Livestock

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pork Production

PIGS AND PRAGMATISM

The human relationship with domesticated pigs goes back nine to eleven thousand years. Domesticated in different parts of the world at different times, pigs continue to be an important part of many cultures. Known domestication events occurred in China, India, and Southeast Asia (Essig 35). There is now evidence suggesting that domesticated pigs were first introduced to Europe from China but then were replaced with pigs domesticated from European boar (Larson et al.). Many believe that humans’ increasingly sedentary way of life, along with their accumulated waste, attracted pigs to human settlements and supplied the multiple opportunities for domestication. In Lesser Beasts: A Snout to Tail History of the Humble Pig, Mark Essig argues that pigs’ similarities with humans may have made this a fairly easy process: “The two species have similar digestive systems, from teeth to stomach to intestines, because they have similar diets. Both are omnivores who thrive on meat, nuts, roots, and seeds. And because pigs and people eat the same foods, they evolved to form a symbiotic connection—a bond so tight that 10,000 years later, it remains unbroken” (17).

There are about five million feral pigs in the United States, most easily found in Florida, Texas, California, North Carolina, Tennessee, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico. This distribution results from their introduction by explorers and early settlers, but pigs came with colonists in New England as well. Logs suggest that 60 pigs arrived in Jamestown in 1585. This number quickly became 600 and then exploded to “infinite hogs all over the woods” by 1614 (Gray 19). As with cattle, fencing the animals out of one’s property was more common than enclosing them; this practice led to uncontrolled breeding. It was not until the 1800s that pigs were imported to “improve” domestic stock so that a two-year-old grass-fed hog would be between 300 and 450 pounds (Bidwell and Falconer 229). Despite these breeding efforts pigs generally roamed freely. There was some importation of European boar in the early 1900s in North Carolina, but most bred with feral domesticated pigs. Since pigs are an exotic species in the United States they are often seen as a threat to the ecosystems in which they live. The rooting of pigs is known to increase the speed of decomposition, making nutrients available in the soil and promoting the growth of trees, but there is concern that as a nonnative species pigs may harm native flora and fauna and carry disease that could impact both wildlife and livestock. Around the world they are seen as a pest by farmers, as pigs trample and root out crops. Electric fencing is one way to keep them out, but hunting is the most common response.

In the United States there are outfits that specialize in providing the experience of hunting “boar.” Others make their living by doing the hunting themselves. Boar meat has become a popular item in some restaurants, so hunting has become more than “pest control.” An article in American Hunter tries to both justify such hunting and show that it’s profitable: “The availability of specialized firearms, ammunition, gear and even websites and magazines all point to the fact that hog hunting is becoming big business. With rambling hordes of porkers now found in 35 states and with an estimated 2 million in the South alone, the destruction these heavy critters are wreaking across their range is extensive. Hogs uproot crop fields and yards and destroy habitat that must be shared with a broad range of other species including wild turkeys and deer” (Howlett). Part of the allure of hunting hogs resides in the challenge they provide. They are secretive and smart; this speaks to their intelligence and ingenuity. Described as smarter than dogs, pigs are used as retrievers, truffle hunters, and service animals. They are quick problem-solvers and engage in cause-and-effect thinking. In testing automated feeding systems that granted access to food by reading electric collars, researchers found that pigs would pick up collars they found on the ground and use them to regain access to food. Pigs have been worshiped for their strength and fertility, as well as for their intelligence. In the United States today, though, they are not worshiped and their intelligence is not respected in industrial hog production.

The USDA report “US Hog Production from 1992 to 2009: Technology, Restructuring, and Productivity Growth” describes current hog production. The title alone makes clear that raising pigs is a technological affair and that growth in productivity is the main goal. The report begins with an error in reasoning. The report says, “US hog farms declined in number by more than 70 percent over the past two decades while hog inventories remained stable. The result has been an industry with larger hog enterprises, increased specialization in a single phase of production, greater reliance on purchased feed rather than feed grown on the farm, and an increased reliance on formal contracts—connecting farmers, hog owners, and packers—to coordinate production” (italics added). But this is backward. The industry they accurately describe did not result from the decline in the number of farms, but rather the decline in the number of farms occurred as technology enabled hog production to become bigger and more concentrated. The report continues, “This structural change contributed to substantial productivity gains for hog farms, likely benefiting U.S. consumers in terms of lower pork prices and enhancing the competitive position of US producers in international markets—though larger farms may increase environmental risks by concentrating production in areas with limited land available for manure application” (i). The focus of the report, however, is not on such environmental risk (some of which was described in chapter 5) but on examining the slowdown in productivity growth in the industry since 2004. The gains in productivity that came with the major intensification and industrialization of pig production have leveled off, and the USDA report concludes that “the era of dramatic growth in hog production is likely over, absent new technological innovation” (iii). There is no real concern with the environmental issues, and no mention of the possible impacts on the farmers, much less those on the pigs themselves.

