Too-Good Eggs?

With the total number of eggs recalled now growing to over half a billion, I wanted to add a few additional thoughts to my previous post on the topic.

As commenter Bill and Dogs notes (BTW, Bill, it's wonderful having you as a new reader):

I am currently in the city but have purchased a farm on which to retire and raise cattle and chickens. I have been unable to eat eggs since I left the farm and no longer had my own hens. My birds were contented, active and had both commercial and natural foods. ... Store bought eggs are so horrible by comparison that I just don't bother. I will be eating eggs again in a few years.

I'm not a big egg eater myself, but want to underscore Bill's point: Once you begin eating your own eggs, or anyone else's local eggs laid by active and happy hens, it's extremely difficult to again eat eggs laid by "concentration camp" hens. I travel on business from time to time, and simply cannot order egg-based dishes in restaurants. Farm fresh eggs are so good, they've ruined all other eggs for me.

Yesterday morning, I used olive oil and a cast iron skillet to saute a chopped onion and three different kinds of fresh peppers. All were straight from a neighbor's garden (for various reasons, particularly the adoption of Yeoman Farm Baby, we've been unable to stay on top of our own garden this year. But our neighbor's farmstand is as good a substitute as you can get.) To this I added four scrambled eggs, laid the previous morning by our hens. Once the eggs were done, I served them onto a freshly-picked and chopped garden tomato.

To my knowledge, a dish like this cannot be purchased in any restaurant at any price. And after tasting it, no restaurant omelet or grocery store egg will work for me.

380 Million Reasons to Own Your Own Hens

380,000,000 is the estimated number of eggs now being recalled in response to a salmonella outbreak.

Grocery stores across the state yanked eggs off their shelves after one of the largest U.S. producers recalled 228 million eggs connected to a salmonella outbreak that sickened hundreds of people across the nation, including as many as 266 in California.

On Wednesday the Associated Press reported that the recall had expanded to 380 million eggs.

The eggs, produced by Wright County Egg of Galt, Iowa, also were linked to a number of illnesses reported in June and July in Colorado and Minnesota, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The outbreak led to a surge in reports of infection with the bacteria salmonella enteritidis this summer — at least four times the expected number, the agency said in a statement Monday.

Salmonella can cause fever, diarrhea and abdominal pain, and can be fatal to young children and older people. No deaths so far have been reported in connection with the egg recall.

I've posted about egg factories before, and have often extolled the virtues of free-range or cage-free eggs. There isn't much I can add in this regard, other than to say: this is one of those times when we really, really appreciate having our own healthy livestock and knowing exactly where our food is coming from.

A few quick thoughts, however:

First, if you want an eye-opening experience, do a Google search on the phrase "DeCoster Farms," which is the agribusiness conglomerate of which Wright County Egg is part. Pretty remarkable how many different controversies this one company has been involved in. But I guess that's not surprising, when a "farm" (sic) gets so large and disconnected from its customers.

If you can't keep your own laying hens, I'd strongly encourage you to buy your eggs directly from a small farmer who does. Yes, those eggs can be a little more expensive, especially if the farmer is trucking them in to an urban farmers market. But they don't have to be, if you're able to go directly to the source. Around here, there are several farmers selling eggs for $1.50/dozen. The biggest hassle is making an extra stop, not coming up with extra money. But make that extra stop. Have that extra conversation with that extra person. See how their chickens are being kept. And I bet you'll never worry about your eggs making you sick.

And if you think you can't have your own chickens...think again. You'd be amazed at how creative some folks have become at keeping them stealthily in urban or suburban environments. And to my readers back home in Seattle: kudos to your city council for just unanimously voting to allow the keeping of up to eight hens on properties within the city limits! It really is becoming possible to be a yeoman farmer nearly anywhere.

Truly Marvelous Eggs

In a recent post about eggs, I noted that a researcher from Iowa State University appeared on a History Channel program and declared that there is no nutritional difference between eggs from caged hens and free range hens. I'm not sure what evidence she was basing that conclusion on, or if she'd been comparing "caged" to "cage free" hens which all ate the same commercial layer ration diet, or what; one of the weaknesses of television is it doesn't allow much depth and nuance. I noted that my gut told me that conclusion couldn't be correct --- and, thankfully, commenter Sara directed me toward the necessary evidence.

