Science
The FDA knew long ago that red dye No. 3 causes cancer. Why did it take so long to ban it?
The Food and Drug Administration said Wednesday that the much-maligned red dye No. 3 will be banned in the United States because it has been shown to cause cancer in animals.
The decision, lauded by consumer advocacy groups, comes a full 25 years after scientists at the agency determined that rats fed large amounts of the artificial color additive were much more likely to develop malignant thyroid tumors than rats who weren’t given the food coloring. They also had an increased incidence of benign tumors and growths that can be precursors to cancer.
Those findings prompted the FDA to declare in 1990 that red dye No. 3 could not be used in cosmetics or drugs applied to the skin. The reason for the decision was clear: A federal law known as the Delaney clause says no color additive can be considered safe if it has been shown to cause cancer in animals or people.
Yet the dye remained a legal food coloring. It’s in the bright red cherries that dress up a bowl of Del Monte’s fruit cocktail. It makes Nesquik’s strawberry milk a pleasing shade of pink. It also colors beef jerky, fruit rolls, candy, ice cream and scores of other processed products.
Now food makers will have two years to reformulate their products without red dye No. 3. Drug companies have three years to remove it from their medicines.
The FDA does not seem to be bothered by the fact that this cancer-causing chemical will linger in the food supply. The agency’s view is that the biological process through which the dye causes cancer in rats doesn’t occur in people.
“We don’t believe there is a risk to humans,” Jim Jones, the FDA’s deputy commissioner for human foods, told members of Congress last month.
In announcing the ban, the agency added that people consume red dye No. 3 at levels far lower than those shown to cause cancer in two studies of rats. A host of other studies in both animals and humans did not show the dye to be cancerous.
Nonetheless, regulators revoked authorization of red dye No. 3 to satisfy a petition demanding that the Delaney clause be enforced.
Starburst-flavored Fruit by the Foot, which contains red dye No. 3. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“Regardless of the truth behind their argument, it doesn’t matter,” said Jensen N. Jose, regulatory counsel for food chemical safety at the Center for Science in the Public Interest, which spearheaded the effort. “Once it’s established that it causes cancer, FDA must prohibit the chemical by law.”
This wasn’t the first case of the FDA banning a food additive it considers safe to comply with the Delaney clause. The situation shows why the federal law is long overdue for a refresh, food safety experts say.
“A lot of people think we need to reform this,” said Diana Winters, deputy director of the Resnick Center for Food Law and Policy at UCLA Law. “It does lead to some absurd results.”
The Delaney clause is part of a 1958 federal law that expanded the FDA’s regulatory authority over newfangled food additives developed during World War II that were making their way into consumer products, Winters said.
Back then, members of Congress were worried about the cancer risks posed by all sorts of man-made compounds. Even small amounts seemed capable of triggering cancerous growths if people encountered them over and over again.
Arthur Flemming, who served as President Eisenhower’s Cabinet secretary for health and welfare, told Congress at the time there was no way for FDA regulators to know whether any exposure level was low enough to be truly safe. Considering the many cancer risks lurking in the environment, he said, the government should “do everything possible to put persons in a position where they will not unnecessarily be adding residues of carcinogens to their diet.”
Signature Select rainbow cups, which contain red dye No. 3.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
The issue was personal for Rep. James Delaney, a Democrat from New York City whose wife was undergoing cancer treatment at the time. He made sure the new law included a zero-tolerance provision for cancer-causing substances, though it said nothing about additives that might cause other kinds of health problems.
“No additive shall be deemed to be safe if it is found to induce cancer when ingested by man or animal, or if it is found, after tests which are appropriate for the evaluation of the safety of food additives, to induce cancer in man or animal,” the Delaney clause states. A 1960 amendment governing color additives extended the rule to dyes.
As the years went by, advances in toxicology allowed scientists to expand the list of known cancerous compounds, and to identify them in ever-smaller amounts. Regulators were no longer as clueless as they’d been in Flemming’s day.
In 1986, the FDA tried to take that progress into account as it evaluated the safety of two color additives — orange dye No. 17 and red dye No. 19 — for use in lipsticks, nail polishes, face powders and other cosmetics. The agency acknowledged that both dyes were capable of inducing cancer in laboratory animals. But it argued that the regulatory decision should be guided not by a literal interpretation of an aging law but by the real-world risks to people.