The move to partially or totally confined housing of pigs began in the 1970s. This pushed the industry to further specialization and growth in numbers that allowed for a decrease in labor hours (24). This growth in production came as farms went from raising an average of 945 pigs in 1992 to an average of 8,389 in 2009. Increased specialization helped with profit margins, and those farms that bred, birthed, and raised the pigs to slaughter weight have declined in number. These are known as farrow-to-finish operations. Instead, the more dominant model is for some to focus on breeding and birthing while others feed to fatten—the latter known as feeder-to-finish operations, which accounted for 73 percent of “finished hog output” in 2009 (27). Adding to the specialization, some now focus on farrowing (farrow-to-wean) while others focus on raising the weanlings (wean-to-feeder) (5). At the same time, the share of farmers who signed production contracts grew from 5 to 67 percent. This helped promote the growth in the size of the hog operations, as such contracts made possible the investment in the technology (e.g., artificial insemination, confinement housing, manure treatment) needed to more intensively raise hogs. In these specialized operations farmers lose autonomy as they become “growers.” The USDA report points out that such contracts specify things like the feed, labor, energy, transport, and veterinary services. This also allows contractors to gain more of the market. The report says, “In 2009 and 2010, the three largest contractors owned about a quarter of the national sow herd. . . . Many of the largest contractors are also pork packers that are vertically integrated, obtaining hogs under production contracts directly with growers” (13). This means they profit from the slaughter and processing as well as from raising (feeding). Interestingly this results in the farmer making less on the hog than do the owner and the processor, who charge the consumer more than they paid the farmer (34).

Another change that resulted from the contracts is that the people who own the hogs are not the same people involved in raising the hogs, and neither of these groups slaughters or processes the hogs. The USDA report describes the relationships as follows: “Under contract production, a hog owner (a contractor) engages a producer (a grower) to take custody of the pigs and care for them in the producer’s facilities. The producer is paid a fee for the service provided. Contractors typically furnish inputs for growers, provide technical assistance, and assemble the commodity to pass on for final process or marketing. Contractors often market hogs through marketing contracts or other arrangements with packers or processors. Packers or processors also act as contractors and have production contracts directly with producers” (4). Note that the pigs have become an “assembled commodity” and farmers and packers are paid for services rather than being invested in the “product” themselves. Since the contractors are usually large corporations like Smith-field Foods, it is safe to say that the hogs’ owners have no relationship with the porcine beings themselves. This distance can facilitate “improvements” in genetics as artificial insemination, terminal cross-breeding programs, phase feeding, and all-in/all-out management practices increase efficiency and the “performance” of the hogs, whatever they might do to individual pigs. The same applies to the use of antibiotics. Rather than being an important tool for treating sick animals, antibiotics became a way to promote growth. This USDA report does note that “antibiotics may be promoting the development of antimicrobial drug-resistant bacteria, prompting concerns that this resistance can spread to bacteria that infect humans” (19). Consumer and governmental pressure have caused a decline in the use of antibiotics for growth promotion, but use of antibiotics is still a major controversy in livestock production in the United States. In addition, many of the steps taken to lower the risk of disease exposure and so limit the use of antibiotics entail the confinement of pigs indoors, on cement, with nothing to occupy their minds or satisfy their instincts to root, nest, and socialize.

Much of the explosion in U.S. pig productivity occurred when North Carolina became a major hog-producing state, but the North Carolina boom ended in 1997 when the state became concerned about the environmental impact of the industry. This pushed the industry back to its original base in the heartland, where the food is grown—Iowa—and the West, where there is open space—Colorado, Oklahoma, Texas, and Utah. The report notes, “Open space and a relatively low population density in these States provide greater flexibility in managing animal waste” (16). The writers of the report support these changes by appealing to consumers, even while noting some environmental concerns: “The dramatic structural changes in the hog industry . . . have helped lower pork prices for consumers. . . . On the other hand, in some States these changes have concentrated livestock manure in regions with relatively little available cropland for spreading, making it more costly to apply as fertilizer in environmentally benign ways” (33). The larger volumes of manure are an environmental concern, though, as too much manure on the cropland results in runoff that pollutes water: “These runoff contaminants can harm aquatic life and degrade drinking water. In addition, increased concentration of hogs per farm has led to conflicts with nearby residents and communities over odor and air quality” (36). As Nicolette Niman suggests, in this system manure changes from “ecological benefactor to ecological nuisance and from economic asset to economic liability” (74).

The report ends by suggesting that while the increased scale per farm poses environmental risks, the increased efficiency of these large operations may mitigate the damage:

Higher productivity means that fewer resources—including land, fertilizer, and pesticides—are required to grow the feed required to produce a particular amount of pork. Depending on how the feed inputs are used, this could result in lower greenhouse gas emissions (e.g. less fertilizer manufacturing and use), reduced water pollution (e.g. from less fertilizer or pesticide over-application), or other environmental benefits. Also, concentrating manure sources in fewer locations potentially affects fewer people and may also make some manure treatment technologies (e.g. energy from bio-waste, or processing into concentrated fertilizer) feasible (36).

These are highly conditional possibilities and are generally focused on anthropocentric concerns. The concentrated confinement of pigs creates environmental concerns, but that same confinement is supposed to mitigate those concerns. Nowhere is the pig (or the farmer) considered. This report represents the mindset that sees pigs simply as a commodity, not as living beings with needs, desires, and personalities of their own.

