# data[].attributes.body
My piece 'i only love some.' is an episodic piece of work that changes focus drastically throughout in order to give the audience a full rounded understanding of animal rights and vegan activism. The piece has been created using a 50/50 mix of didactic teaching and democratic collaborative choreographic techniques that I have been learning about over the course of our module.

# data[].attributes.body
I wanted my piece to open with the voice of the animals front and centre. My vision was something angry and aggressive yet surrounded by an aura of exhaustion. I decided to go about creating this atmosphere by developing a rough outline of choreography that gives the dancers the freedom to adapt everything to their own style. (Process 2 of Jo Butterworth's Didactic / Democratic spectrum model) I learnt while doing work placement with YDance that dancers will perform movement with more conviction if it's something they've created or is catered specifically to their movement style. This inspired me to give my dancers as much freedom with the movement I gave them as they wanted, only giving them the instruction of a certain emotional quality; anger. As we developed this section we never changed much of the movement itself, but instead developed our emotional connection to the piece and the textures and movement quality needed to accurately convey the message.

# data[].attributes.body
I started off this section by creating a skeleton of formations to the song I had selected however the movement itself was created democratically with the dancers. I decided to adopt Emanuel Gat's philosophy when it comes to allowing the piece to come together naturally and not entering the rehearsal room with any expectations. This section represented our human relationships with different species of animal and the question of who's allowed the right to live and who isn't; addressing the larger issue of speciesism. The three duets along with most of the content was created using Wayne McGregor's 'What if?' method, fairly quickly becoming set movement. I enjoyed using 'what if?' to develop duets but also had fun saying "what if" to the full fast. Examples being "what if we ran forward and reached towards the audience?" and "what if we all slowly looked at our hands?".

# data[].attributes.body
This section I started first as I knew I wanted it to be sharp and precise; the most didactically taught out of all my sections and played to my strengths of creating unique gestural and rhythmical movement. I selected two dancers who I knew where suited to my movement style and had good chemistry with each other. This section took a deep dive into what it's like to be an animal rights activist in the 21st century; fighting and arguing for a better world only to be met with ridicule and apathy. The feeling of being 'miniscule' now being placed onto the activists and not only the animals themselves. The two dancers aggressively dance circles around each other, created in a way that looks as if they are trying awkwardly to dance with one another but either failing or avoiding it all together.

# data[].attributes.body
This section was the most democratic in terms of the creative process, using Emanuel Gat's task based methodology and Merce Cunningham's chance technique. The purpose the section being to show the bleak and awful reality for animals who are subjected to the agriculture industry. I gave my dancers two images as well as lines from a speech performed by animal activist Gary Yourofsky to create movement with. This movement was then developed into duets and trios, later creating a random order for these sections without hearing the music. I instructed the dancers to play around with their speeds during different movements as they wish before playing the song and watching what happens. Many moments were created using this method such as the whole thing ending slightly early, leaving one dancer on stage for a prolonged time.

# data[].attributes.body
For this section I explored absurdism to create the feeling of childlike innocence and optimism, giving my dancers situational concepts to act out and play with. Allowing my dancers to do whatever they wished with my instructions meant they could be as silly as they wanted and ignore any boundaries that may be present when creating dance specific movement. Creating in this way was extremely effective in cultivating a childish, innocent atmosphere that surrounded the story of a young person forming a deep emotional attachment to a fish. My goal as the choreographer is that the final section would reignite the audience's childlike love and admiration for animals, asking them if empathy towards even the most "insignificant" is possible.

# data[].attributes.body
The first full run through we were missing two people and the full thing very much appeared like an underdeveloped skeleton for something much larger. I left thinking about how I could draw out it's potential.

# data[].attributes.body
I created a hip hop adjacent sequence for the last section of the opening, feeling that a moment of all the dancers moving aggressively in usison would add to the overall message.

# data[].attributes.body
We started to work on our personal intention when performing this piece, delving into a more democratic process for rehearsals that included an element of chance, asking the dancers to experiment with textures.

# data[].attributes.body
The first draft of this section having placed the duets created using 'what if?', and the solos about animals and pets the dancers cared about into a rough skeleton idea. The first basic idea created through playing and experimenting, with lots of areas for development.

# data[].attributes.body
This rehearsal we focused on developing the duets. I added some extra content to fill out the time and tried to highlight my favourite moments from what my dancers created. I also aimed to get the dancers more comfortable with the movement.

# data[].attributes.body
There where not many changes in this rehearsal as we focused on introducing a new dancer into the section. I was happy with the content, but saw that there were moments that needed more focus on details and dedication to the long held moments to avoid gaps.

# data[].attributes.body
Cleaning and practicing what we had done previously.

# data[].attributes.body
First practice of the second half.

# data[].attributes.body
Cleaning and working on energy and technique.

# data[].attributes.body
Completed in one rehearsal. Wanted to try the idea of giving the dancer creative freedom with the sections, giving them permission to be as absurd as they wish.

