For the past few weeks, Chelsea and I have been surrounded by green hills and hundreds of cute, fuzzy animals. Crowing roosters kick-start each day of our picture-perfect pastoral scene here at Farm Sanctuary.
After first reading about factory farms in Eric Schlosser’s best-selling book, Fast Food Nation, I stopped eating fast food. After a few more years consuming online research, documentaries like Cowspiracy, and books about the environmental impact of traditional animal agriculture, I decided to opt out of the destructive system and stopped eating factory-farmed meat, dairy, and eggs served in restaurants or sold in grocery stores. The ultra-triathlete Rich Roll ultimately inspired me to shift to an entirely vegan lifestyle three years ago, and I haven’t looked back since.
Farm Sanctuary’s friendly rescue animals have served as reminders that I made the right choice in adopting a plant-based diet. Here are five things I wish everyone knew about the factory farms where most meat is raised…
Inquisitive Lola pig bids you farewell! (Photo credit Chelsea.)
https://www.traipsingabout.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/Farm-Sanctuary-Orland-sunrise-1.jpg10671600Dakotahttps://www.traipsingabout.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/Traipsing-About-logo-white-background-450x156.pngDakota2016-02-26 07:30:592018-09-07 13:58:53What I Wish Everyone Knew About Factory Farming
Rosy sunrises and chiming roosters have peeled my eyelids open every day this month. Northern California hills undulate into the distance out my window and the nearest town is over 10 miles away. We’re sharing our housing with three other people, and after ten years of only living with Chelsea, I’d almost forgotten the conversation starter, “hey, whose dirty dishes are these?”
Other than working on kitchen diplomacy and farmer tans, we are volunteering full-time as interns for Farm Sanctuary, a farm animal rescue and advocacy organization. While Chelsea helps the sanctuary with animal care, I’ve dedicated this month to creating videos and photographs of the animals for Farm Sanctuary to share.
Me hanging out with Maurice. (Read his story here.)
The catalyst fueling the engine of this life chapter is a desire to be of service. Since fall 2013, we’ve explored the world by bicycle and van as nomads. This month’s pause is an entirely different adventure.
Volunteering full-time is a tremendous experience I’d recommend to anyone. Our focus is helping Farm Sanctuary and a cause we believe in; taking hundreds of photos and dialing in my Lightroom editing skills is merely a bonus.
After dabbling with short stints of volunteering, we are experimenting with weaving longer-term volunteering into our travels. This is tough because many organizations require a 1-6 month commitment, not to mention there is often an application and interview process like the one Farm Sanctuary requires.
Choosing to volunteer here was easy: A visit to their New York location during our 2014 U.S. cycle tour further reinforced that a vegan lifestyle was the right path for me. Chelsea has wanted to contribute her energy to Farm Sanctuary, and I understand why when she bottle feeds a lamb and grins happily away.
My generation, Pro Suburb Haters, is polarized – we seem pulled either to the bright lights of the revamped inner-city cores or the starry night skies of the country. Community gardens flourish, DIY is hot again, and people increasingly question the food system. It may seem very Portlandia, but knowing where our food comes from is important. Few can dispute that we’re disconnected from its source.
I ignored the contradictions surrounding diet and living a “green, sustainable life” for over a decade as an adult. Riding my bike to work granted me moral license to continue old patterns. I gave myself leeway, when the reality is that 24% of global greenhouse gas emissions were caused by animal agriculture versus just 14% for transportation (all the planes, trains and cars in the world!). It took years for this to register.
Peanut gives Kat driving instructions.
The health aspect also didn’t penetrate my skull. Even while exercising daily through my 20s, my cholesterol was borderline-high. Only adopting a plant-based diet improved this and other biological markers, and I’ve never been healthier or more physically fit.
Living at Farm Sanctuary for a month makes it easy to keep my eyes open, and I’m amazed by the compassion and love the staff here show the animals. “Someone, Not Something,” is the motto around here, and all of the 300 animals have names and their own very distinct personalities and preferences.
Lola enjoys a sunset dinner after a storm.
There’s Marcia, a sweet, blind goat who likes to nuzzle (and occasionally head butt). Phoenix cow is bigger than a Buick yet congenial as a doting grandfather, and Lola pig seeks belly rubs the same way black Labs do. Most love attention, even after suffering mightily at the hands of humans prior to arriving at the sanctuary. This is a place of healing for everyone here, animals and humans alike.
