Food Project
Free Range?
What exactly is “free range”? The term “free range” outside of the United States is used as a way of farming. Animals have the ability to move around freely instead of being contained in any way. Inside the United States, the USDA (United States Department of Agriculture), has regulations allowing the animals to have the ability to be outside. The regulations of USDA unfortunately do not clarify what the amount of time the animal has outside, the quality of its surroundings or even the size of room that they have. Their atmosphere outside may even only be dirt or gravel. The business can still be labeled as “free range” even if the time they have outside is five minutes.
If chickens are governmental certified, they may be labeled as “free range”. Many commercial businesses in the United States are certified to have this labeled on their food. When these businesses label their food this way, it is not what you would consider “free range”. The chickens are caged and crowded to the maximum amount possible. The chickens are in such a crowded environment with each other that sometimes they are debeaked to prevent them from pecking each other. They do get the chance to go outside once a day, but as earlier stated of the USDA regulations, this time outside does not mean much. The chickens’ diets in these commercial businesses are made up of a mixture of corn, soy and cotton seeds.
There are other places that label their eggs as “free range” and they are more what you would probably consider free range. The chickens act and are treated how a chicken was made to be treated and live. These chickens diets are made up bugs, left overs found on the ground from other animals and other natural foods. The chickens here are treated entirely different.
Free range chickens in a real free range environment have better advantages compared to commercial business free range chickens. Feed for the chickens are cheaper, because they are eating more natural foods rather than eating paid feed. When the chickens are raised and treated in a more natural environment, a better quality egg is produced. This is because of the higher amount of protein from the bugs and plants that they eat. The natural food that is eaten helps make the meet cleaner and healthier for us to eat.
The chickens that are not necessarily “free range” do not have the ability to be out in a pasture grazing, develop a lesser quality of egg. They eat more grain, which makes them more expensive to feed and they become stressed from their environment making a requirement for more antibiotics to be used from spreading sickness. It is now your time for you to decide what you consider free range.
What exactly is “free range”? The term “free range” outside of the United States is used as a way of farming. Animals have the ability to move around freely instead of being contained in any way. Inside the United States, the USDA (United States Department of Agriculture), has regulations allowing the animals to have the ability to be outside. The regulations of USDA unfortunately do not clarify what the amount of time the animal has outside, the quality of its surroundings or even the size of room that they have. Their atmosphere outside may even only be dirt or gravel. The business can still be labeled as “free range” even if the time they have outside is five minutes.
If chickens are governmental certified, they may be labeled as “free range”. Many commercial businesses in the United States are certified to have this labeled on their food. When these businesses label their food this way, it is not what you would consider “free range”. The chickens are caged and crowded to the maximum amount possible. The chickens are in such a crowded environment with each other that sometimes they are debeaked to prevent them from pecking each other. They do get the chance to go outside once a day, but as earlier stated of the USDA regulations, this time outside does not mean much. The chickens’ diets in these commercial businesses are made up of a mixture of corn, soy and cotton seeds.
There are other places that label their eggs as “free range” and they are more what you would probably consider free range. The chickens act and are treated how a chicken was made to be treated and live. These chickens diets are made up bugs, left overs found on the ground from other animals and other natural foods. The chickens here are treated entirely different.
Free range chickens in a real free range environment have better advantages compared to commercial business free range chickens. Feed for the chickens are cheaper, because they are eating more natural foods rather than eating paid feed. When the chickens are raised and treated in a more natural environment, a better quality egg is produced. This is because of the higher amount of protein from the bugs and plants that they eat. The natural food that is eaten helps make the meet cleaner and healthier for us to eat.
The chickens that are not necessarily “free range” do not have the ability to be out in a pasture grazing, develop a lesser quality of egg. They eat more grain, which makes them more expensive to feed and they become stressed from their environment making a requirement for more antibiotics to be used from spreading sickness. It is now your time for you to decide what you consider free range.
Reflection:
Through this project of food, we were to make a rhetorical art piece to display. Along with this art, a one page artist statement was developed to give an overview of background information on the subject and how the art displays that meaning. Through doing this project and reading through the Omnivore's Dillema there have been many new perspectives that I have taken, especially going deeper in learning about free range animals. I now have more knowledge about free range chickens that I didn't know before. It amazed me that the USDA (United States Department of Agriculture) has such little of regulations as it does and those regulations barely mean anything for a chicken to be labelled as "free range". This is one out of the many things that are going on with our food that makes you think one thing, but as soon as you start going deeper with it, it barely means anything.
About half way through this project, what I was learning about our food and where it comes from, was not affecting what I ate. It was definetly making me more aware of what was in my diet and what I may or may not be eating, but it was not changing my diet. Now at the end of the project it is affecting my thoughts and eating habbits more. I have not completely changed my diet, but it has been changed a little bit. I am now starting to try to eat less junk food and I am starting to eat more fruits and vegetables. The fruits and vegetables that I am eating now may still not be completly organic, or there still might be another one that is better for me, but this is atleast a start.
About half way through this project, what I was learning about our food and where it comes from, was not affecting what I ate. It was definetly making me more aware of what was in my diet and what I may or may not be eating, but it was not changing my diet. Now at the end of the project it is affecting my thoughts and eating habbits more. I have not completely changed my diet, but it has been changed a little bit. I am now starting to try to eat less junk food and I am starting to eat more fruits and vegetables. The fruits and vegetables that I am eating now may still not be completly organic, or there still might be another one that is better for me, but this is atleast a start.
