Egg prices in the U.S. have spiked dramatically, hitting record highs as of early 2025. The average price for a dozen Grade A large eggs reached $4.95 in January 2025, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, up from $4.15 in December 2024 and more than double the $2.04 low in August 2023. This isn’t just a blip—prices are projected to climb another 20% to 40% through 2025, per USDA estimates. So, what’s driving this?
The primary culprit is a relentless bird flu outbreak—specifically the H5N1 strain of highly pathogenic avian influenza (HPAI)—that’s been hammering U.S. poultry flocks since 2022. In December 2024 alone, 13.2 million egg-laying hens were wiped out, followed by over 18 million in January 2025, the highest monthly toll yet. Since the outbreak began, over 148 million birds have been culled to stop the spread, slashing egg supply at a time when demand remains steady or even grows (think holidays and the rise of all-day breakfast joints). Fewer hens, fewer eggs—basic supply and demand kicks in, and prices soar.
H5N1 is a devastating disease that is nearly 100% fatal. Reports from the American Pastured Poultry Association message boards indicate that the disease wipes out 75% of layer flocks within 24 hours, with the remaining birds euthanized immediately. Some critics of this policy state that the surviving birds should be isolated to discover resistant traits and use them for breeding stock. It's a fair point.
But it’s not just about sick birds. Cage-free laws in states like California, Colorado, and Michigan, among 10 states that mandate cage-free eggs, have tightened supply further. Cage-free hens, which make up about a third of U.S. layers, accounted for nearly 60% of bird flu losses in 2024 because they’re often in denser, outbreak-prone setups. With fewer compliant suppliers, retailers in these states face shortages, pushing prices higher—sometimes to $8 or $10 a dozen for specialty eggs. Meanwhile, transportation woes, like a shortage of refrigerated truck drivers, add another layer of cost as eggs can’t move efficiently from farm to store.
Here at Altamont Farms, we pasture raise our birds, and this method of poultry production exposes us to risk due to the nature of how H5N1 is transmitted across flocks, which is thought to be primarily from contact with wild birds carrying the virus. Given our small-scale production, it's a manageable risk worth the payoff of higher bird welfare and quality eggs.
Then there’s the suspicion of profiteering. Cal-Maine Foods, the biggest U.S. egg producer, reported a profit surge in January 2025, sparking accusations of price gouging. Critics—including some advocacy groups and lawmakers—say the industry’s consolidated nature (the top 20 producers control over 70% of supply) lets big players jack up prices beyond what supply shocks justify. The Department of Justice launched an antitrust probe in March 2025 to investigate whether major producers are colluding to restrict supply or inflate prices, though no hard evidence has surfaced yet.
On the flip side, egg production is only down about 4% from last year, per some industry claims, which fuels the gouging debate—why double the price for a small drop? But that figure downplays the regional and timing issues: losses hit hardest in key areas during peak demand, and replacing hens takes months, not weeks. Feed costs, inflation, and climate stressors like heat and drought also nudge prices up, though not as dramatically as the flu.
Why do high egg prices not translate into higher poultry meat prices? The answer is simple: meat birds are raised on a 6-7 week cycle, while egg layers begin laying at 20 weeks. We can replace meat birds more quickly and less disruptively than layers. The meat birds sold in grocery stores are raised in completely self-contained barns with sophisticated environmental systems, limiting the risk of contracting H5N1.
What’s the real story? It’s a messy mix. The bird flu is a legit crisis—egg supply is genuinely constrained, and recovery’s slow. But the market’s structure amplifies the pain, and some companies might be riding the wave for extra profit. Consumers are stuck adapting—buying limits at stores like Walmart, surcharges at places like Waffle House (50 cents per egg), and a shift to egg substitutes or local coops. Prices might ease if the flu fades, but with Easter looming and no quick fix for flock losses, don’t expect relief soon. The egg aisle’s a perfect storm of biology, policy, and economics—and we’re all paying for it.
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