In over two weeks on the sanctuary, I’ve only visited town twice (grocery runs), yet am happily at home at this sanctuary paradise. (Daily runs and mountain bike rides around Black Butte Lake’s stellar trail system across the road certainly help.) It’s mid-February, but today was as summery as an ice cream truck’s song.
Miles of empty singletrack. After two years of drought, California is finally green!
This month-long experience is ripping by and will soon be over. We’ll continue to travel, seek adventures via van or bicycle touring, and explore the world. I’m also confident that volunteering to help causes we care about will be calculated into our life’s future trajectory.
But now, I’m going back inside. I’ve gotta do my dinner dishes before I’m that roommate.
I found it impossible to avoid thinking about the source of our food while pedaling through a town in Iowa carpeted with downy feathers. The 20,000 turkeys a day killed there provide 80% of the turkey for Subway’s sandwich artists to slap into lunches. There is also no way to turn a blind eye when giant trucks packed with terrified cows buzz by on Nebraska highways, pulling into slaughterhouses while refrigerated trucks packed with meat disembark from the other side.
I’d never seen our food system up close and personal until we bicycled 4,000 miles across the U.S. last year. Not that I should be surprised: we live in a world where we are disconnected from our food and where the impact of our choices about what we eat is hidden. Starting in Montana and extending all the way to New York, a million pedal strokes took me past corn, soy and hay fields, most destined for animals in the feedlots we passed.
As part of our tour, we cranked out a 200 mile detour through the gorgeous Finger Lakes region of New York. The crystal lakes, carved by fitness-loving glaciers, feature terrain steeper than the price of a martini in Manhattan, and I worried my tongue would snag in my spokes while I panted uphill. It was all worth it. For three days, we rested in Farm Sanctuary’s picturesque red cabins and explored the property, hanging out with rescued farm animals. I didn’t write about it then, but found inspiration after watching a recent The Daily Show interview with the sanctuary’s founder, Gene Baur, about his new book, Living the Farm Sanctuary Life.
Farm Sanctuary’s goal is to “protect farm animals from cruelty, inspire change in the way society views and treats farm animals, and promote compassionate vegan living.” With supporters like Ellen DeGeneres, Alicia Silverstone, and Biz Stone (co-founder of Twitter), the farm operates three different sanctuaries (one in NY, two in CA) and is the largest refuge for farm animals in the U.S. During our visit, we stayed on site, toured the farm, heard stories about the animals and their journey there, and watched happy, bouncy creatures enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, so different from their former lives.
As Jon Stewart quipped in the interview, “It’s harder to eat meat when you know the animal’s name.” Farm Sanctuary matters because they put a face and a name to one of the billions of animals that are killed for food each year in this country. The goal is not to rescue each and every farm animal in the country. In the same way journalists focus on personal stories that are easier to connect to than overwhelming statistics (“12,000 people died today when a bomb exploded”), the farm showcases individual animals and their touching or heartbreaking stories.
For years, I found it easier to bury my head in the muck of animal feedlots rather than learn about the genesis of my food. The $4 Wendy’s lunch was my go-to in high school: two cheeseburgers, a large Frosty, and fries. Reading the books Fast Food Nation and The Omnivore’s Dilemma in college pulled back the curtain on that ugly scene and killed my cravings for fast food … but I still ate meat. I came to veganism years later through badass athletes who were crushing barriers not in spite of being vegan, but because of it. Fierce UFC fighters like Mac Danzig, ultra-marathoners like Scott Jurek, and triathletes like Rich Roll, who did incredible feats like Epic 5 (five Ironman races – 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run) in a week. Just typing that last sentence makes me tired. I figured that if they could push the limits of physicality, I could at least turn off cat videos on YouTube and learn more about being vegan.
His name is Thunder. For good reason!
The engineer in me requires data before I make a lifestyle change; I can’t just accept claims made by others. To educate myself on a vegan lifestyle, I read reams of literature and watched videos of compiled and condensed research at NutritionFacts.org that challenged my deeply ingrained beliefs about food (two that surprised me: milk doesn’t always do the body good, and that we need more fiber, not protein). Transitioning my diet intimidated me until my friend Martin demonstrated that veganism is not about perfection. Instead, he showed me a middle path for adopting this change: rather than jumping in 100% overnight and disavowing all animal products, over the span of a year I cut out dairy milk, then pork and beef, and then all the rest of it in quick succession once I realized how healthy I felt. My persistently congested sinuses cleared, a lingering twinge in my knee finally went away, and I was pushing ever harder on the bike rides and trail runs I enjoy so much.
