To read the article in full, simply click the link, or the picture, below.

Free Bird by Jenn Ladd

We are incredibly proud to announce that Sláinte Irish Pub and Restaurant, located at 1700 Thames St., Baltimore,  MD, and Springfield Farm won BEST ENTREE at the 2012 AIWF Baltimore Presents: Farm to Chef Maryland competition. This competition pairs local farms with local chefs to produce new and exciting dishes in the category of their choice. Using Springfield Farm chicken, eggs, and honey, Chef Chris Marquis created a delicious Chicken Fried Meatloaf with Smoked Greens, Bacon Maple Mini-Waffles, Apple Chile, and Vietnamese Cinnamon Honey that wowed the judges. The staff at Sláinte Irish Pub and Restaurant were incredible to work with and we highly suggest that you stop by the next time you’re in Baltimore.

Seated behind the wheel of his golf cart, whose windshield has been playfully stenciled with the words lilly’s layers’ limo, David Smith conducts a fact-drenched tour of Springfield Farm, his 67- acre spread in Sparks, where four flocks of egg- laying, free-range chickens now range freely over snow-covered ground. He parks the golf cart, steps over the mildly electrified fence–a deterrent for hungry foxes–that encloses the quarter-acre area that a group of reddish-brown “layers” calls home, strides by several of the oblivious animals standing on one leg, and raises free-range layers at Springfield enters a henhouse, his whys-and-wherefores dissertation of the Springfield operation pouring forth in nonstop rat-a-tat-tat style.

“The numbers of eggs a chicken lays–and the rate at which they lay–is determined by heat and light,” Smith, 61, explains, as birds peer at him from the ground, from open nesting cubicles, and from perches in the rafters. “Light serves the function of keeping them alert, just as it does us. Keeps them active. The more active they are, the more they eat. The more they eat, the more eggs they produce.”

At Springfield that translates to an average of 240 eggs–large and lovely brown eggs that lie scattered hither and yon around the henhouse–per hen annually. In June, when the days are long, one of his hens lays an egg about every 26 hours; this time of year a hen cranks out one every 60 to 70 hours. By contrast, a layer at a commercial operation– confined in what Smith terms a “concentration-camp environment,” in which chickens are stressed to produce, produce, produce until they drop–is expected to pop out 300 eggs each year. Utterly sapped, entire flocks of those hens are replaced with fresh recruits, the old hens rendered for use by soup companies.

Smith’s hens enjoy a considerably longer, healthier, ambulatory life, laying eggs for two to two-and-one-half seasons. “At the end of a year of laying, they take a paid vacation,” he notes, resting for 60 to 90 days at what he terms the farm’s “spa.” During its second season a Springfield hen will produce only 200 eggs. Retired from service, they are slaughtered and sold as “stewing hens” at $6.50 each. Local restaurateurs buy them; in fact, one already has reserved Smith’s entire flock of “black” chickens.

While alive the chickens are “moved around in a controlled, grazing paddock,” Smith continues, participating in what amounts to a game of animal musical chairs. To start, larger, four-legged animals–first, horses or cows, followed by sheep or goats–mow the
pasture. After they’ve completed their tasks, Smith introduces a flock of layers, who reside on this reservation, of sorts, for two weeks, at which point they proceed to another pre-grazed paddock–or what Smith kiddingly calls “a new salad bar.” After four months or so to let the land rest, back come the horses or cows, and the process begins anew.

Aside from the 2,200 layers, Springfield raises about 5,000 nonlaying chickens, 400 turkeys, 100 geese, 250 ducks each year, and four peafowl; in conjunction with other local farmers, who adhere to Springfield’s strict growing standards, it also rears 500 rabbits, 100 lambs, three dozen beef cattle, two dozen pigs, and a dozen goats. All naturally. “For us, ‘natural’ means the animals, to the greatest extent possible, are allowed access to the outside,” Smith says. “In fact, their food and water is outside, so they have to go out to get it.” As evidence, his layers have worn a path through the snow between their henhouse and their food and water troughs. “We use no chemicals or fertilizers on the ground. No antibiotics or growth stimulants or chemicals of any sort in the animals’ feed.”

Smith inaugurated the free-range operation in 2000 after a 23-year career in the U.S. Army–he retired with the rank of lieutenant colonel–followed by 10 years in Europe and the Middle East working for a marketing firm. He grew up on the Springfield property, which, he reckons, has been in his family anywhere from 12 to 17 generations. Currently the operation employs only immediate family members: David and his wife, Lilly–that’s her name stenciled on the layers’ limo–plus their two daughters and their four kids, all of whom live on-site.

