture—which contributes to the problem—for more than a decade. Seven years ago, the agency announced the most significant step to date: ending the use of antibiotics also important in human medicine solely for “growth promotion.”
Putting drugs in feed and water to make animals grow bigger and faster, thereby increasing profits, had been a common practice in industrial animal agriculture for decades. While the FDA didn’t end the practice whole hog, the change meant that going forward, farmers would only be able to use specific medically important antibiotics to prevent and treat disease, not fatten pigs. In 2017, the change contributed to a significant, immediate drop in antibiotics sold for use in animals.
“It was really surprising farmers actually reported their primary reason was growth promotion. Obviously, something is falling through the cracks.”
However, new data released by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) suggests some pork producers may be flouting FDA’s regulations by feeding important drugs to pigs primarily to speed their growth.
The data comes from USDA’s National Animal Health Monitoring System (NAHMS), which collected information on production practices at hog farms housing 1,000 or more pigs between December 2020 and May 2021. At various facilities raising pigs at different points in their life cycle, a percentage of producers reported feeding chlortetracycline, oxytetracycline, tylosin, neomycin, and sulfamethazine primarily for “growth promotion.” All of these drugs are considered medically important by the FDA because they are used to treat infections in humans and are classified as either “highly important” or “critically important” by the World Health Organization.
Public health advocates have long maintained that some farmers would continue to use the drugs for growth promotion because many are still approved to be added to feed for disease prevention. A spike in sales of drugs classified for “therapeutic use” after the FDA ended growth promotion backs up that theory. Now, they see this data as possibly providing more evidence, although they were still confounded by the overt way the practices were reported.
“It was really surprising farmers actually reported their primary reason was growth promotion,” said Steven Roach, the Safe and Healthy Food Program Director at the nonprofit Food Animal Concerns Trust, who has been following the issue for years. “Obviously, something is falling through the cracks.”
An FDA spokesperson declined to provide an interview and instead emailed a statement that read, in part, “The successful implementation of GFI #213 in 2017 means that it is illegal to use medically important antimicrobials for growth promotion purposes in food-producing animals, and all approved uses of medically important antimicrobials in drinking water or animal feed require the authorization (via a prescription or veterinary feed directive) of a licensed veterinarian. The FDA is reviewing the findings and will evaluate them to further our understanding of this issue and assist in our mission to protect public health.”
In response to a request for an interview, a National Pork Producers Council spokesperson sent comments via email. “The pork industry continues to promote judicious antibiotic use of antimicrobials,” they said. “It’s also important to note that veterinarians were not surveyed, and they are the main decision-makers regarding pig health interventions.” The American Association of Swine Veterinarians did not respond to an interview request.
Without more specific details on what each farmer’s veterinary feed directive said and how the data was collected, it’s hard to know whether the statistics are pointing to a serious gap in compliance with FDA’s rules.
A USDA spokesperson said in an email that the agency’s field veterinarians work with producers to collect “nationally representative, anonymized, standardized data on animal health, biosecurity, vaccination, and antimicrobial use,” and noted that participation in National Animal Health Monitoring Systems (NAHMS) surveys is voluntary.
Roach, in analyzing the data, guessed at one explanation. Many of the medically important antibiotics are fed in combination with other drugs that are classified as “non-medically important” or are not antibiotics and therefore can be used for growth promotion. So, for instance, 10 percent of the sites reported feeding chlortetracycline with BMD for “growth promotion.” BMD is not medically important and therefore can be used for that purpose, so it’s possible farmers reported the duo of drugs that way even though one of them was indicated for something else.
USDA’s answers also noted the combinations but went a step further in explaining the practices. For each medically important drug identified, the spokesperson noted that while veterinarians are not permitted to prescribe the drugs “solely for growth promotion purposes,” producers were asked to provide the “primary reason for giving these medications in feed.” (Emphasis theirs.) By that reasoning, if a farmer wants to feed one of these drugs to fatten up his pigs first and foremost, it may be considered OK as long as the drug has a secondary disease prevention benefit.
For many public health advocates, it’s a clear indication that the dividing line between growth promotion and disease prevention is incredibly thin or invisible in many cases. “We’ve always suspected that for some growers the changes were nominal, not actual, that they said, ‘That’s fine, let’s just call it prevention,’” said Lance Price, the founding director of the Antibiotic Resistance Action Center at George Washington University’s Milken Institute School of Public Health. “This provides some empirical evidence for that.”
“You have these drugs that are in current practice not important anymore, but as we become more and more desperate, other drugs become important,” Price said.
In fact, one of the other drugs the data shows pork producers have been feeding for growth promotion, tiamulin, is legal for that use since it’s not considered medically important. However, the FDA is currently reviewing comments on a proposal to move the class of drugs it belongs to—pleuromutilins—to “medically important” status as they’ve are now being used more often in humans. One reason? The drugs are unaffected by resistance that’s developed to other major antibiotic classes, such as tetracyclines and macrolides (which tylosin belongs to).
“We’re still using five times as many antibiotics to raise pigs in the U.S. as they do in the U.K. We could use a lot less.”
According to the experts, then, the only way to truly move all drugs off the conveyor belt toward no longer being effective is for FDA to go a step further and stop allowing the broader practice of putting antibiotics in feed as a prevention mechanism and only allow farmers to treat sick animals.
“We’re still using five times as many antibiotics to raise pigs in the U.S. as they do in the U.K. We could use a lot less,” Roach said. “I would like to see FDA take the next step—and hopefully it won’t take 10 years—to get rid of routine use for disease prevention as well.”
Price also said that given this limited data set that relies on voluntary participation and self-reported questionnaires points to a real issue, it bolsters the idea that federal agencies and researchers need better data overall. “This is an industry that can take thousands of pigs, kill them, package them, and ship them in a matter of hours, but they say they couldn’t possibly track actual drug use,” he said. “They do amazing stuff. They just don’t want to do this.”
Read More:
The FDA Is Still Not Tracking How Farms Use Antibiotics
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What Happened to Antibiotic-Free Chicken?
PFAS Data Debate. The nonprofit organization Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility (PEER) is demanding the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) retract a memo it released last year that reported the agency found no evidence of PFAS in its tests of commonly used pesticides. EPA initiated the tests after an environmental toxicologist found alarming levels of multiple PFAS in six out of 10 agricultural pesticides he tested.