My path initially revolved around my personal health, not animal welfare. Once I cut out animal products, a strange thing happened – the walls I’d built to distance myself from the truth about using animals for food started to break down. I felt fit and strong, our friends were supporting our decisions without judgment, and restaurants provided amazing food catering to our requests. The final push to being an ethical as well as a dietary vegan was exposure to animal agriculture as we traversed the country on our bikes. The nose-curdling stench of feedlots, the glare of veal crates baking in the sun on dairy farms (I learned they take all the male calves away at birth), dropped a deep anchor of resolve within me to stick to a vegan lifestyle.
As Gene says, “this lifestyle is not about deprivation, it’s about living inspired.” Change is hard, and intentional inquest creates questions and doubt. However, unlike politics, where pivoting your stance on a topic ousts you from office as fast as sleeping with hookers, we regular folk can take in new information and update our beliefs without penalties, casting an important vote with our purchasing decisions. Why do you think there are so many plant-based alternatives out there these days? Consumer demand! You wouldn’t run the same operating system on your computer for 15 years (call me out, ye Luddites out there), and what’s wrong with opening yourself to new thought patterns to update your personal OS?
The process of diving into learning about animal agriculture and its impact on our health and the environment was eye-opening. When I questioned what a “sustainable,” “humane” or “free-range” beef or egg operation meant, I learned there are inconsistencies and varying definitions. Watching documentaries like Cowspiracy or Forks Over Knives taught me about the dire environmental impacts of eating meat and the stunning health benefits of stopping.
I also discovered that tracking the money flow is a good way to see who the vested interests are in animal exploitation. The dairy industry is clearly biased when defending its practices, whereas I found it fascinating that the health insurance giant Kaiser is now recommending a plant-based diet for maximal health (the data convinced them it reduces insurance claims!). I’ve gifted friends the 30-day vegan challenge and seen them thrive. You can approach this topic from many directions, and being vegan isn’t about being perfect. It’s a process where it’s okay to dip your toe in and see how it feels.
Ducking the truth about our animal-based food system is no longer something I can do. Farm Sanctuary taught me that farm animals want (and deserve) to live just as much as our cuddly cat Oliver or your beloved Frisbee-catching dog. A pig and a Boston terrier both want to thrive and feel love, and turkeys are so friendly they’ll follow you around and sit in your lap like a first grader meeting Santa. Because we can weigh in with our cold, hard cash, we consumers don’t need the government to create this change. With so many companies thriving by selling delicious alternatives to animal products, tasty restaurants opening all the time, books like Gene’s, podcasts like vegan athlete Rich Roll’s, and websites dedicated to helping us make educated choices, it is easy to decrease our reliance on animals.
I’ve found living a vegan lifestyle to be empowering beyond anything I expected, and encourage you to take an honest look at the source of your food and make sure it aligns with your beliefs. Look behind the curtain and see what’s there and how it makes you feel. I’ve found my visit to Farm Sanctuary to be a launch pad for living a more compassionate, thoughtful life, both toward animals and humans. And that is a gift worth pedaling up all those lung-searing hills in New York.
https://www.traipsingabout.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/DSC02985.jpg13632048Dakotahttps://www.traipsingabout.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/Traipsing-About-logo-white-background-450x156.pngDakota2015-04-14 11:59:382019-06-10 16:09:06Waking Up at Farm Sanctuary
It’s easy to be disillusioned with the political process. Corruption in the news, wealthy lobbyists skulking behind every bill, and feeling like my voice doesn’t matter usually adds up to me doing zero. Well, unless you count yearly voting or clicking a couple boxes on a Change.org petition – boom, Three-Second Armchair Activism.
Which is why it was surprising to find me and Chelsea sitting across the table from our district’s state representative last week telling him what we thought. And having him not only listen, but write stuff down! Instead of a fire-breathing dragon of politics, he was just another guy. No Wizard of Oz mechanical mask, just a handshake and a smile.