This article from Mother Earth News is outstanding. Their nutritional testing concludes that:

Most of the eggs currently sold in supermarkets are nutritionally inferior to eggs produced by hens raised on pasture. That’s the conclusion we have reached following completion of the 2007 Mother Earth News egg testing project. Our testing has found that, compared to official U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) nutrient data for commercial eggs, eggs from hens raised on pasture may contain:

• 1/3 less cholesterol

• 1/4 less saturated fat
• 2/3 more vitamin A
• 2 times more omega-3 fatty acids
• 3 times more vitamin E
• 7 times more beta carotene

These amazing results come from 14 flocks around the country that range freely on pasture or are housed in moveable pens that are rotated frequently to maximize access to fresh pasture and protect the birds from predators. We had six eggs from each of the 14 pastured flocks tested by an accredited laboratory in Portland, Ore. The chart at the end of this article shows the average nutrient content of the samples, compared with the official egg nutrient data from the USDA for “conventional” (i.e. from confined hens) eggs.

And later in the article they do address the sorts of misleading statements that the Iowa State University researcher made in the Modern Marvels program. Go read the whole thing.

I should mention that here in Michigan there is very little for our free range hens to forage on in the winter. They do eat our table scraps, but we must supplement their diet with layer ration from the feed store. We hope to remedy this in the future by growing more "winter keeper" feeds such as pumpkins, mangals, and other squashes that can be broken open for our hens when the pasture is gone.

Thanks again to Sara for directing me to this article.

Marvels of Eggs

One of our kids' favorite television programs is the History Channel's series, Modern Marvels. We've seen nearly every episode, and each one provides a remarkable amount of educational content --- while remaining entertaining and engaging.

Last night, a brand new episode aired, and it was about...eggs. As many Modern Marvels do, they began by showing the modern, industrialized production models --- basically, taking the viewer through a massive facility in Iowa and explaining the way in which 98% of eggs find their way to market. They then move on to alternative production models, showing the differences between "cage free" and "pastured"; the segment about Eatwell Farm in California, raising hens on pasture is beautiful, and an inspiration for all of us who are trying to keep livestock in a holistic manner (rather than by declaring war on nature). Later in the program, they explore different ways in which eggs are packaged, shipped, and consumed by end users.

They did their best to paint the industrial egg plant in as good a light as possible, but what struck me was the number of times the narrator had to explain that a given practice was "in accord with [SOME OFFICIAL-SOUNDING GROUP OR ORGANIZATION] guidelines." I think that's because, really, the concentration camp production model strikes most human beings as an affront to decency and the good stewardship with which animals ought to be treated. And I couldn't help laughing at the Iowa State University researcher who looked into the camera and solemnly declared that there are no nutritional differences between factory eggs and free range pastured eggs. It may indeed be true when subjected to a scientific analysis, the different kinds of eggs have identical levels of various enzymes and vitamins. But aren't "health" and "nutrition" about more than that? Does anyone really believe that a hen kept in close confinement with six other hens, allowed roughly 67 square inches of space, who never sees the light of day, and is fed a diet laced with low-level antibiotics to keep her from getting sick...can really produce from her body a fruit that is as healthy as what comes from the body of an active hen who spends her days ranging freely on pasture? (I discussed this issue, including my conversation with a USDA meat inspector who has seen what the hens look like when they're done laying and heading to the processing plant, some time back here.)

Anyway, I highly recommend watching this episode; chickens are so integral to most small farms, it's good to get a look at the variety of ways in which eggs are produced and used. Unfortunately, the History Channel isn't scheduled to run it again any time soon; if I do see it pop up on the schedule, I'll post an alert on the blog. In the meantime, I understand that Modern Marvels are available for purchase and download through the iTunes store. This is something I have zero experience doing, and can't even figure out how to post a link to the relevant page over there, but if you're an iTunes user you may want to give this a try.

Finally, speaking of eggs, look what I found in the barn this morning:

Yes, one goose egg, one duck egg, and one chicken egg (we'll get many more chicken eggs this evening). This is the first duck egg we've gotten in several months, so hopefully our Cayugas are kicking in and getting ready for some serious production. I thought you'd enjoy seeing the difference in size, and what they look like straight from the barn.

Food, Inc.

There is a new documentary out today called Food, Inc. I haven't seen it, but from the trailer it looks like an excellent indictment of Big Food.

In a textbook example of irony, an advertisement for McDonald's Big Mac appeared on the YouTube page while I was watching the trailer. I clicked through on the advertisement, which will hopefully cost McDonald's some money.

Has anyone seen the full movie, and can you give us a report? According to the film's website, there are no theaters within 40 miles of me that are showing it. If I do manage to see it, I will post a review to the blog.