When those color additives were used as intended, those risks were vanishingly small: A panel of scientists from the U.S. Public Health Service determined the lifetime cancer risk posed by the red dye was 1 in 9 million at worst; for the orange dye, it was 1 in 19 billion. In both cases, the possibility of developing cancer was “so trivial as to be effectively no risk,” the panel concluded.
A federal appeals court agreed that the dyes seemed to be safe. In fact, the risks they posed were millions of times lower than the risks of smoking, the judges wrote.
Moreover, the judges noted, forbidding the use of chemicals that carry a minute risk of cancer might prompt manufacturers to use compounds that are more toxic, albeit in noncancerous ways. Substitutions like these would be “a clear loss for safety,” they wrote.
But none of that matters, the court ruled: If a dye or any other chemical is found to cause cancer in animals, the FDA’s only option under the Delaney clause was to forbid its use.
Nestle Nesquik strawberry milk, containing red dye No. 3. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Regulators found themselves in a more absurd situation in 2018 when they were asked to revoke their authorization of a flavoring additive called myrcene.
When the synthetic compound was force-fed to rats at doses of 1 gram per kilogram of body weight for two years, the animals developed kidney cancer and other forms of renal disease. Female mice fed under the same conditions developed liver cancer as well, the FDA said.
But the amount of artificial myrcene consumed by a typical American is 813,000 times lower — around 1.23 micrograms per kilogram of body weight, the agency said.
Moreover, myrcene is a natural component of mangoes, citrus juices, cardamom, and herbs including basil, parsley and wild thyme. The amount of natural myrcene in the food supply is about 16,5000 times greater than its synthetic counterpart, the agency added.
Still, the FDA declared the additive unsafe “as a matter of law” while assuring the public that no one’s health was actually at risk when synthetic myrcene was on the market. It blamed the Delaney clause for the confusion.
In 2020, a group of food industry scientists said the problem goes well beyond confusion. Revoking approval for artificial myrcene “has contributed to the ongoing erosion of trust in regulatory agencies,” they argued in the journal Regulatory Toxicology and Pharmacology. Such decisions promote an irrational fear of chemicals and cause consumers to lose faith in the safety of the U.S. food supply, they wrote.
Red dye No. 3 was approved for use in U.S. food in 1907, when it was known as erythrosine. It won permanent listing as an authorized color additive for foods, supplements and ingested drugs under the name FD&C Red No. 3 in 1969.
Soon after that decision, an industry group called the Toilet Goods Assn. petitioned the FDA to upgrade the dye’s listing for cosmetics and topical drugs from provisional to permanent. The request triggered additional tests in the 1970s and ‘80s, including two long-term feeding studies in rats.
Beginning before birth and for their entire lives, the animals were put on diets that included the red dye at concentrations of 0.1%, 0.5%, 1% or 4%. Compared to male rats that didn’t consume any dye, male rats that ate the most had a significantly higher incidence of tumors — both malignant and benign — as well as abnormal cell growth in the thyroid. No other group had an increased incidence large enough to be considered statistically significant. Among female rats, the incidence of benign tumors was elevated for those on the 1% diet, though not for rats on the 4% diet, as would be expected if the dye were the cause of cancer in these animals.
After consulting with scientists from the National Toxicology Program and the U.S. Public Health Service, the FDA concluded that red dye No. 3 could cause cancer in animals. In 1990, the agency denied the industry group’s request for permanent listing.
That decision applied only to cosmetics and topical drugs, and had no immediate bearing on food products sold in the U.S. At that point, the dye had been permanently listed as an approved food additive for decades. Nothing in those rat studies indicated to the agency that its designation needed to change.
Over the years, the dye has been tested in mice, rats, gerbils, pigs, beagles and humans. An extensive review conducted by the World Health Organization and the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations found “no concerns” about the dye’s ability to trigger cancer, impair fertility or cause developmental problems in people of all ages when consumed in realistic doses.
“Claims that the use of FD&C Red No. 3 in food and in ingested drugs puts people at risk are not supported by the available scientific information,” the agency said Wednesday.
Frosted sugar cookies from Favorite Day Bakery, containing red dye No. 3.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Pitting the Delaney clause’s strict legal requirements against advances in cancer research has been a longstanding challenge for the agency, officials said.
