OP-ED: Think chicken is pricey now? Just wait for 2026

Sylvain Charlebois writes, "Canada is now facing one of the most severe chicken shortages in recent history, and consumers — not farmers or processors — are paying the price."

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Author: Sylvain Charlebois

In theory, supply management is designed to protect both farmers and consumers — a uniquely Canadian invention meant to ensure stability, fairness, and predictability in our food supply. But 2025 has shown how fragile that promise has become. Canada is now facing one of the most severe chicken shortages in recent history, and consumers — not farmers or processors — are paying the price.

For decades, chicken has been the steady protein of the Canadian diet: versatile, affordable, and insulated from global price swings. Yet this year, the system meant to guarantee a consistent supply simply failed. The Chicken Farmers of Canada, the agency that sets production quotas in eight-week “A-periods,” has underproduced for nine consecutive cycles — something unseen in over forty years.

Supply management rests on three pillars: domestic production, controlled imports, and storage reserves. When one falters, the other two usually cushion the impact. This time, all three failed at once. After an oversupply in late 2023, the industry reduced allocations to avoid another glut heading into the 2024 holiday season. It was a cautious move that backfired. By early 2025, demand rebounded sharply as record-high beef prices sent households searching for cheaper animal protein. Imports were exhausted months early, and frozen reserves were never replenished. By spring, Canada had burned through every safety valve.

Data obtained by the Agri-Food Analytics Lab reveal just how serious the situation became. Wholesale chicken breast prices climbed to $732 per 100 kg in late October 2025 — up 150 dollars from last year, a new record. Even the whole-bird index hit $542, up more than 70 dollars year over year. Wholesale wing prices rose to $573, roughly 12 percent higher than last October, while leg prices — the only category not restricted by quota — actually dropped, underscoring how distorted the system has become. These record-high prices have persisted for most of 2025, a sign that demand has far outpaced supply across the country.

Imports, normally a release valve, could not keep up. According to the CARI Importer’s Edge, chicken imports under trade quotas totalled 110.9 million kg year-to-date, nearly 20 percent higher than the same period last year. The surge was driven largely by the United States, which has shipped almost three times more chicken to Canada than in 2024 — up 190 percent to 2.25 million kg so far. Most Canadians have no idea they are eating far more American chicken than before, a sensitive reality given current U.S.–Canada trade tensions. What’s more, nearly all of Canada’s 2025 import quota has already been used, leaving “the remaining TRQ in strong hands,” according to importers. With limited room to maneuver, Canada is now paying world-record prices for a product that is plentiful and cheap just south of the border.

The situation was compounded by government inaction. When production lagged, processors requested about three million kilograms of emergency import permits — a routine mechanism meant to stabilize supply. Ottawa approved less than 10 percent of the request. Officials insisted production was “on plan.” But when store shelves are bare and prices have never been higher, “on plan” doesn’t mean much to families trying to put dinner on the table. By denying those permits, the federal government effectively locked the shortage in place.

The structure of the industry meant the pain wasn’t shared evenly. Large processors such as Maple Leaf and Olymel met their commitments to major grocers like Costco and Walmart. Smaller processors and restaurants, however, were left scrambling — forced to pay inflated spot-market prices or buy grey-market poultry from the U.S. just to stay open. Farmers enjoyed solid returns from tighter supply, and processors saw record margins, but small businesses and consumers paid the price.

This is not how supply management is supposed to function. The very rigidity that once brought order now prevents the system from reacting to shocks. Once production targets are set, correcting an error can take months. In a world of inflation, erratic consumer habits, and climate-related volatility, that kind of lag is no longer acceptable. When the market signals a shortage, the response cannot be to wait for the next allocation cycle.

The lesson from 2025 is clear: the system didn’t fail because Canadians ate too much chicken or farmers produced too little. It failed because Canada’s supply-management framework is too slow, too bureaucratic, and too disconnected from real-time market conditions. A structure built to resist volatility has instead amplified it. By refusing to issue timely import permits, Ottawa let prices spiral and signaled that stability now means scarcity.

This could have been an opportunity. With beef prices soaring, Canadian chicken could have become the affordable protein households turned to. Instead, a once-reliable staple became, almost overnight, a luxury item. Beyond grocery bills, the shortage eroded public trust in a system that’s supposed to balance fairness for farmers with affordability for consumers.

Supply management is not inherently flawed. But it must evolve. Allocations should align with real demand, emergency import mechanisms must trigger automatically when shortages arise, and transparency must replace complacency. Canadians deserve a system that responds to market reality, not one that hides behind bureaucracy.

Because when a country that prides itself on food security can’t even keep chicken on the table, it’s not just a supply issue — it’s a policy failure.