# data[].attributes.headline
Solo created form a section of the speech

# data[].attributes.subject
Solo created form a section of the speech

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Reality of the Animal (task based solo 1)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Reality of the Animal (task one developed into duets)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Reality of the Animal (gestures to support task 1)

# data[].attributes.body
Image of pig in a gas chamber (most common form of pig slaughter in the uk). Asked the dancers to create movement based on emotion from the image drawn from the image.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Reality of the Animal (Task 2 using images)

# data[].attributes.body
Image of chickens in lage farm. I asked the dancers to think about colour, claustrophobia and neglect when creating gestures.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Gary Yourofsky - The Most Important Speech You Will Ever Hear

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Reality of the Animal (task 2 developed into trio)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Reality of the Animal (task 1 and 2 developed into longer solo)

# data[].attributes.body
Putting all the content together.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Reality of the Animal (Full First Draft)

# data[].attributes.body
We developed a lot of our transitions, textures and storyline for the final piece. There are many differences between this version and the final videos for each section. The dancers seem more dedicated to the movement and the message reads much better.

# data[].attributes.body
Each song was picked to accurately represent each section. I specifically picked songs that where very different from each other, purposely avoiding coherency. The emotional reaction that I wanted to arise from the audience helped me pick the song; whether it was to grab attention, convey anger, peace, or soul crushing hopelessness. The music and the movement is supposed to take the audience through a journey of smaller stories instead of a long singular event.

# data[].attributes.body
I've done a lot of learning and looking into the popular practices within the animal agriculture industry. The ones I've focused on within my piece and tried to convey through movement is the violent separation from mother dairy cows and their calves in the dairy industry, the treatment of male chicks in the egg industry and the cramped conditions they are kept in alongside the popular practice of gas chambers to slaughter pigs which causes them to rip their own legs off and suffocate to death.

I also did a lot of investigating into to the human attachment to our pets and how that compares to how we see other species of animal. This learning was done through conversations with my peers.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
New undercover footage showing British pigs being gassed prior to slaughter has led to renewed calls to investigate the use of CO ₂.

Campaigners say the pictures - the first of their kind to be obtained in a UK abattoir - show the "utterly inhumane" nature of using CO ₂ to stun pigs before being killed. But the pork industry says its use is recognised as the most welfare-friendly method available, and says alternatives are being sought.

The images published today were obtained, say campaigners, using hidden cameras at Pilgrim's Pride abattoir in Ashton-under-Lyne in north-west England in February 2021. They show pigs in groups of five or six being mechanically herded into a cage and then lowered into a Butina gas chamber in a ferris wheel-like system.

The pigs appear to be in distress as the gas concentration increases, with one still kicking after more than three minutes.

"The pigs in the video react to the first inhalation of carbon dioxide with fear and obvious discomfort," said Donald Broom, an animal welfare professor at the University of Cambridge. "They try to escape but cannot. The gasping can be seen in all pigs where the mouth is visible. Gasping indicates poor welfare. The period of poor welfare continues until the pig loses consciousness."

Paul Roger, a vet and founder member of the Animal Welfare Science, Ethics and Law Veterinary Association, said some pigs appeared to start waking from the gas prior to slaughter. "If this is the way animals are treated in this plant, they're not being handled humanely. It's an unacceptable way to treat any animal, and that really concerns me."

Animal activist Joey Carbstrong, who captured the footage for the film Pignorant, said that the continued use of CO ₂ arises from the favouring of corporate profit over the interests of the animals. "We urgently need to stop using animals as resources because this kind of horror show is the result."

Pilgrim's UK, formerly known as Tulip, is a division of Pilgrim's Pride Corporation, which is owned by JBS, the Brazilian-owned meat producer. Its animal welfare policy states: "At Pilgrim's UK it is essential that all pigs are treated humanely throughout their lives and that the pig's welfare is always at the forefront of everything we do." It confirms that all Pilgrim's pigs are stunned using CO ₂.

A Pilgrim's Pride spokesperson said: "There is nothing to identify that this is our site, and it would be inappropriate for us to comment on that basis. Furthermore, the Food Standards Agency is legally required to be present at all sites and would routinely review any footage taken from an abattoir to ensure animals are treated humanely, and we have had no issues raised in the timeframe you have provided."

In 2003, a government advisory body, the Farm Animal Welfare Council, said that CO ₂ stunning/killing "is not acceptable and we wish to see it phased out in five years". However, its use has instead increased to 88% of all pigs in 2022.

A new scientific opinion by the European Food Safety Authority published in June 2020 stated: "Exposure to CO ₂ at high concentrations is considered a serious welfare concern by the panel because it is highly aversive and causes pain, fear and respiratory distress."

Defra recently funded research into low atmospheric pressure stunning (Laps) as a potential alternative. The results showed it does not offer a humane alternative, and a 2021 Defra report into the welfare of animals at slaughter stated: "There has been no willingness on the part of abattoirs to explore inert gas mixture stunning commercially because of extended dwell time and therefore reduced throughput."

Lizzie Wilson, CEO of the National Pig Association (NPA), said: "While we acknowledge gas stunning isn't perfect, it is the best, most humane and efficacious commercially available option, and often the most reliable slaughter method for ensuring consistency.

skip past newsletter promotion
The planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essential
Privacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.
after newsletter promotion

"In addition, CO ₂ gas stunning of pigs does provide some welfare benefits; there is reduced risk of potential human error, animals remain in groups, and modern gas systems enable improved handling of pigs through use of automatic gates, which reduces the need for staff intervention and stress."

