Exclusivity

written by

posted on

May 2, 2024

I just got asked for the umpteenth time to participate in an online educational summit with the proviso that Polyface send out two promo emails, blog twice, post a social—you know the drill.

Do you ever feel like the internet is becoming like TV on steroids? It was supposed to be this wonderful thing that enabled us to communicate free or at least cheaper, faster, and easier. But as things have progressed, you can’t watch anything without ads popping up and if you buy something, suddenly you get two or three ads posted every day.

As a crunchy old newspaperman, I’m frustrated that print media is fast leaving our world due to all the ad money going to the internet. I’ve unsubscribed to more things than I knew existed just two years ago. And I really don’t like when something I enjoy for personal growth and edification turns into a disguised conduit for marketing. Enough already.

People admonish me that this kind of collaboration is the new future. They provide me a platform to teach, to rant, to spout off, and in return I market their summit or podcast or whatever. It’s a never-ending insatiable treadmill of getting signups, clicks, links, and eyeballs. The demand and appetite for all this brouhaha increases by the day as millions of entities vie for subscribers.

These summits are free, of course, to the attendees. But you and I know nothing is free. So who pays? We do when those infernal ads interrupt our emails, clog our inbox, and leave us feeling used by folks we’ve given access to our email address. I gave company X permission to ping me, but who’s this? Good grief, yet another piggyback to purchase something.

I confess I’ve struggled with this whole scenario, especially when I get asked by friends in our movement to “get the word out.” I know how important letting people know about your product, service, performance, informational summit is to getting attendance, whether in person or on an internet platform. And I don’t want to throw cold water on good people’s efforts to broadcast their thing.

But you as a Polyface patron, having permitted us to access your email, deserve to have that access used with the utmost respect and appreciation. Remember junk mail? My dad used to keep a list of signatures whenever he subscribed to a magazine. He never used the same signature twice. His name was William Thomas Salatin, so for one magazine he’d be W.T. Salatin. For another, he’d be William T. Salatin. For the next one, he’d be W. Thomas Salatin. He could use Bill, Tom, etc. I know once he used Wm. T. Salatin. Then he could use Wm. Thomas Salatin.

The point is he had some dozen combinations that enabled him to know what subscription sold his name to a junk mail outfit. Then he’d write a scathing letter to the magazine he’d subscribed to, berating them for selling his name to some other entity. For the record, it didn’t stop junk mail from coming to our house, but I hope it shows my deep family legacy of disliking businesses I initially liked who then gave me over to other outfits for marketing efforts.

Junk snail mail has now been replaced with junk email. But the business pressures behind this constant unasked-for barrage on our inboxes are the same. I know some summit organizers think I’m a stick-in-the-mud for refusing to cooperate on a “we require 2 email posts to your email list” in order to have the privilege and honor of participating in their virtual conference.

But at Polyface, we value our patrons too much to view you as clickbait for other entities—even though many of these entities are friends and we applaud what they’re doing. Currently, we only post for things we’re doing here at Polyface, like physical gatherings. For us to keep offering our farm as a gathering place for people, we need folks to come and patronize these events so everyone, including us, gets paid. We view that quite differently than a virtual summit we have nothing to do with except provide content.

I think everyone with a brand and patron base feels this tension about prostituting ourselves with barrages of emails. Perhaps I feel it more acutely than others because I feel violated when a business I’ve permitted to have my email suddenly starts sending me stuff to promote other things. That’s not what I signed up for. Am I alone in this?

The bottom line, dear Polyface patrons, is that we hold dearly our email access to you. Back more than 40 years ago when I began writing what is now affectionately known as our Polyface spring epistle, people from around the world wanted to subscribe to it. That was before the internet, before podcasts, before virtual summits. We always said no because we viewed this annual communique as private, like a family dialogue. We shared our problems, our hopes, and our current thinking about food/farm affairs in an extremely intimate way. This wasn’t to hang out on the line for the world to see.

We like special relationships where we know our conversations will be held in confidence, where we can maintain privacy that’s not public. In our celebrity culture and social TikTok addiction, we crave relationships that are special because they aren’t broadcast around the world. We need sanctuary. We need havens of rest.

To cut to the chase, then, I’m going on record that Polyface views our patron email list as something precious. As something special. Like a wedding ring. It is not something to be flaunted around to any entity that wants access to it. We feel a deep responsibility to protect the trust you’ve given us by allowing us to invade your space, which today includes your email inbox. We don’t take it lightly and we certainly aren’t going to use it indiscriminately for others; even friends.

We know that will keep us off of some platforms. It might even cost us some marketing opportunities. But we want to cultivate a familial loyalty and dignity with our patrons. When we move the chickens or help a cow deliver a calf, we don’t do it for ourselves; we do it for you. That is special. We believe you deserve a conduit to us, and from us, that the world does not see. That is why even this blog will not be posted on our generic social media. It’s for you, our patron family. Our community.

If we can’t preserve something special, phooey on us. To be sure, this is an inexact science right now. Every day new temptations seem to come our way as the electronic world innovates more ways to get clicks. And dangles more alleged rewards to expose everything and everyone in our lives to the world’s spotlight. Polyface may not draw the lines in all the right places, but at least we’re going to wrestle with lines. You can count on us to honor you in our access.