H/T: Patti L.

The Meatrix

This is quite good:


H/T: Patty L.

Cage Free Eggs

Interesting article in yesterday's New York Times about cage free eggs. Seems that demand is increasing, due in large part to concerns about cramming production hens into battery cages where each has an amount of space roughly equal to a "laptop computer." We have such a factory near our town, and locals who've worked there have told stories that will make your hair stand on end. One ex-employee will not even eat chicken --- any kind of chicken, even when we offered to give him a free pasture-raised broiler --- because the mere thought of chicken still turns his stomach, some 20 years later.

One thing the article makes very clear, though, is that "cage free" does not equal "free range" or "pastured." As we've been telling our customers for some time, "cage free" simply means the birds are loose in a large building, just like most commercial broiler chickens are raised. It does not mean the birds ever see the light of day, or have anything fresh and green in their diet. Also, as the article mentions, it does not mean the birds are necessarily healthier than those raised in batteries.

Our own chickens are the next step beyond "cage free." They are completely free ranging during most of the year, and during the summer gardening/fruit months they are kept in movable pasture pens. As I'll describe in another post soon, these pasture pens give the birds fresh green stuff every day, take them off their droppings every day, and keep them out in the fresh air in small groups 24 hours per day. (And this system has the added advantage of keeping them away from my ripening wine grapes and away from Mrs. Yeoman Farmer's tomatoes.)

Furthermore, on a more philosophical level, our pastured and free-range chickens give glory to God. This is because we allow them to behave in complete accord with their nature; they are allowed to behave in the way God designed and intended them to behave. Were we to cram them into battery cages, we'd be reducing them to mere egg-laying machines.

The eggs from hens raised in this manner are incomparable, and are usually only found at farmers markets or local health food stores. I only wish we could produce more of them without overwhelming our small farm with chickens.

Animal Rights Impact

We soundly reject the notion of "animal rights"; animals don't have rights, because they don't have responsibilities or duties. However, we as humans do have a duty to treat animals with dignity and good stewardship. A chicken gives glory to God by being a chicken; if I stuff that chicken in a cage with four other chickens and turn it into an egg-laying machine, I do not allow it glorify God as the chicken he created it to be.

The shorthand word for this is "stewardship," or perhaps "husbandry." We are firm believers in it, and practice it here on our farm. Interestingly, treating animals humanely yields much better produce after slaughter. And the praise and demand for our free range eggs is astounding. You simply cannot produce something this good without allowing animals to behave in the way God designed them to behave.

An interesting story in today's New York Times gives some insights into how the "animal rights" movement, by shifting its focus in recent years, has contributed to the public's newfound appreciation for the kinds of farming techniques we practice:

But all of these believers have learned that with less stridency comes more respect and influence in food politics. So they no longer concentrate their energy on burning effigies of Colonel Sanders and stealing chickens. They don’t demonize meat — with the exception of foie gras and veal — or the people who produce it. Instead, they use softer rhetoric, focusing on a campaign even committed carnivores can get behind: better conditions for farm animals.

In some ways, it’s simply a matter of style.

[snip]

The broader-umbrella approach is working. Take the case of Wolfgang Puck. In March, he announced that he would stop serving foie gras and buy eggs only from chickens not confined to small cages. Veal, pork and poultry suppliers will have to abide by stricter standards, too.

For five years before the announcement, Mr. Baur’s group had been pressuring Mr. Puck to change his meaty ways. Mr. Puck, in an interview in March, said that had nothing to do with his new policies. He simply came to the conclusion that better standards were the best thing for his customers, his food and the animals. But he did credit the Humane Society for his education.

The full story has much more about the interplay between the activists and professional food producers and chefs.

The gap between animal lovers and animal lovers who love to eat them is exactly what Mr. Baur, a man who eats noodles with margarine, soy sauce and brewer’s yeast and has only barely heard of Chez Panisse, would like to close.

“We’re not really in philosophical alignment,” he said. “But I like to think we’re in strategic alliance.”

Food Refugees

I spoke with a very nice older lady yesterday, located near Peoria (a couple of hours from here). She was inquiring about buying some of our pasture-raised chickens and turkeys, and wanted more details about how we raise them.

I explained that they are not certified organic.

She said she didn't care.

I explained that they're not certified organic because they eat conventionally raised feed.

What does that mean, she asked.

We feed our birds corn/oats/soy raised by local farmers using typical industrial agriculture methods, I explained.

"You mean," she asked, "they sprayed it with pesticides and herbicides?"