Springfield makes 35 percent to 40 percent of its egg and meat sales to individuals who buy either directly from the farm, through a Community Supported Agriculture program, or at the weekly May through October Hunt Valley farmers’ market. Nineteen local restaurants account for the remainder of the farm’s sales, from Common Ground and Golden West Café in Hampden to pricier spots such as Charleston at Inner Harbor East and Gertrude’s at the Baltimore Museum of Art.

Smith contends that he keeps egg and meat prices as affordable as possible, comparable to–or lower than–those charged by “upscale supermarkets” such as Eddie’s and Graul’s. For example, he says he regularly sees “large” natural or organic eggs retail for $3.50 or $3.60 per dozen. Springfield charges $2.75 for its large, free-range natural eggs, with its “jumbos” going for $3.25. “But when we talk a jumbo,” Smith almost exclaims, his demonstrated penchant for well-organized facts and figures overwhelming him, “it’s a humongous egg. You can’t find eggs like that in a grocery store!”

Download PDF

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Here, at least, standing in the softly lit interior of a turquoise trailer at Springfield Farm in northern Baltimore County, the answer is clear: the chicken.

“The chicks come by mail,” says David Smith, who owns this pastured poultry farm—a small but growing trend among Maryland farmers—with his wife, Lilly. The chicks arrive by post in lots of 300 from mid-March through August, carefully packed in containers for the two-day trip from Pennsylvania and neighboring states. A total of 4,000 of these particular chickens —broilers, in farm parlance—will make their home this summer in the grassy fields of Springfield Farm. But if their origin is clear, so is their destiny. “They’ll all be off the ground and ready for the table by October,” says Smith.

He moves among the chicks slowly, talking gently as the fuzzy yellow balls peep softly and swirl around his ankles on tiny clawed feet. Just two weeks old, they are the first shipment of broilers to come, gro w, and go before the season is over. The various flocks of egg-layers, about 1,600 hens in all, will have a longer stay of two years, laying a total
of 420,000 eggs each year before meeting the table as stewing hens.

On this crisp spring morning, the next stop is Smith’s “fancy flock,” in which can be seen all the varieties of poultry that inhabit the farm. Smith shows off the various birds—egg- laying quails, ducks and geese for meat and eggs, riotously colored chickens that lay eggs in colors ranging from pure white to brown to soft tints of green and blue, and guinea hens with bony white heads outlined in black. Missing are examples of the turkeys, including old-fashioned heritage breeds, that will arrive in July to be plumped for Thanksgiving delivery.

Smith stops in to see the rabbits—the farm will raise 50 to 75 this year—then sets off toward the flocks of laying hens in a far field. Hiking up a rutted lane, past a tall stand of trees and over to a series of coops with fenced-in pastures, he talks about the difference between organic and natural poultry, and the meaning of the word “free- range.”

While Smith’s land—65 rolling acres in Sparks that have been in his family since at least 1850—is certified organic, his poultry is considered “natural” and “free-range.” It is raised on pastures, which allows the birds to graze freely amid grass and other plants, foraging for greenery and insects. This diet is supplemented with a natural feed composed of corn, soy, barley, vitamins, and minerals. Smith uses no antibiotics, and illnesses in the flock are treated homeopathically. The chickens rotate among pastures every seven days, giving the land a chance to regenerate grass and make use of the natural fertilizer the chickens leave behind in their manure.

The birds are considered “natural” rather than “organic” because the feed Smith uses is not certified organic. For one thing, he says, organic feed is expensive and difficult to get, and the paperwork and costs of maintaining USDA Organic Program Standards are spiraling upwards, forcing many small farmers to abandon the effort.

But, like any good businessman, Smith surveyed his market before deciding whether to abandon a strictly organic code. “It turned out that my customers want natural foods,” he says. “Mostly, they want to feel a connection with where their food comes from and how it is grown.” That the animals are raised humanely and without additives proved most important.

It is Smith’s market-driven approach that has enabled him to jump into farming relatively late in life and make a go of it. An ex-Army man, he is compact, square-shouldered, and impressively fit for his 60 years. He and Lilly, his wife of 40 years, spent their married life on the move—”35 moves in 35 years,” they like to say—in Europe, Asia, the Middle East, and the United States. Smith then spent a few years in international marketing, still traveling, while working for a company that is now part of Raytheon, and also for Cockeysville defense contractor AAI Corporation.

