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Exactly! Will Trumpers EVER wake up
Watch Ari Melber fact check Trump’s State of the Union
Watch Ari Melber fact check Trump's State of the Union
Posted by The Beat With Ari Melber on Wednesday, February 6, 2019
Consumers and chefs are clamoring for heritage-breed pork. Can the market support both farmers and pure-bred animals?
In the winter of 2014, near Cambridge, Ontario, farmer Murray Thunberg made plans to acquire seven British Saddlebacks—lop-eared, black pigs with a white band running across their shoulders—with the intent to breed them. Thunberg already breeds Berkshires, Tamworths, Herefords, and Gloucestershire Old Spots, but the Saddlebacks are an especially rare heritage breed that hadn’t been registered in Canada for 30 years. He set up a GoFundMe campaign, raised over $2,000, and bought the small herd from a farmer in Vermont, becoming one of only a handful of farmers raising them in North America.
At the time, he explained his rational for taking on such a complex endeavor: “By breeding and raising heritage [pigs], some very precious genetics are being saved and expanded.” Now, he considers himself a guardian of the Saddlebacks; after four years of breeding the animals, and selling some to local chefs and farmers’ market customers, the herd has expanded to 18.
Until the late 1930’s, heritage pigs were the norm on family farms, where they had access to pasture, forests, mud bath wallows, and good bedding. Their fat was seen as essential to human health. “Today those breeds do well on pasture because they have not lost their instincts to forage and graze,” says Ross Duffield, former farm manager at the Rodale Institute in Pennsylvania, an organic research farm with a mandate to work with heritage breeds to improve the soil and help farmers create a high-quality product.
Those foraging instincts were problematic for industrial agriculture, however. Heritage pigs can go stir-crazy and become aggressive in confinement, forcing many breeds to the brink of extinction, out-competed by pigs bred to grow fast and tolerate crowding.
On these large, confinement-based operations, where thousands of hogs are typically raised in one barn, the animals are engineered to grow to market weight in around six months. Heritage breeds, on the other hand, can take a year or more to reach market weight.
For all these reasons, heritage pork can cost 3-5 times as much as the meat from conventional farms, and has remained a niche market, even as consumers and chefs alike fawn over its exceptional marbling and rich porky taste. Yet as many farmers turn to crossbreeding to help manage costs and scale up operations, some experts worry the term “heritage” may be losing its meaning.
The Livestock Conservancy calls animals “heritage” if they have a long history in the United States, are of non-commercial stock, can thrive outdoors and on pasture, and are “purebred animals” of their breed. The term can also be used for the “immediate offspring of purebred heritage breed parents.” In other words, a farmer can take a Saddleback and cross it with another heritage breed such as Tamworth, and still call the offspring from that cross “heritage” animals.
The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) doesn’t define the term when it comes to pork, and those with a stake in the business don’t expect it to do so anytime soon.
“Heritage was an easy concept to grasp, and it worked for a while until people realized they could make a buck off it,” says Jeannette Beranger, senior program manager at the Livestock Conservancy. She added that the organization is currently considering shifting to the British model, which identifies these pigs by pedigreed breed only, and ditching the term “heritage” all together. “It doesn’t carry any power because so many people are using it loosely,” says Beranger.
The challenge is that a term that began as a way to preserve endangered breeds has also become a popular marketing term for many farmers. Although “heritage” meat has caught on with foodie audiences around the country, and commands a price premium, the two goals—profit and preservation—don’t always go hand in hand. The core challenge is the fact that the majority of farmers who use the term heritage to sell their meat don’t maintain a purebred herd, but instead buy purebred animals to cross.
There are 11 breeds currently on the Livestock Conservancy’s Conservation Priority List, rated on a scale from “critically endangered” to “under study.” Breed associations will sometimes approach the Livestock Conservancy about conferring heritage status on their pigs, but some don’t qualify in the U.S. “We were approached by the American Mangalitsa Association, and although they are a new breed in this country, they are not rare in Hungary where they originate, so they didn’t qualify.” Even so, the association’s page lists a reference distinguishing them as a “rare breed.”
Another breed consumers and chefs believe is synonymous with the term heritage is the Berkshire—but they don’t fit the Livestock Conservancy definition, either. “The Berkshire is a grey area that we go back and forth on,” says Beranger. “It’s almost impossible to find a good old-fashioned Berkshire because they’re all crosses.” Farmers register their animals with the 750-member American Berkshire Association.
Berkshires’ meat has excellent marbling after growing for six to eight months, making them more affordable to produce. Farmers can either work with the purebred character, crossing them with other Berkshires to improve genetics, or crossing them with a faster-growing breed such as the Pietrain for productivity.
How important is purity in this discussion? That depends on whom you ask. With no definition or regulations there’s been a rush to stake a claim in the expanse between commodity and purebred heritage pigs and capitalize on it.
