Poultry Farm Quotes

Food-- like sex, politics, and religion-- is an intensely personal, emotional, and complicated subject.

As far as food is concerned, the great extravagance is not caviar or truffles, but beef, pork and poultry. Some 38 percent of the world's grain crop is now fed to animals, as well as large quantities of soybeans. There are three times as many domestic animals on this planet as there are human beings. The combined weight of the world's 1.28 billion cattle alone exceeds that of the human population. While we look darkly at the number of babies being born in poorer parts of the world, we ignore the over-population of farm animals, to which we ourselves contribute...[t]hat, however, is only part of the damage done by the animals we deliberately breed. The energy intensive factory farming methods of the industrialised nations are responsible for the consumption of huge amounts of fossil fuels. Chemical fertilizers, used to grow the feed crops for cattle in feedlots and pigs and chickens kept indoors in sheds, produce nitrous oxide, another greenhouse gas. Then there is the loss of forests. Everywhere, forest-dwellers, both human and non-human, can be pushed out. Since 1960, 25 percent of the forests of Central America have been cleared for cattle. Once cleared, the poor soils will support grazing for a few years; then the graziers must move on. Shrub takes over the abandoned pasture, but the forest does not return. When the forests are cleared so the cattle can graze, billions of tons of carbon dioxide are released into the atmosphere. Finally, the world's cattle are thought to produce about 20 percent of the methane released into the atmosphere, and methane traps twenty-five times as much heat from the sun as carbon dioxide. Factory farm manure also produces methane because, unlike manured dropped naturally in the fields, it dies not decompose in the presence of oxygen. All of this amounts to a compelling reason...for a plant based diet.

Who constitutes the nation? Only the elite?Or do the hundreds of millions of poor in India also make up the nation? Are their interests never identified with national interest? Or is there more than one nation? That is the question you often run up against in some of India's poorest areas. Areas where extremely poor people go into destitution making way for firing ranges, jet fighter plants, coal mines, power projects, dams, sanctuaries, prawn and shrimp farms, even poultry farms. If the costs they bear are the 'price' of development, then the rest of the 'nation' is having one endless free lunch.

To us children he (Mr Ewing) was our very own ‘Mr Chips’ and invariably we would each receive half a crown whenever we encountered him on his afternoon walk. If we were particularly lucky, he would send us to the ‘Big House’ for ice-cream – a rare treat in the early 1950s

The Pension Dressler stood in a side street and had, at first glance, the air rather of a farm than of a hotel. Frau Dressler's pig, tethered by one hind trotter to the jamb of the front door, roamed the yard and disputed the kitchen scraps with the poultry. He was a prodigious beast. Frau Dressler's guests prodded him appreciatively on the way to the dining-room, speculating on how soon he would be ripe for killing. The milch-goat was allowed a narrower radius; those who kept strictly to the causeway were safe, but she never reconciled herself to this limitation and, day in, day out, essayed a series of meteoric onslaughts on the passers-by, ending, at the end of her rope, with a jerk which would have been death to an animal of any other species. One day the rope would break; she knew it, and so did Frau Dressler's guests.

Once a virus gets into an intensive poultry shed it can move quickly through the flock, constantly replicating itself. Any ‘errors’ or changes to the genetic code during replication don’t get repaired: this is how the virus mutates and new variant strains emerge. The tragedy is that while intensive farms provide ideal conditions for the emergence of new aggressive disease strains, wild birds can then become infected too. Experience

The National Academy of Sciences once estimated that a total ban on the widespread feeding of antibiotics to farm animals would raise the price of poultry anywhere from one to two cents per pound and the price of pork or beef around three to six cents a pound, costing the average meat-eating American consumer up to $9.72 a year.1357 Meanwhile, antibiotic-resistant infections in the United States cost an estimated $30 billion every year1358 and kill ninety thousand people.

I must think of something to say, thought Verity. Why have I no small talk like those girls over there? If I could help him to talk, he would like me more; he’s shy like me, and I ought to make things easier, not harder. There’s farming but he would not be attracted by my pigs and poultry. Mining I’m no more interested in than he. The sea I know nothing of except cutters and seiners and other small fry. The shipwreck last month…but that might not be a tactful thing to discuss. Why can’t I just say, la, la, la, and giggle and be fanciful.

