Cage Free Vs Free Range - Demystifying Products Labels Part 2

posted on

October 14, 2017

Last time we discussed what the “natural” or “all natural” label meant. This time we are going to tackle the “cage free” vs. “free range” labels. First, some background. Most laying hens are kept in group cages while they lay their eggs. They are required to have ½ square foot of space per bird. For a mental image take a ruler and draw a six inch by six inch square on a piece of paper. That is the space requirement. Like all confinement houses, it gets quite dusty and ammonia (the smell of nitrogen in the manure with insufficient carbon to bond too {I’ll discuss this in a separate post} permeates the air. It also permeates the eggs, which are porous, which is why salmonella is such an issue with most confinement eggs. Also, the cages are stacked vertically to utilize space. This means when one hen needs to go “number 2” it falls down on the heads of the chickens below them. Talk about an unpleasant experience. Also, depending on the cage design, some houses have no way to remove expired hens from the cages (which means the dead hen decomposes next to its cell mates and then falls through the slatted floor onto the hens below it). Now that is a hard life. This system is justified through the argument that we need cheap eggs. These eggs are highly subsidized.  Even though we don’t pay much for these eggs in the grocery store, we actually do end up paying for these cheap eggs with our tax dollars.

So, if that is a caged hen, then cage free has to be way better right? Well …… not so much. You see, in a “cage free” concentration camp the industry would have us call a chicken house, the chickens are let out of the cages and given 1 square foot of space each (less than the screen of your laptop.) The house is still a dusty ammoniated mess. Now the birds can spook and flock into corners. Cool, right? Well, not when the ones on the bottom are smothered to death, which happens frequently in tight spaces. Also, because the birds are now contained exclusively on the floor they have to walk in, lie down in, and sleep on their manure that is piled on the floor. That manure is not cleaned up until all the birds are used up. Which means they’re nearly featherless (cramped conditions encourage the birds to peck each other incessantly) bodies are hauled to a processor and made into chicken soup. Sounds tasty, right?

Next, we’ll move onto the shining light of the label “free range.”  Now this is a cool label name. For me, it invokes images of massive herds of bison sweeping across the wide-open plains or a large herd of my own cows being rotated onto a large section of fresh grass. Naturally, (no pun intended) with chickens and eggs, the mental image should include happy hens joyously scratching in the grass and exhibiting the chickenness of the chicken (I’ll discuss that more in a minute.) For some eggs labeled “free range” that is indeed the case. Unfortunately, about 99% of the time it isn’t the case. You see, the “free range” label has kind of been hijacked. All a “cage free” house needs to do to qualify as free range is to allow some outdoor access to the birds. For most, this means a small access door is cut into the side of the house allowing  access to a small fenced “yard”. The yard is quickly denuded of vegetation (it’s what happens when any livestock is allowed continual access to any area; they eventually kill all the grass) and few of the hens ever leave the house. They are scared of the light and any change in their surroundings (after all, this concentration house is all they have ever known since they were a chick). Sadly, most free range eggs are really a bad buy. They can cost four to ten times as much as a “cage free” egg and there is almost never a difference in the quality of the egg. Both hens have in practice the same terrible environment and both are fed an exclusive diet of genetically modified, chemical soaked corn and soybeans. I attached an info graphic that helps make the point.

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Because the “free range” label has been hijacked by industrial systems, trying to make a fast buck on technicalities, we chose to not use the “free range” label on our eggs, even though our system is what most people picture when they think of “free range.” In our pasture system, we use biomimicry (imitating natural processes.) You see, the chickenness of the chicken is to scratch the earth, to eat a diversified diet of forage, insects, small mammals, seeds and grains (it is after all a omnivore), and like most birds, follow large herds of ruminants sanitizing the pasture by spreading the manure. While the chicken is quite removed from its ancestors of old, the glory of the chicken remains the same. That is to express its natural behavior while serving a greater purpose (sanitation, insect control, nutrient dense eggs).

As a Christian, I see the chickenness of the chicken as something to revere. I take my commission to steward the land as a call to utilize the chicken’s instinctual behaviors in a managed system that works with nature. If the chickenness of the chicken is to scratch, fertilize, sanitize, and nourish, then I believe my calling as a farmer is to allow the chicken to do just that.   By rotating the chickens to fresh pasture and following my grazing herds of sheep and cattle, I am able to jumpstart the ecological health of the land, sanitize, fertilize, and produce nutrient dense food for my family and my community. The rotation of the chickens onto fresh pasture  also ensures good sanitation for the hens and a healthy consumption of fresh forage and insects. This management also prevents the gift of the chicken from being abused by keeping them in one place therefore destroying the grass, causing ecological harm to the land, and physiological harm to the chickens (disease.)

I firmly believe that the chickenness of the chicken is not to be crammed into a cage or onto a fecal laden floor to repurpose genetically modified corn and soybeans into a mirage of an egg. To do so makes a mockery of the natural system and sets the stage for disaster (such as: food borne illness, pollution in our waterways, and an economy built on catch phrases instead of trust.)