“When we ban something, it will go to court,” Dr. Robert Califf, the FDA’s commissioner, told the Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions committee last month. “And if we don’t have the scientific evidence that will stand up in court, we will lose in court.”
The elaborate regulatory process for removing an additive from the food supply can certainly result in litigation, said Emily Broad Leib, director of the Center for Health Law and Policy Innovation at Harvard Law School.
“The Delaney clause probably works a lot better at the outset if you’re trying to add a new substance to food,” she said. “Once things are in food, it takes a really long time to remove it.”
The way some people see it, the problem with the Delaney clause isn’t that it forces the FDA to ban food additives that don’t pose a true cancer threat. It’s that the law doesn’t address all the other ways the foods we eat can be hazardous to our health.
“There’s a lot of things in foods naturally that cause cancer, and the Delaney clause doesn’t cover that,” said Alyson Mitchell, a food scientist at UC Davis. “It also does not speak to anything regarding other illnesses, whether it’s kidney dysfunction or ADHD or mental health issues or endocrine imbalances.”
The General Accounting Office (now known as the U.S. Government Accountability Office) raised this issue back in 1981, when it advised Congress to update the Delaney clause to reflect the latest scientific and medical knowledge. It would make sense for the law to apply “ equally to cancer-causing and non-cancer-causing substances,” the GAO said.
Other items that contain red dye No. 3: Del Monte fruit cocktail, Signature Select Jordan almonds, Betty Crocker Suddenly! pasta salad, and Jack Links beef stick and cheese. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
California has banned all uses of red dye No. 3 in the Golden State, and prohibited the use of six other dyes in foods served or sold in schools. Scientists who examined the dyes for the California Office of Environmental Health Hazard Assessment determined that “the behavioral factors are more of a concern” than the cancer risk, said Asa Bradman, an expert on exposure assessment and epidemiology at UC Merced and co-author of the comprehensive state report.
The FDA has studied the behavioral risks of color additives and hasn’t found “a clear and causal link,” an FDA spokesperson told The Times. Studies suggest some children with behavioral challenges like ADHD appear to be sensitive to food dyes, and that genetic variants affecting the body’s ability to break down histamine are a likely cause. In the FDA’s view, that doesn’t mean the dyes themselves are “neurotoxic,” the spokesperson said.
If there was convincing evidence that an artificial dye failed to meet FDA’s safety standards, the agency would take action whether the health threats were covered by the Delaney clause or not, the spokesperson added.
Mitchell, who worked on the California report with Bradman, said that because manufacturers have been phasing out red dye No. 3 for more than a decade, it’s not a significant concern for her. She’s more worried about the hyperactivity risk posed by red dye No. 40 because it’s ubiquitous in processed foods, especially those consumed by children.
“I’m grateful for the Delaney clause because I do think it’s been very helpful in trying to protect our food,” Mitchell said. “But it doesn’t go far enough. So much of this needs to be revisited.”
Stargazing, it turns out, doesn’t have to be a stationary activity.
On railway lines around the world, from the Arctic Circle to New Zealand, a select set of evening train excursions take riders deep into dark-sky territory — some en route to remote station stops decked out with telescopes, others featuring onboard astronomers.
These five rail journeys (all of which are accessible) range from two- to three-hour desert outings to a hunt for the northern lights. One route even has a planetarium on rails. All promise a renewed appreciation of train travel — and of our pale blue dot’s improbable place in the cosmos.
Nevada
The Great Basin Star Train
Any stargazing train worth its salt requires one thing: a dark sky. The Star Train resoundingly checks that box, traveling through a part of eastern Nevada that is one of the least-populated places in the lower 48.
Run by the Nevada Northern Railway in partnership with nearby Great Basin National Park, the train departs the historic East Ely Depot, in Ely, Nev., early enough in the evening to catch the sunset over the Steptoe Valley, and then cruises through darkening skies to its destination: a remote corner of the desert appropriately called Star Flat, where a stargazing platform outfitted with telescopes awaits. There, riders disembark (equipped with red-light necklaces to help preserve their night vision) and take turns viewing the cosmos, guided by professional astronomers. (Last year’s onboard stargazing guides came from Caltech; in previous seasons, the National Park Service’s Dark Rangers, who specialize in night-sky activities, accompanied trips.)