Whatand why were never questions for me. How was the only question. When I look back now, I realize that I never thought about what I wanted to become in life. I only thought about how I wanted to live my life. And I knew that the “how” could only be determined within me and by me. There was a big boom in poultry farming at the time. I wanted to make some money to finance my desire for unrestrained, purposeless travel. So I got into it. My father said, “What am I going to tell people? That my son is rearing chickens?” But I built my poultry farm and I built it single-handedly, from scratch. The business took off. The profits started rolling in. I devoted four hours every morning to the business. The rest of the day was spent reading and writing poetry, swimming in the well, meditating, daydreaming on a huge banyan tree. Success made me adventurous. My father was always lamenting that everyone else’s sons had become engineers, industrialists, joined the civil service, or gone to America. And everywhere everyone I met—my friends, relatives, my old school and college teachers—said, “Oh, we thought you’d make something of your life, but you are just wasting it.” I took on the challenge. In partnership with a civil engineer friend, I entered the construction business. In five years, we became a major construction company, among the leading private

Why it was that upon this beautiful feminine tissue, sensitive as gossamer, and practically blank as snow as yet, there should have been traced such a coarse pattern as it was doomed to receive; why so often the coarse appropriates the finer thus, the wrong man the woman, the wrong woman the man, many thousand years of analytical philosophy have failed to explain to our sense of order. One may, indeed, admit the possibility of a retribution lurking in the present catastrophe. Doubtless some of Tess d'Urberville's mailed ancestors rollicking home from a fray had dealt the same measure even more ruthlessly towards peasant girls of their time. But though to visit the sins of the fathers upon the children may be a morality good enough for divinities, it is scorned by average human nature; and it therefore does not mend the matter. As Tess's own people down in those retreats are never tired of saying among each other in their fatalistic way: "It was to be." There lay the pity of it. An immeasurable social chasm was to divide our heroine's personality thereafter from that previous self of hers who stepped from her mother's door to try her fortune at Trantridge poultry-farm.

74% of the world's poultry, 43% of the world's beef and 68% of eggs are produced in factory farms.

He is a big fan of children being raised by their mothers at home. “Nurseries are similar to poultry farms into which chicks are crammed after they are hatched,” he says, and meanders down a small detour about how the meat of wild birds is tastier than the meat of factory chickens to prove his point.

Expand your egg business through latest technologies In India, poultry farming is still lagging behind in terms of infrastructure, skilled manpower and resources. Government has tried to overcome troubles but still egg farm owners in semi-urban or rural areas aren’t utilized technologies due to lack of knowledge and training. On the contrary, farmers in foreign countries develop smart egg processed plant to produce better quality eggs. Technologies are playing keen role to expand egg business sector. Indian farmers should be trained on modern-day technologies to increase productivity. Fast-growing population demanded delicious egg dishes, thus people who are interested to run a restaurant probably sell eggs. Here also you can use technology to develop effective management system, inventory solutions and check product quality as well. It goes without saying that egg industry encompasses varies business categories but you should involve technology to make most advantage and profits. There is trend among foreign countries to cut down cost on unnecessary labours thus they are concentrating on emerging technologies.

Food animals also get antibiotics for “growth promotion,” a metabolically mysterious process that has made possible the entire high-volume, low-margin business of industrial-scale farming. Since the 1950s, when two pharma company scientists discovered that feeding chicks the waste products from drug manufacturing made them put on weight much faster, many U.S. farmers have been giving tiny doses of antibiotics to cattle, swine, and poultry.34

Chickens are the creatures of the earth who no longer live on the land. In the industrialized world, billions of chickens are locked inside factory-farm buildings, and billions more are similarly confined in Africa, Asia, India, China, and other parts of the word where poultry factory farming is rapidly supplanting traditional small farming. If there is such a thing as "earthrights," the right of a creature to experience directly the earth from which it was derived and on which its happiness in life chiefly depends, then chickens have been stripped of theirs. They have not changed; however, the world in which they live has been disrupted for human convenience against their will.