The NPA said it organised a summit last year along with the National Farmers' Union and British Meat Processors Association to discuss alternative gas mixtures, but concluded that there was no other viable system available. Dr Alice Brough said: "Non-aversive gases like argon or helium do offer potential alternatives, but they're more expensive, and there's no financial incentive for the meat industry to change their systems."

Veterinary manager Prof Jill Thompson said: "Every effort should be made to progress towards using less aversive gasses that do not generate such reactions. This would involve changes to infrastructure in slaughter plants and would be more costly, but I believe that society would support a slight increase in the cost of products if it enabled a more peaceful stunning process for pigs."

Peter Stevenson, head of policy at Compassion in World Farming, said: "I call on the government to ban the use of high levels of CO ₂ from 2026, thereby forcing the industry to belatedly invest in developing a slaughter method that is genuinely humane."

A government spokesperson said: "The government is committed to the highest standards of animal welfare, including when animals are slaughtered or killed. We recognise there are concerns over the use of high-concentration carbon-dioxide to stun pigs, and will continue to look for viable alternatives based on the latest evidence on this issue."

You can send us your stories and thoughts at animalsfarmed@theguardian.com

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Suffering of gassed pigs laid bare in undercover footage from UK abattoir

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Hidden camera at slaughterhouse appears to show 'utterly inhumane' use of CO 2 to stun pigs before slaughter

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
This story is part of a group of stories called

Finding the best ways to do good.

For every new egg-laying hen born into today's factory farming system, a male chick is killed - or "culled." As many as 300 million chicks are killed in the United States every year, and more than 6 billion total are killed around the world.

It's a disturbing and wasteful practice, and it has its roots in the warped economics of chicken production.

Most chicken meat comes from "broiler" chickens, bred to grow unnaturally big and fast. That is not the case with egg-laying hens, which have been bred to put all their energy toward laying. Consequently, when their egg output begins to wane, they have so little meat on them that they often don't enter the human food supply and are instead used as pet food, feed for other factory-farmed animals, or simply "landfilled." This is why egg producers cull male chicks: The males from the leaner breeds used in egg production cost more to feed and house than they would ever sell for as meat, so they're economically useless to the industry.

Animal welfare activists have been lobbying against male chick culling for decades, chronicling cute and fuzzy day-old chicks who are gassed or macerated. The thing is, the industry doesn't like the practice either - it's inefficient and wasteful, even before accounting for the bad PR. The alternative would be to develop in-ovo sexing technology - technology that can determine the sex of a chicken before it hatches -stopping the incubation process for males before they even come out of their shells and eliminating the need for a wasteful culling operation.

In 2016, the United Egg Producers (UEP), a lobbying group for the egg industry, announced that it was hoping to fund the development of such technology and committed to ending male chick cullingby 2020.

It was big news. Vox even referred to it as " the best news for America's animals in decades." But 2020 came and went, and chick culling continues unabated.

In July 2020, the UEP put out a statement saying it was still looking for "an economically feasible, commercially viable alternative to the practice of male chick culling at hatcheries." It added, "We believe this goal is achievable with time and research," but it didn't offer a new timeline for the goal or elaborate on what issues still had to be worked out.

USPoultry - an umbrella organization representing various egg and poultry trade groups, including the UEP - has put roughly $100,000 toward research grants for startups and researchers looking to end chick culling. Other than that, the egg industry has not made any additional support for this project public, and the UEP would not answer questions outside of its statements.

Meanwhile, in Europe, two companies are already sexing chicks in their shells and selling limited quantities of no-cull eggs in grocery stores in Germany, France, the Netherlands, and other European countries. So what's taking the United States so long?

The problem is the technology

There are roughly 336 million laying hens in the United States. For in-ovo sexing to stop the bulk of male chick culling, it likely would need to be able to sex close to a billion eggs per year (taking into account unfertilized eggs and male chicks).

But despite the fact that people have been speaking out about it for decades, there still isn't a viable way to humanely avoid chick culling at the scale the industry requires.

The Humane League (THL), a nonprofit that lobbies corporations to make animal welfare changes, was involved in getting the UEP to promise an end to chick culling back in 2016. David Coman-Hidy, THL's president, says that he doesn't see any evidence that the US egg industry is dragging its feet.

However, he does acknowledge there's certainly a history of the agriculture industry saying better animal welfare - like phasing out the use of battery cages in the egg industry or gestation crates in the pork industry - wouldn't be commercially viable until consumers and corporations demanded it.

"The difference here is that this is actually a technological problem," Coman-Hidy says. "We don't need to develop the technology of 'don't put hens in battery cages.' That technology exists. It's called a barn. But sexing these eggs at a really young age is complicated."

To see just how complicated it is, it helps to understand how the technologies already in use in Europe work and why their shortcomings make them a nonstarter for US egg producers and animal welfare activists.

The European companies selling no-cull eggs in local supermarkets - Agri Advanced Technologies (Agri-AT) and Respeggt GmbH - use different approaches to address the same problem.