The Star Train makes its two-and-a-half-hour round-trip journey most Friday evenings between mid-May and mid-September, and tickets ($65 for adults) can sell out almost a year in advance — though members of the Nevada Northern Railway Museum get early access. Alternatively, the railroad’s more frequent Sunset, Stars and Champagne excursions trade telescopes for desert sundowners but feature the same expert stargazers and the same Nevada night sky, which is often dark enough to see the Milky Way with the naked eye.
New Mexico
The Stargazer
While plenty of heritage railroads across the United States offer twilight rides and nighttime excursions, at the moment there’s only one other dedicated, regularly scheduled stargazing train in North America besides the Star Train: the Stargazer, operated by Sky Railway, in Santa Fe, N.M.
Much like its Nevada counterpart, the Stargazer makes a two-and-a-half-hour round trip through dark-sky country, though in this case, the journey really is the destination, because it doesn’t make any stops. More of a rolling night-sky revue, the Stargazer features live music and professional astronomers who share their celestial knowledge and stories as the train rumbles into the vast Galisteo Basin south of Santa Fe. Sky Railway’s colorfully painted trains feature heated, enclosed passenger cars to stave off the evening chill and flatbed cars open to the night sky.
Departing from the Santa Fe Depot downtown, the train normally runs once a month (adult tickets from $139, including a champagne welcome toast). Sky Railway also occasionally schedules excursions for special celestial events.
New Zealand
Matariki Rail Experience
With its alpine landscapes and rugged coastline, New Zealand’s South Island is practically tailor-made for scenic daytime train journeys. But when night falls, the sparsely populated island — home to the Southern Hemisphere’s largest International Dark Sky Reserve — is heaven for stargazers, too.
This year, Great Journeys New Zealand, which operates the country’s tourist-centric long-distance trains, is offering a special nighttime run of the Coastal Pacific, whose route skirts the South Island’s northeastern coast. Timed to Matariki, the Maori new year, which is heralded by the first rising of the Pleiades star cluster, the eight-hour round trip from Christchurch is a cultural and astronomical celebration.
After the first half of a four-course onboard dinner, the train arrives in Kaikoura, in dark-sky country, for a guided stargazing stop with a range of telescopes — and fire pits and a night market. (The rain plan involves a virtual stargazing session at the local museum using virtual reality headsets.) Dinner resumes back on the train as it returns to Christchurch. This is a strictly limited engagement, on the rails for one night only: July 11, for 499 New Zealand dollars, about $295, per person.
In the far northern reaches of Norway, inside the Arctic Circle, you can ride a train that chases another wonder of the night sky: the aurora borealis. Twice a week from October to March, the Northern Lights Train takes its riders into the dark polar night in pursuit of the aurora’s celestial light show.
From the remote town of Narvik, the train travels along the Ofoten Railway, the northernmost passenger rail line in Western Europe. The destination on this three-hour round-trip excursion (1,495 kroner, or about $160) is Katterat, a mountain village accessible only by rail and free of light pollution, making it an ideal place to spot the aurora. At the Katterat station, local guides and a campfire cookout await, as does a lavvu, the traditional tent used by the Sami people of northern Scandinavia, offering a respite from the cold (as well as hot drinks and an open fire for roasting sausages).
And aboard the train, the lights stay off, which means that on a clear night, you might even catch the northern lights on the way there and back.
Leave it to Japan to take the stargazing train to another level.
The High Rail 1375 train — so named because it runs along Japan’s highest-elevation railway line (the high point is 1,375 meters, or roughly 4,500 feet, above sea level) — is one of JR East’s deliberately unhurried Joyful Trains, which the railway company describes as “not only a means of transportation, but also a package of various pleasures.” This astronomy-themed train certainly packs plenty of joy into its two cars, with seat upholstery inspired by constellations, a snack bar, a souvenir shop and a planetarium car with a library of astronomy books and images of the night sky projected onto its domed ceiling.
The train makes two daytime runs along the mountainous Koumi Line, taking a little over two hours to travel between Kobuchizawa (accessible by express train from Tokyo) and Komoro. But the main event is the High Rail Hoshizora (“Starry Sky”) evening trip, which includes an extended stop at Nobeyama Station (the highest in the country) for a guided stargazing session. A one-way ride on High Rail 1375, which runs on weekends and occasional weekdays, requires a seat reservation if you’re traveling on a Japan Rail pass, or a stand-alone ticket plus seat reservation (2,440 yen, or about $15). And remember to preorder a special “Starry Sky” bento box.