That is why our pasture raised chicken system is different and why we encourage you to know your farmer and not to rely on marketing phrases that can be manipulated. Our hope is that this article has both empowered and inspired you.

Your Restoration Agriculturalists,

-David, Mariah, and Baby Judah

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More from the blog

The Worst Laid Plans

Today, I am sharing this story in an attempt to bring healing to your farmer's (my) mind and psyche after a series of events that individually would have been minor hiccups but taken together in the exact series proved to be a challenge that I found insurmountable (well nearly anyway but we will get to that). So let's get into this complicated trail of improbable and ridiculously frustrating events.  It all began about two weeks ago as I was arranging to get some of our pasture raised pork back from the facility where the primals (large chunks of meat that have not been cut into steaks, roast, sausage yet) were being stored after they were harvested (we have a USDA inspected facility where we cut and pack everything but at this time we don't have the capacity to harvest animals onsite - we are looking forward to having that someday!)Anyway, the facility is three hours away, so in an attempt to save money on freight, I messaged a friend who often hauls frozen meat for us to see if he would be coming that way. He said yes and gave me the date. Here all my troubles began. For reasons I can't explain, though, I have long since wracked my brain on the subject, I misread his date and never replied to him. Though he was very clear about it, I somehow got it in my head that he was coming through a week later and I clearly remembered setting up the appt - even though I never did. The stage for disaster had now been firmly set but it gets so so much better and more improbable. Now you should note that our pork breakfast sausage is one of our best selling farm products (for good reason) and inventory had been getting lower and lower. However, I had a plan in place......My friend would bring the pork to us the next Friday and would arrive at noon (I still don't know where I got Friday or noon from because I never messaged him back but it was firmly fixed in my mind and I made the whole plan based on this fact). Our team would be primed to immediately grind some of the pork into sausage and we would be restocked just in time for the weekend and hopefully just before we ran out - yay and koodos to the grand mastermind of a farmer for fitting everything together perfectly while saving on freight 🙌. I even messaged the facility manager and asked him to put some of the pork in a cooler so it would be thawed and ready for us to immediately work. I had practically thought of everything - what could possibly go wrong!Now it had been an extremely busy week, but I was riding high until Thursday evening came. It was then, I got a call from my friend who asked me if I needed something hauled the next day? I was floored. I reminded him the plan and he (rightly) informed me I had never made one but the facility manager had asked him when he was coming on Friday and he was confused so he called me. Well, there I was in a pickle. I needed that pork or we were going to run out of sausage. However, my friend was not already coming through, so if I had him make the run it would cost much more as it would be a dedicated trip and because of the ridiculously late notice he wouldn't be able to get it delivered until 3:00 P.M. the next day - when our processing crew normally leaves for the day. Clearly this wouldn't work so I thanked him but told him I would just pick it up myself. In my mind I was already formulating my second great plan. In it, I would just leave my house at 2 am get there at 5am, load up and be back by 8:30 with plenty of time to spare for the team to get the pork sausage done. I hung up and began to realize I had a larger problem than I thought. Let's imagine it like a tangled web of portable fencing that is wrapped around a prickly thorn tree - just to keep things clear. First prickle - one of our delivery drivers had asked off the next day (Friday). Second tangle - our warehouse manager was then set to cover his route. He had to pickup a heavy load so he would be taking the larger delivery box/van. Double knot - 4 pallets of pork would need to be picked up and our other delivery vehicles only hold 3 pallets. Fish tail looking tangle - Because our warehouse manager was going to be covering deliveries I was supposed to pick up our turkeys first thing Friday morning from where they were harvested so they would be frozen and ready to start packing on Monday. Tangle around a thorn - a pallet that needed to go back to the facility where the pork was harvested had accidentally been taken from the farm freezer to where we rent cold extra cold storage in town and they wouldn't open till 8 a.m.Ball of tangles with spikes coming through it that looks like a solar system model in yarn and harpoons - For my plan to work, I needed to leave at 2 a.m. to pick up four pallets with a vehicle only big enough for three pallets bringing a pallet with me that I couldn't possible get access to until 8 a.m. and be heading in the opposite direction to pickup Turkeys by 8:30 A.M...... PerfectI sheepishly called my friend back and asked if he could haul it after all. He graciously agreed and I began concocting my third plan - a better plan undoubtedly!As you may recall, my team was set to leave on Friday afternoon at the time the pork was to be delivered. So late Thursday I gave them the great news that I needed them to work an extra 3 hours on Friday - all to get this sausage done. I asked Mariah to make them homemade sourdough cinnamon rolls as a special treat to thank them for their dedication though - and assured them it would be worth it!Friday came around and I raced off to pick up Turkeys, made a special stop at our rented cold storage to get that pallet (lets call it "the package" just to make it seem more dramatic), and then brought it back to the farm so it would be ready to load on my friends truck after he dropped off the pork at 3:00 P.M. Then fate struck down plan #3. The following facts may seem unrelated but tragically they will unite into a tale of woe so follow carefully. -At 3:07 I got a text the pork hadn't arrived. -At the time I was talking to my father and was about to ask him if he could check a small group of cows we needed up the next day. He hit some bad service and the call dropped. -I put a quick call through to my friend which revealed that due to traffic he wouldn't arrive till 4:00. The timeline to get the sausage done was now shrinking! -Mariah asked me to make sure to bring some eggs home as we were having company over that evening and she needed them for the meal. -I raced over to our on farm processor and forgot to call my father back. My processing crew prepped everything that could be prepped as they waited, and I sat down to write a weekly farm update (this very email - about a very different subject haha). Then, just as my friend pulled in with the pork, I got an urgent call that the hot water heater in our chick brooder was making noises that sounded like an asthmatic elephant was having an alergic reaction while playing the tuba. I was dubious, but he put his phone on speaker and all I could contend was that I thought someone must simultaneously be playing the electric triangle with a rake as well! To say those were noises which should never come from such a device is an understatement! So I dropped everything and raced back down the road to where the chick brooder was. On the way over, my phone rang and the manager of our processing team informed me that after unloading the truck he found the pork was frozen like a brick. He didn't think they could grind any of it in that condition. Fearing an imminent explosion in the chick brooder, I told him to just try and dropped my phone in the seat of the truck in my hurry to enter the brooder. Upon entering, the elephant seemed to have recovered (owing in large part to my farm help unplugging everything and turning off all of the valves). A quick inspection showed that it was not in fact a musically impaired elephant but instead a falsely open valve forcing water at high pressure backwards through the machine. Thankfully he caught it early and after draining the excess pressure and resetting the valve all seemed well - at least for a moment. Then I got back into my truck simultaneously realizing that, in my haste, I forgot the eggs my wife needed for supper at the processor (we pack and wash eggs in separate building there and we always eat the broken and excessively weird shaped and dirty ones ourselves which we set aside when packing). As I raced back, I returned a call from our processing team manager and he informed me the pork was just jamming up the grinder because it was frozen so hard. I thanked him for trying, told him to season what little had made it through the grinder, and offhandedly asked him if he had loaded "the package."My heart sank, as he explained that he had been focussed on the pork and getting the team going. The truck left before he brought "the package" out to load. Frozen pork, no sausage, no back haul of "the package" back to the other facility and a high trucking bill. It was a gut punch to say the least. If that call about the asthmatic tuba playing elephant had come just five minutes later I would have been there to load the truck myself. Alas, if a fourth plan had ever existed the last nail in it's coffin was delivered in that moment.As I loaded the busted dirty eggs into the truck, I glanced at the clock and noticed with alarm that it was already passed the time I had promised Mariah to be back with the eggs. I raced down the road and remembered to call my father back (several hours had passed since the dropped call) and talked briefly about how the farm and animals looked. When I asked him about that small group, he was confused and said he hadn't seen them. Bewildered I told him where they were supposed to be and he exclaimed something along the lines of "Oh dear. We are up a creek without an oar, with three holes in the bottom of the boat, and a hurricane on the horizon". It turned out that not seeing the group (or knowing it existed) he left several gates open when he was there hours before and the cows could pretty much be anywhere. We both raced to that part of the farm and I just couldn't get it out of my mind that if the call hadn't dropped and if the pork been on time I would have told him about the group and prevented this entire mess! Mercifully, when we arrived the cows were just where they were supposed to be and hadn't had any curiosity to explore any other fields past the open gates. I sighed in relief and gasped as I saw the time and raced home -very late indeed!Just as I came through the door with the eggs, I got a text that, in total, 47 packs of breakfast sausage had been produced......Sadly, that yield could almost be measured in man hours per pack of breakfast sausage and it represented poignantly the grand failure of no less than 4 master plans. The seeds of failure had been sown the week prior when I never responded to my friend (but distinctly thought I did) and no amount of exertion could undue that wild chain of events that seemed dead set on the same outcome - namely being out or nearly out of breakfast sausage for the weekend - quick if you hurry you might be able to order them before they are gone! I am recovering slowly from the trauma of this insane saga but writing it out is helping me heal and hopefully it gives you a chuckle as well.  Blessings Your Farmer -David

{Watch} Onto Fresh Pasture

As part of our regenerative grazing plan we are continually moving the cows, sheep, chickens...... onto fresh pasture. Some people imagine this would be quite the roundup to be constantly moving all of those animals. While it does take time, the animals also learn very very quickly that when we call it means fresh pasture is just ahead and they sure get excited about that. Often just a few calls and the cattle or sheep will just follow us into the fresh sward of pasture.  One of my favorite parts of moving the cattle is just how excited they get. They are massive creatures and yet they jump and throw their heads around in excitement just like their young calves haha.