The farmers we interviewed who raised pigs did see the pigs as a commodity (to make money) and a tool (to improve land), but they also respected their needs, desires, and personalities. Vickie Hinkley runs New Heritage Farms in Toledo, Washington, where she raises Tamworth pigs. When we arrived we were first introduced to the two new “girls” who had just arrived for breeding. They were housed, with the boar, in a front pasture that had comfrey so that the pigs could browse on it as a source of protein; Hinkley said the boar was also good at eating the blackberries. After spending some time scratching and socializing we headed up the hill to help Hinkley with the morning feeding. There were a number of animals to feed: more pigs, turkeys, chickens, Jersey cattle, and Kiser mustangs. Our work was supervised by a beautiful Australian shepherd. During feeding we met Gigi—a six-year-old sow. Breeding sows are generally killed around four years of age because they usually have fused vertebrae and arthritis by this time; Hinkley was watching Gigi closely to monitor her well-being. Gigi was way out in the pasture under some trees when we went in to feed, but she came up to the trough at a pretty good clip and seemed happy to get some attention. While we watched Gigi, Hinkley explained that she doesn’t cut her pigs’ teeth or tails. These are common practices on industrial pig farms where crowded and bored pigs bite each other and chew on each other’s tails. Hinkley said clipping teeth (which is usually done at one to two days old) “is not necessary if the pigs are not raised in overcrowded places. Since you can tell if a pig is sick by how it holds its tail, it’s important to keep the tail intact.”

Inside the barn we fed Lucky Lucy (Gigi’s daughter) and Lucy’s eight babies. These piglets were half Tamworth (“for their long lean build which produces good bacon”) and half Large Black. Mom and babies were out in the pasture and we went out to meet them. The babies came running up. Hinkley said they are naturally very curious. They were curious, and a little cautious, but soon we were all sitting in the dirt scratching piglets. Mom made her way up more slowly. While feeding this group, Hinkley told us about a sow she’d had who ate one of her offspring. Hinkley believes she must have done something to the sow’s environment or diet that created the conditions that led to this action. For instance, she wasn’t sure she had provided an environment where the mom could sit down and not have to constantly be feeding the piglets. Generally Tamworths are strongly attached mothers, but even so, accident prevention remains a main priority. Hinkley said, “They need room to farrow and make a huge nest.” Providing ample room is important, as the sows are big animals and the piglets are little. Hinkley rejects the industry’s attempts to justify farrowing crates as necessary in order to protect the piglets. As she noted, “wild pigs don’t roll over on their offspring and a species that did wouldn’t last very long. If there is a problem it is a human problem.” Hinkley is constantly evaluating the setup of pastures and pens—on the lookout for sharp corners where a pig could get cut, or water that is deep enough for a piglet to drown. She said that the best, and safest, precaution is to keep them out in the pasture as much as possible.

PHOTO 9. Lucky Lucy and her piglets at New Heritage Farms. Photo by McKenzie Williams.

While commercial producers want the babies off the mother as soon as possible and wean a few days after birth, Hinkley weans at around eight to nine weeks. Before weaning, most male piglets are castrated—usually at around two weeks old. She said, “People don’t like the taste of meat from intact males and not too many males are needed for breeding.” The vet had been there the day before our visit to castrate the one male in this litter. This is done with an incision between the legs, without sedation or stiches. Hinkley said, “You don’t sedate piglets—the weight of pigs is too unpredictable.” Interestingly, while Hinkley had invited us to come and view the castration, the veterinarian was not comfortable having us there. He was worried about being attacked by “animal rights types.” The veterinarian’s concern returns me to a central point of this book. Extreme positions in the debates over animal welfare and animal rights have resulted in a polarized discourse and much secrecy. This makes meaningful change less likely to happen. Hinkley is a good example of someone trying to figure things out without following any dogmas. She is new to farming (raising the pigs had been her late husband’s dream) and she admits she has much to learn. She learns by experimentation and she seeks out advice and new information. While she respects all the farmers from whom she’s learned, she doesn’t like absolutist stances on anything and is open to doing things as naturally as possible.

She called her farm a “naturalized confinement system.” Unlike industrialized farming, which she described as “horrible,” she focuses on the health of the land and on the quality of life for the animals. She tries to worm and vaccinate as little as possible. She watches the quality of the dirt on the farm, as that is a big source of minerals (iron specifically) for the pigs and decreases her need to supplement their food. She feeds rolled barley since she wants to avoid genetically modified organisms (GMOs) and barley is a grain that is low on the list of organisms that are often genetically modified. The pork pigs get less than seven pounds of grain a day, as compared to industrialized pigs, who eat about ten pounds. She would like to follow the example of Walter Jeffries, whose pigs at Sugar Mountain Farm in Vermont get 80 percent of their diet from pasture forage, hay, and things like pumpkins. This, supplemented with some eggs and dairy, makes a good diet for pigs. Hinkley’s pigs do spend most of their time in the pastures and in the woods, living as natural a life as possible. They are ready for slaughter at one year old (as opposed to five or six months for confined pigs). She said it is a constant dilemma—“killing them at twelve months when they could live a longer life.” At the same time, however, she does not completely agree with those who focus on animal rights: “I don’t abide by any fundamentalism well. I can’t agree with PETA on farming since what I do is so different from commercial farming.” She said she can support their anti-cruelty stance but doesn’t see raising and harvesting livestock as inherently cruel. The absolutism of the position that calls for the end of raising all farm animals does not make sense to her and “gets in the way of the important work of raising such animals respectfully.” She has chosen breeds to match her land and adjusts her husbandry practices to meet the needs and desires of the various animals. Her view shares much in common with both Plumwood’s and a pragmatist approach.

PHOTO 10. Cow and pigs at New Heritage Farms. Photo by McKenzie Williams.