“There are very few purebred programs and none of size,” says Kerri McClimen, senior communications director at Niman Ranch, owned by Perdue Farms. Like Rodale, their program relies on heritage crosses that may include breeds like Tamworth or Hereford, as well as other faster-growing breeds. They raise them following practices commonly used for heritage pigs, but don’t require their breeds to be registered, and don’t market the meat as heritage.
Paul Willis, a fifth-generation hog farmer and co-founder of Niman Ranch, has an eye to increasing the market for their product. “We continue to grow at about 10 to 15 percent annually,” he says. To keep up with demand, they prioritize qualities like exceptional mothering, hardiness for pasture, and extraordinary marbling. Willis knows the model has to make economic sense to appeal to farmers. Niman Ranch is producing on a scale uncommon in the sector, but Willis points out that it’s still much smaller than the commodity pork industry. “The average size of our herds is 400,” he says. “While concentrated animal feeding operations (CAFOs) holders can have 70,000 pigs on several properties with each building housing 2,500.”
As McClimen suggests, most purebred heritage pig operations are small and, by extension, don’t enjoy the marketing and distribution advantages of a company like Niman Ranch. Beranger worries the purebred heritage breed may never scale up if big farms don’t contribute to available genetics by breeding their own purebred animals.
“The problem that arises with crosses is everyone depends on someone else to keep the breeding animals pure,” says Beranger. “Hybrid vigor only works if you have an endless supply of purebred animals.”
McClimen agrees, and adds that some Niman Ranch farmers do invest in purebred heritage pigs. “We partner with several genetic companies representing large populations of purebred animals,” she says.
Traditionally, only a small percentage of the animals in each herd had qualities worth breeding for, but Beranger worries that the rush to meet the demand of a burgeoning market is changing that approach. “Breeders are selling all their pigs when only the top 10 percent are breeding quality,” she says. “As a result, subpar pigs are bringing in a pretty penny.” The Livestock Conservancy wants to create a marketing advantage for breeds that need more stewards. One possible solution is to offer an incentive or subsidy to farmers protecting purebred bloodlines.
Because raising purebred heritage pork is so costly, farmers can rarely afford organic feed, so certified organic heritage pork is a niche within a niche. Duffield looks to the current trend of generational transition of land and to first-generation farmers as a source for possible growth in the organic heritage pork market. Rodale attracts farmers wanting to adopt their methods in part by making a good business case. Currently, he adds, that’s only possible if farmers are raising heritage crosses.
Take Kate Farrar of Perianth Farm in New York’s Hudson Valley. She’s a first-generation farmer who raises Berkshire pigs with a friend on a farm they rent. She likes the breed’s gentle, friendly nature and gives the herd the best life possible; they live outdoors with a mobile hutch to protect them from rain, she rotates pasture weekly, and feeds them an organic diet.
The financial potential of the niche market attracts farmers to pigs like these, but to sell the pork they have to hustle. Farrar sells farm shares through a community supported agriculture (CSA) subscription and through a farm-to-table mobile app. And—like many farmers—she uses the term “heritage” in her marketing, despite the fact that Berkshires aren’t on the Livestock Conservancy’s list. She doesn’t have the infrastructure for breeding or wintering, but she hopes to in the future.
If she does, Farrar may use the same model farmer Gra’ Moore has perfected on Carolina Heritage Farms in South Carolina, where he raises several official heritage breeds as well as one of the nation’s only herd of Guinea Hogs. Moore is a rare example of a producer striking a balance between the often-opposing priorities of business and conservation. “He maintains purebreds, but his money-makers are the crossbreds, which is what makes chefs happy,” says Beranger.
February 3, 2019
It’s expensive to live in Hong Kong, but it’s especially expensive to die. And it’s all because of a lack of space.
Hong Kong Is Running Out of Places To Bury Its Dead: VICE on HBO
It's expensive to live in Hong Kong, but it's especially expensive to die. And it's all because of a lack of space.
Posted by VICE News on Friday, February 1, 2019
February 2, 2019
90% of large fish in the ocean have disappeared in the last 50 years.
Here are 5 terrifying stats that show how urgently we need to save our ocean
90% of large fish in the ocean have disappeared in the last 50 years.
Posted by EcoWatch on Saturday, February 2, 2019
February 2, 2019
“They’re essentially suffocating while alive.” FRONTLINE and NPR investigate in “Coal’s Deadly Dust.” https://to.pbs.org/2RFA4O5
The Severe Black Lung Epidemic Hitting America’s Coal Miners
"They’re essentially suffocating while alive." FRONTLINE and NPR investigate in “Coal’s Deadly Dust." https://to.pbs.org/2RFA4O5
Posted by FRONTLINE on Monday, January 28, 2019
February 2, 2019
The Trump admin is rolling back even more protections for military families
VoteVets On Trump Slashing Protections Against Predatory Banks For Military Families
The Trump admin is rolling back even more protections for military families
Posted by NowThis Politics on Saturday, February 2, 2019
TOLEDO, Ohio (AP) — The sting from a major restructuring at General Motors and its planned closings of five North American factories in the coming months is putting thousands of jobs at auto parts suppliers at stake, as well.
