By Brad Martin

It was a quiet winter day on the farm, and I was in my downstairs office, catching up on year-end bookkeeping so my accountant could file my taxes. Just a typical day—until a knock at the door disrupted my focus. I heard my wife answer, followed by a man’s voice asking, “Is Brad in?”

Pushing back my chair, I climbed the stairs to see who it was. As I reached the door, the man pulled out a badge and flashed it at me. It was the Egg Police—or, as he officially introduced himself, an inspector for the Egg Farmers of Ontario. His mission? To ensure we did not have more than the 100 hens allowed for non-quota-holding egg producers.

That was going to be a problem. I raise pasture-raised, grass-fed products and sell directly to customers who want high-quality, ethically produced food. My eggs are in demand—far more than I can legally supply under the restrictive 100-hen rule. The U.S. is in the middle of an egg shortage, and if bird flu hits Canada, we could face the same crisis. When I found myself with extra hens, I didn’t see the logic in destroying productive animals just to comply with an arbitrary government quota.

The inspector asked me point-blank how many hens I had. Honestly, I didn’t know. Hens aren’t exactly easy to count. But based on our egg collection, I guessed around 150. His reaction was pure shock. For someone who inspects farms with hundreds of thousands of hens, he looked genuinely appalled that I might have a mere 150. Then came the verdict. Having more than 100 hens, he said, was completely unacceptable. The extra birds had to go.

I looked at him and asked, half-joking, half-serious, “What do you expect me to do—start wringing necks?”

He nodded. Yes.

Let that sink in.

Instead of allowing me to continue supplying local, ethically raised eggs to people who actually want them, his solution was simple: kill the hens.

Now, I’m a reasonable guy. In theory, I agreed—but then I asked him a fair question. “If the Egg Board doesn’t want me producing these eggs, will they at least provide eggs to my customers instead?” Of course, I wasn’t asking for cheap, factory-farmed, caged eggs. My customers want eggs from hens raised on pasture, fed locally grown organic feed, and soy-free.

The inspector had no answer. The Egg Board doesn’t produce eggs like mine. They couldn’t supply them, even if they wanted to. That led to my next question: if they can’t supply these eggs, why can’t I?

His answer was simple. “It’s against the rules.”

That was it. No logic, no flexibility—just blind enforcement of a broken system.

The Egg Board is actively working against Canadian farmers like me. The government tells people to buy Canadian, yet their own policies are forcing farmers out of business. My customers want my eggs. The Egg Board wants me to kill my hens.

Now, I have a choice to make.

Do I quietly take my birds behind the barn and do as I’m told? 

Or do I go public and fight for common sense?

I know I won’t be farming forever, but there are young farmers out there dreaming of a life on the land. They want to raise families, work together, and build something sustainable. Yet, thanks to suffocating supply management and government overregulation, this dream is being crushed. And I refuse to stay silent.

Let’s get one thing straight. Commercial egg farms are great at supplying cheap, mass-produced eggs. Small farmers are great at meeting the niche demand for high-quality, ethical food. Yet, the Egg Board is blocking small farmers from filling the gaps that industrial farming can’t.

Right now, they’re actively limiting consumer choice by refusing to let small farmers sell the eggs people actually want. They expect consumers to eat their eggs and only their eggs. Instead of embracing innovation and diversity, they hide behind biosecurity excuses, keeping consumers away from their factories while small farmers invite people onto their farms. We let visitors hold a hen, gather an egg, and see firsthand how their food is made.

Which system sounds more transparent?

Rather than limiting Ontario farmers and importing eggs from non-quota American farmers, the Egg Board should support local producers. If they think allowing more non-quota eggs will collapse the market, let’s look at the Chicken Board. They raised the non-quota limit from 300 to 3,000 birds—and the industry didn’t collapse. What exactly is the Egg Board so afraid of?

If we want Ontario farming to survive and thrive, we need to make room for small farmers to get started. The Chicken Board already allows 3,000 meat birds. The Egg Board should follow suit and increase the 100-hen cap to 1,000. If the market grows, the cap should grow too. This would help young farmers enter the industry and give consumers more choice for locally produced eggs.

The Egg Board needs a consumer advocate to prevent anti-choice policies and a new entrant advocate to ensure fair market opportunities. We need to stop overregulation that forces small farmers to grade their eggs when they sell directly to consumers.

Consumers should have the right to choose where they buy their eggs.

If you trust factory-farmed eggs, buy them. But if you prefer local, ethical, pasture-raised eggs, you should have that option, too. Right now, the Egg Board is protecting its monopoly at the expense of farmers and consumers.

It’s time for common sense to win. I ask the good people of Ontario—What do you think?

Should I kill my hens to protect a broken system?

Or should small farmers be allowed to feed their communities? I think the answer is pretty clear.

Brad Martin operates Echo Valley Ranch, a family business providing grass-fed, pasture-raised products and a rural connection to its clientele. Connect with Brad at brad@evrgrassfed.com    

Editor’s note: If you would like to contact The Egg Board and make your feelings known, please contact Maria Leal at mleal@getcracking.ca