She offers pastured pork and woodlot pork from pigs who eat the acorns and apples found in the woods. Much of her attention, however, is on providing stock for others to raise and breed. She is dedicated to Tamworths and can sell breeding stock for from $300 to $600. According to the Livestock Conservancy, “Long, lean, and athletic, the Tamworth is probably the most direct descendant of the native pig stock of northern Europe.” First imported to the United States in the 1800s, “Tamworths have an active intelligence, and they are agreeable in disposition.” Hinkley loves their personalities as the many pictures and videos on her website attest. If young pigs get sick she takes them into her house to care for them. She’s had good luck nursing them back to health and becomes very bonded to them. These particular pigs, however, are pretty hardy: “The characteristics of the Tamworth reflect the breed’s centuries of selection for an outdoor life. Pigs of this breed were expected to find their own food, especially mast (or acorns) of oak and beech forests. Long heads and impressive snouts enable these pigs to be efficient foragers. Long, strong legs and sound feet give Tamworth pigs the ability to walk for considerable distances. Ginger red coats make the pigs adaptable to a variety of climates and protect them from sunburn. . . . Sows are prolific, able to produce and care for large litters. The piglets are vigorous and often have 100% survivability” (“Tamworth Pig”).

Heritage breeds may take longer “to grow” than do breeds developed for industrial farming, but they are hardier. We went to a second sixty-acre property, where Hinkley kept the pigs and cattle who were “destined for the freezer.” Here the pigs and cattle shared the land and, while Hinkley fed them in separate feeders, they also shared each other’s grain. While we were feeding the pigs and cattle some apples, Hinkley told us that she views the animals as people and cares about their quality of life. She finds veal disturbing and won’t sell suckling pigs. She likes that her animals gain weight more slowly than those bred for industrial production, as this allows them to develop more muscle. She said, “Meat from animals who grow fast is soft.” She hates the word “slaughter” and won’t sell her older animals for meat. “I’m not a financially smart farmer,” she said. Although she is raising animals destined to die, she doesn’t agree with hunting: “We raise enough animals. We consume and kill enough already. We’ve already skewed the natural balance; we don’t need to add to it.” She also said she feels guilty (morally and existentially) when she makes mistakes that negatively impact the lives of her animals.

As I’ve said, she views her approach to farming as a “natural confinement system.” She said she feels bad because it’s an artificial life we have created for these animal beings but does think “they have a good quality of life considering.” She sees her animals as being a part of nature. She also said that “people eating animals is natural.” Given that, she does not see predation as an unnatural event: “Once every few years there will be an attack on the turkeys and chickens by raccoons, weasels, or opossum. People who grew up farming assume they need protection against predators.” Hinkley sees it more as part of nature. She takes steps to keep her animals safe and mourns any loss, but ultimately, she says, “most of her animals will be food for someone.” To keep it as natural as possible, she thinks, it is important to bring together species of animals who can function in symbiotic ways. For instance, she noted that the pigs love to eat the turkey manure. The chickens and the turkeys keep the bugs down on the farm and pick out parasites from pig, cattle, and horse manure. The chicken eggs make a nice snack for the pigs and the dogs. It is also important to choose breeds that are hardy and can thrive on the pasture conditions she is providing. As mentioned, Tamworths fit the bill as they are good foragers with a good disposition who procreate readily. Hinkley’s husband, John, had milked cows and chose the Jersey, which is typically known as a dairy breed. The Jersey has a smaller frame and is lighter on the land. Hinkley doesn’t milk them now but uses them for companionship (they are friends) and for beef. She has crossed them with red Angus to get finely grained beef with marbling and a “sweet” flavor. She doesn’t slaughter them until they are almost three, and then they are “still on the small side.” The turkeys are primarily Narragansetts, along with one bourbon red from Kentucky and some blue slate and Spanish black. Hinkley doesn’t clip their wings. She said, “It might not be torture, but still it’s not necessary.” Most of the turkeys were in a small pasture in the middle of her circle driveway. They had a variety of shelters, brush, and trees. Several had chosen to come over the fence, though, and wandered around the barnyard with the chickens, and a few had joined the horses in their paddock.

She kills her own chickens and turkeys on-site with the help of friends and uses a mobile slaughter truck for the cows and pigs. The animals “don’t have to leave their familiar surroundings.” She could make more money if she sent the birds to a USDA-approved slaughterhouse, but she doesn’t want to enter that system. Transporting the birds adds a lot of stress to their lives. She noted that pigs aren’t prey animals, so she doesn’t think they are really afraid of transport; they are naturally curious animals. Hinkley said it takes just five minutes “when it’s time to load up breeding pigs on their way to a new home.” She sees her job as giving each animal the best life and death she can. She said that with her way of farming “you won’t get a twenty pound turkey at Thanksgiving but you get better tasting meat, pest control, and a lot of enjoyment from having them around. The same goes for the pigs—they have a good life and bring a lot of joy.” Friendship is as important on this farm as food.

This description of New Heritage should remind the reader of the pragmatist approach sketched earlier. Hinkley understands the evolutionary history of the various animals she raises and thinks about the ways humans and these other animals have influenced and transformed each other (naturalism). She is open to seeing the world from the perspectives of all the animal beings (pluralism) with whom she lives and works to develop mutually satisfactory relationships. She understands that these relationships are always in process, as is the nature of both the human and other animal beings (developmentalism). She sees the need to experiment (experimentalism) with new and different ways to sustain and to improve (ameliorate) the relationships, and she is willing to admit when she makes mistakes (fallibilism). She recognizes the other animals (domesticated and wild) as valued and valuing beings in their own right (as did Dewey) with whom she must live in dynamic interaction.