Respeggt-branded eggs use an endocrinological gender identification technology that's somewhat similar to a human pregnancy test. Eight to 10 days after incubation, a machine takes a sample of liquid from each fertilized egg and looks for the presence of a female hormone by looking for a color-changing reaction. Male eggs are then used for animal feed and the females continue toward hatching.

All the eggs produced by hens sexed with this technology are sold under the Respeggt brand, free from chick culling. It can currently test one egg per second or at most 31.5 million eggs per year (if run continuously). According to Kristin Höller, Respeggt's head of business development and global affairs, by the time the cost is passed on to consumers, they've seen an increase of about 1 to 2 cents per egg. They have not yet tried to sell the technology to the US egg industry but, even if they did, the volume it can handle is currently too low for this technology to be used to get rid of chick culling across the board.

The other company, Agri-AT, tests eggs using hyperspectral measurement that essentially scans the colors inside the egg. This method is much faster than Respeggt's: Its machine can sex 20,000 eggs per hour or at most 175.2 million a year (if run continuously). But a big drawback is that it only works on brown-egg-laying chicken breeds where male and female chicks are different colors when they hatch. Since most egg-laying hens in the US only lay white eggs, Agri-AT's technology can't be used at scale here.

Jörg Hurlin, managing director at Agri-AT, said that they don't yet know how much their technology would cost the consumer, though it will certainly add to the cost of eggs.

One issue that complicates these efforts is the difficult-to-answer question of when an embryo becomes a chick. Some researchers say day seven is when chick embryos can begin to experience pain. If that's right, sexing the eggs eight to 10 days after incubation as Respeggt does, and 14 days as Agri-AT does, may still end up inflicting pain on the embryo, which could be trading one animal welfare problem - culling - for another. (However, Agri-AT did develop another machine they call "STUNNY" that uses electricity to anesthetize the eggs, eliminating any potential pain in stopping their development.)

The embryo problem is one that the Foundation for Food and Agriculture Research (FFAR), a US-based agricultural research organization, is attempting to address. FFAR is sponsoring something called the Egg-Tech prize, which will award up to $6 million to researchers producing promising methods of ending chick culling. The group is hoping for a technology that can be used at scale and implemented before day eight of incubation, at which point there's evidence the chicks experience sensation.

There's one other technological solution being pursued that's worth noting here. At the University of Georgia, Kristen Navara has been researching the potential of finding a way to control and change the sex of chicks before they even hatch.

In chickens, the hen controls whether the resulting chick is male or female. Using hormonal treatments, Navara can change the sex of an egg. Because the Food and Drug Administration bans the poultry industry from using hormones, Navara explains, the hope is that knowing what pathways those hormones operate on might allow her to find and manipulate a gene that could, for example, permanently make all laying-breed chicks female.

If it works, it could be an even more economical option than in-ovo sexing. Not only would chick culling end but hatcheries wouldn't "lose" half of all fertilized eggs that would have hatched into males.

All in all, the picture that's emerging on egg-culling is one of promising innovation - and a recognition that progress has been much too slow.

Another way to end chick culling: Raise other chicken breeds

In-ovo sexing might be the solution to end chick culling that's gotten the most attention from the egg industry, but it's not the only one. Hatcheries could also go back to how chickens were bred pre-factory farming - which would do away with culling, period.

Until the early 1900s, farmers didn't worry too much over whether their chickens were male or female. Hens were raised as egg layers while the roosters were the first ones to become Sunday dinner. Some breeds were slightly more suited to one purpose over the other, but did both reasonably well.

So-called "dual-production" breeds like the Rhode Island Red could lay 250-300 eggs per year (a huge improvement over the average chicken's 80 eggs) and after five months the 6- to 8-pound males could be sold for meat. At the beginning of the 20th century, the birds were considered a marvel.

Then the poultry industry changed. Up through the 1930s, raising chickens tended to happen on small farms mostly run by women. What we have now would be unrecognizable to those farmers: highly specialized and mechanized factory-style farms with chicken breeds that do one thing or the other very well.

Today, broiler chickens - the ones raised for meat - are slaughtered at just seven weeks old, having already reached 6.5 pounds; high-production egg layers produce about 300 eggs each per year. This has made poultry production extremely efficient, but at the cost of animal welfare. Factory-farmed meat chickens suffer chronic pain and have a lot of joint and movement problems, while most egg layers live out their lives in small cages, are unable to express natural behaviors like nesting, and can suffer from bone weakness and breakage.

"The [egg industry's] hope is to get a cheap sexing alternative and continue on this crazy route of having two completely different birds for different purposes," says Mahi Klosterhalfen, CEO of the Albert Schweitzer Foundation, which focuses on farm animal welfare issues in Germany. While he, too, wants to see the end of chick culling, Klosterhalfen would rather see farmers return to the dual-purpose breeds of the past.

"The laying hens wouldn't have such extreme numbers of eggs they have to lay and broilers wouldn't grow so fast they can't move around after a couple of weeks," he says.

This would make all chicken products considerably more expensive than they are today (chicken is really cheap, though, so even if it got more expensive it still likely wouldn't be pricier than even the least expensive cuts of beef or pork).

