By: Casey L. Bradley, Ph.D. - November 19th, 2025; President and Founder of AnimisticÂ
I walked out of Pig Livability 2025 in Omaha, Nebraska, with mixed emotions — inspired by the passion of more than 550 attendees yet unsettled by how far we still are from truly solving sow mortality.Â
In 2002, I went back to graduate school because I couldn’t accept the losses I was seeing in the barn. Back then, 8-10% mortality felt unacceptable. Today, after decades of research, advanced genetics, and millions of dollars in data and technology, we’re pushing 15% — and climbing.Â
We have more information than ever, yet the answers feel further away.Â
A Conference of Progress — and ParadoxÂ
This year’s event brought together an incredible lineup of scientists and producers. We saw world-class data on disease resilience, genetics, welfare, and labor — and yes, progress has been made.Â
Dr. Derald Holtkamp reminded us of the staggering cost of PRRS: over $1.2 billion lost annually in the U.S. alone. Rachel Johnson showed mortality is finally trending downward across all phases. And Dr. Lucina Galina announced that gene-edited, PRRS-resistant pigs have been approved in multiple countries — a scientific milestone that once seemed impossible.Â
The science was solid.
The presentations were sharp.
But as I listened, a question grew heavier on my heart:Â
Why, with all this progress, does it still feel like we’re losing ground?Â
One moment that stayed with me came from Carlos Roudergue’s talk about our transition from “Master Builders” to “Specialists.”Â
He wasn’t wrong — specialization has driven efficiency and expertise. But I can’t help feeling that we’ve lost something in the process.Â
When I started my career, producers were builders. They knew how feed, genetics, ventilation, and people all worked together. Today, many of us only see our corner of the barn — our data, our KPI, our algorithm.
We’ve built silos in the name of precision.
And in doing so, we’ve lost the ownership and husbandry that once defined this industry.
Dr. Maxwell, my graduate advisor, once told me I was different from his other students.
“You see the big picture,” he said, “and you’re not afraid to dive into the details to fix it.”
That compliment has stuck with me for over twenty years — because it speaks to what’s missing today. We need more people willing to see both — the forest and the trees.
We keep looking for salvation in technology: machine learning, data dashboards, and stringent SOPs. Don’t get me wrong — I love data. But I left Omaha believing that technology cannot replace stewardship.
A barn full of sensors doesn’t replace a person who cares.
A dashboard doesn’t nurture a piglet.
And a standard operating procedure doesn’t hold you accountable — your heart does.
We’ve become so busy optimizing for numbers that we’ve forgotten to optimize for purpose.
As one speaker put it, “Measurements won’t influence everyone — it’s about story and emotion.”
He’s right.
And our story needs to change.
Despite all the collaboration, research, and industry funding, we still don’t have a clear path forward.
We’re finger-pointing — at genetics, nutrition, management, markets — but not looking inward.
I don’t say that lightly.
Animistic partners with many of the companies driving innovation in this space.
But after two decades in animal science, I believe this deeply: we’ve let the largest genetics companies define what success looks like.
We’ve allowed data to dictate stewardship.
And we’ve traded the art of animal care for the science of control.
The animals in our care are not numbers on a spreadsheet — they are living beings entrusted to us by God.
When we lose that connection, we lose more than productivity — we lose purpose.
Being a steward isn’t just about preventing death; it’s about cultivating life.
It’s about seeing the pig in front of you, not just the data behind it.
It’s about taking responsibility, not just following protocols.
I left Omaha grateful for the brilliant minds in that room — but also heavy-hearted, knowing how much further we must go. The path forward won’t come from algorithms alone. It will come from rekindling the passion, craftsmanship, and compassion that once defined our industry.
Because before we can talk about pig livability,
we have to rediscover human accountability.
At the end of the conference, someone said, “Data tells the truth, but people tell the story.”
That line has stayed with me.
I think our story is still being written — and it’s time we write it differently.
Let’s be the generation of master builders again.
Let’s reconnect the dots between faith, science, and stewardship.
Let’s make livability not just a statistic — but a reflection of who we are and what we believe.