This interconnection ties her own flourishing to the flourishing of the land and of the other animals. While the various animals need appropriate food and climate, clean air and water, care, nurturance, and protection (from predators and disease), they also need interpersonal relations. While some industrial farming can supply some versions of the first seven things on this list, industrial farming of pigs fails on the last. To review from chapter 2, sociality is an evolutionary aspect of most life, and is a necessity for mammalian life. The physical, psychological, emotional, and social well-being of mammals requires attention to this aspect of life, since their very existence relies on extended care, nurturance, and learning from others (Johnson 56–57). The neuronal organization of mammals and social birds promotes bonding, causes distress upon separation, and prompts nurturing behaviors directed at others, even others beyond kin (59). Hinkley embodies Mark Johnson’s understanding that “the care that is necessary for survival and flourishing is for the most part predicated on the possibility of empathy, which is our capacity to experience the situation of another person—an ability to feel with and for them” (60). We come to be, and to understand ourselves, through and with others in our environments. Interactive social creatures find value in things that help with cooperation, cohesion, and harmony.

Pigs provide an interesting case for the pragmatist approach given the intimate relations between people and pigs. Not only do pigs form social relationships with each other, but because through history they have lived in close and intimate proximity with humans, they also form such relationships with humans as well. These connections have often complicated the process of slaughtering pigs but have also highlighted the many interdependencies between the species. Pigs provide food, fiber, and friendship. In addition to the already-mentioned cycle of waste removal and fertilization, pig fat (lard) has been (and still is) an important food ingredient for humans. It could be procured in climates where olive trees could not grow and cows were not available for the production of butter (Essig 87). This fat was also used to lubricate gears and machines as the industrial era emerged (it was later replaced with petroleum products). Meat from pigs was easier to preserve in the time before refrigeration and so was an important source of preserved foods. As Essig notes, another term for pantry is “larder,” and “scraping the bottom of the barrel” gets its meaning from coming to the end of one’s food stores as the bottom of the pork barrel is reached (85, 178).

In the Americas, pigs became a tool of colonization as well. This pattern follows the story told in the earlier chapters about cattle and sheep. Imported pigs brought disease that decimated native peoples and impacted local wildlife; their foraging changed the ecological landscape. Pigs were turned loose along the European routes of trade and colonization so that they could breed and be available as a future food source. Ironically, as the pigs’ presence helped destroy the roots, trees, shellfish, and deer cultivated by the Indians, Essig notes, some tribes turned to raising pigs as a replacement for these lost resources: “Indians boiled hog carcasses to render fat just as they had once done with bears, and they used lard in place of bear grease to oil their hair and skin. When deerskins for making moccasins were in short supply, pig hides sufficed” (140–41). Another set of complex relationships involving pigs concerns class and race in the United States. Free-roaming pigs who require little labor and few resources were ideal sources of meat for the poor. As middle-and upper-class (majority-white) populations turned to beef and chicken with the advent of refrigeration, not only did the meat one ate become a marker of class, but the practice of keeping pigs came under attack. While pigs had roamed towns and cities eating garbage and other waste products, on occasion they harmed some human and other animal beings. They also deposited their manure in city streets. Under the guise of sanitation and safety, laws emerged that restricted the ability of the poor to keep pigs and identified those who ate pork as lower-class (if not less human). Eating an animal who ate waste marked one as lesser in a number of ways. Ironically, those same animals are now kept in sanitized environments to be used in biomedical research and procedures—valued for their similarity to humans.

There is no one set of relationships between humans and pigs but rather a varied and complex set of evolving relationships. That means the “absolute prohibitions, commandments, and catechisms of customary morality” will not work (Fesmire 126). As discussed earlier in chapter 5, Steven Fesmire’s book Dewey shows the need for a Deweyan ethic rooted in imagination, empathy, and thoughtful inquiry. He gives the example of the complexity of drinking a cup of coffee while watching the birds out of his window on a New England morning. This act involves complex relations among peoples, species, and the land: “Many migratory songbirds I enjoy in summer while drinking a morning cup of coffee are declining in numbers, in part because trees in their winter nesting grounds in Central America have been bulldozed to plant coffee plantations. Awareness of these relationships amplifies the meaning of my cup of coffee as new connections are identified and discriminated, and employed” (135). He notes that one can respond by drinking shade-grown coffee, donating to wildlife conservation groups, supporting habitat protection, or putting it out of one’s mind. While none of these options is perfect, and all present a host of other problems, he says, realizing these complex relationships is an important step in promoting “inclusive interaction.” He writes, “Ideally, this amplification of meaning operates as a means to intelligent and inclusive foresight of the consequences of alternative choices and policies” (135). Vicky Hinkley is someone who has come to recognize the complex relationships among humans and other animal beings. She eschews the “absolute prohibitions, commandments, and catechisms of customary morality,” of other farmers, and of PETA, to instead use “intelligent and inclusive foresight” to think through these relationships for herself. This kind of approach helps to challenge and reshape individual and social habits. Fesmire says that for Dewey the main role of philosophy “is the interpretation, evaluation, criticism, and redirection of culture” (146). Such philosophy is at work at New Heritage Farms. But life at New Heritage (and Sugar Mountain) Farms is a far cry from what the majority of pigs face.