Ever since the agency announced no evidence of contamination in the exact same chemicals, scientists and watchdog groups have been working to try to understand and explain the discrepancies. To that end, PEER submitted a FOIA request to EPA. The documents released showed the agency omitted the results of other tests that did find PFAS and left out a detail that could cast doubt on the validity of its tests. EPA maintains confidence in its results, telling PEER that the PFAS found in the other tests was attributable to “background levels” and that the detail on testing did not apply because of differences in testing sensitivity.
The debate over which tests should be relied on is likely to rage on, and the stakes are high given PFAS contamination on farms has already occurred due to other sources including sewage sludge.
Read More:
New Evidence Shows Pesticides Contain PFAS, and the Scale of Contamination Is Unknown
PFAS Shut Maine Farms Down. Now, Some Are Rebounding
Tackling the Tournament System. Farm groups including the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition and Rural Advancement Foundation International (RAFI) applauded the USDA for introducing a rule that could significantly change how contract farmers who raise chickens for big companies including Tyson, Mountaire, and Pilgrim’s are paid. “This rule from USDA is a landmark moment for poultry growers in their long struggle for basic fairness in their contracts,” Edna Rodriguez, RAFI’s executive director, said in a press release. The industry has long been known for its “tournament system” that ultimately leaves growers in the dark about how much money they’ll make on each flock and can require them to make expensive upgrades to their infrastructure without warning.
The new rule would require companies to set a fixed base price, change how they’re allowed to calculate performance bonuses, and require them to provide a detailed accounting of how and when a grower could reasonably expect to recoup investments made in infrastructure improvements, allowing them to more effectively evaluate their options. It’s the latest in a series of rules related to chicken farmers introduced by USDA as part of the Biden administration’s efforts to increase competition and fairness in the highly consolidated meat industries. The rules are intended to give the agency the tools it needs to enforce the Packers & Stockyards Act, which has been on the books, but with no teeth, for over 100 years.
Yesterday, however, House Republicans included language to overturn the rules in their fiscal year 2025 spending bill and said they were, “reining in harmful regulations that dictate how poultry and livestock producers raise and market their animals.”
Read More:
Just a Few Companies Control the Meat Industry. Could a New Approach to Monopolies Level the Playing Field?
Farmers and Ranchers Head to DC to Level the Playing Field
Eating Well Is Also Better for the Planet. According to a Harvard study published this week in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, people who eat more vegetables, legumes, and whole grains and less meat, dairy, and sugar may significantly lower their risk of several diseases and live longer. Researchers used data from the Nurses’ Health Study I and II, which followed 200,000 participants for 34 years, to look at the impact of adhering more or less closely to the “Planetary Health Diet,” which came out of the EAT-Lancet commission’s 2019 report on the best way to align diets with both nutrition and climate goals.
They found that people whose diets were most closely aligned with the diet’s recommendations had a 30 percent lower risk of premature death compared to those whose diets were furthest away from the diet’s patterns, and that the Planetary Health Diet produced 29 percent lower greenhouse gas emissions. “Climate change has our planet on track for ecological disaster, and our food system plays a major role,” said author Walter Willett, professor of epidemiology and nutrition at Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, in a press release. “Shifting how we eat can help slow the process of climate change. And what’s healthiest for the planet is also healthiest for humans.” Since the EAT-Lancet commission first published its recommendations, the diet has ignited significant controversies around meat eating, micronutrients, and cost.
Read More:
Eat Less Meat: A Small Change With a Big Impact
Eating Less Meat Is a Prescription for Better Health
The post Medically Important Antibiotics Are Still Being Used to Fatten Up Pigs appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post What Happened to Antibiotic-Free Chicken? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Seven years ago, Tyson—one of the largest chicken producers in the world—made headlines with its commitment to “eliminate antibiotics in chicken.” Then, last summer, the company changed its policy: Instead of “no antibiotics ever” (referred to as NAE in the industry), Tyson’s farmers would go back to using antibiotics. They would refrain only from using drugs considered “important in human medicine.”
Given the company produces about a quarter of the chicken in the country, ripple effects ensued. At the Los Angeles United School District, school nutrition directors were left scrambling to find another supplier in order to honor a long-standing public commitment to get antibiotics out of student meals. Then, in March, Chick-Fil-A—which has used Tyson as a supplier in the past—also backpedaled on a 2014 commitment to serving antibiotic-free chicken, citing supply concerns.
Now, despite all the prior momentum, none of the four largest chicken producers are exclusively practicing “no antibiotics ever” production.
As the impacts came into focus, advocates and experts who had been pointing to the chicken industry as a model for how food corporations could make real progress toward improving practices that threaten public health looked on in dismay.
“When we first started working on this in 2015 and we were targeting McDonald’s, Chick-Fil-A was one of the players that we could point to as already doing the right thing,” said Andre Delattre, SVP and COO of programs at Public Interest Research Group (PIRG). “From that perspective, it’s especially a shame that they’re backsliding.”
Between 2014 and 2018, the percentage of chickens raised without antibiotics rose from 3 percent to 52 percent, and the amount raised without medically important antibiotics soared to more than 90 percent. The Natural Resources Defense Council called it “a stunning success story,” and allied organizations like PIRG shifted their focus to reducing antibiotic use in pork and beef, where medically important drugs are still used routinely in feed and water, at much larger volumes.
While Tyson and most of its biggest competitors still commit to avoiding drugs that are critical to treating deadly diseases in humans, its backpedaling on NAE is significant for several reasons. In chicken, the four biggest companies—Tyson, Pilgrim’s Pride (owned by JBS), Wayne-Sanderson Farms, and Mountaire—control more than half of the market.
Now, despite all the prior momentum, none of them are exclusively practicing “no antibiotics ever” production. And some emerging research suggests that a class of drugs these companies are regularly using may contribute to the development of resistant strains of bacteria that do threaten human health.
The story of the end of the industry’s steady march toward getting antibiotics out of chicken feed is complicated, involving other unmet commitments, including shifting to raising slower-growing breeds that require fewer medications.
And it illustrates the limitations of corporate commitments to more responsible practices, in this and any industry: When the rubber meets the road in achieving capitalism’s goal of maximizing profits, shareholders may prioritize cost savings, especially after consumer attention on any given issue has waned over time.
Tyson did not respond to repeated email and telephone requests for interviews.
Americans have an insatiable appetite for nuggets, tenders, and boneless, skinless breasts: In 2023, individuals ate an average of 101 pounds of chicken, up from 82 pounds in 2013. To consistently produce that much chicken for billions of people, companies created a system that relies on regular antibiotics in feed and/or water.