"Unfortunately, yes," I replied. I explained that we're not capable of producing our own animal feeds on just five acres, and that there is no local source of organic feed.

She said she wasn't interested, and that she'd keep looking. I was about to write her off as one of those "Organic is my religion, and I must maintain ritual purity" types, but then she went on to explain why she was so particular about the meat: her daughter has a chronic medical condition, and they've only been able to control it these last sixteen years by keeping strict controls over her diet. She's so sensitive to additives, even the pesticides in the animal feed affect her.

I explained that I completely understood her situation; our kids have severe food allergies, which was a big reason why we began producing our own food. Our own children are fine with meat the way we raise it here, but they have all kinds of other sensitivities (particularly sprays on fruit and vegetables) that we must strictly eliminate.

We carried on a very nice conversation for about ten more minutes. I recommended a couple of other people she could try contacting, and she told me all about having grown up on a farm and the way she ate as a girl. She asked lots of questions about what we raise and how we raise it, and what our plans are for the future; she was genuinely interested, and really seemed to care. She hoped that someday we could acquire enough land to raise our own organic grain for the birds to eat. We discussed dairy goats, organic gardening, poultry-butchering, and a whole host of other farm topics. What amazed me is how far she was willing to drive to get the meat to stock her three freezers with, and the lengths she'd gone to in the past to obtain that meat.

And it occurred to me that our family, along with so many who contact us, are to some extent or another "food refugees." Big Industrial Agriculture can't supply what we or our families need, and we're forced to either take matters into our own hands (by moving to the country and raising our own) or cultivate relationships with farmers...and then drive hours to obtain that special produce. I wish we could meet the needs of every single person who contacts us; as I've posted before, it's particularly satisfying being able to deliver duck eggs to people who cannot eat any other kind of egg.

But there are so many highly particular needs, we'd go crazy trying to meet them all. And we can't ship our produce; I've lost track of the number of people who've inquired from the four corners of the country, hoping we could put a chicken in a box and FedEx it to them. Our solution is to produce food that meets the specific dietary needs of our family...and sell it to anyone who also needs that kind of food and is willing to get it from us in person. But we don't do "special orders." We simply can't. And it's illegal for us to ship meat anywhere.

And thinking about "food refugees," another particular lady comes to mind. She must have meat raised without any grain at all, preferably 100% on grass. In theory, Canada Geese can be raised on grass without any supplemental grain --- but Canadas don't provide much meat, they're illegal to raise without a wildlife permit, and they can fly away. I won't touch them with a barge pole. And unless a person had a good supply of fish meal and alfalfa, I don't know how you'd get enough protein into your broiler chickens, turkeys, or ducks to sustain them without grain. Ditto for laying hens."Grass Only Lady" has contacted me a few times over the years, hoping I've somehow figured out a way to accomplish this feat...but each time I've had to tell that no, we still are giving our birds supplemental grain.

If you're a food refugee, don't give up. If you look hard enough, you can probably find a farmer who is producing something that will work for you. And if you can't find that farmer...don't be afraid to take the plunge and become your own Yeoman Farmer. It's the best decision our family ever made.

Pork

Most commercial pork is raised in industrial-style buildings, using one breed of pig. That's why hogs are treated as a commodity; every one is pretty much identical to every other one, and therefore interchangable. As Corby Kummer described in an excellent 2004 article for the Atlantic Monthly, the pork industry has spent decades developing a breed that is very low in fat --- but is also very low in flavor. That, by the way, is why these pigs must be raised indoors. They simply don't have enough fat to stay warm outside.

Small-scale sustainable farmers, however, can raise any breed they choose. Some of our neighbors do raise these "homestead hogs," and they're absolutely delicious. My wife, unfortunately, isn't a big pork eater, so we've never tried raising hogs --- and neither have we bought much pork from our neighbors. But don't dare get between me and the fried, breaded pork chop that Matthew, our homeschooled neighbor, gave me in exchange for putting a bullet in the pig's head for him on butchering day.

Anyway, there is hope that "traditional" pork (with all the fat) might be making a larger comeback. A recent story in the New York Times profiles a few different NYC restaurants that are serving "whole hogs", in the middle of a table, and letting everyone in the dinner party simply dig in.

They’re porky times, fatty times, which is to say very good times indeed. Any new logo for the city could justifiably place the Big Apple in the mouth of a spit-roasted pig, and if the health commissioner were really on his toes, he’d draw up a sizable list of restaurants required to hand out pills of Lipitor instead of after-dinner mints.

