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This project is a textbook case of environmental injustice. It would carve through preserved farmland and forests, pollute streams and wetlands, and destroy habitats for threatened species.
The name “Maryland Piedmont Reliability Project” is a masterclass in Orwellian branding. It sounds like public service—what it really delivers is environmental destruction, labor exploitation, and corporate profit at the public’s expense.
My name is Karyn Strickler, and my family farm lies directly in the path of this 70-mile transmission line. Located in Carroll County, Maryland, our farm has been in agricultural preservation for decades. My sister, her family, and my 95-year-old father live on the land. The third generation is now growing up here. Our roots stretch back to the early 1700s in America—and 500 years before that in Switzerland.
We preserved this land for farming. Not for it to be bulldozed by a private utility company.
The MPRP is part of a growing national trend where energy infrastructure is being redirected to power unregulated, fossil-fueled data centers—putting local communities and ecosystems at risk across the country, not just in Maryland.
The Maryland Piedmont Reliability Project (MPRP) isn’t about homes or communities. It’s about servers—giant fossil fuel-powered data centers in Northern Virginia. And while these billion-dollar corporations get the power, Marylanders get the pollution, the grid drain, and the bill.
Public Service Enterprise Group couldn’t meet the labor standards required by New Jersey for a wind project. So they ran to Maryland—where wage protections are weak, enforcement is inconsistent, and union labor is often ignored. Meanwhile, construction jobs are temporary, low-wage, and often filled by undocumented workers with no protections.
This project is a textbook case of environmental injustice. It would carve through preserved farmland and forests, pollute streams and wetlands, and destroy habitats for the bog turtle and the Baltimore checkerspot—Maryland’s own state insect. These species are already threatened. MPRP could push them further toward extinction.
And let’s be clear: This isn’t about my family alone. There is widespread grassroots opposition across Carroll, Frederick, and Baltimore counties. We are farmers, homeowners, business owners, and residents who see this for what it is: a high-voltage land grab disguised as progress.
The MPRP is part of a growing national trend where energy infrastructure is being redirected to power unregulated, fossil-fueled data centers—putting local communities and ecosystems at risk across the country, not just in Maryland.
This is not reliability. It’s recklessness. It’s time Maryland lived up to its promises of equity, sustainability, and dignity for workers. The bulldozers are warming up—but so is the resistance.
One scientist asked, "How can the administration make good on its promise to make America healthy again while cutting support for the bees that are essential to producing fruits and vegetables?"
Scientists warned Friday that over $300 million in federal funding cuts for bee research proposed in U.S. House Republicans' budget reconciliation package imperils critical conservation efforts amid an ongoing colony collapse crisis afflicting the indispensable pollinators.
The proposed budget, which is backed by President Donald Trump, cancels $307 million in funding for the Ecosystem Management Area, the division of the U.S. Geological Survey that oversees biological research including the USGS Bee Lab. The laboratory is the government's preeminent pollinator research institution and plays a crucial role in efforts to conserve thousands of native U.S. bee species.
The Center for Biological Diversity (CBD) noted Friday that "native bees pollinate 75% of flowering plants, including fruit and vegetable crops that are important to a healthy diet. Through crop and wild plant pollination, native bees contribute $3 trillion to the global economy."
"To ensure an abundant supply of food, we have to protect pollinators."
Although the latest quinquennial Census of Agriculture showed the nation's honeybee population hit an all-time high in 2022, researchers forecast a 60-70% decline in U.S. commercial honeybee colonies in 2025, a significant increase from average annual losses of 40-50% over the past decade.
"How can the administration make good on its promise to make America healthy again while cutting support for the bees that are essential to producing fruits and vegetables?" CBD staff scientist Jess Tyler said Friday. "As pollinator population declines get worse, we need to double down on research and protections for bees to ensure a healthy and affordable food supply."
"You can't have an America-first agenda if America can't feed itself," Tyler added. "I implore the Trump administration to reconsider its slashing of the Bee Lab's budget. To ensure an abundant supply of food, we have to protect pollinators."
Earlier this week, the government notified USGS researchers and students that their funding could be frozen and staff terminated as part of the Trump administration's gutting of federal agencies, led by the so-called Department of Government Efficiency. While a federal judge earlier this month temporarily blocked Trump's mass layoffs, the administration has appealed the ruling, fueling uncertainty over ongoing and future research.
John Ternest, a scientist who studied pollinators at the U.S. Department of Agriculture's research arm who was laid off in February, toldThe New York Times last month that about 15 bee researchers have already been fired.