But if a return to a pastoral era of raising chickens seems implausible, the practice of male chick culling continues to be a moral problem. Six billion chicks gassed or macerateda year is a lot.

And for all its horribleness, culling has received surprisingly little public attention. When the UEP announced in 2016 they were going to stop the practice, consumers were shocked to hear that the practice existed at all. "We started getting calls from reporters immediately asking if it was true that [the egg industry] did this," the Humane League's Coman-Hidy says. "It's one of the most grotesque corners of factory farming."

Between the financial motivation and the specter of public attention turning to this issue again, he believes in-ovo sexing will happen as soon as technically possible. He may be right. But while the technology to fix the problem may be coming soon, the broader questions that chick culling raises - what we're willing to do to animals in the name of low prices; what we're willing to do to animals, period - still loom before us.
Tove K. Danovich is a writer based in Portland, Oregon. Her work has appeared in the Ringer, Eater, and the New York Times, among other outlets.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Why the US egg industry is still killing 300 million chicks a year

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Finding the best ways to do good. For every new egg-laying hen born into today's factory farming system, a male chick is killed - or "culled." As many as 300 million chicks are killed in the United States every year, and more than 6 billion total are killed around the world.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.provider_name
Surge | Creative Non-Profit for Animal Rights

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
When a calf is taken from their mother, who steps in to care for them? Former dairy farmer Jackie Norman shares her harrowing story of the heartbreak and misery of calving season in New Zealand.
In almost two decades working on dairy farms, I heard the phrase 'where there's life, there's death' more times than I could count. It's as though these few well-chosen words are supposed to explain away and excuse everything. In New Zealand, where around 1.8 million newborn calves are deliberately bred into existence and slaughtered each year, no truer words are spoken. As more people's eyes are opened to the truth of dirty dairy, the heartbreaking plight of bobby calves is thankfully becoming more well known. But what about those calves who make it past four days old? What happens to them?

Having raised thousands of these innocent babies from birth to weaning, I can tell you. While not one of them was lucky enough to spend more than a few hours with their real mother, they had a lot to do with me, their surrogate. Traditionally you see a lot more women on the farm during calving season. We're supposed to be 'made for the job' of rearing calves due to our maternal instinct. It appals me now that females of both bovine and human species are exploited in this manner for the purpose of gain and greed. At the time, however, I took enormous pride in this role, and the fact I was one of the few women who worked on the farm all year round.

Those precious first hours

I still remember the feeling of relief that came over me whenever I spotted a calf being born after around 10am. The later in the day that a mother cow gave birth, the longer she would get to spend with her calf. One whole, precious night together before the boss would come around the next morning with his noisy motorbike and rickety trailer, to round up all the mothers and babies before sending them their separate ways, forever.

The weather was almost as important a factor for cows and calves as timing. If the weather was fine and the ground was dry, it made sense for newborns to stay with their mums that little bit longer, to ensure they got plenty of their essential immune-building colostrum. It's no skin off the farmer's nose, after all, they're not allowed to feed colostrum to humans. There's no sweeter sight than a mother cow and her baby, sitting together contentedly in the sunshine. That's just how it should be, how nature intended. More often than not though, because New Zealand dairy herds' reproductive systems are manipulated so that they all give birth during the coldest, wettest time of year, the calves are quickly removed from the freezing, muddy ground and taken to the sheds. The male calves never see their mothers again.

As for the female calves - the 'keepers' - they are kept apart until they join their mothers in the milking herd in two years' time when they are old enough to give birth themselves. I often wondered if the mothers recognised their babies when they were finally reunited. I used to like to imagine it was the case but in truth, I don't think so. I never witnessed any evidence of it. How are a mother and daughter expected to know one another out of hundreds (or thousands) of fully grown animals, after so long apart and only a precious few hours together at birth?

The next few weeks

On arrival at the rearing sheds, the calves' navels would get sprayed with iodine to prevent them from becoming infected while they dried up and eventually fell off. This step wouldn't be necessary were they living outside with their mums, but a small space housing hundreds of animals, all urinating and defecating constantly is the perfect environment in which to pick up all kinds of infections. The calves' tender ears were then pierced using a staple gun of sorts, loaded with a large, plastic identification tag on a metal pin, before being plonked unceremoniously into pens filled with soft sawdust or wood shavings. From this moment on, they bore a number which identified them forever, until the end of their lives.

Just like their mothers, these tiny babies were completely at our mercy. If they didn't know it before, they did then. Most of the new arrivals sat quietly for a good while, with stinging ears and wide eyes, while I chattered on cheerfully about how I would feed them soon and they were in the 'best place now', there with me, out of the weather. Confused, fearful, in shock, trying to process what on earth was happening to them. Others showed their heartbreak at being separated from their mothers by bellowing loudly and continuously, sometimes for several days, until they were so hoarse they could no longer make a sound and defeated, at last, they gave up. Some displayed their terror by bolting from humans, crashing wildly into walls and gates and refusing to be calmed. Eventually, though, they were all worn down and came to understand one thing: humans - not their mothers - meant milk.