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Much of the praise for Chanda Prescod-Weinstein’s debut book in 2021, “The Disordered Cosmos: A Journey Into Dark Matter, Spacetime, and Dreams Deferred,” lauded the way she used personal experiences in physics to discuss the social and political inequities that exist alongside scientific breakthroughs.
“It contains the narrative of dreams deferred,” Dr. Prescod-Weinstein, a physicist at the University of New Hampshire, explained in April at a bookstore in Chicago. But its very existence, she said, also “represented a dream deferred, because that was not the dream of what my first book was going to be.”
Her second book reclaims that dream. Released on April 7, “The Edge of Space-Time: Particles, Poetry, and the Cosmic Dream Boogie” is less pain and more play, a homage to the big questions that made Dr. Prescod-Weinstein want to become a physicist in the first place. She begins the book by asserting that it is humanity’s duty to uncover and share the story of our universe. Her latest offering toward that duty is a journey through physics that is tightly bound to her own cultural roots.
In the midst of a multicity book tour, Dr. Prescod-Weinstein spoke with The New York Times about guiding readers through the cosmos from her own point of view and about some of the art, poetry and literature she drew on to shape that journey. This conversation has been edited for brevity and clarity.
Why include so many references to poetry in a book about physics?
I knew poetry before I knew physics. It was part of my upbringing. I loved A.A. Milne’s “Now We Are Six” and Edward Lear’s “Nonsense Limericks.” Both of my books draw their subtitles from Langston Hughes’s “Montage of a Dream Deferred.”
Adrienne Rich’s poem “The Burning of Paper Instead of Children” became a guiding light for how my work would move in the world. It also opened up for me that I need language. That’s true among physicists. Even an equation is a sentence; even an equation is telling a story.
As physicists, we’re always working in language to connect what we learn with what we know. Poetry is one of the first places that my brain goes to draw those links. Language, as it moves in my brain, is often in Hughes and Rich and Shakespeare. Those are the lines that flicker up for me.
What if we got away from the argument that doing cosmology and particle physics is practical or materially valuable? Then we have to accept that we’re like the poets. What we do is important culturally in the same way poetry is. A piece of this book is me saying there is value in banding with the poets, and fighting for the value of being curious and trying to articulate the world with whatever tools are available to us. Not for the purposes of selling something, but for the purpose of fulfilling our humanity.
Another theme throughout the book is the story of Lewis Carroll’s Alice and her adventures in Wonderland.
Being a science adviser on future installments in The Legendborn Cycle, a fantasy series written by Tracy Deonn, is one reason Alice is in my book. It has allowed me to be open to the playful side that physics, as a Black queer person, can take from you. I wanted the book to be whimsical, because that’s who I was when I first arrived in physics, and that’s who I want to be when I die.
Part of the call of quantum physics is to change what our sense and sensibility are. When you look at the world through this framework — like the idea that particles have spin but don’t really spin — it sounds like nonsense. Except that’s literally how the universe works. Physics is our “through the looking glass.” It’s real.
Your first chapter invites readers to reflect on the metaphors used to describe the universe, like the “fabric” of space-time or electromagnetic “fields.” Why open in this way?
A lot of books about quantum physics start with its history. I wanted as much as possible not to just do that. I had actually planned to start it with the Stern-Gerlach experiment of 1922. But then I read an essay by the poet Natasha Trethewey about abiding metaphors and started to ask myself what the abiding metaphors of my physics training were.
We don’t ever take time in our classes to ask, “What do we mean when we say ‘space’? What do we mean when we say ‘space-time’?” There are these metaphysical questions that I often told myself were for the philosophers. This book was me letting myself think of them as physics.
One metaphor you invoke is the “edge” — not only the edge of the universe and of scientists’ understanding, but also existing at the edge of certain identities.
In “Disordered Cosmos,” I talked a lot about being at the margin and looking toward the center. With “The Edge of Space-Time,” I’m choosing to make the margin the center of the story. Part of that was me fully embracing what makes me the physicist I am. I’m an L.A. Dodgers fan. I love “Alice in Wonderland.” I love “Star Trek.” There’s lots of all of that in the book.