Winnie and Big Leo Chao were serving scallion pancakes decades before you could find them outside of a home kitchen. Leo, thirty-five years ago, winning his first poker game against the owners of a local poultry farm, exchanged his chips for birds that Winnie transformed into the shining, chestnut-colored duck dishes of far-off cities. Dear Winnie, rolling out her bing the homemade way, two pats of dough together with a seal of oil in between, letting them rise to a steaming bubble in the piping pan. Leo, bargaining for hard-to-get ingredients; Winnie subbing wax beans for yard-long beans, plus home-growing the garlic greens, chives, and hot peppers you used to never find in Haven. Their garden giving off a glorious smell.

Yeltsin had spent years battling with lack of food supplies in his Sverdlovsk region. His greatest achievement had been to establish a system of poultry farms near Sverdlovsk that supplemented the meagre diet of workers in the industrial plants and factories. Randalls supermarket amazed him. This was an average place where the poorest American could buy what even the top Soviet nomenklatura could not back home.

Business was good but volatile. Farmers were discovering the unique economy of growing chickens, which was riskier than selling crops or raising cattle. One rooster with six hens could produce enough chickens to fill a chicken house in weeks, and the birds grew to maturity in a matter of a few months, rather than the two years it took to raise a cow or the season it took for cotton and corn. That meant the chicken population fluctuated with the frenzy of a stock market. This made John Tyson’s business almost entirely unpredictable. One day he might have too many birds to ship and need to hire extra drivers. Another day, after the price crashed and farmers cut back, he would have nothing. He needed a way to steady his income, since it was seemingly impossible to steady the market. For Tyson, controlling the chicken farms was paramount to his success. What he needed more than anything in the early 1940s was a steady supply of birds. He had more demand than ever from customers up north. World War II was making big demands on resources and the government had rationed beef and pork but not chicken. Grocery stores wanted to buy all the chicken that Tyson could sell them to help fill up their meat counters. But if he came up empty-handed, the grocery chains would look to other suppliers to meet their needs. Left on their own, farmers couldn’t be counted on to supply Tyson enough chickens. They overproduced when prices were up, then grew gun-shy and refused to raise new flocks when prices were low. As orchards disappeared they were being replaced with casino-like poultry farms.

Heffernan’s research was based in the rural area of Union Parish in Louisiana, where a booming poultry industry was expanding in the 1960s. Vertically integrated poultry production was still a radical concept back then, and Heffernan wanted to study it. So he undertook an effort that no one else seems to have duplicated. He went door to door, made phone calls, and drove hundreds of miles between farms. He surveyed farmers and documented their income and their debt. Crucially, he followed up with farmers in Union Parish every ten years until the turn of the century, building a dataset that was forty years deep. But Heffernan did something more than ask about money. He did something most agricultural economists never thought of doing: He asked the farmers how they felt. He asked them, decade after decade, how much they trusted the companies they worked for and how well they were treated. In doing this, Heffernan assembled a picture that most economists missed. He tracked the relationship between the powerful and the powerless.

Don Tyson saw something special as he looked over the balance sheets of his small network of experimental hog farms. He saw a possible new future for his company, one that made it less vulnerable to the brutal swings of the poultry market. Tyson Foods could raise pigs without spending too much money, and it made a decent profit when it sold them to meatpackers like Armour. Tyson realized that pork prices rose and fell on a completely different cycle than chicken prices. If Tyson kept growing hogs, it might buffer the company from chicken’s permanent boom and bust pricing cycles. The hog barns could be an insurance policy of sorts, a hedge against the volatility that drove modern chicken companies out of business.

At that time, private banks started getting edgy about loaning money to poultry farms. The business was getting riskier, even as it was expanding and companies like Tyson were reaping record profits each year. In spite of the growth, more farmers were going under and selling their operations at a loss to get out of the business. It seemed increasingly routine for Tyson to cancel a farmer’s contract if he didn’t meet the company’s expectations. But the rate of chicken house construction didn’t slow, because bankers figured out a new way to keep money flowing to Tyson’s network of contract farms. They turned to the Farm Service Agency. While the agency was limited in how much money it could loan directly to farmers, it had far more leeway in the size of the loan it could guarantee. Under the guaranteed loan program, the FSA would pay back the bank more than 90 percent of the loan value if a farmer defaulted. The bank also got to keep any down payment the farmer made, plus any fees, interest payments, and other money it collected from the farmer before he went bankrupt. This meant the bank had nothing to lose if it could land an FSA guarantee for a poultry farm. One bank after another discovered this lucrative pool of taxpayer-backed loans, first regional banks in towns like Danville and Fort Smith, Arkansas, then national operations like U.S. Bank.