While GM expects nearly all its U.S. blue-collar workers whose jobs are being eliminated to have an opportunity at relocating to factories that are adding jobs, that won’t be the case for many in the supply chain who make parts, drive trucks, work in warehouses and keep GM’s plants operating.
For most of them, there is no safety net.
“There’s nowhere to transfer. They’ve got nowhere to go. They’re just out of work,” said Dave Green, a union leader near Youngstown where GM in early March plans to shut down its factory that makes the Chevrolet Cruze compact car.
GM’s labor agreements guarantee its workers transfer rights and relocation money, but that’s not true for the wide majority of suppliers, even where the workers are represented by unions.
“We’ve been lost in the shuffle,” said Brian Shina, who lost his supplier plant job when GM cut a shift at its Lordstown factory in May, months before announcing plans to close it. “We don’t have any leverage here.”
The dominoes already are starting to fall. A plant that makes seats for the Cruze and another business that does logistics and warehousing work for GM in Ohio will close in March, too. Just three years ago, those two had a combined 800 workers.
Green has compiled a list of more than 50 other businesses whose work is tied to the Ohio assembly plant. But it’s difficult to know how many could be forced to cut jobs because many do work for other auto plants and industries.
Despite varying estimates, some economists project that for every auto plant job that is lost, three or four additional positions are eliminated. Research shows that auto plants, and manufacturing in general, create more spinoff jobs than other industries.
“That’s the bigger part of this,” said Green, who plans on attending President Donald Trump’s State of the Union address Tuesday at the invitation of Democratic Rep. Tim Ryan, whose district includes the plant.
Trump, who has promised to revive manufacturing in the Midwest, has been highly critical of GM’s announcement, threatening that his administration was looking at cutting GM subsidies, including for electric cars. It’s an especially thorny issue for the president, who won over a surprising number of Democratic-leaning union workers during his first campaign.
There’s still a chance some of the factories targeted by GM could be revived during upcoming contract negotiations with the United Auto Workers union, which has promised to fight the closures. Those include assembly plants in Detroit and Oshawa, Ontario, and transmission plants in Warren, Michigan, and near Baltimore.
Suppliers closest to factories that end up shutting down tend to be hit hardest because they’re usually more reliant on those plants than those farther removed with a broader customer base, said Albert J. Sumell, an economics professor at Youngstown State University.
Workers at a parts plant in Whitby, Ontario, walked off the job in January to protest GM’s decision to shutter its Canadian plant while another nearby supplier plant announced it will be forced to close.
Many of the parts that flow into the transmission plant near Baltimore come from other states, including South Carolina and Tennessee, and some are delivered from Mexico and Canada, said Guy White, a UAW shop chairman in Maryland.
“There’s all sorts of suppliers. It’s huge,” he said. “We get stuff from all over the world.”
Other jobs that are directly tied to the plant are more likely to be in jeopardy, including those who supply its machines or sort parts, White said.
Those who study the auto supply industry say it’s too early to know the full impact of GM’s transformation away from cars to focus on trucks, SUVs, and electric and autonomous vehicles.
Some suppliers expect to withstand the potential losses from GM because they have made moves to diversify their customer base in the years since the Great Recession rocked the auto industry.
Jamestown Industries, a small operation that supplies front and rear bumper covers for the Cruze, hopes its efforts to secure new business will allow its Youngstown plant to keep going.
The idea is to add work in warehousing, logistics, and packaging outside of the automotive industry, said Lawrence Long, the company’s vice president of development.
But the plant is down from three shifts to one and now is poised to lose its biggest customer. Melissa Green, who has worked there 14 years, isn’t optimistic and making plans to switch to a career in nursing.
She’ll be able to go to school for free through a state program that assists laid-off workers but still will need another job once her unemployment benefits run out.
What also worries her is what will happen to the older workers who are just shy of retirement age.
“A lot of them don’t know what they’re going to do,” she said. “Hopefully they can find something because they have to survive.”
January 31, 2019
The American opioid epidemic has shown no signs of abating, with death rates skyrocketing in what medical officials call one of the worst public health crises of our time.
But along with the tragic loss of life, the epidemic has another consequence: a record-high uptick in organs available for donation.
We captured how one woman’s overdose illuminates a trend in organ donation. In never-before-seen coverage, we follow Kristen Tyler’s departing gift, to a woman in need, and we explore with that recipient and her doctor, the efficacy of accepting it.
The "Silver Lining" of the Opioid Epidemic
The American opioid epidemic has shown no signs of abating, with death rates skyrocketing in what medical officials call one of the worst public health crises of our time.But along with the tragic loss of life, the epidemic has another consequence: a record-high uptick in organs available for donation.We captured how one woman's overdose illuminates a trend in organ donation. In never-before-seen coverage, we follow Kristen Tyler's departing gift, to a woman in need, and we explore with that recipient and her doctor, the efficacy of accepting it.
Posted by VICE News on Thursday, January 31, 2019