This chapter began with some description of the industrial system. As with the development of the farming of chickens (which will be discussed in the next chapter), the increasing confinement of pigs took place over time and for ostensibly good reasons. Pigs tended to live near the farmhouse—waiting for food scraps—and ranged widely (foraging in fields and forests). Diseases and parasites that affect the pigs themselves, and the humans who eat them, could be better controlled by getting pigs out of the dirt and mud. By 1913 farmers were experimenting with concrete floors and closed pens, and by the 1950s most pigs were inside on concrete. In Pig Tales: An Omnivores Quest for Sustainable Meat, Barry Estabrook writes, “Evolution has equipped sows with an overpowering urge to gather brush, grass, and leaves together to make nests for their young” but industrial pigs are on concrete without nesting materials. They become frustrated, bored, and lame. “Since their feet are designed for walking through the soft ground of forests and wetlands, it’s little wonder that more than three-quarters of confined sows develop hoof injuries. Being unable to move freely causes the animals’ muscles and bones to weaken, making sows lame and susceptible to sprains, twists, and breaks” (222). While pigs were long part of the corn belt system of fattening animals for slaughter, new feeds and drugs allowed the pigs to be raised entirely inside, and this added more control and resulted in faster growth. By 1934 a pig had about thirty-two square feet in which to live; this is now between six and eight square feet. As this confinement proceeded, though, increased fighting resulted in the practice of clipping their teeth and tails. Sows without room and material to make nests sometimes crushed or ate the piglets. They were deemed “bad mothers” and further confined in gestation and farrowing crates to address this “problematic” behavior. There is still a reported 25 percent mortality rate with the farrowing crates. Crates were further justified by the pigs being “aggressive” over feed (Norwood and Lusk 134–36). While these crates decreased the need for human labor, they increased lameness issues and the boredom and distress of the pigs. The confinement—though it brings on increased aggression and makes natural behavior hard to manage—is never seen as part of the problem. Such aggressive behavior in pigs often results in abusive handling practices by humans; pigs are hit, cut, dragged, and have their eyes gouged in efforts to get them to move (Genoways 124). This clearly causes physical and emotional distress.

Pigs are actually quite social and share much in common with humans (and dogs). In The Pig Who Sang to the Moon, Jeffrey Masson notes, “Like us, pigs dream and can see in color. Also like us, and like dogs and wolves, pigs are sociable. (On warm summer nights pigs snuggle up close to one another and for some unexplained reason like to sleep nose to nose.) The females form stable families led by a matriarch and her children and female relatives. Piglets are particularly fond of play” (19–20). This is not surprising given that wild pigs are social, coming together for warmth and protection. A study of standard commercial pigs living in a research park (not in confinement) found they spent six to eight hours foraging and rooting. They spent time eating, nuzzling, making nests, and marking trees. According to the study, “the pigs also formed complex social bonds: females from the same litter tended to stick together long after weaning, and piglets maintained bonds with their mother even after she’d given birth to her next litter” (Essig 238). Complex communal nests, as well as individual farrowing nests, are an important element of the pigs’ social life. This sociality, complete with greetings and affection, can result in cliques that are hard for newcomers to enter, and this needs to be taken into account in any social housing system.

Several states and companies have now called for phasing out gestation and farrowing crates. However, if nothing more is done than removing the crates, this might not actually improve the welfare of the pigs, as the pigs would still be overcrowded and bored. As the public has begun to object to such conditions, pastured pigs have grown in popularity. On a small scale, pigs have become integrated into the farm ecosystem at Zestful Gardens, a CSA in Puyallup, Washington. Committed to the principles of biodynamic farming, Holly Foster and her mother, Valerie, have converted this farmland to organic production and run a successful CSA focused on produce and eggs. Chicken, turkey, lamb, and pork are also sometimes available. The animals are there primarily to provide the manure to help fertilize the fields that grow the wide variety of produce. Over the years I have seen the impact the chicken manure has had on the soil—shoveling some of it myself. Now there is less need for shoveling chicken manure as the chickens move around the fields themselves. So, instead of shoveling chicken manure, on my last visit my students and I were cleaning out the pig house and taking the straw and manure to the compost pile. In addition to providing fertilizer, the pigs have helped clear out the brush and berries from the orchard. One sow is there as a breeder; the babies are for meat. There was a litter there as we worked, and they loved playing in the fresh straw. The two older pigs, who were “awaiting slaughter,” went outside while we worked and joined the one cow on the farm. The chickens were out in the field in the mobile shelter enclosed with a moveable fence. Predation is a risk for those birds as part of the farm is left in forest and is home to a number of species of local wildlife. Because of this, the chickens who needed a little extra care (one was blind, and one had a foot injury) were around the barn.

Holly mentioned that the sow with the litter had just recently returned to the farm. She had loaned the sow to a neighbor to have a litter for him. The sow had lost a lot of weight while off the farm, though, and Holly didn’t think she’d be doing that again. This experience revealed how pigs are prone to being considered as purely utilitarian—they are tools and commodities. Holly’s concern for the pig, though, wasn’t just about wear and tear on an asset. As a mother of two herself, she showed real empathy for this sow having had litters so close together while not being properly fed. (There are obvious connections here to ecofeminist concerns, taken up in the next chapter.) Holly regularly mentions the time in her life when she was a vegetarian. But now she eats the meat from the animals she raises. She likes feeling part of a holistic system that puts nutrients and energy back into the land rather than simply extracting them. Cover crops can help maintain soil health, but animal manure makes an important contribution to her produce production. She buys organic grain for the animals and says that the idea that it is wasteful to feed grain to an animal in order to feed that animal to a human rests on a limited understanding of what that animal provides. When you include the value of the manure you get back, as well as the meat, she’s not sure it’s wasteful at all. She does acknowledge that the need to supply grain for these animals is something that keeps the farm from being more self-sufficient, though. This is one reason she will never raise meat animals on a large scale. They, and the meat they produce, “need to stay in balance with the land.”