We drove the hour from Portland to Salem to let lawmakers know our stance on bills for this legislative session, all related to animal welfare. The important bills to discuss were identified by the Humane Society of the U.S., and we received basic instructions beforehand. Something like, “Ok, we know you’re all quaking in your booties about meeting with your representatives. It’s going to be fine. Just speak from the heart and tell your rep/senator why this issue is important to you.”
There were a few talking points briefly discussed for each bill, but honesty about why we cared was paramount. There was no instruction about which specific bills to cover in our meetings, simply to get in there and speak from the heart.
Mapping out strategy in the Capitol Building lobby.
We met with Representative Rob Nosse and Senator Diane Rosenbaum’s office (after a brief discussion with us, the senator left to deal with the Governor Kitzhaber debacle – he resigned the next day). In quick meetings, the bills we focused on aimed to:
Ban the sale of ivory at the state level. It’s currently illegal at the federal level, but once the ivory is smuggled in, states can’t enforce it. At the current rate of poaching, an elephant is killed every 15 minutes, which means they’ll be extinct in 10 years. Plus, considering their deaths fund terrorist organizations who sell the ivory on the black market (to the tune of $7-$10 billion per year!), this one is a no-brainer.
Illegalize greyhound racing once and for all in Oregon. The last track in operation shut down in 2004, but it’s still legal here, even though 39 other states don’t allow it. It’s a horrible existence for the dogs. Hasta la vista.
Illegalize the practice of landlords requiring their tenants to devocalize their dogs (cut out vocal cords) and declaw cats (cut off tips of their paws). Apparently it’s a common practice in Oregon!?
Close a loophole for pet stores (such as Hannah the Pet Society) that use a leasing model, rather than direct sale, for their pets. Oregon has some of the toughest anti-puppy mill legislation in the country and requires pet stores to disclose where their animals come from and stops breeders from raising their animals in awful conditions, but Hannah dodges the law by leasing pets.
Continue to illegalize the hunting of cougars using packs of dogs equipped with radio collars. Here’s the process this stops: hunter sits in truck/camp. Dogs chase cougar to tree, where cougar fights (and rips dogs up) before scrambling up tree. When dogs rear up on the base of the tree, radio collars notify the hunter, who sets down beer, heads to tree, and shoots cougar. WTF? So LAME. Not just that, Oregon citizens have decisively voted this down twice before on the grounds of it being inhumane and unsporting.
During both meetings, I was struck by the piles of information lawmakers absorb daily. We were one 15-minute snippet among many in their day. Dozens upon dozens of new bills launch each year, but the bill itself is just the peak of a mountain poking out through the clouds. Getting a bill to the summit involves slogging through committee scree fields and sorting through a wall of noisy data to cast an educated vote. I can’t imagine how difficult it is to be in a representative or senator’s shoes and make informed decisions (about subjects they perhaps know nothing about) that are true not only to their own values, but the wishes of their constituents.
Visiting Oregon’s capitol building drove home the fact that real people are making decisions every day that matter. Rather than the noisy tumult of the Interwebs, sitting down as a first-time citizen lobbyist with lawmakers who decide our state’s trajectory made me feel like my voice was heard. I wasn’t a paid lobbyist or a business trying to advance my own agenda. I was there speaking out for defenseless animals who are taken advantage of every single day. It felt good to put myself out there, state what I felt and why it mattered to me, and have the people who represent me look me in the eye and listen.
We don’t have a perfect political process (by any means). It would be easy to get distracted, stick my head in the proverbial sand, sign another online petition, and let other people “sort things out”. However, as a wise person once said, you either stand for something or die for nothing. I’d rather practice the former, even when it makes me uncomfortable. I encourage you to give lobbying a shot next time an issue you care about is coming up for a vote. Call the people who represent you and make an appointment. Tell them your thoughts and why you care. It’s empowering, surprisingly fun, and an experience I won’t forget.
At the end of our meeting with Rep. Nosse, he said, “I’m a labor and jobs guy, so I don’t know much about animal welfare issues. I appreciate you coming in and bringing me up to speed.”
Thanks for a great visit, Salem. We’ll be back.
https://www.traipsingabout.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/1-IMG_0199.jpg12001600Dakotahttps://www.traipsingabout.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/Traipsing-About-logo-white-background-450x156.pngDakota2015-02-16 10:52:332015-02-16 10:52:33Tales From a First-Time Citizen Lobbyist