Picking a metaphor is a culturally situated decision. I wrote a line that says black holes are the best laid edges in the universe. I did, at some point, think that only some people were going to get this. But for people who don’t understand the reference to Black hairstyles, the sentence is still legible. And for those who do, it will feel like we just had an in-group moment. Anyone who thinks about laying their edges deserves to have an in-group moment in a physics book. Because we are physics, too.
Black students are often told that if you want to be a physicist, then you will make yourself as close to such-and-such mold as possible. At a young age, we have this understanding that whiteness and science are associated with each other, but we are also witnessing in ourselves that this can’t be entirely correct. There’s this narration of, “Well, sure, you can be Black in physics, but that means you have to acclimate to the ‘in physics’ part, and never that physics has to acclimate to the Black part.”
I use the example of rapper Big K.R.I.T.’s song “My Sub Pt. 3 (Big Bang),” in which someone tries to wire up subwoofers in his car but fries the wires because he doesn’t ground them properly. I don’t know if Big K.R.I.T. would think of this as a science story, but I think we should learn to read it as one. Not to contain it in science, but to say it overlaps there. This can be a rap song. It can be about the cultural significance of subwoofers and the Big Bang as a metaphor for the beat. And it can also be about cosmology and about how everybody who wires up cars or does this kind of work is a scientist, too.
How do you want readers to approach this book?
There is this feeling that you’re supposed to read a book like this and walk away an expert. That’s actually not the point of this book at all. The point is to wander through physics. Even if math terrifies you, you are entitled to spend some time with it.
And so here, I have made you a book with a bunch of tidbits on the oddities of the universe. The universe is stranger and more queer and more wonderful and more full of possibility than whatever limitations you might be experiencing right now. Physics challenges what we are told are social norms. For example, non-trinary neutrinos are fundamental to our standard model of physics.
“Non-trinary,” as in they shift between three different forms.
Non-trinary is natural. It’s such a challenge to the current anti-trans rhetoric that says people can only ever be one thing.
I don’t need my book to be the most important thing that someone reads. But I want it to be a source of hope. If it reminds you that, as my mom says, the universe is bigger than the bad things that are happening to us, then that’s all you need to remember. I’m good with that.
In late February, animal rights activists flew a drone over a calf ranch in the Central Valley and watched as workers kicked and punched the animals.
For the record:
7:15 p.m. May 12, 2026This article has been updated to reflect that no calves from Agresti Calf Ranch have ever gone on to be used for Clover Sonoma milk supplies, and the calf ranch opened only in 2025. In additional comments, Clover Sonoma also said in the future, no animals from Agresti Calf Ranch will be part of its supply.
Footage reviewed by The Times shows a worker pulling a calf by the nose with pliers.
It shows two workers removing the budding horns of a calf with a hot iron. While one held the frightened animal’s head, the other — wearing a sweatshirt with an image of the Virgin Mary — applied the iron to a horn. After a puff of smoke, the calf fell to its side, appearing motionless.
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Both male and female calves produce horns. To prevent injury to the animals and their handlers, these are commonly removed. Humane guidelines require anesthesia.
The footage was collected by the group Direct Action Everywhere, known for tactics including releasing beagles from medical breeding facilities and abused calves from farms. It was shot at the Agresti Calf Ranch in Ceres, near Modesto, which is certified by the American Humane Society for its ethical treatment of animals. The workers could not be reached for comment. One was subsequently terminated, the Humane Society said.
The Agresti Calf Ranch opened in 2025 and is operated by the owners of Double D Dairy, just up the road. Double D Dairy owns more than 10,000 cows across several operations.
The owner of Double D, Dominic Assali, declined to answer questions in person. A phone number for the dairy online is disconnected. In response to an email to his personal account, Assali said, “Animal welfare and safety are incredibly important to us, and we have a zero-tolerance policy for any mistreatment.
“We’ll always take immediate, thorough action to address any operational issues, as we have in this instance,” the email said.
The American Humane Society is a 150-year-old nonprofit focused on animal welfare. Among other things, it certifies animal safety on farms as well as on movie sets. In a statement, it said only 10% of animals raised on farms in the U.S. are certified as humanely treated.
Assali is the grandson of the farm’s founders, Harold and Marlene Agresti. He is a board member of Western United Dairies, the largest dairy trade group in California.
The mistreatment captured on video has also created a headache for a prominent California sustainable milk brand, Clover Sonoma, based in Sonoma County.