Birds bred to grow fast and fat in crowded barns where waste accumulates get sick easily. Antibiotics are an easy fix, since preventing disease is more effective than treating it, and regular doses of the same drugs speed up growth. However, the overuse of antibiotics in animal agriculture is one activity that has driven the development of dangerous antibiotic-resistant bacteria. In the U.S., 2.8 million people now contract hard-to-treat infections each year, and 35,000 die from those infections.
So, over the past decade, at the behest of consumer and public health advocacy groups, many chicken companies switched to NAE production.
At the heart of the issue throughout the industry is an overwhelmingly common poultry disease called coccidiosis, caused by a parasite that is almost universally present in chicken waste.
However, they did it while continuing to increase their production to a staggering high of more than 46 billion pounds in 2023. We’ll give you more chicken at lower prices, they said, while also promising better animal welfare, a lower carbon footprint, and less antibiotic use.
But each year, the percentage of chickens that got sick and died long before making it to a dinner plate ticked up. Now, about 11 million chicks die on farms per week, wasting all the resources that went into breeding, hatching, transporting, and feeding them along the way. A 2023 report from the U.S. Poultry & Egg Association found a direct link between the move away from antibiotics and rising mortality rates.
Multiple sources interviewed for this story said that many companies didn’t invest in changing the conditions in hatcheries and barns that made routine antibiotic use necessary in the first place.
“You shouldn’t ever just go in and pull antibiotics,” says Bruce Stewart-Brown, a senior vice president at Perdue Foods, which is the fifth-largest chicken producer in the country. “That’s not good for anything or anybody.”
Perdue, he said, started to transition away from antibiotics 20 years ago. And while it moved all of its chicken to NAE in 2014, he said his team is still continuously improving the techniques that make it possible.
At the heart of the issue throughout the industry is an overwhelmingly common poultry disease called coccidiosis, caused by a parasite that is almost universally present in chicken waste. When tens of thousands of chickens are crowded into a barn, waste accumulates, and the birds can’t escape it. The more they ingest through contaminated feed, dust, and litter, the more likely they are to get sick.
When infected, coccidiosis affects the birds’ gastrointestinal tracts, causing weight loss, diarrhea, and sometimes death. The intestinal damage it causes also creates conditions in which another common disease, necrotic enteritis, can thrive. Necrotic enteritis has similar effects but is much more deadly.
Stewart-Brown said Perdue starts with cleaner barns for its breeder flocks, which means eggs in the hatchery are less likely to carry the parasite from the get-go. Controlling for the disease on farms that produce meat chickens then involves a mix of vaccination, taking animal byproducts out of feed and adding prebiotics and probiotics (to improve digestive health), managing moisture in the litter that lines the bottom of barns, and using a class of drugs called anticoccidials (which are not classified as antibiotics) when all else fails. They also send chickens to slaughter earlier, which means the birds are smaller but have less time to get sick.
On the other hand, putting antibiotics in feed can wipe out the need for all of those changes in one fell swoop, holding disease at bay and allowing the birds grow more efficiently. The class of antibiotics commonly used are called ionophores, and the drugs’ effectiveness using is what motivated Tyson’s decision to resume antibiotic use, company executives explained during an August 2023 investor call. In addition to plant closures, CFO John Tyson said the change in antibiotic policy was one of several “meaningful steps to get the cost structure back in balance” in the company’s chicken business. President and CEO Donnie King added that “data suggests the use of ionophores can lead to more uniform birds with consistent weight.”
Ionophores are not used in humans, which is why they’re classified as “non-medically important.” Experts generally agree their use is of less concern than medically important antibiotics like tetracyclines that are widely used in beef and pork; some say ionophores pose little to no risk of contributing to resistance that drives untreatable infections in humans.
“It’s just an attempt to compensate for poor animal husbandry, and those bad practices are not a good justification for taking chances with a cornerstone of modern medicine.”
However, other experts are concerned about emerging research conducted in Europe. Michael Hansen, a senior scientist at Consumer Reports, explained that the studies suggest ionophore resistance genes may be essentially carrying resistance to other antibiotics along with them as they proliferate, driving the spread of bacteria that are resistant to drugs humans do need.
“It’s through this mechanism of co-selection—of being physically linked on the same pieces of genetic material,” Hansen said. “What’s happened over the past 15 or 20 years is that as we’ve used more and more chemicals, not only antibiotics . . . resistance elements to different things are increasingly being clustered.”
This matters because ionophores are also used routinely in beef and pork production. In fact, across agriculture, more ionophores are given to animals than any other antibiotic.
At this point, the science is new and the risks are still unclear, but “our position is that we shouldn’t take chances, to the extent that we’re talking about the routine use of antibiotics,” PIRG’s Delattre said. “It’s just an attempt to compensate for poor animal husbandry, and those bad practices are not a good justification for taking chances with a cornerstone of modern medicine.”
After Tyson reversed course, the Perdue marketing team jumped on the opportunity to highlight the fact that they weren’t backtracking on antibiotics. They launched an entire “Know Better” campaign around the NAE label, complete with a website that casts doubt on the safety of ionophores, a cheeky commercial about “throwing antibiotics” at your problems, and a stunt snack product. (Shake Shack used similar tactics to throw shade at Chick-Fil-A, with a full-page ad in The New York Times offering free chicken sandwiches with this riff on its competitor’s slogan: “Eat More Antibiotic-Free Chicken.”)
But at the same time, Perdue has no concrete plans to meet another related promise it made: To switch to a breed of chicken that grows at a slower pace, is more active, and has a stronger immune system. And some advocates say this is the change that would make NAE truly sustainable while improving animal welfare.
For many years, animal welfare groups have been pushing chicken companies to use slower-growing breeds. The commercial chickens common across the industry are bred to grow fast and fat, with all of their energy sent to breast meat, and as a result they often suffer from immobility and other issues. They also get sick more due to underdeveloped immune systems, which makes antibiotics like ionophores a crucial production tool.
“The idea that people are making headway with slower-growing breeds and reducing antibiotics is just rubbish. Growth rate is generally getting worse, not better.”
In 2019, a coalition of animal welfare groups created the Better Chicken Commitment (BCC) to push big grocers, restaurants, and especially chicken companies to commit to improving the lives of the birds in their supply chains.
