- David McKeithen
This past week marked the end of almost three growing seasons spent living and working in northeastern Pennsylvania. During this time I managed flower and vegetable crops, and gained experience in holistic planned grazing. I became well acquainted with several farms in the area, with a surprisingly diverse range of production approaches, ranging from cover crop with multiple tills, manure with a winter till, no-till deep compost beds, holistic planned grazing, and natural farming (continuous vegetation: initial compost beds+high density seeding+chop and drop management+no weeding).
In terms of soil management, all were organic, but only a couple would be considered ‘regenerative’. In terms of business models, they represented quite a range: direct sales to neighbors, local farmers markets or restaurants; production specifically for a family resort or spa (providing food for the kitchen as well as an immersive experience for guests); or high production for markets in NYC (3hrs away). Coincidentally, most were also first generation farmers. Though these sites are not representative of the broader farming community, here are a few reflections from three seasons farming in Pennsylvania:
Small scale farmers assume multiple (too many?) jobs. In order for a farm business to work, farmers are managing soil health, plants/animals, food processing, etc… while also needing to be financial, marketing, HR, experts. That’s a lot of hats for just one or two people to manage. - In discussion with various interns (all in college), this question regularly arose: If I’m interested in running a farm, what should I study? Business? Marketing? Botany? Soil microbiology? Landscape Ecology? Food processing? Agronomy? Food Policy? While there is no one response to that, it hinges on the initial question regarding the food system. Should we be shifting toward interconnected networks of small farms (in which case, we need a little of everything), or look for a specialized salary-paying job within a broader industry?
Farmers Markets can be exciting community spaces, but, at the business level, they are often unreliable. There seems to be a constant tension of trades-offs for a farmer. “Am I selling enough here to make the effort worthwhile?” In small to medium sized farmers markets, the answer seems pretty clear. Except for the dedicated few, customers’ food purchasing habits don’t often revolve around a planned once-a-week food purchase. Holidays or a cloudy day can often mean a significant negative fluctuation in sales. I enjoyed participating in FMs, but, at least in areas of lower population density, farmers need a range of other outlets to be able to sell all their produce. At the same time, there seems to be a reluctance to sell produce to supermarkets. At least in NE Pennsylvania, the outlets for small farms seem less than ideal.
Biodiversity can thrive alongside farming, but for this to happen it must be intentional. A wide range of species can flourish, if one makes a habit of observing these species, and often adjust one’s behavior slightly–whether allowing certain plants to flower or timing interventions in response to animal behavior. - For example: At one farm, a colony of a few thousand ground bees appear each May, burrowing in our soft and sandy garden beds. They bustle about for two or three weeks and then disappear till the next year. Their appearance coincides with the crucial window of time to transplant most of thevegetable or flower plugs. By observing their behavior we adjusted around them. They continue to appear each year. - Another example: NE Pennsylvania receives a range of migratory birds. While managing the floral farm, I recorded a total of 170 bird species (90 with confirmed photographic record, and an additional 80 with auditory software (Merlin + BirdNet.pi). We have 30+ birdhouses set up surrounding 8 acres of meadow, which host an annual population of tree swallow and bluebird nests. By mid summer, we had 300 tree swallows diving for insects across the meadow daily. At 5am each morning, I also observed two foxes hunting voles amidst the tall grasses. Mid summer one year, we mowed the whole area, hoping to rejuvenate the vegetation. While it did provide a second burst of grasses through the rest of the season, it also impacted the birds and foxes: The day immediately after mowing, all 300 tree swallows left. I also did not see the foxes there for the rest of the summer. It seems the foxes preferred the stealth provided by tall grasses. Lesson learned. The next year, we mowed in sections progressively, rather than all of it at once.
We need more connection. While I had the privilege to visit multiple farms, ask questions and trial various techniques, most farmers in the area have not visited each other's farms. Most of the first generation farmers I met are experiencing similar challenges and could benefit from each other’s skills, networks, and experience. Realistically, though many have expressed they would like to visit other farms, time is short during the growing season. Collectively, we need to find a way to support existing pioneering regenerative farmers, share networks and experiences, and learn from innovative practices. The discussions around regenerative agriculture can’t be a mere academic or podcast exercise, they need grounding in farming communities.
Regenerative farming is gaining territory, but in the broader picture is still relatively isolated within the broader farming community. At the various county fairs I attended in the general area, “regenerative” or its various synonyms didn’t seem to be on the agenda. While county fairs mobilize a wide community and foster a sense of identity; the additional values of soil health, biodiversity and low-impact practices haven’t found their way into cultural practices that compete with the thrills of diesel tractor-pulls or showcases of high-impact machinery. (This is not to discard county fairs, only to point out missing interaction with in established cultural practices. On the other hand, many 4H programs I saw were quite impressive at the educational and cultural level.)
At the personal level, Living on-site makes farming easier, and allows for more attuned observation and improved practice. I lived two seasons on a farm, and one season off-site. The experiencial differences were stark. On-site 24/7 provides an infinite amount of observations that one would otherwise miss: bats eating insects over the meadow at dusk, a fisher darting through the forest, a baby porcupine delicately eating white clover flowers, a Merlin hunting large dragonflies, a newborn fawn hidden amidst a wildflower meadow we planted; an owlet falling through branches as she made her first flight attempt. Work and play blurs: my toddler son learned to crawl, walk and speak in the garden; he learned to count, lying in bed at night hearing a female Great Horned Owl call out every 13 seconds; and he learned his colors by identifying ripe tomatoes, and walking between zinnias, dahlias, marigolds, snapdragons, and so on…
Learning is on-going, and I hope to gain further experiences in the intersections between food systems, biodiversity and community. These are just a few reflections from the past three years in Pennsylvania, many of which may be site-specific.