On the use of mRNA vaccines

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March 18, 2024

Sometimes my daily commitment to the animals on the farm and to providing you with quality customer service prevents me from sitting down and writing about larger issues in the food industry. I always answer customer questions about larger issues promptly and directly, but I know many of you have the same questions yet don't always have the chance to ask them.

So I thought it was finally time to sit down and write something about a topic I've been asked about many times over the last year -- the use of mRNA vaccines in cows and other animals. I've heard many regenerative farmers address this issue as it pertains to their farming practices, and I'd like to do the same so you can continue to support The Maker's Meadow with confidence.

This is a complex topic, and I'm committed to an honest, transparent discussion about this subject and others as it pertains to the future of The Maker's Meadow and our regenerative farming practices. Please read on if you'd like to learn more about this issue and its many complexities. To give you the short version, there are still plenty of unknowns, and because of that, we are committed to raising animals free from mRNA vaccines.

Understanding mRNA vaccines

Before delving into the potential application of mRNA vaccines in the food supply, it's essential to understand what mRNA vaccines are and how they work. Unlike traditional vaccines, which use weakened or inactivated viruses to stimulate an immune response, mRNA vaccines deliver genetic instructions (mRNA) to cells, instructing them to produce a protein that triggers an immune response against a specific pathogen.

Are mRNA vaccines in use in cattle?

To my knowledge, mRNA vaccines for cattle are not yet widely used, and it's unknown if there are any ongoing or planned clinical trials. The specific use and approval of mRNA vaccines for this purpose would depend on regulatory approval, field trials, and commercialization efforts, which will continue to progress, in my estimation.

Are mRNA vaccines used in other livestock or animal products?

To my knowledge, mRNA vaccines for livestock, including other classes such as poultry (for eggs and meat production) and swine, and other animal products such as milk, are not widely used. The use of mRNA vaccines in livestock for meat, milk, or egg production would involve similar considerations as those for cattle, including regulatory approval, field trials, and commercialization efforts.

However, Merck introduced an mRNA vaccine for swine in 2018. This would indicate that some commercial pork may already contain this product, although I don't see any evidence that mRNA vaccines are approved or in use for other livestock or animal products.

Other potential applications in the food supply

The use of mRNA vaccines in livestock isn't the only potential application in the food supply. The potential to further modify specific crops (grains, vegetables and fruits) with mRNA technology already exists, and the concept of "edible vaccines" isn't entirely new. Scientists have long explored the concept of "edible vaccines," which involve genetically engineering plants to produce antigens from pathogens, effectively turning them into vaccines. Other widespread applications for mRNA technology include fertilizers and soil amendments.

Final thoughts

Plenty of reasons are given for the consideration and use of mRNA vaccines in livestock from the medical and scientific community. But our philosophy at The Maker's Meadow is simple: God created every animal perfect, and we see no reason to potentially alter their genetics or biochemistry when their bodies are already designed to function perfectly without synthetic substances. We raise our animals with regenerative and organic practices, which helps create a dynamic and diverse ecosystem, including healthy, nutrient-dense soil and grass. Our commitment to you is to continue those practices, with full transparency, as science and technology continue to develop in and around the farming and agricultural industry.