But once they had grandchildren, says Lilly Smith over a cup of coffee at the kitchen table, it became harder to live overseas. And so, in 1995, they moved to Springfield Farm. “The first few chickens were just to entertain the grandkids,” she says in the soft accent of her native France. But one egg followed another, and soon the Smiths put a modest sign out front advertising farm-fresh eggs. Then came a visitor.

Thomas Rudis of Golden West Cafe remembers the day. “Living in the city, I would take drives out to the country with my wife and daughter,” he says. “I stumbled across this sign that said ‘free-range eggs.’ I was all over that.” Rudis asked Smith to supply eggs for his Hampden restaurant.

Smith quickly purchased a flock of 500 egg-layers, christened them Lilly’s Layers, and launched his egg business, still the driving economic force behind the farm. Rudis introduced him to other chefs around town, and before long he had an A-list roster of restaurant clients, including Charleston, The Oregon Grille, Gertrude’s at the BMA, and The Brewer’s Art.

Perhaps it’s impossible for a marketing man not to dream big; soon Smith had a grand plan, with various schemes for farming produce and animals. He talked with neighbors and other small farmers and quickly saw a niche to be filled in the area of naturally grown poultry and meat.

Equally important, Smith wanted to create a farm capable of supporting his daughters and their families in the future. “When we decided to create a viable business, the goal was to entice one or two of our daughters to live here with a business worth moving for.” During May 2000, after the first full year of operation, Smith “took time off,” he says with a laugh, for quintuple heart bypass surgery. That’s when two of his three daughters and their families moved from West Virginia and Maine to take up residence. The farm now shelters three generations of Smith’s family, including four grandchildren.

Considering his family-oriented goals, Smith made the right choice in taking up pastured poultry, says Bruce Mertz, executive director of the nonprofit Future Harvest-CASA (Chesapeake Alliance for Sustainable Agriculture). “Small to medium-size farms are becoming an endangered species,” he says. Pastured poultry, however, makes it possible for small farms to prosper by combining a small investment with direct marketing to customers through farmstands and at farmer’s markets. “In the past,” Mertz says, “it was ‘get big or get out.’ Now it’s ‘farm smarter, not harder.’”

People like the Smiths—educated retirees and second-careerists looking to develop a relationship with the land— are the newest comers to a difficult industry. “I am amazed at the advanced degrees and business experience of people who are now farming,” says Mertz. That doesn’t ensure a venture’s success, of course—just its progressive footing.

Smith takes the long view. “Most farmer’s children don’t want to stay on the farm,” he says, admiring his grandchildren, now gathered in cozy disarray around the kitchen table for breakfast. “We showed them the business plan, and they saw that it could work. Right now, we put all our proceeds back into the business, but in five years we will be quite profitable.”

As granddaughter Rachel Webb displays a photograph of her favorite chicken, her mother Catherine describes the benefits of farm life. “It’s made a big difference not to be eating food with pesticides in it,” she says. “My kids rarely get sick these days. And they all get to take the school bus together.”

But it is a rigorous life, she acknowledges, donning insulated overalls before heading out on this blustery morning to collect the day’s eggs. Daily chores—feeding and watering; moving fences to create new pastures; collecting, washing, and grading the eggs; delivering eggs and meat to restaurants—set a relentless rhythm punctuated by larger endeavors, like building new chicken coops or transferring flocks of broilers to the poultry processor in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

Small farms like Springfield also offer important lifestyle choices to consumers. First and foremost, they provide food that has been raised humanely and without additives like antibiotics. A recent study funded by the USDA’s Sustainable Agriculture and Research Education Program (SARE) also indicates that pasture-raised chickens and their eggs have less total and saturated fat and more vitamins and Omega-3 fatty acids, considered healthful for the heart.

There is also the issue of freshness. Eggs bought from a farm like Springfield are usually just a day old, whereas commercial eggs can be six to nine months old. In addition, Smith’s broilers are slaughtered and cleaned by hand, not machine. The results are pristine.

But the proof is also in the pudding—literally. “The yolks of these eggs are so yellow and the flavor is so rich,” enthuses chef Cindy Wolf of Charleston and Petit Louis restaurants. “We use them in all our pastries and desserts, but with something like creme brûlée, which is nothing but eggs and cream, the eggs make all the difference.” She also buys poultry and rabbits from the farm.

