Courtney's Chronicles
When I think about the future of agriculture in America, I do not picture a boardroom, a government office or statistics in a report. I picture muddy boots beside our back door. I picture children carrying feed buckets, checking waterers and walking through the barn before school. I picture my husband studying pedigrees and discussing which boars might improve our next litters. Most of all, I picture our children and wonder whether the life we are raising them to love will still be within reach when they are ready to build lives of their own.
Our children have grown up understanding that the hog business requires sacrifice. They have watched us head to the barn when we were tired, cancel plans when a sow was farrowing and keep working in bitter cold or unbearable heat. They know animals do not recognize weekends, holidays or family schedules. They have watched newborn pigs take their first breaths, helped choose genetics, prepared projects for the show ring and witnessed customers succeed with pigs raised on our farm.
Lately, though, their questions have changed. They are no longer simply asking which pig looks best or whether they can help in the farrowing house. They are asking whether they will someday be able to afford land. They wonder what feed will cost, whether there will be room for small family farms and if raising hogs can provide enough income to support a family.
As their mother, I wish I could answer every question with confidence. I wish I could promise that hard work will always be enough. But farm families know agriculture is influenced by things beyond our control: markets, weather, input costs, disease, regulations, interest rates and consumer demands. A family can make careful decisions, work from before sunrise until after dark and still face a year when the numbers do not cooperate. That concerns me, because America cannot afford to lose the next generation of farmers.
The future of agriculture depends on young people who understand that food does not begin at a grocery store. It depends on children who have learned to care for animals before caring for their own comfort. It depends on people willing to take risks, protect the land, adapt to technology and continue learning. It also depends on consumers, businesses and leaders recognizing that strong local farms are essential to strong communities.
Small farms may not produce the largest numbers, but they contribute something that cannot always be measured on a spreadsheet. They preserve knowledge, create relationships and give families a direct connection to agriculture. In our hog barn, our children are learning responsibility, problem-solving, compassion and perseverance. Still, I hope farming remains a genuine choice for them, not a dream made impossible by cost.
Supporting agriculture's future will require more than telling young people to work hard. They already know how to work. It will require access to affordable land and financing, practical agricultural education, fair markets and communities willing to purchase from local producers. It will require experienced farmers sharing knowledge and families giving the next generation room to bring new ideas to old operations.
Agriculture will look different in the years ahead. Technology will change how farmers monitor animals, manage crops and make decisions. Consumers will keep asking where their food comes from and how animals are raised. Farms will have to adjust. Change does not have to mean the end of family agriculture. Handled wisely, it can help smaller farms become more efficient, reach customers and tell their stories.
When our children voice their concerns, I try not to dismiss them with an easy, "It will all work out." Their worries are real, and they deserve honest conversations. We talk about saving, planning, diversifying and beginning small. We remind them that they may not start with everything their parents spent years building. Most farm stories began with someone taking a chance, making do and slowly growing.
I cannot predict what the hog industry will look like when our children are adults. I cannot guarantee that land, feed or equipment will become more affordable. But I can help give them a foundation. We can teach them to keep good records, make thoughtful breeding decisions, care well for their animals, treat customers honestly and remember why we began.
The future of American agriculture is uncertain, but uncertainty has always been part of farming. Farmers plant without knowing what weather will bring. They breed animals without knowing how every litter will turn out. They invest hope, work and faith into a future they cannot fully see. Perhaps that is what we are doing with our children, too. We are raising them in the barn, teaching them what we know and praying there will still be a place for them here. Their path may look different from ours, but if they carry forward the values agriculture has planted in them, the future will remain in capable hands.