feces. If a wild bird infects a chicken on a poultry farm, the virus may get opportunities to interact with a range of additional viruses through close contact with pigs and other animals. This is indeed what has happened in the live animal markets and backyard farms of China and southern Asia. Influenza viruses are notorious for their ability to change, through a combination of mutation and “reassortment”—a borrowing of genes from other viruses. An open farm acts like a virus convention, where different strains swap genetic material like conventioneers swap business cards.

I LIVE IN A part of the country that at one time a good farmer could take some pleasure in looking at. When I first became aware of it, in the 1940s, the better land, at least, was generally well farmed. The farms were mostly small and were highly diversified, producing cattle, sheep, and hogs, tobacco, corn, and the small grains; nearly all the farmers milked a few cows for home use and to market milk or cream. Nearly every farm household maintained a garden, kept a flock of poultry, and fattened its own meat hogs. There was also an extensive “support system” for agriculture: Every community had its blacksmith shop, shops that repaired harness and machinery, and stores that dealt in farm equipment and supplies. Now the country is not well farmed, and driving through it has become a depressing experience. Some good small farmers remain, and their farms stand out in the landscape like jewels. But they are few and far between, and they are getting fewer every year. The buildings and other improvements of the old farming are everywhere in decay or have vanished altogether. The produce of the country is increasingly specialized. The small dairies are gone. Most of the sheep flocks are gone, and so are most of the enterprises of the old household economy. There is less livestock and more cash-grain farming. When cash-grain farming comes in, the fences go, the livestock goes, erosion increases, and the fields become weedy. Like

In the United States, Big Food doesn’t even have to tell you which foods contain this genetically altered corn on the label or whether it was used to feed the animals you’re eating. No wonder Europe won’t import our food. Even China, the country known for feeding poultry feces to its farmed fish, banned our meat and much of our processed food. We can do better.

The increase in infections in people who are resistant to Cipro and its chemical cousins is directly tied to the use of antibiotics on poultry farms.

That leaves the category of pasture-raised chickens. It seems they’re living the poultry dream—and, according to Jason, we could be, too. I nod as I take another swallow of beer. I don’t say that it sounds like an enormous amount of work or that we live in arguably one of the harshest climates in the continental United States. Nor do I point out that having spent our entire careers jockeying keyboards to make a living, we are not farmers. So while I don’t exactly tune him out, I become a passive listener. A very passive listener. Poultry isn’t exactly the foreplay talk I was hoping for, so instead I just enjoy the rhythm and cadence of his voice. I hear something about pastured hens for- aging on fresh grasses producing healthier, delicious eggs with less fat and cholesterol, something about the local food movement and its ability to remake America’s food system. I signal the server for a second beer and let it all wash over me with an occasional nod until an utterly un-ignorable statement pulls me out. “This is the kind of farm I want to start.” Now I’m listening. In fact, I’m listening so hard I realize that this particular corner of the restaurant is a convergence point for the piped-in music from two separate rooms, and they’re competing against each other like dueling mariachi bands.

Don Tyson patiently explained his strategy. Getting bigger would help Tyson survive. The bigger a company was, the more it could drive down its costs. It gained efficiency through its size, using fewer managers to operate bigger slaughterhouses, for example, or buying feed in bulk. It was easier to be more efficient than the next guy if you were bigger than they were. That meant you could outlast them when the poultry business inevitably went underwater. Tyson couldn’t get bigger just by adding more farms or slaughterhouses. If the company expanded its own operations, it would put more chickens on the market, inevitably leading to oversupply. But buying a competitor neatly solved two problems with one move. Tyson could expand, and it could expand without boosting the overall supply of chicken. Tyson simply bought out its competitor’s market share, without adding one bird to the market. It was part of Don Tyson’s new strategy, called “Expand or Expire.

