Like local-oriented direct-market farms around the country, we're dealing with a tsunami of  interest.  Suddenly everyone wants our meat, poultry, and eggs.  Where were they last year and the year before?

             For roughly 3 years we've been brainstorming and trying to hold onto sales.  The biggest hit we've ever taken was when Wal-Mart became the world's largest vendor of organic.  Of course, this is industrial organics; produce from hydroponics and meat from factory farms.  But organic nonetheless.

             Ever since that happened half a dozen years ago local outfits like us have been scrambling to hang onto customers.  We haven't panicked, but the new reality shocked us into realizing we could lose everything if we didn't stimulate sales.  And then along came door-to-door delivery.  Another hit.

             Many people think here at Polyface all we do is move cows around and the world is our oyster.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  When we started this 50 years ago, we were the only game in town.  We enjoyed that distinctiveness for about 30 years but gradually things changed.

             Other farmers began duplicating our systems--not that we tried to keep them secret.  Good grief; I wrote every trick into books and made them available to wanna-bes.  Even many apprentices stayed in the area and began competing with us.  Between more farmers, industrial organics at Wal-Mart, and on-line home-delivery, we realized we were fast becoming obsolete. 

             Now we're laughing.  How could we have known that the best marketing strategy in the world was a pandemic?  If only we had known.  Just hang in there until the pandemic and all will be well. 

             Now, for the first time in a decade, we're rationing.  Yes, rationing.  The temptations to compromise are profound.  If you've watched the news, you know what's happened in the pork industry.  A farmer called us yesterday offering us slaughter-weight pigs at $110 apiece.  Folks, it costs us $500 to raise a hog.   Do you see the temptation to buy them and turn a fancy profit in a day?  But they weren't raised on GMO-free feed; they weren't raised on pasture; they weren't the 1950s-style genetics that put taste and fat on a hog.  We said no, of course.

             Instead of pulling our hair out on marketing strategies, we're wrestling with who gets what.  If you let a retail store have eggs and don't put them on line people think you're playing favorites.  Goodness, Teresa went out this morning to grab a package of link sausage to fix for breakfast and had to make grits instead--we don't have enough sausage for our own breakfast.

             Why should all these people suddenly flocking to us get product over the folks who have been with us for 20 years?  If we shut down a sector of our patron base, will they ever come back to us?  How fickle is this?  After the hype and panic, will all these Johnny-come-latelies stick around, or will they go back to Costco? 

             We can't expand beef unless we have more grass.  We can't get more grass without more land.  We can't get more land without farms to rent.  We can't rent more land without land lords who want to partner with us.  No complaints here; just explaining that you can't turn a biological system, a whole ecology, on a dime.

             And so as we ration and meter out pieces of availability to our broad customer base, we're dealing with frantic calls, accusations of favoritism, and the angst of people fearful of running out of food.  And you can't buy a home freezer until August--they've all been snarfed up by the folks who stocked up early.  If anyone wants to buy farm property to secure their food supply, we're open for partners.  We've had some wonderful response to this in the past; who knows what the future holds.

             Do you think this sudden interest in local integrity food will outlast the crisis?