"We have so many crops that are going into bloom and rely on pollination right when all of this was happening—the firings, the crisis of honeybees," Ternest said. "What kind of trickle-down effect does that have on, of course, the farmers, but potentially even things like food prices?"
"Somebody has to push back—it's time to speak out."
Sam Droege, a biologist at the USGS Bee Lab, warned this week that the Ecosystems Mission Area—the U.S. Interior Department's biological research arm—"is absolutely, completely targeted" for layoffs by the Trump administration.
"Somebody has to push back—it's time to speak out," Droege said.
Retired senior USGS research official John Organ said earlier this month that "the elimination of funding for the USGS Ecosystems Mission Area will be a generational catastrophe for North American—and global—conservation science and management."
"Who will train the next generation of fish and wildlife managers, scientists, and leaders while conducting actionable science to help ensure future generations will be able to enjoy and benefit from our public trust in wildlife?" Organ wondered.
Chickens are smart, emotional animals; they deserve our respect.
My wife Janet and I started keeping chickens 14 years ago; we currently have four. Since we eat eggs, we figured we should take some responsibility for how those eggs come to us (I went vegetarian at age 20 once I realized the cruelty and suffering involved in producing the hamburgers I devoured). We wanted to see whether we could obtain eggs ethically and in a way that gave us more connection with our food. And, as bird lovers, we wanted to get to know some hens.
Lately, with egg prices soaring, there’s widespread interest in keeping chickens as a way of saving money. That was not our purpose, and raising hens hasn’t lowered our food bills—though they do give us plenty of lovely eggs. We invested in a secure chicken house and a covered run big enough to give our girls space to scratch and dust-bathe when it’s raining (on most days, we let them roam everywhere in our backyard except the vegetable garden, which they would happily destroy if they could). We feed them the best organic chicken feed. And we take them to the vet if required (one of our sweetest hens ever, Silvie, needed a hernia operation, a significant expense; that happened a year ago, and she’s fine now). We haven’t tried to calculate how much each egg costs us, but it’s more than a pittance.
There’s both good and sad to report from our years of living with hens. But we’re still at it and still learning.
One of the biggest payoffs of our hen hobby is the experience of living with alien creatures. Chickens aren’t much like dogs or cats. Birds have brains that are organized differently from mammalian brains, and birds see colors we can’t register. Chickens communicate vocally with about 25 different calls, screams, whines, cackles, purrs, and clucks. Janet and I spend a lot of time trying to understand what our hens are thinking and feeling, and we’ve learned a little about what motivates them.
Food is certainly at or near the top of the list. Chickens display extraordinary enthusiasm for food and are vigorously competitive whenever any treat is on offer. Their motto: Eat fast and ask questions later.
Reproduction sometimes takes top priority in the hen brain. We don’t keep roosters, since we live within city limits and an ordinance forbids them. Nevertheless, we have outlaw neighbors with roosters, and we are reminded daily that the male of the Gallus gallus domesticus species can indeed make a lot of noise. Roosters are required for fertile eggs, but in the absence of males, hens lay anyway. Some of our hens go broody occasionally, spending a couple of weeks sitting in their nest trying to incubate eggs that aren’t there, because we’ve collected them and put them in our refrigerator. Broody hens need special care, as they tend not to eat enough to keep themselves healthy. The hens often squat for us, as they would for a rooster wishing to copulate; when they do, we give them a backrub to partially fulfill their instinctive need—and to take advantage of a receptive moment when we can pet them or pick them up.
In 14 years, we have gotten to know 10 hens and can recall each one (Janet has painted individual portraits of most of them). We’ve witnessed sad deaths, but also beautiful lives.
Curiosity may be proverbially associated with cats, but we’ve found that chickens are perpetually inquisitive. They spend a large portion of each day exploring every corner of our yard, scratching in the dirt and digging holes. What’s down there? Who knows what might turn up?
Cleanliness requires effort. Sometimes chickens and other birds roll around in the dust as a way of discouraging mites and other pests (spa day!); afterward they shake their feathers in satisfaction. Feather maintenance is always a priority, and time must be devoted daily to preening. The versatile and sensitive beak must be cleaned occasionally by carefully wiping it on a hard surface (or our pants). Chickens and humans have very different ideas about cleanliness, but hens do care about it in their own way.
Affection might not be the strongest chicken motivator, but it certainly deserves to be listed. At first, we thought our chickens’ seeming enjoyment of human cuddles was merely a clever way of begging for more food treats. But long-term observation has shown us that some hens are just as affectionate as any dog or cat, and that food is not a strategic goal of cuddles. One of our hens, Lulu (more about her below) demands at least one cuddling session every day, and will sit in your lap for half an hour or more, soaking up love and offering all the hugs she can give, considering that she has wings rather than arms. Silvie is a cuddler too, but less demanding in that regard than Lulu. The hens’ affection for one another is a little more complicated, as we’re about to see.