Five years later, Compassion in World Farming’s 2023 ChickenTrack report on the BCC’s progress shows 52 companies have made a plan or changes of some kind. Many report improvements on metrics like welfare-improving lighting and “enrichments,” a term for things like perches and straw bales added to barns that allow birds to express their natural behaviors.
Julia Johnson, the leader of CIWF’s Compassion in Food Business in the U.S., pointed to the pandemic as interfering with progress companies might have made faster. This year, she said, she’ll be focused on getting companies to improve their BCC changes to litter, enrichments, and breeds. “We still have a long way to go, but I’m optimistic about the progress that we’ve seen.”
But only a few tiny producers have switched to breeds associated with healthier, happier chickens. Tyson has never committed to any aspect of the BCC, nor have the other big three companies that produce the majority of the country’s chickens.
“When I look at the report . . . there are two companies that have actually made progress towards breed. That’s very dispiriting to me,” said Andrew deCoriolis, executive director of Farm Forward. DeCoriolis said he appreciates that there’s a least a conversation happening on breed, and the other changes the BCC is pushing are certainly not bad for the animals. “But what I would like us to see is a laser focus on companies making progress on breed. The rest of it is, from my perspective, window dressing.”
One of the BCC’s biggest partners is the Global Animal Partnership (GAP), a third-party animal welfare label associated with Whole Foods. GAP commissioned a study of alternative breeds in 2020 and in 2021, and issued a list of approved breeds it found improved chickens’ lives and health outcomes. At the time, GAP said it would require farms certified at all five of its levels to switch to one of the approved breeds by 2024. That has not happened to date. Attempts to reach out to GAP revealed the executive director who was leading the project is now employed only by Whole Foods, not GAP.
Meanwhile, the ChickenTrack report singled out Whole Foods’ lack of reporting on breed progress, despite the company publicizing a roadmap to meet the BCC standards. “If it is not introduced, Whole Foods Market will be recognized as a weakened policy in 2025,” it read.
In 2017, chicken producer Bell & Evans announced it was transitioning all of its chicken to a slower-growing, BCC-approved breed by 2018. Sources told Civil Eats the company has since gone back to a typical commercial breed, but the company did not respond to requests for comment. Meanwhile, two companies that set out to challenge big industrial chicken companies by starting with better breeds and eschewing preventative antibiotics from the get-go—Emmer & Co and Cooks Venture—have both gone out of business within the past few years.
“The idea that people are making headway with slower-growing breeds and reducing antibiotics is just rubbish. Growth rate is generally getting worse, not better,” Matt Wadiak, the founder of Cooks Venture, told Civil Eats. “People are just going with the bigger birds, and those bigger birds absolutely require pharmaceutical inputs.”
Given his departure from Cooks Venture in 2023 and the company’s subsequent, dramatic downfall, Wadiak is unsurprisingly bitter when it comes to the chicken industry. He’s also right on this point.
In 2013, the average commercial chicken weighed 5.92 pounds at the time of slaughter. Last year, it weighed 6.54, after the same number of days. And when you look more closely at mortality numbers, the largest increases in deaths are happening among the heavier birds.
Cooks Venture’s breed, the Pioneer, was the first in a long time to represent a departure from that trajectory, and one that both farmers and animal welfare advocates were excited about. Wadiak said the company failed due to its an inability to secure capital in a wildly capital-intensive industry. He insists, though, that demand was strong and the price premium for his chickens was not that high.
“If Cooks could do that with a slower-growing breed, I don’t understand what is keeping Perdue from doing the same,” deCoriolis said.
“The fact that they’re still sticking with a no antibiotics policy . . . shows clearly that it can be done.”
CIWF’s Johnson insists consumers have not lost interest in better welfare for chickens. She points to sessions at chicken trade marketing events that suggest the companies believe the that they have to at least create the appearance of making progress based on Gen Z’s demands. “They’re talking about the next consumer for 2035, and animal welfare and sustainability are the top two and three concerns.”
On antibiotics, the average person on the street may not be aware of a problem, Delattre said, but “it doesn’t take more than 30 seconds to explain . . . and they understand that it’s a problem. Everybody understands the importance of antibiotics in modern medicine. And these days, almost everybody knows somebody who’s had a scare with a resistant infection,” he said.
In the end, two slightly different paths are emerging within industrial systems. While Tyson is putting antibiotics back into its production and other big players never eliminated them, Perdue is keeping them out. To help the birds survive without antibiotics, Perdue is vaccinating, keeping barns cleaner, and sending them to slaughter before disease risk spikes.
But while Perdue led the biggest pilot of slower growing, naturally healthier breeds to date, that trial run ended without changing anything across the company’s farms. Stewart-Brown said farmers loved raising the more active chickens, but argued that there “wasn’t much difference” in the chickens’ health and well-being compared to raising a standard, faster-growing breed. (Similarly, many independent farmers raising chickens on small farms choose standard breeds in pastured systems and say the chickens are healthy and active; it’s not a settled issue.)
Despite the ChickenTrack report classifying Perdue as “publicly committed to offering compliant BCC chicken,” Stewart-Brown said the company has no near-term plan to change its breed. The thing is: Corporate commitments are easy to make, and they’re easy to break.
And on the antibiotics issue, there are two ways of seeing how things have actually turned out so far. One is to conclude the larger industry will never be able to get routine drug use out of production until the entire system is overhauled, with slower-growing birds as an essential piece of the puzzle. “Our sense is that to truly solve the antibiotic problem, you have to both dramatically improve husbandry and improve genetics,” said deCoriolis.
On the other hand, advocates like Delattre look at Perdue, which has made smaller tweaks, and see a practical opportunity to solve at least one of the problems most pressing to public health.
“The fact that they’re still sticking with a no antibiotics policy . . . shows clearly that it can be done,” he said. “So why isn’t Tyson doing the same?”
The post What Happened to Antibiotic-Free Chicken? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Bird Flu May Be Driven By This Overlooked Factor appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>As federal officials grapple with how to contain the highly contagious strain of avian flu that has infected chickens, turkeys, and dairy cattle on farms across the U.S., a number of scientists are pointing to one factor that could be driving the spread of its virus and its spillover from wild birds to farm animals.
Waterfowl—ducks, geese, and swans—are the primary host of the viruses, and large animal agriculture facilities are often found in close proximity to their remaining wetland habitats. For instance, California’s Central Valley and the East Coast’s Delmarva Peninsula are both critical wintering grounds for waterfowl, along major North American bird migration routes, and epicenters of U.S. poultry production.
