The USDA recently published a 160-page report on the results of their Certified Organic Production Survey (COPS). Questionnaires were sent to 9140 certified farms with an impressive 76% response rate. The bottom line? The biggest certified farms are getting bigger.
The report placed the value of organic products at $3.53 billion with 10% of farms generating 70% of sales. A total of 8 mega-dairies in Texas produce 15% of the nation's milk supply - more than the 465 dairies in New York, Vermont and Maine combined and 50% more than the 397 dairies in Wisconsin.
143 certified organic farms produced nearly 20 million broilers in 2011. 60% of those sales come from only 9 farms in California.
In egg production, 375 certified organic layer farms had sales exceeding $275, 000,000. Missouri ranked second with only 7 layer operations while Indiana ranked fifth with only four. [Blank spots in the numbers obscure the examples of extreme concentration in the state of Michigan].
It only takes a trip to the grocery store to see California's 60% domination of the organic vegetable and fruit market. If you add Arizona, Oregon and Washington it represents 4/5 of all the organic vegetables grown in the United States. The only state east of the Mississippi that comes close to approaching the production of these western states is Florida, with New York a distant second. California and Washington state combined produce 90% of the national organic fruit market.
So what does this story tell? To me, it says that there is a lot of monoculture going on. Organic "inputs" are being substituted but we're still contributing to loss of soil, water and diversity - in other words, the natural resource base on which life on earth depends.
What's the moral of this story? Get busy producing, preserving and purchasing local food from small, diversified farms with closed loop systems. "Industrial organic" is there to serve in the interim and as an entry point for newbies. But it is part of the journey, not the destination. It can never measure up to the quality, flavor and connection ensouled in consciously-raised local food. I purposely avoided the o-word (organic) here because I believe that inputs purchased from conscious local vendors are preferable to outsourced organic inputs. It's the "slow food" way of growing the infrastructure necessary for a sustainable, local food economy and an incremental move in the right direction that keeps pace with consumer education, rising fuel costs and demand.
Organic certification and outsourced food will never out-perform local food's biggest output: connection. This is where the power to restore land, health and community lives.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Acres USA & a Cup of Coffee
Acres USA and a cup of coffee always get me going. In the November 2012 issue I read that according to the 2007 census, (the 2012 census won't be out until 2014) the number of farms in the U.S. in
the 1-9 acre and 1-49 acre categories grew by 53,000 and 56,000 respectively
since 2002. In spite of the slow economy, America’s Farmers
Markets have been growing by nearly 10% in the past year alone. With access to these markets,
small farmers are opting out of relying on unpredictable commodity prices that may
not offset expenses. If we’ve learned anything, it’s that sustainable
and transparent pricing and practices go hand in hand.
The USDA defines a small farm as one grossing under $250,000
per year. Because farms are defined in terms of income, growing one’s own food isn’t
included in these statistics. Yet increasing numbers of people are trading in
the treadmill for a rural lifestyle and a chance at self-sufficiency.
The Smart Growth movement has much to say about what urban
areas will look like but is rather silent about those places in between. In Whatcom County, Washington, the very same folks who support CSA’s are imposing assaults and limitations on rural areas. In
urban-centric circles, rural life is just another word for sprawl. And large-scale
farming is preferable because it doesn’t intrude on the view shed. Yet large scale farming of monoculture crops are detrimental to healthy soil life and the watershed.
It seems as if the back-to-the-land and Smart Growth
movements are in conflict with each other. One group strives for land-based
economics while the other seeks to preserve ‘open space’ that can be observed
and admired from afar. This is preservation of
views, not farmland.
39% of the nation’s small farms are smaller than 49 acres. An
unknown percentage of families supplement their incomes by producing and
consuming several thousands of dollars worth of farm products each year. Small
scale farming within a few miles of a city can perform an important task in the
overall preservation of agriculture by providing a buffer between city
residents and the nuisances of larger-scale farms and by providing a wide
variety of specialty foods to those residents.
In Whatcom County and others like it, high land prices for
smaller parcels, a stagnant economy, and lending restrictions are taking their
toll. The idea that large farms have always dominated the country is a modern
artifice. And if urban areas get too populated, residents will look to areas
outside the city to call home.
What might Rural Smart Growth look like? Simon Fairlie, an
author and farmer paints a picture in his essay; “Can Britain feed itself?” Fairlie proposes that re-ruralization
would free up space for market gardens inside or on the periphery of cities and
reconnect city dwellers with their food. It would break up large mechanized
farms into small farms and hamlets and result in more people working from home.
