Pastured Poultry: Social Reform

Yesterday a fellow drove a 12-hour round trip to pick up his poultry processing equipment. I couldn’t meet him so I made arrangements for him to meet with Abe the twenty-five year old Amish man who does the lion’s share of our equipment assembly and knows as much about it as anybody. I dropped by Abe’s later that evening to pick up the check and see how it went.

The long list on the receipt book was pleasing to both of us but Abe had a bigger story to tell. The two spent an hour and a half together, including some time in Abe’s house where Abe showed him one of the carts we offer as work tables.

Abe first found the cart as a present for his wife, Susie. It was a multi-purpose storage cupboard, transport vehicle, serving station, counter space, and, not least of all, a sometimes play station for their three little girls, all under school age. A multi-tasking tool for a multi-tasking wife, in other words.

“He took one look at it and that was enough,” Abe said smiling.

We were both happy that Abe’s idea for a companion to the equipment we manufacture was a hit. I’m guessing something about Abe’s sincerity and deep satisfaction with life touched our new customer because he opened up to Abe.

“He told me something kind of funny,” Abe said. “He said several years ago he didn’t have a reason to live.”

Abe brought his thumb and fore-finger an inch apart. “He said he was this close to being dead.”

Three years ago, Abe thought assembling our equipment was a great supplement to his tarp shop business; it could allow him to work at home full time with his family. Since then, the allure of pastured poultry seems to have rubbed off on him and he has a greater appreciation for the business. He asked to read my Salatin books. Then we took in the thrill of a Joel Salatin talk together in Bloomfield, Iowa in a room packed with over 300 other Amish.

Abe is as quick as they come and rapidly assimilated Joel’s production, processing and marketing philosophies. In fact, he even got the “worldly view” of Joel through a television set in one of the universe’s most perfectly orchestrated, serendipitous moments.

As the meeting finished we decided on a place to grab dinner with Joel and his hosts before we drove our separate ways. About ten of us met at Joe’s Diner in Bloomfield. I wondered how, in all of Bloomfield, we had picked this little dive. Oh well, the company would make up for any shortfalls in food or atmosphere. We placed our orders at the counter and moved toward the largest table. But before we could sit down somebody said, “Look at that!”

Our eyes followed the outstretched arm and finger toward an overhead TV set that showed Michael Pollan talking on the nightly news! Michael Pollan! Author of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” the best-seller that is breaking the pasture-raised farming story across the nation.

In telling that story, Pollan tells Joel’s story, of course. And Pollan is a wordsmith in a class of his own. If you are reading this, you’d love Omnivore’s Dilemma.

It was easy to guess the general topic of the news report without being able to hear the interview – food choices in America. Probably another salmonella outbreak somewhere. Then, sure enough, they cut from the Pollan interview to clips of Joel’s farm!

We whooped and dropped our jaws all at the same time. What are the odds of the split second timing? Of all the TV my Amish friends have been exposed to in their lives – probably amounting to minutes, not hours, what are the odds of them catching this?!

In shock, I asked Joel, “How many times has Polyface been on national news?”

“Only once that I know of,” he responded, equally incredulous.

Both Abe and Susie shared that magic moment and came home sprinkled with fairy dust like folks always do after a Joel talk. I was pretty sure our new customer had been sprinkled, too, and Abe agreed.

How cool is it that we are in a business to support an endeavor that is literally life-giving? Without words, Abe and I shared the satisfaction of that thought.

That has given me pause to reflect: Why is it so life-giving?

What makes the endeavor of raising our own poultry on pasture so special? It isn’t just about Joel’s charisma, is it? Certainly he has the passion of a thousand but that’s getting the cart before the horse.

Joel’s passion stems from the leading edge cause which he pioneered and of which he will always be the reigning champion (until, perhaps, his son, Daniel, accepts the title). He would be happy if more were out there championing the cause with him, but few have the eloquence, and none have the history to be another Joel.

