By Grace Hussain for Sentient.
Broadcast version by Mike Moen for Minnesota News Connection reporting for the Sentient-Public News Service Collaboration

Paula Boles says her husband, Dale, didn't want to be a farmer, but when his father passed away he found himself in possession of the family farm. Growing up, he helped raise cattle, rice and tobacco. But together the couple decided to transition the farm into something new - a chicken farm - and that's when their problems began.

It's a story common to the contract chicken farming business. The Boles were told by Tyson that raising broiler chickens would allow the couple to make easy money in retirement. Instead, they found themselves spiraling into debt, struggling to stay afloat while Tyson continued to profit. "I considered ourselves indentured servants 'cause that's...the way we were treated," says Paula Boles.

Boles says she and her husband didn't just suffer financially. Raising broilers for Tyson jeopardized their mental health and strained their marriage. For the Boles, the path out of that crisis was to become one of the few early adopters to transition out of raising livestock - converting their chicken houses to greenhouses.

They aren't alone. Though the movement is still small, it is growing, thanks in part to efforts by projects like Transfarmation and Rowdy Girl Sanctuary. For the Boles, transitioning away from raising meat for corporations has helped reduce their stress and provide freedom that they hadn't enjoyed during their years of raising chickens.

In part that's because contrary to what they were told by Tyson, the business of raising chickens for the poultry conglomerate controlled their lives. Paula recalls having to get up at 3 AM to check on the birds and the sheds anytime an alarm would go off, alerting them to something amiss. The demand was so great that Dale Boles even missed their son's college graduation, as he was unable to leave the farm.

Factory Farming Linked to Stress

In 2018, the CDC identified farmers as the occupation with the highest rate of suicide. While that specific finding was retracted due to an inaccurate interpretation of the data, mental health struggles remain a challenge in the agriculture industry.

As a therapist focused on serving farmers in rural Minnesota, Ted Matthews has firsthand experience with the mental health crisis in farming. One of the major stressors Matthews points to is the increasing size of farm operations. "Not that long ago if you had 100 or 200 cows you were a big dairy," he says. But today some dairies have tens of thousands of cows. As competitors grow in size, it's becoming harder and harder to compete, driving smaller-scale farmers into predatory contracts with conglomerates like Tyson and Smithfield.

Once they've signed a contract, the farmer loses all control over how animals are raised and, as was the case for the Boles, they don't even own the livestock they're housing.

That lack of control over everything from stocking density to feed represents a major stressor for farmers, says Tyler Whitley based upon his meetings with dozens of them. Whitley spearheads Transfarmation, one of the projects focused on helping farmers transition out of livestock, like the Boles.

Trapped in a contract with Tyson, Paula watched as thousands of chicks were dumped unceremoniously into their chicken sheds, with no regard for the condition of the animals. "You can tell within 24 hours whether you're screwed or not," says Boles, as some of the flocks were from hatcheries that produced "better birds."

As the flock got older, she would walk through the sheds filled "wall to wall and door to door" with chickens. Sometimes while making the trek she'd see a bird stiffen and fall back, a sure sign of a heart attack. "It was just really inhumane," she says.

If the dead weren't removed daily, the other birds would start pecking at the carcasses. Cleaning up the expired chickens was no easy task. "Out of that many birds, you're going to have some die everyday," she says. And as they grew heavier, several trips were required to haul their dead bodies out.

She recalls feeling especially distraught when, just a few short weeks later, they would be caught, placed into cages and loaded onto the trucks. It wasn't uncommon for birds to die during loading or on the trip to the slaughterhouse. For Boles, the animal suffering was compounded by the fact that every dead bird represented money lost and more debt.

From Chicken Barns to Growing Greens

Eventually, they were able to leverage their retirement savings and Dale's construction experience to transition their chicken sheds to greenhouses for growing greens. Now ,they help guide other farmers looking to do the same.

Even though they now have greenhouses instead of chicken houses, the Boles are still dealing with the fallout of running a broiler farm. In 2020, Dale had a heart attack that the first responders didn't think he would survive. The cause: stress-induced heart damage that Paula believes was from their time running the chicken farm. His survival was thanks to "the grace of God," she says.

While the Boles are by no means alone in their concern for the welfare of their animals, Matthews points out that many farmers view it as simply "part of the job." Some situations, however, are so horrible that basically everyone is impacted.

He points to hog farmers during COVID-19. Due to slaughterhouse shutdowns, farmers "had to euthanize pigs [who] were totally healthy." The farmers' job during that time basically became killing pigs and dumping the bodies. They have "nightmares about those kinds of things," says Matthews.

In Whitley's experience, even if poor animal welfare is considered just part of being a livestock farmer, it often contributes to why the farmers he works with want to transition their farms. "They'll name living next to a barn of screaming pigs or chickens [or] picking up dead chickens" as quality of life issues associated with being a farmer, says Whitley.