Finally, there is the connection with the land that many of us crave, but are unable to realize for ourselves. To stand in a pasture with Smith, as hens enthusiastically cluck and peck around his ankles, is to understand that livestock can lead sound, healthy lives. As Smith puts it, “happy chickens are healthy chickens.”

The context of farm life is always changing. Gazing out the kitchen window over poultry yards and rolling hills, Smith talks about the future. “I don’t want to become a big commercial grower,” he says, musing over Springfield Farm’s potential for growth and its effect on family life. He talks about the possibilities in “agritainment,” including a petting zoo and working holidays for paying customers. “That’s big business for farmers across the country,” he says.

Recently, Smith diversified his offerings to capitalize on his growing customer base, offering pastured lamb and veal and natural beef raised by other farmers under conditions similar to those on his own farm. But the trick, he says, is to find the right balance. “We’re wrestling now with how big to grow and at what rate. We are looking at how much stuff we want to produce versus the life we want to lead.”

He is also investigating ways to preserve the farm for his descendants. “It’s important to me to get the farm into a preservation program because of the generations of my family who have lived here,” he says. Lilly Smith has some ideas of her own. If she has her way, the future will include a breeding program and chickens (the farm has already started one for rabbits). Which means those batches of fuzzy yellow chicks will no longer arrive by mail. And the answer to the age-old chicken and egg question will be: the egg.

Download PDF

The turkeys at Springfield Farm in Sparks roost occasionally in trees surrounding their grassy enclosure, or hop the low electrical fence and walk that edge of the wide world, sampling freedom. Something always brings them back, though. Perhaps it’s the steady feed, or the domestic fowl’s genetic pull toward home.

“I guess they kind of like it here,” says David Smith, who owns the farm and raises free- range, pastured turkeys, chickens, pigs, cattle, sheep and other animals.

In the universe of turkeys bred for holiday tables, Smith’s birds may be considered lottery winners. They cashed a good karmic ticket months ago, when they were poults weighing less than a decent turkey sandwich and their hatchery in Pennsylvania packed them in boxes and delivered them via priority mail into the hands of the Smith family.

For Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, the Smiths are raising nearly 300 turkeys all told, a hobbyist’s pursuit compared to the country’s largest turkey operations that might produce a few hundred thousand birds a year. Some people call those “factory farms.”

Smith is no zealous animal advocate, nor should his family’s natural pesticide-free farming be considered a political statement. He likes this approach for philosophical reasons, but it also makes practical sense, as these methods give Springfield Farm a niche market at a time when food companies ranging from McDonald’s to Whole Foods Markets have announced plans to improve their standards on animal treatment.

In the rolling hills of Baltimore County, the combination of economics and animal welfare seems to be working.

You could ask the birds, and they might answer with any number of sounds. They seem at times to mimic geese or the peeping of bald eagles or the way laughter can suddenly erupt in a cluster of people at a cocktail party. Yes, they sort of gobble, but also bubble and gurgle and chirp.

Are these the sounds of happy turkeys?

It seems so, says Michael C. Appleby of the Humane Society of the United States. At Smith’s invitation, Appleby led a group of Humane Society board members on a tour of Springfield Farm in September. They liked what they saw, says Appleby, who heads the society’s division of farm animals and sustainable agriculture.

If animals are going to be raised for food, says Appleby, “that’s the way they should be kept. That’s ideal.”

He’s talking about the ample space, the outdoor life, the fact that the birds have clean ground – all of which makes these turkeys luckier than their counterparts on the high- production farm.

To visit the turkeys – Smith welcomes the public, just let the folks know you’re there, he says – you cross Yeoho Road from the main house and walk up a grassy slope, past a small chicken house. Keep walking east a few score yards, toward the stands of locust, maple and wild-cherry trees.

Inside an electrical fence – it looks like a loose tennis net no more than a yard high – the turkeys spend their few months of life. About every week the birds are moved to new
pasture, to keep them on fresh ground, but the setup remains the same.

Other than a few dozen of the younge st birds in a smaller fenced enclosure, most of the turkeys stay in the larger pen – three-quarters of an acre furnished with feed pans, fresh water troughs and four wood-frame huts that can be covered with plastic sheets in bad weather.