Stella: avian elegance, on April 22, 2025. (Photo: Janet Barocco)
Chickens are highly social creatures and instinctively establish a pecking order: One hen occasionally pecks others on the back of the head (often when everyone is eating) to show her dominance.
Lulu is at the top of the social ladder, and she’s a big, loud, confident hen. Friends have asked us whether chickens have individual personalities; the best answer is an introduction to Lulu. She is bossy around the other hens and demanding toward us. If she wants treats or cuddles, she lets us know by screaming—sometimes for minutes at a time—and, unfortunately, she’s as loud as any rooster. Being the top hen comes with perks, but duties as well. It’s up to Lulu to keep social order, watch for danger, and manage relations with the humans.
Stella and Sparrow—of rare designer breeds, while Lulu and Silvie are Orpingtons—are smaller, lower in the order, and relatively quieter and more skittish. Whenever Lulu is close by, they must be wary of a peck. But they’re not constantly bullied and seem to be happy, well-adjusted hens. They know the order and get their needs met within it. Sparrow is a cute comedian, always evoking chuckles from us humans. Stella is a self-reliant, industrious, elegant loner; she’s the smallest of our hens and has a scratchy voice but lays big pastel green eggs.
Some of our clearest insights into chicken social behavior come at dusk, as the hens enter their house and choose a spot on the perch. Who gets to sleep where, and next to whom? The lineup is different every night, and each night there are several tense minutes of jockeying. Sparrow seems to love snuggling up against big, fluffy Lulu, despite the prospect of a peck. Stella likes ascending the henhouse ladder last, and, though low in the hierarchy, usually gets her choice of sleeping spot. Always-agreeable Silvie (our vet called her “a very personable chicken”) just takes whatever space is available.
The whole gang: Stella, Lulu (front, naturally), Silvie, and Sparrow, on April 22, 2025. (Photo: Janet Barocco)
I’ve been astounded to learn the degree to which chicken evolution has been hijacked by humans. Genes matter, and for thousands of years people have been wittingly or unwittingly selecting chickens for humanly desirable traits.
Often, chickens pay a price. Humans want eggs; so, they breed hens that lay up to 300 of them a year—an astonishing feat. Laying an egg is no small matter. It literally takes a lot out of you. While wild relatives of the domestic chicken can live 20 years, most commercial hens live short lives, often (when they’re not killed for meat) perishing after 2 to 5 years. And while they’re pumping out those eggs, they can easily suffer from nutritional deficiencies and bone problems.
People have also bred chickens for size, feather and egg color, and behavior (I’ll refrain from discussing the commercial chicken meat industry, which has its own breeding priorities). Indeed, breeding has created more extreme varieties of chicken than of any other animal species except Canis lupus familiaris (dog). All our most affectionate hens have been Orpingtons of one sort or another: no accident, as most Orpingtons tend to be friendly.
Is it right for one species to interfere so much with the evolution of another? Not many humans seem interested in entertaining the question. One could conclude that chickens have benefitted from their relationship with people: Gallus gallus is by far the most numerous bird species (there are nearly 30 billion of them). So, humans have contributed to chickens’ evolutionary success. But that success depends entirely on chickens’ continued utility to a capricious ape whose overall activities are wrecking the biosphere. My advice: If you love feathered creatures, keeping chickens can teach you a lot about them, but you’ll do far more for this broad class of animals by creating or restoring habitat for wild birds.
In 14 years, we have gotten to know 10 hens and can recall each one (Janet has painted individual portraits of most of them). We’ve witnessed sad deaths, but also beautiful lives. Chickens are smart, emotional animals. They can decimate local insect populations, but they are resilient and courageous. They deserve our respect.
Oh, did I mention the poop? There’s lots of it. Everywhere. Every day. It’s good for the compost pile and the garden.
Recommended reading:
Andrew Lawler, Why the Chicken Crossed the World
Sy Montgomery, What the Chicken Knows
Melissa Coughey, How to Speak Chicken
Theodore Xenophon Barber, The Human Nature of Birds
Gail Damerow, Storey’s Guide to Raising Chickens
Page Smith and Charles Daniel, The Chicken Book
Alice Walker, The Chicken Chronicles
Joseph Barber, The Chicken: A Natural History
Clea Danaan, The Way of the Hen: Zen and the Art of Raising Chickens