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

On a Wednesday summer evening on the Rosebud Reservation, members of the Siċaŋġu Nation arrange twelve tables to form a U around the parking lot of a South Dakota Boys & Girls Club. The tables at the Siċaŋġu Harvest Market are laden with homemade foods for sale — tortillas, cooked beans, pickles and fresh squeezed lemonade. The market is one of many ways the nonprofit increases access to traditional and healthful foods that also happen to come with a low climate impact. The Lakota, of which Siċaŋġu is one of seven nations, were traditionally hunters and gatherers, but today, the Siċaŋġu Co nonprofit is building on both new and old traditions to fulfill its mission.

The market is one component of the group’s food sovereignty work, which also includes cultivating mushrooms and caring for a bison herd. Siċaŋġu Co is also working on housing, education and programs that support physical and spiritual wellness. But food came first. “We started with food because it’s so universal. Not just as a need but as a grounding cultural and family force,” says Michael Prate, who spearheaded the program in its initial stages. “It’s where people come together to build relationships.”

The food inequities that Siċaŋġu Co is working to address can be traced back to the eradication of bison herds by white settlers during the 1800s. For many Lakota, bison are akin to family and play an integral part in both their physical and spiritual lives. Millions of bison used to roam these plains, but when colonizers pushed West, they slaughtered the animals en masse, both to make room for the cattle herds they brought with them and to disrupt the Lakota way of life and force them onto reservations.

Mushrooms For Health and Sustenance

At the market, Siċaŋġu Co member Frederick Fast Horse shows off the mushrooms that he has foraged and raised to passersby. According to an important story passed down in Lakota history, the Lakota were once cave dwellers, and mushrooms were key to their survival, Fast Horse tells Sentient. These critical fungi are more than just calories though, as Fast Horse believes mushrooms are part of what helped Lakota stay so healthy for centuries, until the effects of colonization, which shifted the Nation’s diet to a heavy reliance on dairy and processed meats. “Every single mushroom actually coincides and targets a specific organ inside of your body,” he tells me.

In addition to being a skilled mycologist and forager, Fast Horse is also the chef at the nonprofit’s school, where he is reintroducing culturally significant ingredients to the students. Fast Horse makes breakfast and lunch for around 70 students and staff each day. The typical fare is pretty simple, he says: dishes made of just a handful of ingredients, plus a broth and spices.

In collaboration with school leadership, Fast Horse is developing dietary guidelines that reflect more traditional foods and agricultural practices. This way of eating amounts to “living off of the land.” It means eating “all the foods that are already around us, everything that you grow and very simplistic methods of preparing food and eating it,” says Fast Horse.

The diet they’re launching at the school isn’t just culturally important, it’s also better for the students’ health, according to Fast Horse who is very critical of the modern, industrialized food system. When discussing the FDA, he says “They don’t care about your health. They’re only caring about mass production.”

A diet that leans more on mushrooms and plants also happens to be more climate-friendly than the typical U.S. diet, in which beef is consumed four times more than the global average. In the big picture of global greenhouse gas emissions, somewhere between 12 and 20 percent of all emissions comes from meat and dairy farms. While the goal of Siċaŋġu Co isn’t explicitly to eat less meat, it does aim to boost access to traditional foods. This includes both low-emissions plants and mushrooms that are locally harvested and bison raised on a very small scale, treated as “kin,” in a way that looks nothing like a factory farm.

Native-Owned Bison Are Family

Rosebud Reservation is home to the largest Native-owned bison herd with over a thousand animals roaming 28,000 acres. Bison are ruminants, like cattle, which means they too belch methane, but bison offer a variety of ecosystem benefits thanks to the way they live on the land.

While herds of cattle also graze nearby, the differences are stark. Cattle are destructive to everything, says Siċaŋġu Nation member Karen Moore. Moore, who manages the food sovereignty initiative and lives on the reservation, describes how grazing cows tend to concentrate together, sometimes feasting on a single type of plant until it’s depleted. Bison are more likely to cover more ground when they graze, eating a variety of plants, which has a gentler impact on the ecosystem.

Last year, two animals from the Nation’s herd were donated to the school. With that meat, Fast Horse says he has been able to replace 75 percent of the red meat the school would have otherwise procured.

Getting the students to eat more culturally significant foods is not without its challenges, however. If one popular student decides they don’t like a particular dish then all the other kids follow suit, says Fast Horse. He avoids the problem by trying to make foods more palatable. For example, by grinding mushrooms into small pieces. “They get the flavor, but they don’t see the actual mushroom,” he says.

Another Siċaŋġu Co member, Mayce Low Dog, teaches community cooking classes that instruct participants how to use traditional ingredients in their dishes.

