Foul:
Genetically Modified: The 2 Words the Food Industry
Spent $45 Million to Avoid Using
(Primarily Monsanto (MON), PepsiCo (PEP), Coca-Cola
(KO), Kraft (KRFT), and Kellogg (K)).
Here is a fascinating factoid:
Produce is labeled already!
Note, produce, not packaged goods.
Here are the produce sticker codes:
Stickers on produce have a 4-5 digit number as a
price look-up.
4-diget PLU in the 3000 means conventionally grown
produce.
5-digit PLU starting with a 9 means
organically-grown
5-digit PLU starting with an 8 means
genetically modified produce.
My daughter in Oregon said that proponents for GMO labeling were heartened that 46.9% of California voters still wanted labeling despite the negative campaigning. "Okay," they say, "What's next?" How about that for an attitude?
That threat of a $400 per year grocery bill increase scared some voters into a no vote I guess, otherwise who would give a flying rat's ass if our foods were labeled.
My daughter in Oregon said that proponents for GMO labeling were heartened that 46.9% of California voters still wanted labeling despite the negative campaigning. "Okay," they say, "What's next?" How about that for an attitude?
That threat of a $400 per year grocery bill increase scared some voters into a no vote I guess, otherwise who would give a flying rat's ass if our foods were labeled.
Fowl:
Okay back home on the farm.
Fowl care is foul at times. Turkeys have died off on
a regular basis. The owner contained them in a too small, too humid space and
they caught colds. He built a wonderful airy palace and they are happy,
although not fully recovered from the flu. We are treating them, maybe some
will make it. I out-finagled the coyote by putting up poultry wire with small
holes over the field fencing that turkey heads would fit through to lure in a coyote. You just have to shake your heads at turkeys.
Home of the twenty-egg omelet:
Delicious eggs by the way.
You know about the quail and all those lovely eggs? No
more. We are down to four quail, and no eggs. One morning I discovered five
quail. This was out of about 30. Five? What in the heck… gone. No evidence. I
searched the enclosure and found a 4 inch hole where the wire had been pulled
back. The bobcat we figured. Husband dear saw the modeled, short-tailed, wild cat
one night.
One sweet little quail died in my hand as I was
carrying her to the house—I blessed her on her journey.
The quail are in the tractor garage now—I’m taking no
chances.
Okay, another shoring up of enclosures. The owner
put double wire on the sides, and wired the top and bottom of the former quail enclosure.
It now houses 14 “silky” chickens (a breed). He said to count them every
morning, 14. Three days now and we still have 14. Ta Da!
The original chickens are doing great. They have a
wonderful new home and they are happy as clams (or chickens). And they seem to
like me. They are getting to be grown-up pretty chickens, maybe they will begin
laying eggs soon. (Probably our days are too short right now. Sun comes up,
gives us a couple hours, and wham, its down.) This morning upon approaching the
chicken pen I was greeted by a debut crow from one of the “hens.” Ah ha, I had a suspicion. And a lovely one he is too.
I have to shuffle in both the turkey pen and the
chicken pen lest I step on bird’s toes. We move as a unit. Guess I’m the momma
now.