As a result, some scientists who track waterfowl question whether this geographic overlap—alongside the shrinkage of waterfowl habitats—creates more opportunities for the virus to spread between infected waterfowl and the animals in agricultural facilities.
In theory, the ongoing destruction of wetlands could also lead waterfowl to concentrate on the remaining “small postage stamps of habitat,” potentially driving the spread of the virus between birds too, said Michael Casazza, a research biologist who tracks waterfowl at the U.S. Geological Survey’s Western Ecological Research Center.
“The basic idea is that the more you concentrate animals into a small habitat, there’s probably a greater opportunity for transmission between individuals, and then the greater chance for disease spread within waterfowl,” said Casazza.
Casazza and other wildlife scientists have documented waterfowl using agricultural facilities—from foraging for grain in feedlots to roosting in effluent ponds—but questions remain about why the birds seek out the facilities and the potential connections to the spread of avian flu. It is, however, broadly understood that biodiversity and habitat loss tend to drive the spread of infectious disease between animals, which has also been linked to the risk of spillover.
These are important questions considering how devastating the circulating H5N1 strain has been for the U.S. poultry industry, resulting in the death of over 90 million domestic birds since January 2022, when the virus was first detected in wild ducks in the Carolinas and then soon after in poultry. It also has spread to the cattle industry, infecting 42 herds to date. And while the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) still considers H5N1 to be low-risk to humans, the only two cases of the virus infecting humans in the U.S. have been farmworkers in the dairy and poultry industries.
“You really don’t want your poultry industry to be centered in really important wintering waterfowl areas where they’re concentrating in high numbers,” said Jeff Buler, who leads a research laboratory at the University of Delaware that uses weather surveillance and radio tags to track waterfowl. “Unfortunately, they overlap a lot.”
Buler is currently tracking wild geese that winter in the Delmarva, along the thousands of small wetlands known as Delmarva bays. These serve as an “important stopover and breeding ground for millions of waterfowl, waterbirds, and migratory birds,” according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The peninsula is also home to the $4.4 billion Delmarva chicken industry, which raised 600 million chickens last year on more than 1,000 farms, according to the Delmarva Chicken Association. Sussex Country, along the peninsula in southern Delaware, is the largest broiler chicken-producing county in the nation.
The poultry farms often grow corn and soy for chicken feed. Buler has been tracking snow geese and Canadian geese using telemetry, affixing a radio transmitter to the geese, which has allowed him to observe the wild birds venturing onto the poultry farms. With this highly precise technology, he has observed that these feed fields often attract waterfowl, who eat the leftover stubble. He’s also observed them using the farm ponds, nearby the long barns that house the poultry.
A female northern pintail marked with a solar powered GPS/GSM transmitter attached like a backpack. (Photo courtesy of Michael Casazza, USGS)
Over the last four winters, Buler says he has documented that one-third of all poultry facilities on the Delmarva have had radio-tagged Canada geese or snow geese spend time within 2 kilometers of farms. He also found that 84 percent of the 68 geese he is tracking have spent time within 2 kilometers of a poultry farm.
The wild birds don’t need to be directly in the barn to spread the virus. It more often spreads indirectly, such as through contaminated feed, footwear, and equipment. Given this indirect spread, the relationship between the proximity of wild birds to poultry facilities and the risk of avian flu remains unclear, a question Buler recently proposed studying in a grant application to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).
“We’re seeing higher prevalence of avian influenza in the environment, namely in water and soil associated with these water bodies, in watersheds, where there are a lot more waterfowl,” said Buler. “So, the concern there is that even though the waterfowl might not be in very close proximity—like directly interfacing with the poultry farms—they may be shedding virus into the environment.”
Like the Delmarva, California’s Central Valley is another critical wintering spot for millions of waterfowl. Given that the water typically doesn’t freeze, birds often settle there for months. “The Central Valley is kind of a one-stop shop for wintering birds,” said Casazza. Yet, it’s also a major agricultural basin, formed by draining and diking wetlands, the habitat of waterfowl. This low-lying stretch of land produces a quarter of the U.S. food supply, including as a major supplier of poultry, home to more than 600 commercial poultry farms.
In 2021, Buler and a team of researchers mapped waterfowl distribution relative to commercial poultry farms in the Central Valley. They developed a model that predicted that in the Central Valley, when the waterfowl population peaks in January, the exposure risk to commercial poultry facilities sharply increases—to a point where a third of the poultry farms were highly exposed to waterfowl.
“We have a lot of waterfowl that spend their winter [in the Central Valley], which is not a bad thing, but it just happens to be where we grow all of our commercial poultry,” said Maurice Pitesky, an associate professor at the School of Veterinary Medicine at the University of California, Davis, whose research focuses on disease modeling of the spread of avian flu from waterfowl to domestic poultry.
“Historically, that happened because the Central Valley is flat, the land [was] inexpensive, and it’s easy to transport corn and soy from the Midwest,” said Pitesky. However, “We’ve never really thought, ‘Oh, maybe we shouldn’t be growing commercial poultry right next to habitat for waterfowl.”’
But now, those consequences may be coming home to roost—quite literally—in the form of waterfowl roosting on agricultural facilities.
Wild ducks have been called the “Trojan horses” of H5N1 for their ability to spread the virus, sometimes without showing symptoms, to crowded barns of poultry. This is typically the death knell for the entire flock. If the virus is detected in a barn, “that leads to the best way that we know how to control the virus from spreading further from that barn, which is to euthanize all the birds in that barn,” said Pitesky.
Along with poultry facilities, waterfowl also spend time on the cattle farms that are concentrated in the Central Valley, which is home to the vast majority of California’s 1.7 million dairy cows. This is an emerging concern for the dairy industry as H5N1 was detected in U.S. dairy cows in late March after spreading undetected for months. It’s the first time an avian flu virus has been detected in cattle. Recently, USDA scientists linked the original spread to cattle to a wild bird. Recently, USDA scientists likely linked the original spread to cattle to a wild bird by a genetic analysis.
Scientific literature first documented waterfowl birds’ use of poultry and cattle facilities with telemetry in 2022. Led by the U.S. Geological Survey’s Western Ecological Research Center, a team of scientists, including Casazza and Pitesky, affixed a solar-powered radio signal to over 600 waterfowl that travel along the Pacific Flyway, which runs from Alaska to Patagonia.