The list would encompass more than steakhouses, which have multiplied exponentially over the last five years, because what’s lumbered into particular favor with culinary tastemakers and the food-savvy set isn’t just beef and isn’t just any old piece of meat.

It’s a piece of meat that’s extra-messy, like one of the fat-ringed slabs of lamb at Trestle on Tenth, which opened last year. Sometimes it’s a mammoth cut, sometimes just gooey nuggets of animal parts less conventionally appreciated or lyrically named than the tenderloin.

[snip]

Now ...“lardo is sought after, and it no longer raises people’s hackles,” he said in a recent phone conversation. “People finally realize that fat is truly delicious, particularly pork fat.”

The story doesn't discuss which breeds of pig are being raised for these restaurants, or how they're being raised, but I'd bet that these are not traditional factory-farmed hogs. And if these restaurants are currently settling for factory-farmed breeds of pork and lamb, just wait until they try a heritage breed that has been raised with a more natural, healthy layer of fat.

I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. And wondering if I have one of Matthew's pork chops left in my freezer.

The Farm Bill

We've lived here for nearly six years now, surrounded by folks who grow corn and soybeans thousands of acres at a time. Just this week, the mammoth tractors have again begun rumbling into the fields, pulling implements that can plant upwards of 24 rows of corn with each pass. But six years later, I have yet to understand the complex web of subsidies that act as incentives for this kind of behavior. I do know that at harvest time, the mammoth grain elevator fills to overflowing---with a mountain of surplus grain outside that resembles the Great Pyramid of Giza. (I'll post some pictures this fall; it's a truly remarkable sight.)

I've had a sense that something was out of whack with federal farm policy, but couldn't grasp the extent of how its various disparate effects interacted and contributed to reinforcing each other. That's in large part because the Farm Bill itself is so complex, it is nearly impossible for anyone to understand.

In a recent New York Times piece, Michael Pollan provides an excellent --- and clearly written --- overview and discussion of how the Farm Bill has perverted not only American agriculture, but also American nutrition and even life in foreign countries. One small excerpt:

Compared with a bunch of carrots, a package of Twinkies, to take one iconic processed foodlike substance as an example, is a highly complicated, high-tech piece of manufacture, involving no fewer than 39 ingredients, many themselves elaborately manufactured, as well as the packaging and a hefty marketing budget. So how can the supermarket possibly sell a pair of these synthetic cream-filled pseudocakes for less than a bunch of roots?

For the answer, you need look no farther than the farm bill. ... Among other things, it determines which crops will be subsidized and which will not, and in the case of the carrot and the Twinkie, the farm bill as currently written offers a lot more support to the cake than to the root. Like most processed foods, the Twinkie is basically a clever arrangement of carbohydrates and fats teased out of corn, soybeans and wheat — three of the five commodity crops that the farm bill supports, to the tune of some $25 billion a year. (Rice and cotton are the others.) For the last several decades — indeed, for about as long as the American waistline has been ballooning — U.S. agricultural policy has been designed in such a way as to promote the overproduction of these five commodities, especially corn and soy.

That’s because the current farm bill helps commodity farmers by cutting them a check based on how many bushels they can grow, rather than, say, by supporting prices and limiting production, as farm bills once did. The result? A food system awash in added sugars (derived from corn) and added fats (derived mainly from soy), as well as dirt-cheap meat and milk (derived from both). By comparison, the farm bill does almost nothing to support farmers growing fresh produce. A result of these policy choices is on stark display in your supermarket, where the real price of fruits and vegetables between 1985 and 2000 increased by nearly 40 percent while the real price of soft drinks (a k a liquid corn) declined by 23 percent. The reason the least healthful calories in the supermarket are the cheapest is that those are the ones the farm bill encourages farmers to grow.

I don't want federal support for what I do, and I don't think most of us in sustainable agriculture do either. What we'd like to see is a playing field devoid of arbitrary subsidies, in which the marketplace can decide the value of what we produce --- and what the commodity farmers produce.

Special Delivery

Apart from the lifestyle and being able to produce healthy food for our family, one of the most rewarding things about a small farm is providing specialty products to people who truly appreciate them.

A prime example is duck eggs. Unless you live in an Asian enclave, you will never find duck eggs for sale in an American supermarket. There are many reasons, but it's chiefly because (1) you can't cram ducks into factory-style cages like you can with hens; and (2) there is little market for burned-out laying ducks. Most laying hens become Chicken Noodle Soup; there is no similar commercial demand for ducks. But free range laying ducks are a wonderful addition to a small farm: they are easy to raise, fun to watch, and provide plenty of large delicious eggs. The fat content is slightly higher than in chicken eggs, giving them a richer flavor. And there's nothing as good as duck soup.

