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Why do you make eating meat a priority? Here's my origin story.

written by

Michelle Sroka

posted on

June 1, 2026

Let’s set the scene: late 2014, in Durham, eating at a now-defunct farm-to-table restaurant. 

I was heavily pregnant with our first child. In fact, I’d be giving birth in just about a week. And for the entirety of our relationship, Joe had known me as a vegetarian. And a pretty firm one, too. I’d yet to find a meat-based meal that seemed tempting. 

But somehow, when the waitress arrived to take our orders, something instinctive within me prompted me to say: “I’ll have the chicken sausage and gravy biscuit, please.” Joe nearly fell out of his chair in shock. 

That something instinctive in me was my body reacting to a problem I already knew about: struggles with anemia, particularly during my pregnancy. My body spoke up to let me know what it needed. (And it took many years to heal the nutritional deficiencies I’d developed.) 

So, just like that, I started eating meat again. But I faced a dilemma. 

How could I put aside the things that had made me give up eating meat - the concerns about animal welfare, the desire to not support CAFO operations, the belief that agriculture should support and nourish the land - while also getting the nutrients I needed? 

This is an important part of our farm origin story. We learned that eating meat was essential to a healthy diet for us. But we didn’t want to set aside our values. So we started raising meat that could meet those values. 

And the place that we started is still the heart of our farm: non-GMO, pasture-raised chicken. 

We started a few years after that dinner in Durham with one mobile shelter of chickens. Our friend Dustin helped us build the shelter and taught us how to move the birds every morning to fresh pasture. 

We pulled the shelter across the pasture every morning for eight weeks. And then, Dustin came over and taught us how to butcher the birds, humanely and efficiently. That first time, it probably took us eight hours to process 50 birds. (We now do 300 birds, whole birds and parts, in about four hours.) 

And this was surprising, too. I thought I would find it disturbing to participate in butchering our chickens. I thought that it would bother me to kill animals that I’d worked so hard to raise. 

But I’ve actually found that I am quite comfortable with butchering our own chickens, because we’ve invested so much in giving them a good life. I can truly know that our chickens only have one bad day. I know that we use the most humane methods to minimize pain and suffering. 

And I also know that eating this meat is a healthy part of our diet, and that the life we offer our chickens is better than the life any chickens in a barn would experience. 

We started our journey into eating meat again with chickens. And it’s still the meat that I recommend to our customers who are starting to eat our food. 

Chickens who are raised on pasture produce meat that’s unlike what you’ll find in the grocery store, or at least from birds who have spent their days confined in a chicken house. 

It’s not just the nutritional differences - that pasture-raised chickens have higher vitamins and minerals for you in their meat. 

It’s also that being outdoors, getting sunshine, exercising, and foraging for bugs, produces meat that’s flavorful, juicy, and has great texture. 

And because we still commit to processing our own chickens, we ensure that we’re staying true to our values. Our chickens have a healthy life and a humane death. 

We hire a small group of local workers, and pay them well, so that we can support the community that we live in. We’ve grown close with those workers over the years, even having Thanksgiving dinners together and attending graduations for their kids. 

And we remember, every month, why we do this, and where we started. 

We’ll be processing chickens again in just a few weeks. And it will be a special opportunity to order fresh chickens for pick-up on June 20, the day we process. 

It’s an excellent way to get more connected to the food you’re consuming - to pick up fresh chicken that’s been butchered that day, on the very farm you’re picking up from. It doesn’t get much more connected to your farm, and farmer, than that. 

Pre-orders for fresh chickens open on June 8. Be on the lookout for the order link in our newsletters. 

More from the blog

Can we care about animals - and still raise them for food?

I probably spend the most time with the pigs on our farm. Part of this is practical: since pigs can’t sweat, we spray them down twice a day to help them wallow in the mud and stay cool.  But part of it is emotional, too. I enjoy being around the pigs. When there’s a lot on my mind, or I’ve spent too much time on the computer and need to get outside, wandering over to that week’s pig paddock is one of the ways I can clear my mind.  Pigs are highly emotive and responsive. When I spray them down with the hose, they like to sit back on their haunches, prick back their ears, and snap playfully at the water as it showers down on them. And then joyfully roll around in the mud afterward, of course.  But they’re responsive to humans in general, too. They are naturally curious and, in the case of our heritage breed Red Wattles, gentle. They’ll come up and sniff you, rub their mud-streaked bellies over you, and let you scratch their ears.  And maybe this is the part where you start to wonder: But aren’t you raising them for food?  Why would you want an emotional connection to an animal that you are raising for food?  I understand where this question is coming from. I was a vegetarian for nearly a decade because I didn’t like the thought of killing animals, especially within the framework of our industrial food system.  But actually, it isn’t a problem or moral quandary for me. Yes, we grow fond of and attached to our animals, including our pigs.  Yes, we still send them to the butcher or process them on our farm for food. And yes, this still makes sense to me.  I would gently suggest that the idea that we shouldn’t have any emotional connection to our food - that we can only eat meat that comes from animals we withhold our emotions or affection from - is a sign of our disconnection to the way food is grown.  That is, after all, one of the premises of industrial agriculture. Designate animals with one sole purpose - “becoming food” - and then shut them away in buildings, cramped quarters, or far away from humans who might interact with them beyond the farmer.  And the farmer, too, should be as disconnected as possible. After all, this is an efficient machine.  The problem, from a regenerative perspective, is that growing food is never just about growing food. Food is the gift you receive at the end of your work, but it’s the work itself - and the consequences of the work beyond the food - that is the point.  The work, on our farm, is caring for the land. That means working alongside animals to nurture native plants, clear forest areas to make existing trees healthier, and create habitats for birds, pollinators, and wildlife.  And that means becoming attentive and thoughtful - to animals and to the land. Watching, learning, and yes, developing bonds with the habitats you’re nurturing and the animals that are helping you do so.  Is it sad to load up animals and take them to the butcher at the end of the season? Yes, it often can be. But I don’t feel guilty about it. I know that we’ve given them the best life possible, and that we’ve partnered with them to leave our farm better than we found it each year.  And if that doesn’t make sense, that’s okay. I’m not saying that everyone has to agree with me. I’d simply like to advocate for a way of farming and consuming meat that includes this experience - one of affection and bonding between animals and humans.  After all, this is one of the many ways we try to do things differently on our farm. We don’t want to just provide you with food that meets your standards - non-GMO, no vaccines, no antibiotics, grass-fed and pasture-raised.  We also want to help you reconnect with that food. And part of that is knowing the animals, hearing stories about them, and yes, maybe even having an emotional connection with them, despite the end goal of providing meat to you.