This telemetry offered a highly precise, day-to-day account of each bird’s movements—and found that 11 birds ventured close to or directly on agricultural facilities in California and Washington. The wild birds made use of the effluent ponds, also called lagoons, which hold slurry manure. They also spent time on feedlots where cattle are fattened with grain, likely foraging for spilled grain.
“We were surprised by it,” Casazza said. “We saw species that we did not expect, like [northern] pintail and cinnamon teal, utilize some of these ag facilities.” He was only expecting this of certain species of waterfowl, like mallards, often spotted in city parks.
H5N1 has been detected in cinnamon teal, northern pintail, and mallards in the U.S., among many other species of wild birds, according to the USDA’s Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service’s data, which tracks detections of the virus, typically in dead wild birds sampled by local agencies and partners.
Casazza views this study as likely indicative of a much larger trend of birds using agricultural facilities. “They are pretty indicative of their cohort,” he said. “If one of the radios mark birds doing something, that probably means that hundreds, if not thousands of other birds, are doing that exact same thing.”
Since then, he has continued tracking waterfowl using telemetry and has observed that wild birds make use of “all kinds of alternative water features on the landscape,” including water sewage treatment plants, golf course ponds, and city ponds. Some agricultural operations can also be beneficial habitats. For instance, waterfowl utilize California’s flooded rice fields as habitat, a beneficial relationship to farmers who rely on birds to eat the rice stubble, which they used to burn.
While it remains unclear exactly what is drawing wild birds to water features on cattle and poultry farms, Casazza suggested that habitat loss may lead some wild birds to seek out alternative habitats, especially during times of drought, when their natural habitats are more constrained, a question he’d like to study. This may also lead the virus to spill over to other species, when wild birds wind up in agricultural facilities, as Casazza and other researchers proposed as a potential pathway.
It’s also a complex issue, he noted. For instance, it’s unclear whether in some cases the wild birds may be attracted to water or other resources on the agricultural facility, which may depend on the species, noted Casazza. It also may depend on whether the bird is migrating, looking for a stopover spot with water, versus moving within their wintering region—when it’s the later, he says, “when they have what they need, we tend to not see a ton of movement.” When this question was posed to Buler, he noted that it may depend on geographies too. California, for instance, is more water-restricted than the Delmarva.
As a solution, Casazza sees promise in creating more wildlife habitat for waterfowl, located away from agricultural facilities. “This would give them an opportunity to settle on habitat that is designed for them rather than these alternative habitats,” Casazza said, adding that this could also involve flooding the rice fields. He also hopes to see an increase in surveillance of waterfowl potentially as a “national data stream” that could track where wild birds are moving to help predict where the virus could be moving next.
Pitesky also emphasized the importance of more widespread waterfowl tracking, pointing to application he developed that tracks the abundance of waterfowl using remote sensing, designed as a warning system for farmers to know to implement higher biosecurity measures. For instance, he notes that farms could utilize geofencing to automatically close the curtains in the barn—used to ventilate the barn—in response to a flock of waterfowl moving toward that facility.
Another option may be that agricultural facilities relocate, so they are not clustered on waterfowl habitats. Of course, neither option is easy, especially in a place like California’s Central Valley, where nearly everyone—including farmers and waterfowl—are seeking the remaining sources of water. But there’s also rarely an easy fix to widespread infectious diseases, emerging and mutating at the complex interfaces of animals and humans, and the fragments of wildlife habitats.
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New Bill Supporting Wildlife Habitat on Private Lands. A bipartisan group of senators recently introduced the Habitat Connectivity on Working Lands Act, aimed at “improving wildlife habitat connectivity and wildlife migration corridors” on private land. The bill would enable private landowners to use the USDA’s voluntary conservation programs to address the problem of wildlife fragmentation, including through technical assistance, cost-share, and payouts offered under existing programs. This would include, for instance, restoring wildlife habitat and adopting virtual fencing technology to allow wildlife to move more safely through landscapes.
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Protecting Farmworkers From Avian Flu. The CDC recently updated its interim guidance for protecting higher-risk workers—such as poultry workers, slaughterhouse workers, and veterinarians—from the avian flu virus. The agency recommends personal protective equipment, including non-disposable, fluid-resistant overalls, a particulate respirator with a minimum of N95 filters, rubber boots with sealed seams, and properly fitted goggles. The guidance comes after a dairy worker in Texas was infected with avian flu, the second case of H5N1 detected in a human in the U.S. However, the CDC doesn’t have the ability to enforce these recommendations and has already received pushback from farmers who are unwilling to offer this equipment to workers.
Read more:
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]]>The post Despite Recent Headlines, Urban Farming Is Not a Climate Villain appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>At the end of January, multiple publications including Modern Farmer and Bloomberg ran eye-catching stories on the results of a research study published in Nature. Forbes declared that, “Urban Farming Has a Shockingly High Climate Cost,” a headline that was outright wrong in terms of the study’s findings. Earth.com led with a single, out-of-context data point: “Urban agriculture’s carbon footprint is 6x greater than normal farms.”
On Instagram, urban farmers and gardeners began to express anger and frustration. Some commented on media company posts; others posted their own critiques. In February, students at the University of Michigan, where the study was conducted, organized a letter to the researchers pointing out issues with the study.
The issue most cited across critiques was simple: When urban farms were separated from community gardens in the study, the higher rate of greenhouse gas emissions reported essentially disappeared.
Now, two months later, national advocates for the multi-faceted benefits of growing food and green spaces in cities are working to counter what they see as harmful narratives created by a study they say had design flaws to begin with and was then poorly communicated to the public. Of special concern is funding for the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s (USDA) fledgling Office of Urban Agriculture and Innovative Production, which Congress has been shorting since it was established. A coalition of groups have been pushing to change that in the upcoming farm bill.
“We hope the damage isn’t already done, but we fear that publicity around this paper will minimize the advocacy of urban farmers and partners over the past many years and possibly undermine the continued and necessary investment in urban agricultural communities,” reads a letter sent to the study authors by Michigan Food and Farming Systems, the Organic Farming Research Foundation, Pasa Sustainable Agriculture, and the Ohio Ecological Food and Farm Association.
“We hope the damage isn’t already done, but we fear that publicity around this paper will minimize the advocacy of urban farmers and partners over the past many years…”
Their overall critiques of the study start with the sample set of “urban farms.”