The work is paying off. “It seems like more people are into trying weirder foods, not necessarily like your tomatoes and cucumbers,” says Moore. “It’s been really, really exciting to see.” Her coworkers raved about her stinging nettle pesto, made from plants she foraged.

Harvesting local plants is also a critical part of the group’s work. The Nation has “been in crisis for hundreds of years,” says Moore, but harvesting their own food is part of “getting back to being self-reliant.”

On a brisk morning during my visit, Moore and Low Dog invite me to join them to harvest local plants that they’ll dry and turn into herbal teas, both for the farmers market and a community-supported agriculture program that subsidizes food shares for some residents. The teas are a way residents can reconnect with traditional foods even if they’re not skilled foragers themselves.

Gravel crunches under the tires, as we pull off of the main road and slowly roll along the banks of a pond. Along the way, Moore and Low Dog keep their eyes peeled for useful plants for tea. For both Moore and Low Dog, foraging is a newer skill. As we walk, they consult each other about different plants, making sure they’re selecting the correct ones and that everything is ready for harvest. It’s a skill they’re intentionally learning from each other and their elders.

Moore reaches down to gather some Ceyeka, or wild mint, for the teas. She’s sure to leave behind about half of the plant, to ensure the plant continues to grow on the banks so there’s more when they come back again on a later day.

Forging Connection and Community

Victoria Contreras was introduced to the food sovereignty initiative as a high school volunteer. Now, two years later, Contreras, who manages the Siċaŋġu Harvest Market, has learned to be more intentional about incorporating Indigenous ingredients in her meals, she tells Sentient. “I’m actively looking for something that I can swap out, or a recipe that I can try,” she says, fondly recalling a stinging nettle ice cream one of her coworkers made.

In addition to expanding community knowledge of traditional ingredients, the harvest market and other programs have also brought community residents together. The market helps create new friendships and revive old connections, says Sharon LaPointe who helps her daughter, Sadie, with her stand selling flavored lemonades and homemade pickles and bread. It’s a sentiment shared by many of the vendors there that Wednesday.

Michael Prate, who helped get the group off the ground, remembers some Nation members weren’t so sure of the group in the early days. “I think people have a skepticism that things are gonna go away,” he says, “because that’s the trend,” as many programs that pop up on the reservation tend to be temporary. There are challenges, including growing crops under the harsh weather conditions in South Dakota, conditions that will become even more severe in a changing climate.

The many shifting challenges facing the Siċaŋġu Nation is why food sovereignty is so critical. “They’re here to teach us how to be food sovereign because someday food is gonna get too expensive for our people,” says Brandi Charging Eagle. “The prices of food are going up, but our wages aren’t,” adds Charging Eagle, who is part of the Siċaŋġu nonprofit, but also follows its mission in her own home, where she is teaching her children how to grow their own food.

The Siċaŋġu Nation’s nonprofit will have to stay nimble in order to survive. “There’s always going to be something else that the community is going to be weathering and adapting to,” Prate says. “That’s just reality.”


Grace Hussain wrote this article for Sentient.


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A diverse group of Southwest Wisconsin farmers are using federally funded conservation programs to help improve their farms' soil health and resiliency to extreme weather, from droughts to floods.

Joe Stapleton, farmer-leader for the Iowa County Uplands Watershed Group and owner of Stapleton Farms, a 535-acre mixed crop and livestock farm in Spring Green, said implementing practices like no-till and cover crops have made a significant difference in his crop outcomes.

"When you get the droughts, the dry times, they don't to seem to be as serious," Stapleton explained. "Because land that isn't tilled holds more water and '23 was a really dry year, and we had respectable crops."

A fourth-generation farmer, Stapleton pointed out the outcomes are very different from previous droughts. Erosion is also a big issue in hilly Southwestern Wisconsin, where soil is especially susceptible to it. Stapleton acknowledged while erosion cannot completely be prevented, it can be minimized. Conservation practices are allowing him, and other farmers, to do that while maximizing their efforts.

The Uplands Watershed Group was created by a group of farmers in the Dodgeville-Spring Green area. The group focuses on priorities like protecting soil and nutrients lost through polluted farm runoff, increasing water filtration into the soil, keeping water on farmland and decreasing the damage costs associated with heavy rainfalls. Stapleton added when there's too much rainfall -- as was the case this year -- the effects are also not as damaging.

"A lot of water got into the ground on these dry ridges and we produced more crops, whereas in a lot of years it would kind of drown them out, or it would run off," Stapleton outlined. "With no-till, it actually gets in the ground better, and I've never had better corn."

He learned his beans, on the other hand, do better in dryer seasons. However, he is finding that any year, no matter the weather, is still a good year for crops on Stapleton Farms because of the conservation practices he is implementing.