As the calves settled into their new surroundings, it didn't seem too bad on the surface - at least that's how I used to see it when I was entrenched in the industry. What wasn't to like? They were warm and dry, they were surrounded by their friends 24/7 and twice a day someone came to feed them as much milk as their bellies could handle. At least, that's what was supposed to happen with the milk; more about that in a moment. Between feeds there wasn't much they could do in a small space except snuggle up together and sleep. Feeding time when it arrived was chaotic, noisy, messy - you almost got knocked off your feet in the rush to get to the milk feeder, and there was nothing subtle about a persistent nose bunting you fiercely between your legs or up the backside! After every feed, they would get the 'zoomies' and fly around the confines of their pen as fast as they possibly could. Kicking, jumping, grunting and crashing into one another until completely exhausted, they plopped down into the sawdust for a rest.

Never miss an article

Stay up-to-date with the weekly Surge newsletter to never miss an article, media production or investigation. We respect your privacy.

Survival of the fittest

As anyone who has ever lived with pets such as dogs and cats will know, each one is different. The same goes for cows and calves, they all have different personality traits. Some are naturally more dominant than others when it comes to demanding both attention or food - and this is where problems inevitably start in the calves' manmade environment. Just like human breastfeeding babies, a calf that is reared by their mother feeds on demand, taking in as much milk as they want, whenever they wants. In comparison, when humans step in as the middle man, we dictate how much the calf is allowed to drink in a 'one size fits all' approach. If we follow the general recommendations, a 35kg calf is supposed to drink around six or seven litres of milk per day. This sounds fine in theory until you take into account that not all calves can drink at the same speed. Just as all animals, including humans, eat and drink at different rates, some calves can suck much faster and stronger than others. While they get to drink the recommended amount and then some, the calves who are less bolshy and hardy don't get enough, which results in digestive upsets, scouring and dehydration. Even the milk temperature can play a part in a calf's wellbeing, which isn't a problem when a calf is suckling from their mother but is pretty hard for a human to regulate, particularly when feeding hundreds of calves at a time.

The first batch of calves of the season is always the healthiest. They get the cleanest, driest bedding, the most room in the barn, the best quality milk and the most monitoring and attention. As the season progresses the pens become overcrowded, the ground underneath becomes sodden with urine and faeces and it becomes a prime breeding ground for sickness. Despite a farmer's best efforts to replace sawdust or shavings regularly, and coating every available surface with antiviral spray, at some stage there is always an outbreak of scours. While digestive upsets are relatively easy to treat, bacterial scours are every calf rearer's nightmare. Calves fall victim and die very quickly and once the virus has taken hold, it is extremely hard to eradicate. Another heartbreaking scenario that could be completely avoided if calves were allowed to live outside with their mothers, as nature intended.

It's ironic, isn't it, that so much of a farmer's attempt to control the system is still largely impossible to control? I remember as a lowly worker the all too common scenario of having 20 or more calves in a pen and only 12 teats on the milk feeder with which to try and feed them properly because too many cows had given birth at the same time. It was soul-destroying, watching them fight one another desperately to take their fill before the milk ran out. I remember fighting to save the lives each year of a few older, strong and healthy calves who would get stricken with colic shortly after gorging on too much milk. I remember the sunken eyes from calves with scours, the hot clammy feel and lethargy in others which signalled a navel infection. I remember how at a few weeks old, we would use a caustic dehorning paste called'Hornex' on the just-developing buds where cows' horns would normally grow, to burn them off and stop them from ever growing. One year when applying the paste, the farmer spilt some and got it on a beautiful white Friesian's face, narrowly missing her eye. She was disfigured for life.

The closest thing to freedom

Eventually, at around six weeks old, one fine, dry day, the farmer would finally decide the calves were strong enough to go outside. It would be the first time they had touched or smelled grass since they were born and it was my favourite time of the whole year. After being confined in a small space for so long, at first they would look utterly confused as the door was open and they found themselves suddenly staring into the sunlight. From there they would take a tentative step, which was usually followed by a jump back to where they had just come from. More shaky steps followed until they realised to their amazement that there were no longer heavy boundaries in their way and they would be off like rockets. In all my years I never knew a farmer who didn't stop whatever he was doing and just watch and smile at the sight of their unrestrained joy. Around and around and around they would all fly, until panting, they would come to a halt for long enough to survey their new surroundings.

From then on, my job was pretty much done for another year. They rarely needed me anymore and once they were fully weaned, they didn't need me at all. There were always a few who remembered me but over time their fear of barking dogs, noisy motorbikes and men waving sticks proved too great. During their first six weeks of life, those beautiful beings had suffered incomprehensible emotional and physical trauma. None of it would ever have happened, however, were it not for the exploitation of their mothers' bodies, driven by unnecessary human demand for the breastmilk of another species. At least for a while, they would know peace and joy. This time, from weaning to when they themselves gave birth to their first baby - not quite two years - would be the most freedom they would ever know.

Jackie Normanis a freelance writer and author of several books, including the cookbook Easy & Delicious: Everyday Vegan, released in 2020. Jackie is a member of non-profit organisation Vegan FTA, where she works as a writer, researcher and co-host of the series Activist together with husband, Gareth Scurr. Facebook.com/veganfta

Your support makes a huge difference to us. Supporting Surge with a monthly or one-off donation enables us to continue our work to end all animal oppression.