The birds occupy a small fraction of their field. The rest of the ground is open – for sprinting, strutting, ambling about. With their tails fanned, their beaks tucked in, their feathery mass aloft on spindly legs, the toms can move with a dignified bearing. They might be portly butlers. The hens are built along more slender, graceful lines, their heads bobbing and weaving as if they were prizefighters.

‘Heritage breeds’

Some in this crowd are your standard white variety that make up the vast majority of the 45 million turkeys that will appear on Thanksgiving tables this year. Others are reddish- brown or jet-black or dark-brown-and-black, or black-and-white-and-gray – these are the so-called “heritage breeds” that represent older varieties. The black-and-white-and-gray are Narragansetts, believed to be descendants of the turkeys the Pilgrims would have known.

They stand at a couple of arms’ distance. They might come in closer, peck a bit at your pant leg or try to untie your shoelace.

“They’re very curious,” says Smith. Yes – curious. That suggests intelligence, not necessarily a word that tends to come up when talking about turkeys.
Just how smart are these birds? Hard to say. While there’s quite a bit of research on wild- bird and domestic-chicken intelligence, not much scientific work has been done on domestic turkeys.

In his fourth year of raising the birds, Smith makes no claim to authority on avian cognition, but he’s quick to dismiss the common notion that turkeys are deeply dumb. The birds respond to visitors and show some signs of personality.

Find Smith at various times of day in the enclosure, just watching the turkeys.

“I like to come out here and sit on a bucket with them,” says Smith, 61, who retired as a lieutenant colonel after a 23-year career in the U.S. Army and as an electronic systems marketing guy after 15 years with Raytheon. “It’s very therapeutic for me.”

Nothing in Smith’s matter-of-fact bearing and practical thinking suggests that he indulges sentiment or forms any attachment to the animals. It’s apparent, however, that he likes the notion of their having a decent life here.

Of course, Smith’s turkey visiting also has a practical dimension. In warm weather, it’s sometimes necessary for Smith to break up a cluster of birds lest the ones in the center of the pack stay there too long and perish from collective body heat. And it’s a good idea to keep an eye out for a sick or injured bird so it can be removed from the group.
Friendly as they might be to visitors, turkeys can be unkind to their own. Left in the flock, a wounded and bleeding bird would be at risk of being pecked to death, cannibalized by the others.

There’s one downside to the natural approach, as Smith’s birds have their beaks and toes intact. This would not be the case on a big commercial operation, where poults have their beaks trimmed and the tips of their toes cut off.

The practice is not considered humane, says Appleby, who says cutting off a turkey’s beak is more like cutting the tip of a finger than a fingernail.
Animal advocates argue that turkeys and chickens will be inclined to wound or even kill each other under the overcrowded conditions of a high-production farm. Smith’s experience seems to affirm that view, as the pecking becomes a problem only with a wounded bird.

Occasionally a fight breaks out in the flock, but it never lasts much longer than the average Major League Baseball brawl. A flutter of wings, a bit of jumping and squawking and that’s that. You’re more likely to see one bird racing after another through the crowd, but it’s not clear if this is turkey rage or turkey games.

Birds start to stir

The games pass the day, which begins for these birds at first light. Come around 6 a.m., the sky turning pink behind the enclosure, the cluster of sleeping birds stirs. In minutes the birds are up, roaming about. Soon enough Smith’s son-in-law, Douglas Lafferty, rolls up in a little motorized cart. Feeding time.

A 14-year Navy veteran, Lafferty and his wife, Valerie, decided four years ago they wanted a different life. They took Smith up on his offer to join him at Springfield Farm.

These 67 acres are what is left of land that’s been in Smith’s family for generations, perhaps as far back as the 17th century, Smith says. Nearing retirement and with elderly parents, Smith wanted to do something to prevent the land from being broken up or sold out of the family.

He arranged with his sisters to buy the land, did some research on small-scale farming and in 2000 opened for business, selling eggs and meat directly to drive-up customers and to restaurants.

The notion of raising free-range animals on organic pastures – meaning no pesticides are used on the fields – made sense for a direct- marketing business.

“To do that, you have to be unique,” says Smith. “It’s a niche market. If we were not doing this, we’d be like everybody else.”

That cachet comes at a price for the consumer. Whole standard white turkey goes for $2.75 a pound here, as compared with about a dollar a pound for a conventional turkey in a supermarket. The heritage turkeys sell at $3.75 a pound.