Zestful Gardens is an example of a farm that has grown slowly and by experimentation. Holly and Valerie do their research, get training, and always start a new venture on a small scale. I saw the plastic that was used on the land to suppress weeds disappear as the land regained its health and the cover crops and animals did their work. I saw the orchard emerge from the tangle of berries and brush as the sheep, goats, and pigs did their work. This is a farm always in some kind of transformation—physically on the land and in the thinking and approach of the farmers. Not all small-scale farms are this committed to the process of critical inquiry, though, and the inquiry is not always as successful.

“Soft Farm” (a pseudonym) was a farm in Sedro-Woolley, Washington. It has recently been sold to a hardwood company, and the family who ran the farm is done with the farming venture. When the farm was in business, its website described the farm as “an organic farmstead . . . offering grass-fed lamb, pastured pork, poultry-to-order and more. We are committed to practicing sustainable agriculture techniques and humane animal treatment. Our animals are heritage breeds and are out on our certified organic pasture every day.” The family lived on the land and wanted a beautiful place to live. They left the creek on the land as wild as they could and had herons, wood ducks, and owls; they got rid of any lawn, using pigs to dig it up, and turned it into meadow. This family did not have previous farming experience, but they had become concerned about food production in the United States, especially animal agriculture, and wanted to join the growing movement to grow food locally and more sustainably. A few years after our visit, this farm had shifted focus. Their revised website described the farm as being committed to biomimicry and permaculture. They sold hay but were no longer producing eggs or meat. Their focus was on raising nursery plants and offering educational tours of the land and its wildlife. They still had some livestock to supply manure and graze the fields.

PHOTO 11. Pigs at “Soft Farm.” Photo by Danielle Palmer.

This experiment started because the daughter, who had been working in finance in Seattle, was increasingly unhappy with that work. When we visited in 2010 the family had been running the farm for about six years. They had ducks, turkeys, laying hens, goats, pigs, Jacob sheep, and one donkey, named Precious. The focus was on rare and threatened species and the priority was being compassionate to animals while being as organic and natural as possible. The pigs were a favorite—Tamworth pigs (originally bought from Hinkley at New Heritage), sought out by the family for their personality. The pigs were in a good-sized pasture with shelter, mud puddles, and grass, and they were moved around the field every ten days. They came right up to the fence to greet us and get scratches. They crowded around to each get their share of attention. The family likes the personality of these pigs and clearly spends time with them. But they tried not to get too attached; none of the pigs had names. The pigs were especially hard for this family to slaughter as “they are naturally smart and long lived.” But they felt it balanced out if the pigs had a good life first. They said, “Those who are kept for breeding have a good life and those who go for meat do too.” Interestingly, once they started running the farm they ate less meat. They said they had more respect for the work that goes into producing good meat, and more respect for the sacrifice of the animals involved: “We are more thoughtful and thankful when eating meat instead of taking it for granted.”

To be profitable, they also raised poultry. Their heritage turkeys were so popular that they were usually sold out. At the time of our visit they had 210 laying hens out in big pastures with egg-mobiles. They also raised organic meat chickens and turkeys. The major issue was the cost of feed. They said, “We are three years into the business and still working out the costs and pricing. We are still in the experimental phase—trying out a few different things.” They said the sheep were working out; they ate grass and hay raised on the farm. But the pigs and poultry required feed brought in from off the farm. Like Holly and Valerie, they tried to calculate how this balanced with the manure these animals provided but said it wasn’t clear how it all worked out. Much like Hinkley, though, they reported that the pigs brought a certain joy (though mixed with some sadness) that made the pigs’ lives worth more than the balance sheet alone indicated.

In addition to trying to get a handle on the costs, they were still learning how to care for the animals they were raising. One issue with people entering into farming without experience is the harm they can inadvertently do. As discussed above with Hinkley, mistakes will happen, and Hinkley agonizes over any errors on her part that result in harm to the animals in her care. In the case of “Soft Farm,” they had incorrectly fed some of the turkeys chick starter feed. The insufficient protein in those early days had resulted in leg issues in the turkeys. We saw some who were unable to walk and were covered with sores from being attacked by other birds—something we witnessed. The daughter felt bad about this and wanted to slaughter the suffering turkeys immediately. Her parents, however, wanted them to “live out their lives.” Since each turkey chick had cost eight dollars, and they had already invested a fair amount of feed in them, they wanted them to live long enough to profit from their slaughter. Here the balance sheet won out.

They had about sixty Standard Bronze turkeys. Bronze turkeys have long been the most popular commercial breed of turkey. They come from crossing the turkeys brought by colonists to North America with the wild turkeys found here. This resulted in large, tame birds. In the early 1900s these were crossed with larger-breasted birds and the Broad Breasted Bronze became the main commercial bird. As the Livestock Conservancy notes, “Further selection improved meat production, especially that of breast meat, growth rate, and other performance qualities. At the same time, changes in conformation (especially the shortening of the legs and the keel) nearly eliminated their ability to mate naturally. For this reason, most Broad Breasted Bronze turkeys have been artificially inseminated since the 1960s” (“Standard Bronze”). In the 1960s these were replaced by the Broad Breasted White turkey as commercial growers further focused on increased breast meat. Heritage breeders, however, have retained an interest in the Bronze turkeys. The Conservancy notes, “Naturally mating, long-lived, slow growing strains of Bronze turkeys, known as the Standard Bronze, have been left even further behind by the turkey industry. A few tenacious breeders maintained small flocks, participating in poultry shows, and raising a few for family and friends” (“Standard Bronze”). While I admire the efforts of many small farmers to raise and protect a variety of heritage breeds—be they turkeys, chickens, sheep, or pigs—sometimes good intentions are not enough. Many of the turkeys we saw that day were clearly suffering.