Narrative History Project
Through the Eyes of a Lowry
As I was lying on the ground, staring off yonder, watching the clouds slowly moving across the sky in front of the moon, recalling memories that I have never been able to forget, the thoughts were constantly racing across my mind, memories that will never be able to be replaced nor forgotten. On that fogy morning, the morning that had changed my life forever. The morning I could never forget, when I saw my dead brother's body laying on the ground, as I watched the soldiers in coats force my father to dig his sons grave and his very own. I could do nothing, but swear to my self that I would avenge my family someday.
I awoke that morning to the sound of my cousin John, rushing into our camp. He paused for a second or two, as he caught his breath. He then started to explain to me and few of the other men what was happening. We grabbed our rifles and started to cut through the forest and along the river, so that we knew that we would have the advantage.
As I knelt down next to a dead tree that had fallen from the harsh blow of the wind. The majority of my body that was hidden, I could hear the river water trickling down stream. Slowly I started to hear the sound of boots stepping on rocks and dead sticks that lay along the ground. I heard voices, along with the footsteps that were growing louder as the group of soldiers moved closer.
I slowly raised my rifle, aiming towards the soldiers that were coming my way. I took a deep breath and held it, as I stared down the barrel of my musket, with my sight on the chest of a federal military soldier and my finger gently holding the trigger.
Who knows why these soldiers were traveling through the forest and by the swamp that day, but there was one thing for certain and that was that these soldiers were pro-Conservative Democratic power. These men did not belong. There were approximately eight other soldiers with him and not one would have taken another step forward, if each knew what was ahead.
Each one of my men had the sights of their muskets aimed at each and every federal soldier’s chest. Within seconds, all that could be seen were clouds of smoke from gun powder rising from around bushes and trees through the forest and all that was heard, was the sound of shots being fired. There were federal soldiers dropping instantly to the ground, with their face in the dirt, while others were dropping to their knees, with looks on their faces of surprised and confused thoughts, knowing that their death was to come sooner than expected.
All that was left in that part of the forest this day was myself and the men. I stood standing with my musket watching the soldiers that once had a pumping heart, now starting to grow colder and colder each and every second. I was watching the bodies. They were being stripped of their belongings and what goods they had carried that day.
The men in the gang were very close and important to me. Some of them were my brothers with others being cousins or brother in-laws. Even the men that were not biologically related, they too were very close to me, as they were fellow free men of color. These men were rebels fighting for what they believed was right.
That night, back in camp, I spent my time by sitting on the ground, leaning against a tall oak, starting to notice the cold, by seeing my breath in the moon light. Almost every night like this one, my thoughts would come and haunt me.
Why didn’t I act? Why didn’t I try to take a stand? I know I was only a young boy at the time, but I should have tried. All I did was hide and watch everything happen in front of my eyes. I know I would have been killed along with them if they saw me, but what if I wasn’t? Then they might still be here. Even if I did die, at least I wouldn’t always have the feeling of being empty and always seeking revenge.
My thoughts continued, but then they slowly faded, while I drifted into a deep sleep. I awoke a couple of hours later, but feeling like I had slept for a short period of time. I heard the sound of the men starting to move around and the sound of voices as I saw a torch being lit for light. I grabbed my musket and I got myself up onto my feet, starting to walk towards where the commotion was coming from.
I saw a new face of a man that was in the camp. I realized that he was a fellow Lumbee Indian. He was hardly wearing anything that was covering his body, except for a sort of cloth that looked like it once had been a pair of trousers and a shirt. I watched him drink the water and eat the food that was given to him. He looked like he had been starved for weeks. I could see the cruel labor that was forced upon him, as I saw where the skin on his hands and feet were rubbed raw from labor. I could see the ribs in his chest and the bones in his shoulders sticking out from his body. The shirt that he wore, barely covered his fragile figure. I saw the rips on the back of his shirt with stains of blood that showed the scars where he had once been beaten and whipped. There were fresh wounds that surrounded his whole entire body, head to toe.
He started to talk and explain how he was taken from his home, along with his brother and then forced into labor by the Confederates. He told how they had a chance to get away, so they took it. They were noticed by a home guard. I was barely able to understand the man over his crying. He was able to get away and hide in a swamp, but his brother was less fortunate. The brother was shot once and then beaten to death. He moved further into the woods until he was noticed by one of the members in the gang and brought here.
I had seen many horrible and tragic things happen in my life. I knew about how harsh the labor was from hearing about my two cousins that died while being forced to build Fort Fisher. A confederate fort that many Lumbee Indians and fee men of color were forced to labor. Never had I ever seen the look of this man’s face. I was able to know and see the horror that he had faced by looking into his eyes, as they glowed in the torch’s light.
I have lived on, fighting men, confederate soldiers, robbing guilty or wealthy slave holders in order to help my people in need. I not only fought for my family's vengeance, but we, the Lowry gang faught for many families that experienced cruelty and loss like I once had experienced. We, the Lowry gang fought for what we believed was right and what was justified through our eyes.