Why You Should Give the New York Strip a Chance

When most people think of a prime cut of steak, their minds often go straight to the Ribeye—and for good reason. It’s rich, flavorful, and generously marbled. But as a regenerative farmer who raises grass-fed beef from pasture to plate, I’m here to make the case for an often-overlooked gem: the New York Strip. A Leaner, More Sustainable Cut Let’s talk fat. Ribeye is beloved for its marbling, but the New York Strip, by comparison, offers a great balance of flavor and tenderness, with less fat. For those wanting a heartier chew without sacrificing taste, the Strip is a smart choice. And from a farming perspective, leaner cuts like the Strip align beautifully with regenerative grazing practices. Our cattle roam freely on rotationally grazed pastures, feeding on diverse grasses that build soil health and store carbon. Because they move more and eat more naturally fibrous forage than grain-fed cattle, our grass-fed beef tends to be leaner overall, making the Strip one of the most naturally aligned cuts with how we raise our animals. Consistency You Can Count On If you’ve ever grilled two Ribeyes side-by-side and noticed one cooked beautifully while the other came out uneven, you’re not alone. Ribeye’s varying fat distribution and the inclusion of multiple muscle groups can make it tricky to cook consistently. The New York Strip, however, comes from a single muscle (the longissimus dorsi), making it more uniform in shape and easier to sear or grill to perfection. It’s a reliable steak—especially when you're cooking for guests and want to ensure every plate is as good as the last. Flavor That Reflects the Land One of the joys of regenerative farming is the concept of terroir—the way flavor is influenced by the land itself. Grass-fed New York Strips carry a clean, beef-forward taste with subtle notes of the pasture: clover, alfalfa, and wild herbs. Ribeye’s fat can sometimes overpower those delicate, grassy undertones. If you’re a true steak lover who wants to taste the animal’s life—how it was raised, what it ate, where it roamed—the Strip gives you that in every bite. More Meat, Less Waste Because the Strip has a lower fat content and more consistent muscle, you're getting more actual meat per ounce. That means better value for your dollar, especially when buying premium grass-fed cuts. You're not paying extra for chunks of fat you’ll end up trimming or leaving behind on the plate. The Ethical & Environmental Bonus Every New York Strip steak from our farm represents more than just a meal—it’s a vote for biodiversity, carbon sequestration, and humane animal treatment. Our cows help rebuild the soil, improve water retention, and reduce erosion with every step they take on pasture. Choosing a leaner, grass-fed Strip extends the impact of your choice from your plate to the planet. Final Thoughts Don’t get me wrong—I love a good Ribeye. But as someone who works every day to build a better food system from the ground up, the New York Strip deserves more attention. It’s flavorful, sustainable, and a great example of how ethical choices can still satisfy your inner carnivore. So next time you're in the mood for a delicious, mouth-watering steak from the farm, give the Strip a chance. You can order some here.