Don Tyson spent a lot of time with bankers. After secretly borrowing $80,000, he had finally convinced his father that taking credit from bankers wouldn’t bring doom to the company. As John grew more comfortable with borrowing, Don traveled throughout Missouri and Arkansas, building relationships with bankers who were increasingly interested in investing in the new business of poultry production. Don discovered a new source of credit that had been overlooked by many of his competitors, in the form of a sleepy federal agency called the Farm Credit Administration.

Using cash-basis accounting, Jackson could easily make it look like the corporation suffered massive losses each year. Poultry Growers Inc. paid up front for its feed, fuel, and other farm expenses. Because Tyson sold its birds with long-term contracts to grocery stores and restaurant chains, it could delay reporting its income into the next tax period, when cash from the contracts rolled in. Hypothetically, the company could kick the can of taxable income down the road for years.1 While Tyson couldn’t escape paying taxes altogether, it could reduce its payments substantially. In Jackson’s view, the income tax ploy basically let Tyson take an interest-free loan from taxpayers. By putting off its tax payments, Tyson could put its money to work by investing it in new equipment or more workers. The plan worked, but it was hell on Jackson. After carefully orchestrating Tyson’s cost codes and accounting for all the company’s transactions, Jackson had to translate all the numbers into a different accounting basis. When it came time to pay taxes, he submitted these books to the IRS. When Tyson went to banks to borrow more money, Jackson had the other books on hand, the ones that used accrual-basis accounting. Presumably, all of this was legal. By 1985, Tyson’s Foods had avoided paying $26.5 million in annual taxes through the cash-basis loophole, according to a report written by two economists with the U.S. General Accounting Office.

The agency wasn’t heavily involved in the poultry business, but Don Tyson helped change that. Tyson met with Farm Credit agents and explained to them the new business of industrial chicken farming. The system evened out the wild risks that had characterized the early days of the poultry industry. A farmer growing birds for Tyson could show the Farm Credit Administration a reliable long-range prediction of cash flow and sales, regardless of the season. Perhaps most important, Tyson provided a letter of intent to the lenders, assuring them it would deliver a steady flow of chickens to make the farm profitable. Production wasn’t tied to weather events or the grain markets. It was tied only to Tyson marketing arrangements and contracts. The predictability made it a safe haven for the taxpayer’s money. The Farm Credit Administration was convinced

We always attach ourselves to something that we think relatively better or more valuable than other things, and we are blinded to real life by that. We must purify our system of value. For living out our own life, we must first of all clarify absolute value. Many people live for fulfillment of their desires. These people are like chickens at a poultry farm. I feel sorry for the chickens that just eat nutritious feed day and night and lay as many eggs as possible. This is all that they do in their lives. Chicken raisers keep the light on in the chicken coop all night to keep the chickens producing eggs efficiently. They calculate how many eggs can be laid by one chicken, and they kill the chickens when they become old.

Tyson first pioneered this model in the poultry business. Then the company expanded into raising hogs. Within two short decades America’s independent hog industry was wiped out and replaced with a vertically integrated, corporate-controlled model. Ninety percent of all hog farms disappeared. The amount of money spent at grocery stores went up, but the amount of money farmers received went down. Companies like Tyson keep much of the difference.

Chickens need poultry grit in order to digest their food and oyster-shell grit in order to produce strong eggshells.

As people get richer, they eat more meat and fish. This significantly increases cereal and oilseed demand for animal feed – and by quite a multiplier. To raise cattle in a feedlot, you need seven kilos of grain to produce one kilo of beef. (3) If you raise pigs, you need four kilos of grain for one kilo of meat. For poultry, the figure is just over two kilos, and for herbivorous species of farmed fish (such as carp, tilapia and catfish), it is slightly less than two kilos.