In addition to heeding the impetus to save heritage breeds, many of these “amateur” farmers are responding to the local food movement. Many people have decided it is important to eat more locally, and so they raise poultry in their backyard. With the farmers not having much knowledge, many of these chickens are fed improperly and fall to predation from neighborhood cats and dogs. On a larger scale, many have been inspired to start a farm—usually after reading the likes of Wendell Berry, Joel Salatin, Barbara Kingsolver, and Michael Pollan. Like Kingsolver, many don’t really consult those who have been farming for generations as they think either that it can’t be hard or that they can do it better. Still others read Berry and have no idea how much work farming really is. The current climate has everyone believing that as long as a farm is relatively small and local it is a better place from which to buy produce, eggs, and meat. To be sure, there are many fewer animals on these farms than in industrial farming. But the suffering is often as bad or worse as the farmers often don’t understand the nature and needs of the animals they try to raise (the next chapter will discuss this more). The turkeys on “Soft Farm” provide a clear example of this. Nonetheless, the family was considering increasing their poultry production to one thousand animals a year as there was plenty of demand for “the product.” There was also unmet demand for the pork. But the pigs raised on this farm also highlight my concerns. The boar died from parasites, which indicates a lack of knowledge and proper husbandry. The family acknowledged this, saying, “We want this to be a home and a business. We need to keep the scale manageable, but make a profit. Our desire for a ‘simple life’ pretty quickly got complicated. We are focused on humane farming, yet we’ve made mistakes that hurt the turkeys and the chickens.”

But animal welfare wasn’t their only, or even their primary, concern. They were inspired by David C. Korten’s book Agenda for a New Economy, in which Korten presents an argument for abandoning what he considers the fake and unproductive economy of Wall Street for a more locally owned, community-oriented economic structure that seeks to have a positive impact on people and the environment. He writes, “Millions of people the world over are joining together to rebuild their local economies and communities. They are supporting locally owned human-scale businesses and family farms, developing local financial institutions, reclaiming farm and forest lands, changing land use policies to concentrate population in compact communities that reduce automobile dependence, retrofitting their buildings for energy conservation, and otherwise working toward local self reliance in food, energy, and other basic essentials.” By taking control of their lives, and building resilient local economies that use local resources and employ local people to meet local needs under local control, they are declaring their independence from the colonial domination of Wall Street corporations (Korten, New Economy).

These are concerns we heard from many farmers in one way or another. While some, like Joe Markholt (chapter 3), voiced it in terms of consumers having choices, others, like Carrie Little (chapter 9) and Linda Neunzig (chapter 6), talked about the importance of local food and local control in order to sustain the land and provide food security. Sukovaty (chapter 4) and Foster (this chapter) talked about the importance of CSAs as a way to reconnect people, not only with their food but also with real, local farmers. For the family at “Soft Farm,” helping the daughter get out of her career in finance to find more meaningful work that connected her with people and the land was very important. They had love, respect, and compassion for animals, but the animals were not the primary focus. Feeding people healthy food and developing an alternative to the more corporate and industrial economy seemed to be the primary focus. There is an irony here. Both “Soft Farm” and industrial agriculture are shaped and directed by “absolute prohibitions, commandments, and catechisms of customary morality.” To be sure, they each have a different focus, but they both let some set of central commitments direct their actions with little attention to context or collateral damage. While industrial agriculture tends to focus on providing a ready supply of cheap and consistent meat products, the collateral damage to consumers, farmers, the environment, and the livestock animals themselves does not really get counted. In a similar move, the commitment of “Soft Farm” to “the local” also made them inattentive to context and collateral damage. The turkeys and pigs suffered, but since they were the most profitable meat animals in the “local economy,” the family planned to expand their production. As mentioned in the discussion of New Heritage Farms, while no particular option is perfect, and each option presents a host of other problems, realizing the complexity of relationships is an important step in promoting “inclusive interaction.” Unlike Hinkley, however, this family did not fully use “intelligent and inclusive foresight of the consequences of alternative choices and policies” (Fesmire 135). They remained committed to the overarching goal of “local” at the expense of the pigs and turkeys.

PHOTO 12. Pig at “Soft Farm.” Photo by Danielle Palmer.

This is an important caution for consumers as well. Commitment to any particular diet, held in an absolutist and universalizing fashion, overlooks changing contexts and competing needs. As Fesmire notes, “despite faddish proliferation of books and blogs proposing the correct, best, or ‘natural’ diet, Dewey’s ethics provides no basis for assuming that such a thing can be determined in advance of the situations that require us to make dietary choices. There are multiple ways to pursue better lives in relation to food, and no diet exhaustively deals with all of the often incompatible exigencies inherent in agriculture and eating” (138). Holly Foster demonstrates this as she has altered her diet in ways consistent with the needs she sees on her land. This does not mean anything goes and no criticism of various farming and eating practices is possible. Fesmire continues, “Dietary choices are not arbitrary. We do not need an absolute dietary compass to perceive that many choices and policies do little to move us toward a more humane, just, healthy and sustainable food system. Nor do we need such a compass to infer and test ways forward—such as the hypotheses of perennial polyculture and veganism—to judge by their consequences the extent to which these hypotheses are well grounded or groundless” (138). What is needed is informed and intelligent deliberation about food that is sensitive to the actual but sometimes changing needs and desires of the land and animals involved.