Chaos Subdued: Life on the Farm

Working on a farm with many animals was never something I dreamed of doing. The idea of this kind of work as my consistent vocation never even crossed my mind. I had been around farm livestock and poultry in a small way growing up, but that was about the extent of my experience. I considered myself more of a carpenter, having done that for most of my short working life. And then there’s the aspect of living in Ohio. That wasn’t on my radar either, having grown up entirely in the western United States. Carpenter. Wilderness man. These were key parts of my identity. Sasquatch, or Yeti, is one of my nicknames. Mountain man was another title I picked up after moving here. Apparently, I stand out considerably now that I’ve been removed from my native habitat. The names mostly came from my appearance, but when my friends here discovered my deep love of the wilderness and hiking through it, those names made even more sense to them. Adjusting to a New Reality Ohio was very hard for me to adjust to. I moved here at the end of September 2023 because I had hit some impasses in my life and needed a change. I was acquainted with John and a few others here in Ohio, so that’s why I chose this area. I moved in with John and another friend and decided to work for John as well. I figured it would be a good short-term job as I adjusted to a new culture. In my first month working for him, John shared that he wanted me to take over management of the farm. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but John was extremely busy. He needed someone to relieve his load, not just another farmhand. That was fine with me, though I really wasn’t sure what that would entail. But I plunged in the best I knew how. The Commitment and the Conflict Most of you know John at some level, but working for him and living with him was a total immersion experience. Every relationship has a honeymoon period, and this one was no different. What stood out to me about working on a farm is the high level of adaptability required just to get through a week. Farm work is a daily venture into repetitious chaos. It was nothing like construction, where you build step by systematic step. After about a month of living in Ohio, I remember one day venting to the Lord. He answered, “You are used to living only according to your preferences. I am teaching you to be flexible.” That hit home—and it silenced me, at least temporarily. Still, chaos was the word I used often to describe life on the farm. Growing Through Difficulty When I started work in early October, we had chickens and turkeys in addition to the cows and sheep. We also rented some fields from a local farmer to graze the cover crops he’d planted that fall. Putting up thousands of feet of temporary fencing was a good experience. During that first month, Austin, one of my coworkers, asked me if I enjoyed farming and if I wanted to do it for the rest of my life. I struggled to answer. It was hard to admit that I hated the job, because that begged the question: “Then why are you here?” The answer was that I had committed to work for John for six months, and keeping my word mattered to me. The tension between commitment and desire was tough. I hadn’t realized it was okay to get out of my comfort zone for a time, even if I didn’t love what I was doing. Austin helped me see that every detour and side road adds to the bigger picture of gaining experience and discovering direction. I didn’t appreciate that conversation at the time—but as the months passed, I came to value it deeply. Jaima Enters the Scene Winter was the season for maintenance. I preferred being outdoors, so it was tough being cooped up in the shop for hours, trying to troubleshoot complex electrical issues on the truck. In those frustrating moments, I realized how far outside my element I truly was. I had spent six years in construction and felt confident in that work. This was totally different. I remembered my school days, where I excelled with ease. Now, I was faced with challenges that left me feeling humiliated—and angry. I wasn’t used to struggling, and I hated that I couldn’t “ace” this job. Amidst all this, Jaima Hess joined us for a week around Christmas. She had helped John earlier that year and came back to lend a hand. I didn’t think much of it at the time. She needed work and was a friend of John’s cousin. But John—“Juani,” as we affectionately called him—was clearly scheming something. The Love Story Unfolds One evening, John called and asked if Jaima and Keri (his cousin) could join us for supper. Four guys living together and two single ladies coming over—sure, why not? But none of us were prepared for what happened that night. After supper, we gathered for prayer, as was our custom. When Jaima’s turn came, she prayed boldly, “Lord, send these men wives that wow, not business partners.” Boom. We all looked around like, “Did she just say that?” Weeks later, John confessed his feelings for Jaima. Chaos was beginning to spiral in his heart. It brought a light-hearted energy to our workdays. He called Jaima often, usually on speaker, and we’d join in to tease him as she giggled on the other end. John basked in the attention like a man drinking lemonade on a hot day. Summer Projects and Spiritual Reflections Spring brought a flurry of activity: brooding baby chicks, rotating cows onto fresh pasture, and clearing brush on new rented land for fencing. Chainsaws, skid steers, and excavators made it fun—even if progress was slow. In June, John went to Washington to visit Jaima. He forgot his phone at the airport, which made him hard to reach, but Jaima was suddenly more reachable than ever. A couple days before he flew back, he got his phone back. When I called with a work question, he said, “I’m going to ask Jaima to marry me this afternoon. Pray for me.” I grinned. I figured the answer was already sealed. Later that summer, we finished the Lexington road fencing project and moved the cows and sheep. Watching livestock improve the soil by trampling, grazing, and fertilizing fascinated me. It also mirrored how God works in our lives—allowing uncomfortable things to uproot and refine us so that something better can grow. Farm Management and Personal Growth September was disorganized. I was gone for the entire month, some help left, and John’s wedding was rapidly approaching. John and Jaima married the first Saturday of October, and it was beautiful. I stayed behind to manage the farm while they honeymooned. With 1,200 chickens, a couple hundred turkeys, and all the cows and sheep to care for, it was slightly stressful. But I needed that pressure. It grew me as both a worker and a manager. John left us access to his house, which we cleaned and prepared for their return. I even dabbled in interior decorating—contact John if you’d like to hire me. (Kidding... mostly.) Reflections on Animals and Daily Chores Farming still wasn’t “my thing,” but a year in, I’d stuck it out—and been deeply rewarded. I’d gained a brother and forged a relationship through fire. (Some of that fire was my own stubbornness.) How would I sum up farm life? Chickens: hot pens, lots of poop, and bending down to feed the little tanks. Turkeys: slightly better—more mobile and hardy, but still poop machines. Sheep and cows: enjoyable to watch. Lambs are playful; cows are majestic. Callie, our old dairy cow, was sweet and mellow. Our Highland cows, though, remained skittish despite our best efforts. Watching them eat thistle and ragweed was oddly satisfying. Sheep are rebels. They’d escape often and test our patience, despite being herd animals. Gentle treatment was essential. Cows typically respected fences, though they did break out once when a fence was knocked down. In that moment, they gave even the sheep a run for their money in the rebellion department. Conclusion: Chaos Transformed Daily chores could get frustrating—especially when things didn’t go to plan. But packing online meat orders helped me reconnect with the “why” behind it all. The freezer full of vacuum-sealed, pasture-raised meat reminded me of the delicious meals those animals would become: sizzling steak, grilled drumsticks, juicy burgers. Even lamb heart and pancreas turned out to be surprisingly flavorful! Each order reminded me of our customers and their stories—why they sought healthy, local meat. It gave the work purpose. Farming also meant growing a relationship with John. We frustrated each other to no end, but we also blessed and sharpened each other. It was chaos—sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. But through it, God was weaving something deeper. Last year wasn’t just a job—it was a transformative journey. And for John, it was a love story, too. That Jaima really did a number on him. As for the animals, they deserve the best care we can offer. Everyone who works on the farm has rough days, so it's important to hang in there and take care of them. As for me, I’ve learned that if I'm patient, chaos will unfold many surprises better than I dreamed were possible.

On the use of mRNA vaccines

More from the blog

Why You Should Give the New York Strip a Chance

Choosing the Right Cows: Why Hide, Fur, and Fat Matter

Chaos Subdued: Life on the Farm

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