But most importantly, some people who are allergic to chicken eggs can eat duck eggs. Several such people have found us, and they're now among our most loyal customers. Every time I'm in the Chicago area, I email them...and they figure out a way to meet me to get their duck eggs. Tomorrow, I am taking ten dozen to a woman in the city who had to go without eggs all winter as our ducks were taking a collective break. Last Friday, when my daughter and I walked around the Loop, our first stop was at an office building near St. Peter's; an executive, who'd last been able to get our eggs in November, happily came down to get three dozen from us. Chatting with him in the lobby about all he planned to do with the long-awaited eggs, the excitement in his voice was palpable. He emailed me a few days later, again thanking us for the delivery...and asking when we'd be able to bring more.

And then there's my Filipino customer, who lives in the far western suburbs. He is disabled, but has made a side business of taking our duck eggs and brining them in buckets of salt water; this product is a big seller in the Filipino community. He and his wife have driven all over Chicagoland, meeting me in crazy places (usually at the airport before dawn, when I have a business trip), buying upwards of 30 dozen at a time.

Before we started doing this, I wondered why so many people refer to farming as a "vocation." The more customers we get to meet, the better I understand it. You can't do this for the money---and not just because, after the expenses, there is so little profit to a micro enterprise like ours. It's because there's no way to put a price on the smile a person gives you, or the heartfelt gratitude they express, when you've brought them something they cannot find anywhere else.

Is it Organic?

This is a question we're frequently asked, and we must respond: "No, we are not certified organic. But we follow organic practices in the garden. We don't use pesticides or herbicides." And then we go on to explain how the livestock are raised and cared for.

I've come to understand that in many peoples' minds, "organic" has become a shorthand term for a whole host of other issues. Today's New York Times had an illustrative piece about how Whole Foods, though "organic," has strayed from some of the values that originally attracted many of its customers. As one Whole Foods customer put it:

“Produce is no longer consistently good,” Ms. Coleman said. “I can no longer count on it. Because I feel I pay more there I really expect it to be as good as a farmer’s market but sometimes it’s mushy, sometimes it’s old and sometimes it’s good. I think I use organic as proxy for a bunch of other things, like locally grown and fresher, but I’m just beginning to find out I really need to go to farmers’ markets if I want these things. I only go to Whole Foods when I can’t find a product anywhere else.”

Our livestock do not eat certified organic feed. Such feed is nearly impossible to get around here, and we believe that buying locally-raised (albeit conventionally-farmed) grain through a local independent feed store that custom mixes it, is also something to value. We do not use any feed laced with antibiotics or growth hormones. Most of all, we believe that raising animals on pasture and free range adds much greater value than feeding certified organic feed to an animal kept in confinement.

"Your eggs taste so much better than the organic eggs from the store," many customers have told us. "Even better than the ones marked 'cage free'." I explain that as we understand it, "organic" eggs have simply come from hens fed organic feed; there is no requirement for such hens to ever see the light of day. And, as I understand it, "cage free" simply means the hens run around inside a large building or shed. Again, there is no guarantee such chickens are seeing the light of day.

Even with this explanation, some customers will not buy our livestock or eggs; for such people, "organic" seems almost like a religion. That is unfortunate, but we have no trouble selling out all of our products to others. I just wish that such folks would think a bit more about whether "organic" is truly the highest value, or if "locally produced" and "free range" might be even more important.

Where Do Eggs Come From?

Ever wondered where those sixty-nine cent per dozen eggs at the supermarket come from? Or the eggs that restaurants buy wholesale for fifty cents a dozen or less?

Factories like this one:

I've never been inside it (more on that in a moment), but locals who've worked there have described the hens as living in "concentration camp" conditions. Those enormous buildings reportedly house row after row of cages, stacked in batteries high into the air, several hens to a cage. No one is quite sure just how many birds are in there, but our guess is that the total is somewhere in the low six figures. And this factory is small potatoes compared to one in a neighboring state; according to an acquaintance who worked there, that complex covers acres, and has upwards of a million birds. This, by the way, is what economists refer to as "economies of scale." A single complex with 100,000 or 1,000,000 is more efficient than ten complexes with 10,000 birds. That enables eggs to retail for under a dollar at most supermarkets.