Polycultural income streams from land-based enterprises would link local needs
with local resources. Landscapes
would look like mosaics and provide employment.
Using a basic diet, Fairlie compared Chemical Ag with and without livestock with Organic Ag with and without livestock and Permaculture with and without livestock on 100 acres. Chemical Ag without livestock fed the most people - 20 - but at what cost to the environment and health? Organic Ag and Permaculture were about equal with feeding 8 because of the need for cover crops, fallow fields, fodder and pastures. However 100 acres of Permaculture-based Ag provided food, textiles for clothing, animal feed, fuel for tractors, heating fuel and timber for the home. With all of these land-based enterprises providing for all these needs, the countryside would become more, not less populated and provide employment. This is Rural Smart Growth.
But will people even want this type of employment? There seems to be a disdain for farmers and employment that requires physical labor. This is rather odd when you consider how much money and time is spent at gyms. Think of all those calories being burned without accomplishing anything productive whatsoever! Personally, I think there are worse occupations one could choose than a land-based enterprise that works in cooperation with nature and contributes to community resilience.
Using a basic diet, Fairlie compared Chemical Ag with and without livestock with Organic Ag with and without livestock and Permaculture with and without livestock on 100 acres. Chemical Ag without livestock fed the most people - 20 - but at what cost to the environment and health? Organic Ag and Permaculture were about equal with feeding 8 because of the need for cover crops, fallow fields, fodder and pastures. However 100 acres of Permaculture-based Ag provided food, textiles for clothing, animal feed, fuel for tractors, heating fuel and timber for the home. With all of these land-based enterprises providing for all these needs, the countryside would become more, not less populated and provide employment. This is Rural Smart Growth.
But will people even want this type of employment? There seems to be a disdain for farmers and employment that requires physical labor. This is rather odd when you consider how much money and time is spent at gyms. Think of all those calories being burned without accomplishing anything productive whatsoever! Personally, I think there are worse occupations one could choose than a land-based enterprise that works in cooperation with nature and contributes to community resilience.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
The Pig Whisperer
It’s the Friday before New Year’s Eve. It was just another day at the salon - unless your salon happens to be part of a compound that includes your home and one other unlikely partner: a farm. I’ve had a good day in the salon.
I was precisely placing caramel highlights to offset the graceful graying of the corkscrewed curly-Q’s streaming down my client's back. My son was on winter break, quietly noodling on the IPhone he inherited from the fortuitous timing of Christmas and an upgrade. I’m grateful to Santa for earphones and the bi-fold doors that separate our worlds. Avery was raised on the other side of the Great Divide between my work and a home that gracious folks would call ‘lived in’. At 14 he hasn’t outgrown interupting me for lame reasons, typically met with “The Look”. I was almost done for the day when the bi-fold doors creaked opened. As I prepared to muster said ‘look’ I was met with another that said ‘something’s wrong’. Pointing towards something just outside the picture window, I saw three not-so-little pigs. I huffed and puffed and issued stealth orders to call his Dad and track their whereabouts until I was done.
Collecting myself, I went back to corkscrewed curly-Q’s I could deal with. My client chuckled at yet another indication that this was not your typical salon. Shortly thereafter I was back in ‘the zone’ – that happy place uninhabited by pigs, teenagers or anything else in the world but me and my creativity. Once the caramel highlights had receded down the driveway, I scurried off to find my son, grabbing a bag of small red potatoes. I found Avery and the 3 escapees at the top of the hill on a treeless plateau formerly used for a large garden.
Surprisingly, the pigs weren’t interested in food, perfectly happy to nose-plow virgin territory. We tried to curtail their wandering into the thick surrounding woods by using long dead tree branches, a bad imitation of what we’d seen 4H kids do. My great idea? To rope them. This was squelched by Avery’s lampooning of me being garden-plowed behind a 400 lb. runaway pig.
Finally we coaxed them onto a two-track encircling the garden that led downhill towards the barn. As I got ahead of them an inspiration came. Picture the scene in “Funny Girl” where Fanny Brice lets it rip at the helm of a New York harbor ferry, only nix Babs and insert me belting “SOOEEEYY!" at the helm of a muddy two-track.
Miraculously, the pigs started following me. I pied-pipered them all the way down the hill, through the narrow doorway of the lower barn and into a stall, Avery bringing up the rear. Was it luck, will power or my inner Streisand? Or was it the curious fashion-pairing of muddy Sorrells and a magenta cashmere skirt? All I know is that by the end of it, aggravation subsided into the satisfaction of manipulating three more wayward corkscrewed curly-ques back into place.
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