Compounding the issue is a reluctance to talk about their mental health. Farmers "don't look at it like mental health," says Matthews. "They look at it like mental illness," which makes them reluctant to seek help.

For Paula Boles, their experience has led to a better future, enabling her to help others struggling in her community. She spends her days growing flowers and produce in her chicken sheds turned greenhouses. Of the converted structures she says: "the same greenhouse I used to cry over at night [allows us] to grow...microgreens and bless people."


Grace Hussain wrote this article for Sentient.


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CLARIFICATION: In the initial release of this story, the photo caption included a typo that resulted in an unintentional racial slur. In discussions with every staff member involved in the story, it was clearly a typing error, with no intention of including an offensive term. We deeply apologize for the error. (9:35 a.m. CST, June 23, 2025

From poultry to beer, Minnesota has an avid interest in producing food with ingredients and practices mindful of the state's water resources and the latest recipients of specialized grants are taking charge.

The grants were awarded by the "Continuous Living Cover" program under the Minnesota Department of Agriculture. Food manufacturers and others in the supply chain use the funds to develop larger markets for crops that help stabilize the soil in which they are planted.

Sandy Boss Febbo, co-owner of Bang Brewing in St. Paul, said their grant allows them to use more "Kernza," a sustainable alternative to wheat. She called it a "beautiful grain."

"Once we tried it and saw how well it performs in beer and what it lends to beer flavor profiles, we were hooked," Boss Febbo explained.

Boss Febbo pointed out crops like Kernza have root systems that keep nitrates from flowing into waterways, preventing algae blooms and providing other environmental benefits. One catch is Kernza is more expensive than traditional beer ingredients. This legislative session, Minnesota lawmakers approved $450,000 for future grants under the cover crop program.

Boss Febbo noted the state aid is not just for the processing of Kernza at her brewery. Marketing is a key strategy as well. Bang Brewing plans to retrofit a van with a mobile tap setup so they can travel to licensed events around Minnesota and spread the word about this largely unknown crop.

"Agricultural practices have a massive impact on the health of our land and water," Boss Febbo emphasized. "To bring that message, to get more people involved and more people supporting, that is really our goal."

According to program backer Friends of the Mississippi River, other grantees include a hazelnut company, as well as a farm raising chickens on forested pastures. The farm will also use its grant money to help market its product to schools, retailers and restaurants across Minnesota.

With more than 95,000 farms, Missouri ranks among the top farming states in the nation. Now, a national agriculture group is warning that bills moving through Congress could hurt rural communities.
According to the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition, the Senate's reconciliation bill, sometimes called "The Big Beautiful Bill Act," would deepen hunger and hinder small farmers. At the same time, the group contends the House's 2026 spending plan slashes funding for conservation, research and local food programs.

Mike Lavender, the coalition's policy director, said the consequences of these cuts will be felt directly by those working the land.

"These cuts, even to relatively small programs, are going to mean that fewer farmers have access to resources and information that help them have a successful livelihood, help their business work and help them be successful in providing for their family," he said.

Supporters have said the bills promote responsible budgeting by cutting spending and boosting efficiency. The Senate's agriculture bill awaits full debate, while the House's 2026 funding bill has cleared committee.

Nearly 90% of Missouri's farms are family-owned. Lavender said his organization has been working closely with members of the Senate and the Appropriations Committee to make sure they understand the importance of these programs for farmers across the country.

"Don't do what the House did. Don't undercut farmers, don't undercut rural communities by reducing funding for these programs," he said, "but rather they deliver funding for these programs based on demand, and we know there's a high demand and a high need for these programs across the country."

Lavender added that the 2026 spending bill has "one bright spot" in its support for direct purchases from local producers, but he said that's overshadowed by cuts that hurt those very farmers.


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By Jessica Scott-Reid for Sentient.
Broadcast version by Terri Dee for Ohio News Connection reporting for the Sentient-Public News Service Collaboration

Regenerative agriculture continues to capture attention - praised in star‑studded documentaries like "Kiss the Ground" and "Common Ground," and featured heavily in Biden's "climate-smart agriculture" programs. The promise sounds compelling. With the right type of cattle grazing and soil-enhancing farming practices, we can eat all the beef we want, guilt-free. But as climate scientist Jonathan Foley explained in a recent webinar hosted by the Food and Farming Journalism Network: "We're finding that the results of real field trials, replicated at scale, aren't producing the results we see in the movies." According to Foley, many of the promises of regenerative agriculture "have been overhyped."

Around a third of global greenhouse gas emissions come from food, with most of those emissions driven by meat -- especially beef. Regenerative agriculture has remained a popular initiative for many, but the math that its carbon-saving calculations are based on simply doesn't pencil out.