In a conversation with Civil Eats, lead author Jason Hawes, a Ph.D. student at the University of Michigan, said this his team compiled “the largest data set that we know of” on urban farming. It included 73 urban farms, community gardens, and individual garden sites in Europe and the United States. At each of those sites, the research team worked with farmers and gardeners to collect data on the infrastructure, daily supplies used, irrigation, harvest amounts, and social goods.
That data was then used to calculate the carbon emissions embodied in the production of food at each site and those emissions were compared to carbon emissions of the same foods produced at “conventional” farms. Overall, they found greenhouse gas emissions were six times higher at the urban sites—and that’s the conclusion the study led with.
But not only is 73 a tiny number compared to the data that exists on conventional production agriculture, said Omanjana Goswami, an interdisciplinary scientist at the Union of Concerned Scientists (UCS), but lumping community gardens in with urban farms set up for commercial production and then comparing that to a rural system that has been highly tuned and financed for commercial production for centuries doesn’t make sense.
“It’s almost like comparing apples to oranges,” she said. “The community garden is not set up to maximize production.”
In fact, the sample set was heavily tilted toward community and individual gardens and away from urban farms. In New York City, for example, the only U.S. city represented, seven community gardens run by AmeriCorps were included. Brooklyn Grange’s massive rooftop farms—which on a few acres produce more than 100,000 pounds of produce for markets, wholesale buyers, CSAs, and the city’s largest convention center each year—were not.
And what the study found was that when the small group of urban farms were disaggregated from the gardens, those farms were “statistically indistinguishable from conventional farms” on emissions. Aside from one high-emission outlier, the urban farms were carbon-competitive.
“They call out the fact that that tiny sample of seven urban farms that are actually production-focused, competitive with conventional agriculture, but that one line just got buried,” said Hannah Quigley, a policy specialist at the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition (NSAC). This aspect was especially frustrating to urban farming advocates because, as the groups who sent the letter point out, one of their biggest challenges in working with policymakers in D.C. is to get them to “regard urban farming as farming.”
Hawes said he found the critiques around lumping community gardens and urban farms together “reasonable” but that he stood by the method. He hadn’t considered including backyard gardens in rural areas in the sample, he said, even though city gardens were. “We were not necessarily attempting to compare urban and rural food production,” he said. “In fact, we chose to use the word conventional specifically because it pointed to the sort of ‘conventional food supply chain,’ which is often what urban agriculture producers are attempting to intervene in.”
Not only did taking the community gardens out of the picture change the emissions results, the researchers also found that 63 percent of carbon emissions at all of the sites came not from daily inputs or lack of crop efficiency but from infrastructure, such as building raised beds and trucking in soil. But using recycled materials for infrastructure cut those emissions so much, that if all the sites had done so, that would have been enough for them to close the gap and be competitive with conventional agriculture on greenhouse gas emissions.
“That problem can of course be solved by upfront funding,” said Goswami. “Then, bingo, according to the authors, you have systems with very comparable climate metrics.”
Overall, Hawes said he did regret some of the ways media coverage framed the study’s results but that he didn’t feel the framing of the study itself was problematic. “In my opinion, the most important sustainability challenge of our time is climate change, and if we’re gonna talk about sustainability in the context of urban agriculture, we have to talk about carbon emissions,” he said.
“The most important sustainability challenge of our time is climate change, and if we’re gonna talk about sustainability in the context of urban agriculture, we have to talk about carbon emissions.”
However, while climate scientists and sustainable agriculture advocates agree that addressing the food system’s 22 percent contribution to global greenhouse emissions is critical to meeting climate goals, whether carrots are grown in gardens in Detroit and Atlanta or only on huge commercial farms in the Salinas Valley (or both) won’t likely be a deciding factor.
At an event to kick off a new focus on food and agriculture last week, Project Drawdown launched a new series that will focus on food system solutions to climate change. There, Executive Director Jonathan Foley pointed out that the vast majority of food system emissions come from a few big sources: meat and dairy production, deforestation and other land use change (a large portion of which is linked to animal agriculture), and food waste.
As Goswami at UCS noted, that broader context is essential. “The authors . . . don’t at all zoom out to compare this to agriculture’s broader footprint,” she said, so even if there weren’t clear climate benefits to urban farming—which many say the study didn’t clearly conclude—prioritizing other benefits of growing things in cities might still make more sense. Especially given the climate resilience built into decentralizing and diversifying the food system.
Land use is particularly interesting, Quigley at NSAC said, because city farmers and gardeners often reclaim spaces that might otherwise be paved over and developed, adding carbon-holding trees and plants. “Folks who are maintaining community gardens and green spaces in cities to help with water run-off and urban heat island effect providing safe places for community gatherings . . . these are probably people that would be very concerned with their climate impact,” she said. “Can you imagine if they’re gonna be like, ‘Oh my god, should I not be gardening?’”
While NSAC did not sign on to the initial letter sent by the coalition of groups, Quigley is working with those farm groups and the members have since talked to Hawes. Disagreements on the study framing still abound, but they’re now working together on policy briefs that will be available to lawmakers if the farm bill process ever picks up again and conversations around funding urban farms are once again on the (picnic) table.
“Ultimately, one of the motivations behind this study was the fact that urban agriculture is largely discussed as a really useful sustainability intervention, and this study does not take away from that conclusion,” Hawes said. “I also think that to the degree that this starts conversations about the availability of resources for urban agriculture and the support that is available to urban farmers and gardeners for creating low-carbon solutions—I’m happy with that.”
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Supply Chain Impacts of the Key Bridge Collapse. One of the most iconic elements of Baltimore’s harbor is the illuminated Domino Sugar sign, below which the sweet stuff can often be seen piled high on massive ships. Now, the sugar refinery is one of many food and agriculture companies that will likely be impacted by last week’s collapse of the Key Bridge, which shut down the shipping channel that leads to the city’s busy port. The port also handles imports and exports of commodity grains, coffee, and farm equipment. On Friday, representatives from the White House and USDA met with more than a dozen farm and food stakeholders including the American Farm Bureau Federation, the American Sugar Alliance, and Perdue Farms to discuss impacts on the industry. On Sunday, officials announced they are working on opening a temporary alternate shipping channel to get the port back open while the clean-up of the bridge and the stranded ship continues.