Jackie Norman is a freelance writer and author of several books, including the cookbook, 'Easy & Delicious: Everyday Vegan', released in 2020. Jackie is a member of non-profit organisation Vegan FTA, where she works as a writer, researcher and co-host of the series 'Activist' together with husband, Gareth Scurr.

https://www.facebook.com/veganfta

When a calf is taken from their mother, who steps in to care for them? Former dairy farmer Jackie Norman shares her harrowing story of the heartbreak and misery of calving season in New Zealand.
In almost two decades working on dairy farms, I heard the phrase 'where there's life, there's death' more times than I could count. It's as though these few well-chosen words are supposed to explain away and excuse everything. In New Zealand, where around 1.8 million newborn calves are deliberately bred into existence and slaughtered each year, no truer words are spoken. As more people's eyes are opened to the truth of dirty dairy, the heartbreaking plight of bobby calves is thankfully becoming more well known. But what about those calves who make it past four days old? What happens to them?

Having raised thousands of these innocent babies from birth to weaning, I can tell you. While not one of them was lucky enough to spend more than a few hours with their real mother, they had a lot to do with me, their surrogate. Traditionally you see a lot more women on the farm during calving season. We're supposed to be 'made for the job' of rearing calves due to our maternal instinct. It appals me now that females of both bovine and human species are exploited in this manner for the purpose of gain and greed. At the time, however, I took enormous pride in this role, and the fact I was one of the few women who worked on the farm all year round.

Those precious first hours

I still remember the feeling of relief that came over me whenever I spotted a calf being born after around 10am. The later in the day that a mother cow gave birth, the longer she would get to spend with her calf. One whole, precious night together before the boss would come around the next morning with his noisy motorbike and rickety trailer, to round up all the mothers and babies before sending them their separate ways, forever.

The weather was almost as important a factor for cows and calves as timing. If the weather was fine and the ground was dry, it made sense for newborns to stay with their mums that little bit longer, to ensure they got plenty of their essential immune-building colostrum. It's no skin off the farmer's nose, after all, they're not allowed to feed colostrum to humans. There's no sweeter sight than a mother cow and her baby, sitting together contentedly in the sunshine. That's just how it should be, how nature intended. More often than not though, because New Zealand dairy herds' reproductive systems are manipulated so that they all give birth during the coldest, wettest time of year, the calves are quickly removed from the freezing, muddy ground and taken to the sheds. The male calves never see their mothers again.

As for the female calves - the 'keepers' - they are kept apart until they join their mothers in the milking herd in two years' time when they are old enough to give birth themselves. I often wondered if the mothers recognised their babies when they were finally reunited. I used to like to imagine it was the case but in truth, I don't think so. I never witnessed any evidence of it. How are a mother and daughter expected to know one another out of hundreds (or thousands) of fully grown animals, after so long apart and only a precious few hours together at birth?

The next few weeks

On arrival at the rearing sheds, the calves' navels would get sprayed with iodine to prevent them from becoming infected while they dried up and eventually fell off. This step wouldn't be necessary were they living outside with their mums, but a small space housing hundreds of animals, all urinating and defecating constantly is the perfect environment in which to pick up all kinds of infections. The calves' tender ears were then pierced using a staple gun of sorts, loaded with a large, plastic identification tag on a metal pin, before being plonked unceremoniously into pens filled with soft sawdust or wood shavings. From this moment on, they bore a number which identified them forever, until the end of their lives.

Just like their mothers, these tiny babies were completely at our mercy. If they didn't know it before, they did then. Most of the new arrivals sat quietly for a good while, with stinging ears and wide eyes, while I chattered on cheerfully about how I would feed them soon and they were in the 'best place now', there with me, out of the weather. Confused, fearful, in shock, trying to process what on earth was happening to them. Others showed their heartbreak at being separated from their mothers by bellowing loudly and continuously, sometimes for several days, until they were so hoarse they could no longer make a sound and defeated, at last, they gave up. Some displayed their terror by bolting from humans, crashing wildly into walls and gates and refusing to be calmed. Eventually, though, they were all worn down and came to understand one thing: humans - not their mothers - meant milk.

As the calves settled into their new surroundings, it didn't seem too bad on the surface - at least that's how I used to see it when I was entrenched in the industry. What wasn't to like? They were warm and dry, they were surrounded by their friends 24/7 and twice a day someone came to feed them as much milk as their bellies could handle. At least, that's what was supposed to happen with the milk; more about that in a moment. Between feeds there wasn't much they could do in a small space except snuggle up together and sleep. Feeding time when it arrived was chaotic, noisy, messy - you almost got knocked off your feet in the rush to get to the milk feeder, and there was nothing subtle about a persistent nose bunting you fiercely between your legs or up the backside! After every feed, they would get the 'zoomies' and fly around the confines of their pen as fast as they possibly could. Kicking, jumping, grunting and crashing into one another until completely exhausted, they plopped down into the sawdust for a rest.