Springfield Farm meets most of the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s new organic labeling standards, except that not all the animal feed Smith buys has been raised organically. Otherwise, the animals here are given no antibiotics, nor growth hormones.

This year’s poults arrived in four shipments from the hatcheries between May and August. They’ll live between three and six months, growing to between about 12 and 45 pounds.

In the middle of this month, late on a Wednesday afternoon, the first load of 25 birds is herded aboard an 18-foot-by-6-foot-by-4-foot cage mounted on a trailer. There they spend the night with water, but no food.

The following morning before dawn, Smith drives the 80 minutes or so to the Eberly Poultry plant in Lancaster County, Pa., the largest organic-poultry operation in the country, where the turkeys are slaughtered.

Smith prefers to say “processed,” but he can’t say he brings any particular emotion to the occasion.

“It’s really just another day because of the number of birds we deal with,” says Smith.

There, the birds are unloaded and hung upside down on a slowly moving conveyor. Smith watches as an Eberly line worker stuns each bird unconscious with a hand-held electrical prod, then slits the throat, letting the bird bleed into a trough below. In about three minutes, the dead bird is immersed into a scalding bath, then de-feathered, then the head, feet, innards are removed. The turkey then is cooled down to about 40 degrees in ice water to avert bacteria growth.

For each bird, this all takes about seven minutes, rather slow by industry standards. The pace of the line, says company president Bob Eberly, assures that each bird is stunned first, and that no turkey goes into the scalding water alive. Animal activists say this sometimes happens in big poultry plants.

Smith says he helps and watches the Eberly crew because “I just come from the school that says I want to be involved. I want to know what’s going on.”

After helping to load the birds into ice-water tanks on the truck, Smith brings the turkeys back to Sparks and into the hands of his customers.

Curtis Eargle, chef at the Maryland Club, started buying heritage turkeys from Springfield last year and ordered some for Thanksgiving this year. The price runs more than three times what he’d pay a wholesaler.

“I just find the flavor just to be tremendous,” says Eargle. “The moistness of the meat was incredible. It’s a very forgiving bird. You can cook the heck out of it and it still comes out good.”

The heritage birds have more dark meat than the conventional white turkey, about 50 percent to 50 percent dark to white, rather than, say, 30 to 70.

Eargle has visited the farm, seen the turkeys. “I was walking around the pen with them,” says Eargle. “It makes you feel good when you eat it. You know they’ve lived a good life.”

Download PDF

Eggs from hens allowed to range on pasture are a heck of a lot better than eggs from commercially raised chickens!

By Cheryl Long and Tabitha Alterman

Most of the eggs currently sold in supermarkets are nutritionally inferior to eggs produced by hens raised on pasture. That’s the conclusion we have
reached following completion of the 2007 Mother Earth News egg testing project. Our testing has found that, com- pared to official United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) nutrient data for commercial eggs, eggs from hens raised on pasture may contain:

• 1⁄3 less cholesterol
• 1⁄4 less saturated fat
• 2⁄3 more vitamin A
• 3 times more vitamin E
• 7 times more beta carotene
• 21 times more omega-3 fatty acids

These amazing results come from 14 flocks around the country that range freely on pasture, or are housed in large moveable pens that are rotated frequently to maximize access to fresh pasture and protect the birds from predators. We had 100- gram samples from each flock tested by an accredited laboratory in Portland, Ore.

Download PDF

Langenfelder is part of a minority group in the Old Line State that uses gestation crates. Her farm is one of approximately three to five in the state that employ the 2×7 foot individual cages to house sows during their entire pregnancy—almost four months. These crates are so cramped that the pigs literally cannot turn around in them, a confinement so constricting that The HSUS calls the crates “one of the most appalling abuses in industrial confinement systems.”

Yet, Langenfelder, vice president of the Maryland Farm Bureau, defended her right to use gestation crates at a recent hearing before a Maryland Senate committee, only days before the full state Senate narrowly defeated a bill to give pregnant sows more room. She explained that her family has been farming for three generations, and that she personally found it “offensive” that someone with less experience should tell her how to keep her 300 sows.

For all her passionate rebellion, however, Langenfelder’s arguments are rather common among farmers. The litany of industrial farmers is almost standardized: Animal activists are not farmers and don’t understand how the business really works. They don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t have any right to tell real farmers how to run their operation.