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A new president will move into the White House in less than a month and Illinois farmers are questioning whether Donald Trump's tough talk on tariffs will become a reality, and how his decision will affect their livelihood.

The National Corn Growers Association said a trade war with China could reduce corn and soybean exports nationwide by millions of tons. The projection could harm Illinois farmers, in a state that is second in the nation for corn acreage.

Ben Palen, co-owner and manager of Ag Management Partners, a Denver-based sustainable agriculture advisory firm, said increased political instability on the global front and greater export competition are creating some anxiety.

"I just don't think that you can have a coherent and consistent policy for agriculture if you go from one crisis to another," Palen argued.

Last weekend's last-minute spending bill in Congress to keep the government running through mid-March includes $10 billion in one-time payments to farmers, and another $20 billion for those affected by natural disasters in the last two years.

During Trump's first term, emergency aid was sent to farmers affected by the initial trade war. But the emphasis now is a push for budget cuts, which could include rolling back billions in unspent funds from the Inflation Reduction Act.

Palen looks to legislators to identify new markets for farmers to sell their crops and thinks it is not the time to dwell on trade disputes.

"I think farmers are very good at production," Palen pointed out. "It's just part of our DNA; we want to produce, produce, produce."

The most recent U.S. Census of Agriculture data for 2022, showed Illinois farms and ranches produced almost $27 billion in products, a 55% increase from 2017.


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By Jessica Scott-Reid for Sentient Climate.
Broadcast version by Danielle Smith for Keystone State News Connection reporting for the Sentient-Public News Service Collaboration

American consumers spend roughly $11.6 billion on candy each Halloween, but even at that rate, candy companies end up with a surplus. Those leftovers end up in some interesting places, including farms, where some farmers end up feeding candy to their animals. Chocolate and other treats that can’t be sold, or candy bits leftover from production, are being sold to some meat and dairy producers to add to their animal feed. While the practice has been going on for years, more recently, the agriculture and candy industries have been framing the practice as “sustainable” — a way to curb waste that would otherwise go to landfills. Major meat producer Cargill, for example, deems it “upcycling” and a “win-win” for the animals and the environment.

A deeper dive reveals that both meat and candy companies also benefit financially from feeding candy waste to farm animals. And some food waste experts say consumers should be questioning why there is so much of this waste to begin with.

Where the Practice Originated, and Whether It’s Healthy

Feeding candy to farm animals was initially motivated by rising corn prices during times of drought, making the practice a way for producers to reduce feed cost. Candy can apparently fill in for corn as a required sugar source. As one former cattle nutritionist turned dairy farmer, Laura Daniels, claims via social media, sugar is needed to feed bacteria in the stomach of cattle that breaks down the fiber in plant foods they consume.

However, at least one farmer doesn’t see the benefit. “Empty, nutritionally void, chemical laden sugars are being foisted on cattle and their rumens,” writes Minnesota farmer Lauren Kiesz,“all in the name of the conventional food system’s four horsemen: bigger, fatter, faster, cheaper.” Kiesz, who says she farms animals exclusively on pasture, notes, “a mouthful of grass and a mouthful of Mounds are extraordinarily different.”

The debate doesn’t end there. While some advocacy groups for pigs kept as pets urge owners not to feed candy to their animals, there are hog farmers who also add candy waste to their feed.

And it continues. “Candy of all forms is unhealthy for pigs,” says the North America Pet Pig Association. Yet, according to National Hog Farmer, “Waste chocolate can also be added up to 30 percent of finishing pig diets to support optimal growth performance without affecting carcass composition or pork quality.”

Feed is the greatest expense for most animal farmers, so cheap candy waste offers an economical solution. “When producers find a way to blend in other, cheaper ingredients into the standard cow meal, they frequently will,” reports The Counter. “As long as the stuff doesn’t hurt milk and meat output, they’re going to make more money.

Many consumers learned of the practice of feeding candy to cows in 2017, when a truckload of red Skittles spilled onto a highway in Dodge County, Wisconsin. The story went viral, making news across the country. Those particular candies were reportedly defective, lacking the signature “S” due to a power outage at the factory. Interestingly, while the truck was reportedly on its way to a nearby dairy farm, Mars (the owner of Skittles) later denied that it had sold the candy to be fed to cattle.

Questioning Candy Waste

The Hershey Company has been selling candy waste to Cargill since 2011; which the chocolate maker describes as an “innovative” “sustainability partnership.”

“Today we have an entire plant in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania (U.S.), dedicated to this environmentally, economically, nutritionally friendly effort,” states Cargill on its site. “There, our team turns tens of thousands of pounds of Hershey’s chocolate waste per year into feed ingredients for cows, pigs and other species of livestock.”