Never miss an article

Stay up-to-date with the weekly Surge newsletter to never miss an article, media production or investigation. We respect your privacy.

Survival of the fittest

As anyone who has ever lived with pets such as dogs and cats will know, each one is different. The same goes for cows and calves, they all have different personality traits. Some are naturally more dominant than others when it comes to demanding both attention or food - and this is where problems inevitably start in the calves' manmade environment. Just like human breastfeeding babies, a calf that is reared by their mother feeds on demand, taking in as much milk as they want, whenever they wants. In comparison, when humans step in as the middle man, we dictate how much the calf is allowed to drink in a 'one size fits all' approach. If we follow the general recommendations, a 35kg calf is supposed to drink around six or seven litres of milk per day. This sounds fine in theory until you take into account that not all calves can drink at the same speed. Just as all animals, including humans, eat and drink at different rates, some calves can suck much faster and stronger than others. While they get to drink the recommended amount and then some, the calves who are less bolshy and hardy don't get enough, which results in digestive upsets, scouring and dehydration. Even the milk temperature can play a part in a calf's wellbeing, which isn't a problem when a calf is suckling from their mother but is pretty hard for a human to regulate, particularly when feeding hundreds of calves at a time.

The first batch of calves of the season is always the healthiest. They get the cleanest, driest bedding, the most room in the barn, the best quality milk and the most monitoring and attention. As the season progresses the pens become overcrowded, the ground underneath becomes sodden with urine and faeces and it becomes a prime breeding ground for sickness. Despite a farmer's best efforts to replace sawdust or shavings regularly, and coating every available surface with antiviral spray, at some stage there is always an outbreak of scours. While digestive upsets are relatively easy to treat, bacterial scours are every calf rearer's nightmare. Calves fall victim and die very quickly and once the virus has taken hold, it is extremely hard to eradicate. Another heartbreaking scenario that could be completely avoided if calves were allowed to live outside with their mothers, as nature intended.

It's ironic, isn't it, that so much of a farmer's attempt to control the system is still largely impossible to control? I remember as a lowly worker the all too common scenario of having 20 or more calves in a pen and only 12 teats on the milk feeder with which to try and feed them properly because too many cows had given birth at the same time. It was soul-destroying, watching them fight one another desperately to take their fill before the milk ran out. I remember fighting to save the lives each year of a few older, strong and healthy calves who would get stricken with colic shortly after gorging on too much milk. I remember the sunken eyes from calves with scours, the hot clammy feel and lethargy in others which signalled a navel infection. I remember how at a few weeks old, we would use a caustic dehorning paste called'Hornex' on the just-developing buds where cows' horns would normally grow, to burn them off and stop them from ever growing. One year when applying the paste, the farmer spilt some and got it on a beautiful white Friesian's face, narrowly missing her eye. She was disfigured for life.

The closest thing to freedom

Eventually, at around six weeks old, one fine, dry day, the farmer would finally decide the calves were strong enough to go outside. It would be the first time they had touched or smelled grass since they were born and it was my favourite time of the whole year. After being confined in a small space for so long, at first they would look utterly confused as the door was open and they found themselves suddenly staring into the sunlight. From there they would take a tentative step, which was usually followed by a jump back to where they had just come from. More shaky steps followed until they realised to their amazement that there were no longer heavy boundaries in their way and they would be off like rockets. In all my years I never knew a farmer who didn't stop whatever he was doing and just watch and smile at the sight of their unrestrained joy. Around and around and around they would all fly, until panting, they would come to a halt for long enough to survey their new surroundings.

From then on, my job was pretty much done for another year. They rarely needed me anymore and once they were fully weaned, they didn't need me at all. There were always a few who remembered me but over time their fear of barking dogs, noisy motorbikes and men waving sticks proved too great. During their first six weeks of life, those beautiful beings had suffered incomprehensible emotional and physical trauma. None of it would ever have happened, however, were it not for the exploitation of their mothers' bodies, driven by unnecessary human demand for the breastmilk of another species. At least for a while, they would know peace and joy. This time, from weaning to when they themselves gave birth to their first baby - not quite two years - would be the most freedom they would ever know.

Jackie Normanis a freelance writer and author of several books, including the cookbook Easy & Delicious: Everyday Vegan, released in 2020. Jackie is a member of non-profit organisation Vegan FTA, where she works as a writer, researcher and co-host of the series Activist together with husband, Gareth Scurr. Facebook.com/veganfta

Your support makes a huge difference to us. Supporting Surge with a monthly or one-off donation enables us to continue our work to end all animal oppression.

Jackie Norman is a freelance writer and author of several books, including the cookbook, 'Easy & Delicious: Everyday Vegan', released in 2020. Jackie is a member of non-profit organisation Vegan FTA, where she works as a writer, researcher and co-host of the series 'Activist' together with husband, Gareth Scurr.

https://www.facebook.com/veganfta

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Surrogate: a personal account of rearing dairy calves separated from their mothers - Surge | Creative Non-Profit for Animal Rights

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
When a calf is taken from their mother, who steps in to care for them? Former dairy farmer Jackie Norman shares her harrowing story of the heartbreak and misery of calving season in New Zealand.