But perhaps clouded by her own indignation, Langenfelder misses a larger point in the give-and-take between farmers and animal activists: There’s a way for each party to find a common ground, where business and animal welfare go hand-in-hand.

Take David Smith for example. Smith is a farmer, a retired lieutenant colonel with the U.S. Army, and an electronic systems marketer with Raytheon. His 67-acre Springfield Farm, north of Baltimore, has been in the family since the 1600s. He direct-markets to consumers and restaurants, and has seen a sizable increase in his business every year.

More to Come

Legislators in several others states, in fact, have wrestled with the idea of gestation crates and whether they should be banned. California and Hawaii, for instance, have considered such bills. So did Florida’s legislators— though when they did not enact a gestation crate bill, the public stepped in and gathered enough signatures to place an initiative on the November 2002 ballot. The initiative, which called for an amendment to the state constitution to mandate that pregnant sows be given enough room to turn around, passed and is now law in Florida.

In a way, politicians are just beginning to catch up with public sentiment. In a 2003 poll of 612 Iowans, David Hill of Hill Research Consultants found that 73% agreed that Iowa voters should be concerned about the humane treatment of animals raised for food. In addition, 77% said it is likely they would buy pork products from food companies whose suppliers raise and process their hogs only under humane and environmentally sound conditions. Not incidentally, Iowa is the top pork-producing state in the nation, where a whopping 91% of the land is used for agriculture.

Of course, both sides of the gestation crate issue—the Patricia Langenfelders and the David Smiths—like to use scientific studies to bolster their case. Both also use real-life examples to back up their arguments. But in the end, both scientific and anecdotal arguments can’t overshadow the large object looming in the background: the ethical issue of gestation crates.
The HSUS and a growing segment of the public say that a pig is a living, breathing creature with needs that we should respect. Turning around in a crate is just one of those needs. That is not too much to ask. So, if and when the issue ever pops up in your state—and given the public clamor over gestation crates, it will—make sure to ask your legislators to grant these concessions to pregnant sows.

The Humane Society of the United States
http://www.hsus.org/farm_animals/factory_farms/no_need_to_fight_farmers_and_activists_can_find_common_ ground_on_gestation_crates.html

Download PDF

This farm has been in our family since the early 1700’s. It was originally part of a 5,000- to 10,000-acre farm granted by the King of England. My great grandfather was deeded this current farm (65 acres) in the mid-1800’s. I grew up here. The farm has been leased since my Dad retired.

Describe the alternative enterprise in which you are presently engaged.

My wife Lilly and I raise pasture-fed chicken broilers using the Joel Salatin cage method. We also produce pastured free-range eggs and pink veal. We have a few ducks, geese, and a pair of peacocks for scenery.

What made you decide to go into the present alternative enterprise(s)?

I wanted to make this farm profitable again, and alternative enterprises are the only way this is possible. The farm is not big enough for us to make a living on corn, wheat and beans. We tried a vegetable garden the first year, about one-half acre. Everybody was doing that, and the work is very hard and time consuming. So I investigated and researched what small-scale enterprises were not being done in this area. Entrepreneurs had greenhouses, U-Pick, and forestry, etc. So I ended up with chickens and pink veal.

How did you make the transition?

I retired from the Army after a 23-year career and retired again after 13 more years in corporate America. In 1999, I started going to meetings and conferences, subscribed to magazines, went to on- farm workshops, researched the library and the Internet, visited other small farm entrepreneurs, and talked to a lot of neighbors and local farmers alike. We started with 75 layers, a few broilers, and four veal calves. Word of mouth sold the broilers and calves before they were ready for market. We were selling the eggs locally from the farm and through the Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) venture of a neighbor. Then we met a chef who wanted to buy eggs for his restaurant. By January 2000, we had four regular customers buying 200 dozen eggs a week and six more restaurants waiting until our new layers started producing. In 2000 we have 10 veal calves, 1,000 layers, and 225 broilers.

Describe your decisionmaking process.

We do not have a formal business plan. My industry experience was in planning, production, and marketing. As a result, the business plan is in our heads. The demand far exceeds the supply, so this has delayed formal planning. We are investigating other alternative enterprises.

How do you obtain financing?

We have been able to provide all of our own financing. If we don’t have the money to buy something, we wait until we do.

What do you charge for your products?

We sell small eggs for $1.50 a dozen and large/jumbo eggs for $2.00, mostly to restaurants. We sell pastured chicken for $2.50 a pound and pink veal for up to $9.60 a pound wrapped weight. We could charge more, but we are making a good profit.

