By Michaela Haas for Reasons to be Cheerful.
Broadcast version by Shanteya Hudson for North Carolina News Service reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration

By any definition, Leah Garcés considered Craig Watts her enemy. As CEO and president of the nonprofit Mercy for Animals, Garcés has devoted her life to protecting animals. When she met Watts in the spring of 2014 at his poultry farm in North Carolina, he was one those factory farmers she deeply despised. In fact, she was so worried that his invitation to meet was an ambush that she gave her husband the address with the reminder, "If I don't come back, look for me rotting away in the chicken litter."

Watts had raised over 720,000 chickens in 22 years for Perdue, the fourth-largest chicken company in the US. He had been searching for ways to stay on the family land in one of North Carolina's poorest counties, and when Perdue offered him a contract to raise chickens, it sounded like a lucrative opportunity. He took out a $200,000 bank loan to build four giant chicken houses. But soon the chickens, crammed 25,000 wall-to-wall in the ammonia-laden air, started to become sick or died, and squeezed by Perdue's profit margins, Watts struggled to pay the bills.

To her surprise, Garcés realized that Watts was not her enemy, but an ally: Chicken farmers like him wanted to end chicken farming as much as she did. He described the enormous toll this kind of farming took on his physical and mental health. Yet because of his hefty loans, Watts saw no way out. "I realized he was trapped in a system I am advocating against," says Garcés. Their meeting in 2014 changed the trajectory of both their lives.

Together, they released footage from the horrors of chicken farming in the New York Times. In the first 24 hours, a million viewers saw the panting birds at Watts's farm living in their own excrements. Two years later, the whistleblower quit the chicken business for good and took a paid job for the Socially Responsible Agriculture Project, warning other farmers not to trust the promises of the chicken industry while still paying off his debt from the chicken houses.

A farmer at heart, Watts has now become one of the poster farmers for the Transfarmation Project, which Garcés founded as an offshoot of the nonprofit Mercy for Animals in 2019. "I remember standing in his barn and thinking, could we make it into a strawberry farm? Repurpose the land?" Garcés shares. Watts started small by installing a 300-square-foot shipping container in his large poultry house with a small grant from the Transfarmation Project and cultivating specialty mushrooms like shiitake. He told Garcés he wanted his new operation "as removed from the industrial model as it can be," while not abandoning farming: "It's part of me, in the blood. It's a calling. I like to watch things grow."

Garcés describes the story of how she helped Watts leave factory farming in her new book, Transfarmation: The Movement to Free Us From Factory Farming.

As she details in the book and as Watts can attest, it is surprisingly difficult for contract farmers to abandon factory farming. More than 70 percent of poultry farmers live below the poverty line and have to pay off crushing loans. When given the option, an increasing number of farmers and their children want to quit factory farming. "Though we didn't advertise the Transfarmation Project, as soon as we rolled out the website, hundreds of farmers immediately contacted us," Garcés says. "We had no idea interest would be that high."

But collectively, the poultry farmers owe $5.2 billion. "As long as they have too much debt, they can't leave because their farm is at risk," says Garcés. "We can't override so much debt as a small nonprofit. There has to be government action, like it did with the tobacco industry."

The farmers need to find an alternative source of income that is healthier and more lucrative in order to keep their land. "It's a solutions-oriented project where we're rolling up our sleeves and testing what works," Garcés says. "Many times, when people are tackling systemic challenges, they write about either the problem or the solution. But a gulf is left in the middle: the complexity of how."

Garcés hired the consulting firm Highland Economics to analyze which crops are likely to succeed, ideally while using the large structures already built. Specialty mushrooms, including shiitake, oyster, reishi and lion's mane, top the list while microgreens came out second, followed by produce like tomatoes and hemp last. Two transformation hubs serve as a blueprint for other farmers to copy.

As a chicken farmer, Watts made $0.05 per pound of flesh. Now, he can get $6 per pound for shiitake mushrooms. The switch to mushrooms is a compelling exit strategy because mushrooms need a similar temperature, humidity and lighting. "But unlike the chickens, mushrooms can't suffer," Garcés points out. "They don't have to be killed and incinerated when things go wrong."

For Garcés, her mission is not just about the "80 billion land animals that die for people's palates in the most horrific conditions" every year worldwide, but also about climate change. "Collectively, farmed animals emit more greenhouse gases than the world's planes, trains and cars together," Garcés reasons. "A third of our precious arable land is used to grow feed for factory-farmed animals rather than food we humans could eat directly." Considering all this plus the considerable amounts of chemicals and logging of ecologically important habitats like rainforests, Garcés concludes, "industrial agriculture is one of the most destructive industries on our planet."

The suffering is not reserved for animals. The ammonia in chicken waste harms farmers and ecosystems. "Agricultural work is some of the most dangerous work in the country," Garcés knows. Suicide and depression rates are 60 times higher for male farmers than for the average male American, and she recounts with sadness the suicide of a Texas farmer she was trying to help, Bo Halley. With failing physical and mental health after decades of poultry farming, he did not live to see the transformation of his family farm into a hemp farm and dog rescue.

Duped by ads of happy cartoon chicken, consumers love their cheap chicken, with an average of 182 million chickens slaughtered every week in the US. "The typical American still believes their meat is raised on a family farm," Garcés says, "though the data clearly shows that 97 percent of chicken come from factories." While 90 percent of farmed animals are chickens, the situation presents similar challenges for hog and dairy farmers. Living near hog farms shortens the lives of farmers and neighbors. "When it comes to the meat, dairy and eggs we eat, the price at the grocery store or restaurant is never a fair reflection of the true cost," Garcés points out. "In factory farming, risks and liability are mostly externalized by the industry, and most often to the most vulnerable among us. This damage, this harm, is borne by many - from the workers to the animals to the farmers."