Are there, uh, unintended consequences from crowding so many birds into such a small space? That brings us back to the reason why I've never been inside that local egg factory. Try to drive up and take a look, and you're greeted by the sign to the right. Imagine the disease problems you'd struggle with if you spent 24 hours a day in a small, confined space with three of your closest friends. Imagine what your immune system would be like after two years of never seeing the light of day, or getting a breath of fresh air. No wonder the people who run this place are so concerned about introducing germs to their factory.

And speaking of diseases, I had a fascinating conversation awhile back with a USDA inspector. He works full time at a pork processing plant, ensuring that each hog carcass is healthy. As part of his training, he spent time at a chicken processing plant --- as it turns out, the plant that slaughters the laying hens from that million-plus egg factory in the neighboring state. He said it was an excellent education in identifying "problem birds," because there were so many that exhibited so many different conditions.

I asked him, "What do you think that says about the quality of the eggs from that plant?"

He looked at me like I had cabbages growing out of my head. "Egg inspection is a different USDA team," he replied. In other words, as long as an egg is candled and graded and passes its inspection...the health of the hen that egg came out of is of little concern. Eggs are graded from AAA down to B, based on the size of the air sac inside it. But how do you grade the wholesomeness and health of an individual egg, separately from the health of the hen that laid it?

It's impossible to measure in a factory. But I can guarantee one thing: once you begin eating eggs laid by free range hens, raised on a local farm, you will be able to taste the difference. And you'll find it increasingly difficult to stomach (for a whole host of reasons) the under-a-dollar eggs at the supermarket. And you'll probably start asking yourself what the true "cost" of those supermarket eggs really is.

Problems with Industrializing Livestock

Seems that a quiet revolution has been taking place in the raising of a type of livestock most of us never think about: bees. Many of our friends raise and keep bees, and we buy as much of our honey from them as possible. Once our orchard matures, we plan to begin keeping our own hives.

Today's New York Times describes the unexpected consequences that have arisen from the dramatic commercialization and consolodation in the beekeeping industry.

The sudden mysterious losses are highlighting the critical link that honeybees play in the long chain that gets fruit and vegetables to supermarkets and dinner tables across the country.

Beekeepers have fought regional bee crises before, but this is the first national affliction. Now, in a mystery worthy of Agatha Christie, bees are flying off in search of pollen and nectar and simply never returning to their colonies. And nobody knows why.

Researchers say the bees are presumably dying in the fields, perhaps becoming exhausted or simply disoriented and eventually falling victim to the cold.

[snip]

Once the domain of hobbyists with a handful of backyard hives, beekeeping has become increasingly commercial and consolidated. Over the last two decades, the number of beehives, now estimated by the Agriculture Department to be 2.4 million, has dropped by a quarter and the number of beekeepers by half.

Pressure has been building on the bee industry. The costs to maintain hives, also known as colonies, are rising along with the strain on bees of being bred to pollinate rather than just make honey. And beekeepers are losing out to suburban sprawl in their quest for spots where bees can forage for nectar to stay healthy and strong during the pollination season.

“There are less beekeepers, less bees, yet more crops to pollinate,” Mr. Browning said. “While this sounds sweet for the bee business, with so much added loss and expense due to disease, pests and higher equipment costs, profitability is actually falling.”

[snip]

It could just be that the bees are stressed out. Bees are being raised to survive a shorter offseason, to be ready to pollinate once the almond bloom begins in February. That has most likely lowered their immunity to viruses.

Mites have also damaged bee colonies, and the insecticides used to try to kill mites are harming the ability of queen bees to spawn as many worker bees. The queens are living half as long as they did just a few years ago.

Researchers are also concerned that the willingness of beekeepers to truck their colonies from coast to coast could be adding to bees’ stress, helping to spread viruses and mites and otherwise accelerating whatever is afflicting them.

Dennis van Engelsdorp, a bee specialist with the state of Pennsylvania who is part of the team studying the bee colony collapses, said the “strong immune suppression” investigators have observed “could be the AIDS of the bee industry,” making bees more susceptible to other diseases that eventually kill them off.


It never ceases to amaze me when industrial farm operations seem to think they can scale their operations up indefinitely, without consequence. And, from the story, it sounds like the problem isn't just the beekeepers: it's the massive size of the consolodated orchards, which require these large numbers of bees. I wonder how much of a collapse it will take before small, local beekeepers re-emerge with heritage bees and beekeeping techniques to pick up the pieces --- and the growers scale back to a more managable size.