It gets 10% to 15% of its milk from Double D, and Assali and his family are featured on Clover Sonoma’s website. No calves from Agresti Calf Ranch have ever gone on to be used in Clover Sonoma milk supplies, the company said in a statement. It’s unclear whether the abused calves were being raised for beef or dairy.
A Clover Sonoma sign hung outside the main dairy complex on a recent visit.
Clover Sonoma markets its milk, yogurt and cheese products as humanely sourced and environmentally sound. It was the first dairy company to receive a cruelty-free certification from the American Humane Society in 2000. The website also features a “Our Promise” page, which states the company demands “the humane treatment of animals.”
“We were deeply concerned by the reported mistreatment of some cows captured on video at Agresti Calf Ranch during a separate cow operation,” the company said in an email.
“The rough handling shown at Agresti Calf Ranch is contrary and inconsistent with the humane practices we have fostered for decades and which we demand of all our suppliers.”
Clover Sonoma said it suspended business with Double D as soon as it became aware of the incidents and began “a rigorous audit,” which just ended.
“Clover and the American Humane Society have concluded that the mistreatment was an isolated issue, not systemic or reflective of Agresti Calf Ranch’s personnel. Corrections have been made, including the termination of the employee in the video. As such, we are comfortable reinstating the milk from Double D Dairy.”
After this story published, Clover went further and said a condition of Double D’s reinstatement will be that no animals from Agresti Calf Ranch will be part of Clover’s dairy supply.
A statement from the Humane Society said Clover Sonoma is working with Double D to strengthen its whistleblower policy and training, and has “reiterated its commitment to ongoing independent, third-party audits,” with both announced and unannounced visits.
Clover Sonoma mainly buys and processes milk from dairies in verdant Sonoma County, as the company’s marketing suggests. Double D Dairy is one of its few suppliers in the Central Valley, which is associated more with industrial-scale agriculture.
On a recent weekday, the calf ranch and dairy farm were visible from a public road. Holstein calves, a popular dairy breed, could be seen in cages through small trees in front of the enclosures. The sound of mooing and a pressure washer could be heard. The smell of manure and dirt wafted in the humid air.
Most dairy companies remove calves from their mothers after birth, raising them separately so they don’t take the mother’s commercially valuable milk. Some dairy farms send calves out to third-party calf ranches for rearing. Others raise them on-site. Female calves are typically raised to become milk cows. Male calves are sent away to become beef or other meat-based products, such as pet food.
A 2025 State Water Board document shows the farm houses an average of 700 calves at any one time, with a maximum 1,400.
The Direct Action Everywhere activists were recently on a public road near Double D’s main farm, flying a drone over the property. Within 30 minutes of their arrival, seven Stanislaus County sheriff’s vehicles arrived and surrounded the activists.
A heavily armed officer asked to see the drone pilot’s Federal Aviation Administration license, which he provided. After confirming it was valid, a sheriff’s deputy — one of nine at the scene — told the activists they could remain on the road but could not trespass.
Asked about the heavy response, a deputy said there had been several recent violent incidents from animal rights groups at the site, and mentioned the groups had sent in “busloads” of activists.
The Times reached out to the Sheriff’s Office to get more details about those events but did not get a response.
Temple Grandin, author and professor of livestock medicine at Colorado State University, said that punching and kicking livestock is considered abusive.
An expert in livestock welfare, she said that handlers can tap, push and nudge animals. But if the level of force goes beyond what could bend the side of a cardboard box, “it’s abuse. Period.”
She said the calves’ reaction to the hot iron indicates that pain medication, such as lidocaine, was not applied before the procedure. Double D did not respond to a question about whether medication was given before the procedure.
A pickup truck rolls by the barns at Agresti Calf Ranch at sunrise in Ceres.
(Tomas Ovalle/For The Times)
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New York1 hour agoFlag With Swastika and Star of David Flown on N.Y.U. Building, Police Say
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Los Angeles, Ca1 hour agoEarly morning Montebello fire leaves resident critically injured
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San Francisco, CA2 hours agoCasting shade on shadows: S.F. supervisor seeks to bar using shadows to block new housing
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Dallas, TX2 hours agoDallas Approves $180,500 for New Botham Jean Boulevard Street Signs
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Miami, FL2 hours agoMiami residents sue over land for Trump presidential library
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