As the farmer Kiesz notes, though, claiming that feeding castoff candy to cows is a net positive to the environment, is, “on closer inspection […] completely misleading.” She explains that with all steps considered, “middle-men, inputs, and expended resources” — including the added transport of the candy — “there is no way anyone can make the argument that our environmental system is better off.”

Dr. Kathryn Bender, assistant professor of economics at the University of Delaware, seems to agree. Bender says that while “it’s always great to see these innovative solutions,” meaning the diverting of candy waste to livestock, “the most ideal thing would be if we just didn’t have that waste in the first place.”

She says that programs such as the one employed by Hershey and Cargill should be there to aid companies in measuring and subsequently cutting their waste. “Oftentimes, there’s just a lot of food waste that’s not measured, and so programs like this can allow companies to start tracking what that waste is, and then we would hope that companies would say, ‘Okay, what can we do to decrease that waste?’”

But that doesn’t seem to be happening. According to news reports, candy companies have been selling their waste to animal farmers for over a decade, at least. It turns out that having such a fallback may be quelling the motivation of a company to cut their waste, says Bender. A similar example of these perverse incentives played out in a study she worked on regarding consumer food waste that showed waste increased when consumers believed it was being composted rather than going to a landfill.

Inside the U.S. Corn Surplus

While both Hersey and Cargill tout the benefits of the partnership, Dr. Tammara Soma, associate professor and research director of the Food Systems Lab at Simon Fraser University, says consumers should be questioning why so much candy is being produced to begin with. The reason, she tells Sentient, “is because we’ve commodified corn,” and we have so much high fructose corn syrup being produced as a result.

As Soma explains, because corn is “produced in such excess and is highly subsidized in the U.S., high fructose corn syrup —- which became a cheap sweetener in lieu of sugar cane or beet sugar — got put into everything.” She says this is what spurred the production of many corn syrup based items, “like all of the candies we see for Halloween.”

Corn (and, for the record, this is dent corn not the sweet corn you eat off the cob) is considered the most valuable commodity in American agriculture, with the U.S. being the largest producer and consumer of corn in the world. Though dent corn, also called field corn, is grown mostly for feed for livestock and for ethanol, it also plays a massive role in processed food. “Corn is in the sodas Americans drink and the potato chips they snack on,” writes Roberto A. Ferdman for the Washington Post. “It’s in hamburgers and french fries, sauces and salad dressings, baked goods, breakfast cereals, virtually all poultry, and even most fish.” It’s also in candy.

Tom Philpott, a researcher at John Hopkins Center for a Livable Future, and former food and agriculture correspondent for Mother Jones and Grist, tells Sentient that the agri-food industry, “is just always looking for another profitable way to get rid of this overproduction of corn.” He adds that “someone’s going to find a use for that and a way to make a buck off of it. Selling high fructose corn syrup to the candy industry is just one way.” And because corn syrup is so cheap, he says there is little risk to candy companies to overproduce, especially when livestock farmers are there, ready to pay for it.

Hershey’s classic chocolate bar contains sugar — another product Soma explains is produced in surplus — but many of the brand’s other products, such as Twizzlers licorice, Almond Joys and York Peppermint Patties, contain corn syrup.

Soma says the commodification and surplus of corn and sugar results in waste, including “too many surplus candies, that are then fed to commodified animals.” Because animal farming has become so industrialized, she adds, “the large scale [of animals] can somewhat absorb the large scale of waste.” And on top of that, everyone gets paid.

Feeding candy to cows is not only done to curb waste and allow major corporations like Cargill to claim to be more sustainable. It also saves them money. Large companies like Hershey would otherwise likely have to pay private waste haulers, Soma explains, to either transport and dump the waste in landfills, or to be dealt with by anaerobic digesters that turn food waste into biogas. Instead, candy companies can charge meat and dairy producers to take the waste off their hands — producers who then save money thanks to the cheaper feed. They can also continue over-producing, rather than working to cut waste, while claiming to be sustainable.

Sentient reached out to Cargill for this story, but did not receive a reply.

The Bottom Line

Ultimately, Soma says that without the option of using commodified animals to absorb the surplus candy waste, “we would be able to question more why cows would ever need to eat highly processed candy derived foods,” as well as question why there is so much waste being produced to begin with, and be pushed to seek better solutions.

Overall, she says, “we need to critically question industrial agriculture and industrial commoditized food systems,” which she says are “very wasteful, very extractive, focused on profits alone at the expense of the environment, promotes monoculture and takes nature out of the equation.”


Jessica Scott-Reid wrote this article for Sentient.


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