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Climate-Friendly Rice. “My dad taught me to continuously flood a rice field. If you saw dry ground in a rice field, you were in trouble,” said fifth-generation Arkansas farmer Jim Whittaker at a USDA event last week. Now, Whittaker practices a technique that alternates his rice fields between wet and dry, a system he said has cut water use and methane emissions in those fields by 50 percent. Whittaker is one of 30 farmers whose rice is now available in a two-pound bag sold by Great River Milling. It’s the first product to officially hit the market as a result of funding from the USDA’s $3 billion Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities project, Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack said at the end, holding up one of those bags. And the debut comes at a time when some lawmakers and environmental groups are lobbing criticism at the agency over its broadening definition of “climate-smart.”
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Slaughterhouse Rulemaking. More than 800 comments were submitted before the comment period on the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency’s (EPA) contentious proposal to increase the regulation of water pollution from meat processing facilities closed last week. On one side of the issue, 45 environmental, community, and animal welfare organizations joined together to make a case for the most restrictive set of regulations proposed, arguing that the weakest option, which EPA has said it prefers, is “inconsistent with federal law.” “We call on the EPA to rise above Big Ag’s push to weaken this plan to reduce harms from the millions of gallons of pollution slaughterhouses and animal-rendering plants are spewing into our waterways,” said Hannah Connor, deputy director of environmental health at the Center for Biological Diversity, in a press release. Meanwhile, farm and meat industry groups including the Iowa Farm Bureau and the Meat Institute filed multiple sets of comments asking for an extension of the comment period and arguing for additional flexibilities to even the least restrictive regulatory framework proposed.
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]]>The post From Livestock to Lion’s Mane, the Latest From the Transfarmation Project appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In an old tobacco barn in North Carolina, Craig Watts completed three trial runs growing shiitakes before he felt ready to scale up. Then, he pulled a shipping container into one of the four giant barns that have been sitting empty on his farm and connected plumbing and electrical systems that once provided water and lighting for thousands of chickens destined to become Perdue products.
Now, he’s working on expanding his vegetable production on the farm, so that by later this spring, once he’s (hopefully) ready to sell his mushrooms at the local farmers’ market, he won’t be “a one-trick pony.”
“The pool of people you can actually help is very limited,” because if a farmer has significant debt from building and upgrading poultry, hog, or dairy infrastructure, and most do, the numbers just don’t work.
Over about a decade, Watts has become an indie rockstar of agriculture, famous among a niche fan base of food-system reformers, animal-welfare advocates, and farmers who—after years of being exploited by big, industrial meat companies—decided to speak up and get out. So it was only natural that he also became a poster child for Transfarmation, a Mercy for Animals program that aims to set those farmers up for an independent, profitable, fungi-focused future.
Civil Eats covered the program in early 2020, shortly after it launched, and Watts’ slow but determined journey illustrates the complicated reality of progress over the past four years. While some of Transfarmation’s farmers have laid a lot of groundwork, the path between feeding livestock and misting mushroom substrate was always bound to be muddy.
Transfarmation’s director, Tyler Whitley, estimates that over the last four years, about 100 farmers have reached out expressing interest. Of those, his team has worked with 12 farmers, nine of whom are still enrolled. (The ones who dropped out, he said, mostly did so due to health issues.)
While Transfarmation farmers also grow vegetables, hemp, and other crops, most focus on specialty mushrooms—including blue oyster, lion’s mane, and reishi—due to strong market demand, infrastructure compatibilities, and the fact that they are quick and fairly easy to grow.
The pandemic hit right after the project launched, and that set the timeline back significantly, says Whitley. Then, as the team identified challenges, they attempted to meet each one along the way. They contracted with an agricultural economics firm to analyze the costs of conversion and return on various crops. When it was clear farmers were having difficulty finding buyers for their mushrooms, they hired a “business engagement specialist” to identify restaurants and other buyers farmers might link up with. When farmers faced technical barriers, they found contractors who could visit each farm and help troubleshoot.
“Growth is always a process,” Whitley said.
Some farmers are now closer to running a viable business than Watts, who balances his mushroom business with his other, related job helping former contract farmers find resources through the Socially Responsible Agriculture Project. The Transfarmation team holds up Tom Lim, for instance, as a model. At a North Carolina conference in early February, attendees enjoyed his mushrooms in a tofu scramble for breakfast and a tartlet for dinner and they went home with a bag of dried mushrooms and instructions to make broth.
Still, Lim’s path to making money on his crop has been rocky. After scheduling challenges made it difficult for him to make a profit at farmers’ markets, the Transfarmation team helped him find wholesale buyers; that approach has been successful so far. Now, in addition to his participation in the pilot project, the program is leasing part of Lim’s farm from him and spending about $200,000 to convert one of his old chicken barns into a demonstration greenhouse that aims to show what’s possible.
“I’ve got to get my shit together and quit tinkering and get this thing working to where it’s replicable….There’s a learning curve that I can shorten for other farmers.”
But Watts said one of the biggest limitations of transition programs like Transfarmation and Miyoko’s Creamery’s Dairy Farm Transition is that “the pool of people you can actually help is very limited.” If a farmer has significant debt from building and upgrading poultry, hog, or dairy infrastructure—and most do—the numbers just don’t work. It’s more complicated than just switching what you grow in a giant, windowless barn. They’re made for one thing, raising chickens, and changing requires investments that can cost upwards of $100,000. Not to mention the fact that small farms growing specialty crops and selling directly to consumers are often barely scraping by.
That leads to a deeper question: Is the system being proposed actually going to be any better, financially, for the farmer compared to what they might make with an industrial chicken contract?
“That’s the $64,000 question,” Watts said. “But here’s the difference: If this doesn’t work out, I can walk away. I’m not going to lose anything.”
(Transfarmation’s financial projections predict an annual operating income of between $26,000 to $284,000, in addition to about $17 per hour in hourly wages to the farmer, based on converting one poultry house to a greenhouse, depending on the crop grown.)
Whitley, meanwhile, said that while the number of farmers may seem small and the finances complicated, the point was never to go out and help farmers transition out of operating concentrated animal feeding operations one by one. He sees each Transfarmation farmer, instead, as a mini pilot project. As they experiment and work out the kinks, the Transfarmation team collects data and documents successes and failures. Then, they write it all down and put it online.
“Our theory of change is working with individual farmers to create publicly accessible resources that anyone can independently implement,” he said. “We’re not trying to recreate another power-holding system.”
Or, as Watts puts it in his characteristically humble way, “I’ve got to get my shit together and quit tinkering and get this thing working to where it’s replicable. I see that as my role. There’s a learning curve that I can shorten for other farmers.”
This story has been updated to better reflect Tom Lim’s experience transitioning to mushroom farming.
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