The planter himself was of a type then common in the South. He was a large, coarse looking man, with an immense paunch, wore a broad-brimmed, home-made straw hat and butter nut jeans clothes. His trousers were of the old-fashioned, "broad-fall" pattern. His hair was long, he had a scraggy, sandy beard, and chewed "long green" tobacco continually and viciously. But he was shrewd enough to know that ugly talk on his part wouldn't mend matters, but only make them worse, so he stood around in silence while we took his corn, but he looked as malignant as a rattlesnake. His wife was directly his opposite in appearance and demeanor. She was tall, thin, and bony, with reddish hair and a sharp nose and chin. And goodness, but she had a temper! She stood in the door of the dwelling house, and just tongue-lashed us "Yankees," as she called us, to the full extent of her ability. The boys took it all good naturedly, and didn't jaw back. We couldn't afford to quarrel with a woman. A year later, the result of her abuse would have been the stripping of the farm of every hog and head of poultry on it,

growing only crops was not. Worst was growing up on a poultry farm, which was associated with nearly three times the odds of developing blood cancer.53 Exposure to cattle and pigs has also been associated with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.54 A 2003 study by University of California researchers revealed that nearly three-quarters of human subjects tested positive for exposure to the bovine leukemia virus, likely through the consumption of meat and dairy products.55 Approximately 85 percent of U.S. dairy herds have tested positive for the virus (and

For the sake of farmed animals, who suffer terribly in their artificially short lives, please do not reject red flesh in preference for poultry flesh. Please do not replace flesh with eggs or dairy products. Please do not buy animal products that try to disguise cruel exploitation behind meaningless feel-good labels such as “free range,” “cruelty free,” “organic,” and “natural.” For the sake of your own health, and for the sake of farmed animals, please eliminate (or at least reduce) your consumption of all animal products.

Makes 4 to 6 servings 6 tablespoons (90 g) margarine or butter, melted About 11/2 cups (375 ml) buttermilk 11/2 cups (200 g) all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons (10 g) coarse salt 1 teaspoon (5 g) ground black pepper 1 cup (125 g) crushed cornflakes 1/2 teaspoon (2.5 ml) poultry seasoning, or dried thyme and/or sage One 31/2-pound chicken, cut into 8 to 10 pieces (about 1.5 kg) 1 tablespoon (8 g) paprika, for dusting Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Using about 2 tablespoons (30 ml) of the margarine, coat the bottom of a roasting pan or a baking dish large enough to hold the chicken pieces in one layer without touching. Place the buttermilk in a shallow bowl or dish. In another bowl, mix the flour, salt, pepper, cornflakes, and poultry seasoning. Dip each chicken piece into the buttermilk. Shake off the excess and roll in the flour mixture to coat. Place the chicken pieces in the prepared roasting pan, skin side up. Drizzle the rest of the margarine evenly over the chicken. Dust the chicken liberally with paprika. Put the roasting pan on the middle rack of the oven, uncovered. Bake for about 1 hour, until the chicken is golden and cooked through. (Small pieces may be done at 45 minutes, so check.) To confirm, push an instant-read thermometer into a meaty section; it should register at least 165°F (74°C). Serve warm. Leftovers reheat nicely in a toaster oven. CHAPTER 2 The Farm on Coldwater Road

To prevent the 1997 Hong Kong virus, which killed six of eighteen people infected, from adapting to people, public health authorities had every single chicken then in Hong Kong, 1.2 million of them, slaughtered. An even greater slaughter of animals occurred in the spring of 2003 when a new H7N7 virus appeared in poultry farms in the Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany. This virus infected eighty-two people and killed one, and it also infected pigs. So public health authorities killed nearly thirty million poultry and some swine. In 2004, H5N1, which had never fully disappeared, returned with a vengeance.

His ass has seen more cock than a poultry farm!

don't know about we Sergeant, but I certainly haven't. Chance would be a fine thing. No, my condition is almost entirely down to Sir Basil Ballantyne." "And who's he?" Barclay replies, "it's not a he, it's a what. Sir Basil is a damn cockerel." The DCS gets a look generally reserved for lunatics. "Sergeant, one hundred and fifty yards from my cottage Mat and Lucy Collins run a small organic farm. Eggs, cheese, bacon, poultry…that kind of thing." “Yeah Guv, I get it.” “Sorry.” "Anyway, you don't get on with them…the Collins’s?" "Oh no, quite the opposite. It's there damn cockerel I don't get on with. The little bastard crows every bloody morning at 5 a.m. come rain or shine.