What production methods do you use?

I went to the ACRES-sponsored Joel Salatin workshop in July 1999 to study his pasture-fed operations and marketing techniques. Joel advised that your labor requirement should not exceed 6 hours per day in order to leave adequate time for marketing, management, and other farm work. Our labor requirement for the livestock and poultry we have now is 28 hours per week.

What kind of modifications did you have to make at the farm?

We remodeled the farmhouse, built a caged house and brooder house, and added refrigerators and now recently a walk-in cooler.
What went wrong? and Why? How did you correct the situation? The veal calves had diarrhea and pneumonia the first year (we lost one), and we had to nurse them back to health. After I discussed my problem with a local rotational grazing and seasonal grazing dairy farmer using the New Zealand method— feeding the calves with a nipple attached to a hose in a barrel. The barrel is seldom cleaned, which allows bacteria to develop and the calves to become naturally immune, thus eliminating the pneumonia. The feeding of milk through the sucking of the nipples generates salvia, which is a natural antacid for the calf, which eliminated the diarrhea.

What went right? and Why? How did you build on your success?

I selected the right enterprises, and they are growing by themselves at this time. Word of mouth has sold everything that we have been able to produce. We have a nursery, so as soon as a chicken gets sick it is taken to the infirmary.

What would you have done differently?

Nothing.

Where do you plan to go from here?

We have discussed these enterprises with our daughters. One said that her husband is considering early military separation to become a partner. Another daughter’s husband is a doctor, and he is thinking about quitting and also becoming a partner. Our plan for the year 2001 is to have 1,500 layers, as many as 13,000 broilers, and 25 pink vealers. This should gross us over $250,000, which would yield a profit of over 50 percent. We plan to produce pastured chickens for restaurants on a 12-month basis. This means we will need freezers and equipment to properly prepare and store the chicken for the winter months. I am also in the process of getting the farm organically certified by Maryland.

What would be the five most important pieces of advice you would give other farmers considering an alternative enterprise?

1. Learn how to market, the most important aspect of success. No customers = no sales

2. Know your limitations

3. Balance financing and overhead with income

4. Limit yourself to 6 hours per day on production

5. Become an involved observer of your animals so you can immediately spot needed corrections

How did you handle the liability concern?

We have a standard farm rider on our homeowner’s policy. By year’s end, we will have a company policy as a part of our incorporation process.

Do you mind sharing your promotional material?

We send out a newsletter to our customers at the beginning of the year. I have visited some restaurants and given them a few dozen free eggs. Otherwise, we have a roadside sign and rely on word of mouth. We do supply eggs to our neighbor’s 30-member CSA subscription customers for 25 weeks during the year.

What do you dislike the most and like the most?

We especially like being on the farm, working with the animals and telling visitors about our activities. If there is anything we like least, it would probably be the time it takes to clean and grade the eggs.

What groups or organizations do you belong to, and what presentations have you made?

We joined the Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture (PASA), The American Pastured Poultry Association, Chesapeake Association for Sustainable Agriculture-Future Harvest (CASA), and ACRES. We order “Small Farm Today” in additional to the organization publications. I will be speaking at the Future Harvest workshop in January 2001.

What conservation and education activities do you have on the farm?

We overseeded a 15-acre pasture with a no-till drill that we rented from the Soil and Water Conservation District. I am in the process of getting the farm organically certified by Maryland and working with the USDA-FSA and NRCS to improve the pond and creek and better understand the soil characteristics of the farm.

Are you willing to share your information?

Yes!

Do you want additional information?

For more success stories and other information, see the website: http://www.nrcs.usda.gov/technical/RESS/

Download PDF

The U.S. Department of Agriculture prohibits discrimination in all its programs and activities on the basis of race, color, national origin, gender, religion, age, disability, political beliefs, sexual orientation, and marital or family status. (Not all prohibited bases apply to all programs.) Persons with disabilities who require alternative means for communication of program information (braille, large print, audiotape, etc.) should contact USDA’s TARGET Center at (202) 720-2600 (voice and TDD).
To file a complaint of discrimination, write USDA, Director, Office of Civil Rights, room 326W, Whitten Building, 14th and Independence Avenue, SW, Washington, D.C. 20250-9410, or call (202) 720-5964 (voice and TDD). USDA is an equal opportunity provider and employer.