Ultimately, Garcés's vision is not just "helping a few dozen farmers transition to a healthier and more sustainable model, it is about how we transition away entirely from factory farming." The Transfarmation Project connects farmers with consultants and is producing resources and pilots to model successful transitions.

In the same warehouse where Watts once had to kill chickens and where he and Garcés filmed the whistleblower video, he is now harvesting mushrooms. In front of rows of corn, squash and okra he planted on his land, Watts describes how much happier he feels now.

He has named his mushroom farm "Victors' Village Farms" after the Victors' Village in The Hunger Games. He told Leah Garcés that "leaving contract poultry on my own terms was like winning The Hunger Games." But a victor is "a triumphant decider of his fate."


Michaela Haas wrote this article for Reasons to be Cheerful.


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Nevada scored high for its well-funded conservation programs and for the state's commitment to public land protections.

A new report by The Center for Western Priorities evaluated eight Western states within three categories - land protection and access, responsible energy development, and land use and planning for growth.

The Center's Policy Director Rachael Hamby said Nevada has done a good job of becoming an "assertive leader" as it relates to public land protection and conservation - especially with 67% of the state being made up of public lands, according to the Bureau of Land Management.

She added that Nevada was also the first state Legislature to endorse the global 30X30 Initiative, which is a plan to conserve 30% of nature by 2030 - to avoid what Hamby called a "biodiversity crisis."

"They've made progress towards that goal too, opening a couple new state parks," said Hamby, "and again this is a state doesn't always have as much of a surface area to work with - and this shows that is OK. You can be a conservation leader with your state-level policies in place for the lands that you do manage on behalf of Nevadans."

Hamby said the Silver State has also taken action to protect wildlife, including what she calls a "strong habitat framework" that is a direct result of an executive order signed in 2021 by former Gov. Steve Sisolak.

Nevada also passed a bill in 2021 that requires developers to consult with the Department of Wildlife on their subdivision plans and assess how projects will impact wildlife connectivity.

Nevada didn't have a legislative session in 2024, but it will have one in 2025.

Hamby said despite Nevada being in a good spot, there are still areas for improvement, such as responsible energy development.

Despite Nevada not being a major oil-producing or natural-gas producing state, it currently has no statewide setback requirements for oil and gas wells or any laws or rules on the books to reduce methane emissions.

Hamby said each state can celebrate its wins, but must also get to work where they're lagging.

"So hopefully the scorecard can help with identifying some area for growth in each state," said Hamby, "as policymakers are looking for ideas of what they might be able to do to advance conservation goals."

Hamby added that the positive economic implications of a transition to a clean energy economy will become even more evident in years to come.

Since the passage of The Clean Energy Plan in 2022, Nevada has seen more than 20,000 new jobs across the state.

When the Champlain Towers South collapsed in Surfside in 2021 taking 98 lives, it sent shock waves across South Florida. The tragedy has left lingering questions about the safety of coastal high-rises and whether the ground beneath them is as solid as once thought.

A new study by scientists from the University of Miami uncovered a troubling pattern: 35 buildings along the coastline from Miami Beach to Sunny Isles Beach are sinking, some at rates of up to eight centimeters in the past seven years.

Farzaneh Aziz Zanjani, a postdoctoral researcher at Washington University in St. Louis and the study's lead author, called the findings significant.

"We saw a correlation between the start of the subsidence and the nearby construction activities and we also found some correlation between the geology," Aziz Zanjani explained. "As we move from Sunny Isles to Miami Beach, the amount of subsidence is less."

Using satellite-based technology, the team tracked subtle ground movements which are otherwise invisible. Sunny Isles Beach, known for its luxury high-rises, showed the most dramatic rates of subsidence. The researchers believe the southern Florida geology with softer sandy layers within the limestone may be a factor.

For longtime residents, the study is unsettling. The idea some buildings may be sinking in a region already grappling with rising seas and stronger storms adds concerns about the future. Aziz Zanjani cautioned against jumping to conclusions.

"It doesn't necessarily mean that these buildings are unsafe," Aziz Zanjani pointed out. "This is beyond the scope of the study we had. It just shows that there is something happening under these buildings and it's related to geology and a lot more factors that we don't understand, and we need to do more research."

The research was motivated by the Surfside collapse but scientists found no evidence subsidence contributed to the tragedy. Still, Aziz Zanjani emphasized the study highlights the need for transparency and better monitoring of structural stability across the region. Aziz Zanjani's paper is open-access to the public.


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The Iowa Department of Natural Resources is training operators of Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations on the safest ways to apply manure to their fields and what to do if a spill happens. It is part of the state's effort to help reduce accidents and protect the environment.

Iowa produces about 50 million tons of manure every year or enough to fertilize roughly 17% of the state's cropland.

Jeff Prier, senior environmental specialist for the Iowa DNR, said the state is teaching commercial and smaller operators how to apply it safely by following a required manure management plan.

"When they go out to do their application, they need to comply with any separation distances to residence, church, business, school, public use area, water sources," Prier outlined. "Dependent on their application method."

Manure from Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations is known to pollute air and groundwater when it is not properly applied. Commercial operators said they are looking for more environmentally friendly ways to operate while trying to meet consumer demand for high quality meat. The deadline to apply for the DNR training is next week.

The DNR charges commercial operators $225 for a manure application permit and $175 for smaller operators. Prier noted it is a small price to avoid fines of between $3,000 and $5,000 for applying fertilizer without state certification.

"When they hear the numbers, they tend to open their eyes pretty big and think that's a pretty big number," Prier observed. "But the best reason is being in compliance with the rules and regulations and knowing what to do if there is a spill."

Prier, who has been overseeing training for 26 years, added given the amount of manure spread on Iowa farms every year, the number of spills is relatively small.


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