There's no way to make regenerative agriculture work, at least not if Americans and others in Global North countries continue to eat the same amount of meat. "Regenerative [agriculture] can only happen if our thinking, our philosophy, our diet and our food, changes," Rattan Lal, distinguished professor of soil science at Ohio State University, tells Sentient. That includes drastically reducing meat consumption, not just making meat "better."

What Does 'Regenerative Agriculture' Mean?

Regenerative agriculture doesn't have a single, universally accepted definition, but core practices of regenerative farming tend to include planting cover crops, avoiding soil tillage and rotating livestock - especially cattle - across pastures to graze. Mainly drawn from Indigenous knowledge, these practices can benefit soil health.

As a climate solution, however, the evidence doesn't stack up. The basic idea behind regenerative meat as a climate solution goes like this: whatever emissions that are produced as a result of raising beef are offset by regenerative farming practices. Those practices, the argument goes, can capture carbon out of the air and into the soil permanently, which is what you need for an offset to be effective, so that the climate pollution from the meat doesn't count.

But research shows regenerative farming is not effective at permanent, or even long-lasting, carbon sequestration (again, that's what you need for a carbon offset to work).

Foley, who is also the Executive Director for the climate solutions research group Project Drawdown, summed it up this way in the webinar: "if you don't cherry pick the data, and you look at it more systematically, regenerative grazing in particular doesn't look quite as strong as it might at first appear."

Regenerative Grazing Has a Land Problem, Which Is Also a Climate Problem

Regenerative grazing can only do so much with carbon. Unlike what happens in native forests, prairies and wetlands, on a farm, carbon is indeed added into the ground, but only transiently and only in the topsoil.

At that depth, rapid microbial turnover releases much of the carbon back into the atmosphere, and does not store it permanently. In order to be an effective offset, the carbon needs to be stored in the ground permanently.

Regenerative grazing also uses more land. In addition to the methane burps, that's a big part of why beef - no matter how you farm it - has such a massive climate cost is the land.

A 2020 study found that regenerative ranching requires up to 2.5 times more land than conventional beef production. In practical terms, that means to produce the same amount of meat that we consume now but with regenerative farming practices, the "footprint of animal agriculture" would have to increase substantially.

Even switching from factory-farmed to grass-fed beef in the U.S. would take a heavy toll. Research shows that grass-fed beef production actually emits more greenhouse gas emissions than conventional farming.

That's because factory farms, for all of their problems, are just far more efficient at raising meat. And efficiency is a good thing, at least if you are solely focused on greenhouse gas emissions (critics of this perspective sometimes call this view "carbon tunnel vision"). Grass-fed beef production, being far less efficient, emits more methane per cow and requires more land.

One study from 2018 estimated that shifting the beef cattle population to grass-fed cows would require increasing the national cattle herd from 77 million to 100 million - about a 30 percent jump.

Eat Less Meat and Rewild More Land

Lal, who is supportive of regenerative agriculture, says that the only way for the regenerative approach to work at-scale is with a reduction in meat production and consumption, and a return of some agricultural lands to nature, otherwise known as rewilding.

"Agriculture has been a problem," Lal says, because over time, we humans have deforested massive amounts of carbon-storing forests and other native landscapes to produce food for a growing global population.

But that deforestation came with a major climate pollution cost, and our ongoing deforestation to feed our global meat habit today is only adding to that cost.

Now, both global temperatures and populations are continuing to increase, and if we want to stave off the worst effects of climate change, while also feeding a lot more people, we need to take a few important steps, both Lal and Foley agree.

According to Foley, "we've got to cut the emissions in the first place." One way of doing that is by eating less beef. In 2018, a report from the World Resources Institute found that U.S. beef consumption needs to be reduced by about 40 percent to limit global warming effectively.

There are other measures needed too. In addition to eating less meat, Foley said during the webinar, we need to "restore nature, shrink the footprint of agriculture, put back the forest, put back the natural prairies, put back the mangroves. If we could do that through curbing our diets and curbing our waste, that would be a great, great idea."

Lal describes the task ahead in stark terms. We have an obligation, he says, "not only technologically and economically, but also morally and ethically, to return some of that extra land back to nature."

In order to do that through regenerative practices, "some productivity has to be sacrificed. So we [have to] change our diet, [to eat less meat]." After all, "Do we need to eat meat three times a day?" asks Lal, rhetorically. "Three times a day meat-based, is not healthy for people and not healthy for the planet."

Lal has many big changes in mind: "our thinking, our diet, our way of life, our food habits, our food system - all that has to change. It is really transformation and regeneration [that's needed], not only of agriculture, but of our own thinking and lifestyle as well."


Jessica Scott-Reid wrote this article for Sentient.


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