How Did We Get Here?

Some time back, I was getting caught up with a friend from college. We'd both left Northwestern in 1991 with Masters degrees in political science, and hadn't spoken to each other since.

I explained that I'd gone to work for a political polling firm, conducting survey and focus group research for Republican candidates and conservative causes. I'd enjoyed that work very much, and the firm kept me on part time as a telecommuter when I'd decided to go back to school and finish my doctorate at UCLA. Along the way, I'd gotten married and had a couple of children---and then, with the dissertation in its final stages, moved from Los Angeles to a five acre farm in rural downstate Illinois.

"You did what?" he asked.

"You know," I replied. "Moved to the country. Bought a hundred-year-old farm house. Started raising our own food. Homeschooling our kids. Started my own public opinion consulting practice. Trying to be as self-sufficient as possible, all the while working as a pollster and trying to get my candidates elected."

After a pause, I added: "We've basically become Thomas Jefferson's 'yeoman farmer'."

He burst into laughter and replied, "I was just thinking, 'Jefferson would be very pleased.'"

Jefferson romanticized the small agrarian freeholders of his day as being the country's "most valuable citizens," but becoming "tied to our country and wedded to its liberty and interests by the most lasting bonds" was far from my mind (and my wife's mind) in 1999. We were living in a small house on a small subdivision lot in the High Desert of Southern California. I was telecommuting with a political polling firm based in Detroit as I worked on finishing my doctoral dissertation at UCLA.

Y2K was closing in, and speculation was rife as to what kinds of disruptions we'd be facing when the new year rolled over. We didn't think the world would end, but my wife and I found ourselves thinking and talking a lot about the aspects of daily life we took for granted. Somewhere along the way, we asked ourselves, "Where does our food come from, anyway?"

It was a fateful question, because it led us to study the whole industry of modern food production. And the more we learned about how livestock are factory farmed in confinement, how fruits and vegetables have been bred for shelf life and shipping rather than flavor or nutritional content, and how commodity grains are processed to death after leaving the field, the more troubled we became.

1999 rolled over to 2000 without incident, but we were facing a different set of problems: everything our three year old son was eating seemed to be giving him rashes and making him break out in hives. We tried switching to outragously expensive organic produce, meats, and eggs, and that seemed to help. My wife was soon on a first name basis with the staff of the local organic grocery store, but something still seemed to be making our son sick. Only by eliminating all gluten from his diet did we finally fix it. We began buying rice and quinoa (the only grains we could find without gluten) in bulk, and grinding our own flour by hand for his meals.

As our daughter got older and began eating solid foods, we discovered she had the same food alergies. Puzzled, we kept reading about food and where it comes from. We also spent hours reading Carla Emery's book, The Encyclopedia of Country Living. Sometime in early 2001, both of us --- but especially my wife --- had had enough of trying to survive at the margins of Big Food. We'd also had enough of being thousands of miles from family, and living in a subdivision surrounded by neighbors who played stereos at all hours of the day and night. We longed for independence, privacy, and community. As I was in the final stages of my dissertation, and my boss had long grown comfortable with my telecommuting, it no longer mattered where we lived. So we asked ourselves, "If we could live anywhere, where would it be?"

For a variety of reasons, we settled on rural downstate Illinois. It was reasonably close to family, a reasonable drive to Chicago and a short distance from Champaign-Urbana (where we already had friends), and Illinois has among the least restrictive homeschooling laws in the nation. We found an excellent real estate agent in the general location where we wanted to be, and began working with him long distance. He found several promising listings, and we flew out for a weekend in the spring of 2001.

After a day of driving around, we decided to make an offer on a 1600sf, two-story, hundred year old farmhouse with five acres and a few outbuildings. We flew back to Los Angeles, put our house on the market, and by late July I was driving a Ryder truck across the country with all of our worldly possessions. We didn't know it at the time, but we were becoming what author Rod Dreher would term "Crunchy Cons."

The house was far from perfect, but seemed like paradise after the High Desert. We started out knowing nothing---absolutely nothing--- about gardening, raising livestock, building fences, planting trees, or anything else, when we first arrived. And, apart from the buildings, there was nothing on the property but a lawn. Over the last 5+ years, we've slowly shaped the property (and our lives) into what we dreamed of back in California.

This blog will share our experiences --- especially the learning experiences, and our reflections on them. We're still learning, and still making mistakes, but still having a lot of fun doing it. It's hard to think of a better decision we've made than to move to the country, and to become "Jefferson's Yeoman Farmer."