But anyone who takes up the mantle of a pastoralist, whether it be with chickens or cattle or hogs or sheep, steps out of the conventional mold and steps into a leading edge, exciting, society-reforming vocation.

Yes, social reformation. Social activism, if you’d prefer. That action, just that decision alone - to raise the poultry or whatever in a more natural way – puts us firmly in the camp of Those who care for the land, Those who care for the animals, Those who care for pure food, Those who care for our society at large.

That’s powerful! But there’s more. That decision also tells the world, “I choose my own path.” How freeing is that? No government guide sheets to follow, no corporate sponsors. Only us, nature’s template, the canvas of our farm land, and our supportive customers.

And there’s the final, highest, and the least expected reward: Customer appreciation!

Pastured poultry raisers are champions to their urban counterparts, modern day Robin Hoods. We save their families from salmonella, bird flu, e coli, polluted lakes and streams. We liberate them from the nasty thought of supporting crowded, fecal factory farms with their ammoniated atmospheres and fecal-covered everything. We replace their vision of chicken hell with chicken heaven.

Urbanites, exposed to more media, and certainly more removed from food self-sufficiency than their rural cousins, are scared to death of their food and are desperate for healthy alternatives.

Food safety is absolutely fundamental; it trumps all other issues. This is the stirring sense one gets from hearing Joel speak. There is no higher calling. We are freedom fighters for safe food and heroes and heroines to eaters, animals, and ecosystems everywhere.

Doesn’t this role put us on the front lines of social activism? It’s like refusing to sit in the back of the bus. Reaching back further, it’s like the women’s suffrage movement, like the termination of slave holding, like the Boston Tea Party!

Yes, it is a bold act of revolt against the current food paradigm. In a food environment that is corporate-dominated, heavily subsidized, government hog-tied, ultra-processed and walled off from public scrutiny, how daring is it to be a one-man or one-family operation, totally transparent, without a subsidy “safety net,” producing food as pure as snow, selling out of our own backyard? In America today – that’s daring. And desperately needed.

It is a dignified act of revolt in the Gandhi vein, and not at all unlike the Amish shunning of modern ways. We are not getting in anyone’s face about the circus of calamaties of modern food production (like the obnoxious animal rightists are, for example). We are humbly stepping up to the task of showing the world how to do the job in a better way.

As in any leading edge movement, there are obstacles to overcome. Local authorities – the meat inspectors - have mistakenly told countless poultry producers they can’t do what they’re doing. The prepared poultry enthusiast will direct them to public law 90-492 which exempts from government inspection anyone raising up to 1000 poultry. (Inspectors may not like to be surprised with this information, so deliver it as gently as possible.)

Back in 1989 our first inspector, Louie, said, “I’m not inspecting no damn sheep!” We stared back with big lamb eyes and said, “But you have to.” And he did have to. The point is that those folks aren’t used to not calling the shots. Tread lightly around their egos; you may need their help some day.

The thing about inspectors is – they don’t have to know you exist if you stay small. They’d rather not know, believe me. As soon as they know, they are obligated to have jurisdiction over your operation and make sure you stay within the parameters of PL 90-492 (a good subject for a later entry here, no?).

I say “embrace your social activism.” Be proud to be leading a change for the better. Be proud to assume control of one small segment of the food supply. Have pride in a better product, better land and animal care. Enjoy your ride on the leading edge. After all, only the lead dog gets the view.

And, finally, knowing too well how skeptics think (being a card-carrying one myself), I would say the following to anyone who has come this far with me and decided, “Oh, he’s just trying to sell more equipment!”

We raised and sold pastured poultry for six years before we even thought about manufacturing equipment. We know the empowering feeling of doing what is right for the land, livestock and our customers, friends and family. It is that conviction that drives my passion for the Featherman equipment business, not the other way around.

The equipment sells itself because it supports a deeply freeing reason to live with passion: being a part of social reform.