All that being said, if you’ve hung with me this far, realize that we depend on you to spread the word about us. So if YOU want to share this blog, or tell someone “you need to get stuff from these guys” we’ll be forever grateful. And we’ll do our best to treat them just like we treat you.

Thank you for being part of our Polyace family; for making it possible for us to build soil, increase pollinators, and grow nutrient-dense food — to heal the land one bite at a time. You’re doing that. Thank you.

Why Good Food Costs More - and Why It Matters

Many people wonder why foods grown with care for the land, animals, and farmers often cost more than the industrial options that line grocery store shelves. It’s an important and honest question, and it deserves a thoughtful answer. Let’s start with the basics: food affects everything. Our health, our communities, and the land that sustains us are all tied to how food is produced. Unfortunately, problems begin when the cheapest foods tend to be the most processed, the most subsidized, and the most aggressively marketed. It's easy to feel boxed into these choices, especially when you look at the price tag. But sometimes, and for lots of folks, it's easy to forget that those cheap foods come with a much higher price tag later on, whether it's just how we feel as processed foods affect our bodies, or the bills that stack up after doctor's visits. I know that after I eat ultra-processed foods (often full of unspecified additives, dyes, stabilizing ingredients, etc.), I don't feel great. I'm so thankful to say that I grew up eating mostly grass-fed beef. As a child, I remember wondering why "grocery store" beef was so different and "yucky". (I just thought only my grandpa could raise good beef.) As I've spent the last decade and a half eating mostly pastured chicken and pork, too, I can tell a definite difference when I do eat less "expensive", commercially raised foods. My grandpa definitely raised good beef, but I've realized now that it was his methods that made all the difference. Sustainably raised, grass-fed, pastured meat is meat that is being raised as it was intended to be, and therefore, it can do for our bodies what it was intended to do: nourish, fill, and bless. When I make better choices with my meals, I'm less tired, experience fewer mood swings, don't get hungry again as soon, experience less brain fog, and have fewer stomach and digestive issues. I've realized that the true price of food is how it affects my body and makes me feel. I can choose foods that come with a 'price tag,' and will help me to feel my best, or I can choose food with a hidden cost later on, as it takes a toll on my body.At Polyface, we have a simple belief: when animals live the way they’re designed to live, they, the land, and the people who eat from it thrive. Compared to conventional, industrially raised meat, regeneratively raised, grass-fed meat offers: Healthier fat profiles — Cattle and poultry raised on diverse pastures often contain more omega-3s and fewer inflammatory omega-6 fats than animals fed grain in confinement. Higher micronutrient density — Pasture-raised meats and eggs contain more vitamins A, D, and E, along with minerals like iron and selenium—thanks to clean sunlight, fresh grasses, and good exercise. Cleaner food with fewer inputs — Animals raised on pasture don’t require routine antibiotics, growth promotants, or chemical inputs that are standard in confinement systems. Food that nourishes more with less — Nutrient-dense food tends to be more satisfying, meaning people often feel full sooner and stay full longer. These aren’t abstract ideals. They’re real, biological outcomes from raising animals on living landscapes rather than in industrial warehouses. At Polyface, we consciously invest in people and animals—not gadgets, not chemicals, not complex machinery that distances the farmer from the land. Instead of giant tractors, Polyface invests in skilled team members who know how to read the land, interpret animal behavior, and respond with nuance and care. Human eyes, human hands, and human intuition cannot be replaced by equipment if the goal is health and regeneration. Instead of confinement buildings that require ventilation systems, antibiotics, and elaborate waste-handling equipment, Polyface invests in animals raised outdoors in fresh air and sunshine, rotated across pasture so they can express their natural design (while fertilizing the soil). Instead of relying on chemical crutches, Polyface invests in biological solutions like rest periods for grass, multi-species grazing, composting systems, and portable shelters. These things help us follow natural patterns rather than fight them. This kind of farming is people-intensive. It’s observation-intensive. It’s relationship-intensive. It's a very different type of farming than what is most often seen or illustrated. So, why does this matter? You don’t have to raise chickens or move cattle across pastures to be part of this work. Honest, regenerative farming is a partnership between the growers and the eaters. Every time you choose food raised with care and transparency, you cast a vote for the kind of world you want: A world where animals live in a way that honors their design. A world where farmers can make a living without compromising their values. A world where the land becomes healthier, more fertile, and more resilient each year. A world where food strengthens bodies instead of breaking them down. When you choose Polyface, you become part of this regenerative story. You help restore soils, revive rural communities, and support a type of agriculture that heals instead of harms. You help build a food system rooted in transparency, nutrition, stewardship, and hope. I've heard it said that the path forward begins with honest conversation and mutual learning. The same holds true for moving toward better food and better farming. Thank you for asking hard questions and caring enough to look deeper. We want to stay accountable, curious, and committed to improving what we do. Whenever you’re able, the Salatins welcome you to the farm so you can see these principles in action for yourself. I always tell people that there’s nothing quite like walking the pastures, watching the animals, and witnessing regeneration firsthand. Together as farmers, families, and communities, we can cultivate a future where food nourishes everything it touches: the land beneath our feet, the animals in our care, and the people around our tables. I like the sound of that future, don't you? Hannah

Exclusivity

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