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How do we know if small farms matter?

written by

Michelle Sroka

posted on

August 11, 2026

Do small farms matter? 

Or, in other words: do they actually make a difference? Or are we all just fooling ourselves? 

This is a question I see posed often on social media. Why? Because farmers love to argue about it. It doesn’t matter the type of farmer - big, small, vegetable, livestock. All types will go round and round on it. 

I’m not much of a social media person, and I don’t like to argue online with others. But, more importantly, I think this is the wrong question to start with. 

Instead, I'd ask this first: Does it matter if you have a choice over your food? 

And, relatedly: Does it matter if you can decide how you want food raised? Or where you want it raised? Or who you want to receive it from? 

Of course it does. That’s why you’re reading this. You know your choices at the big box store aren't really choices at all, and you know that you deserve something different. 

It’s why companies at all scales, but especially big companies, try to act like small ones, with “handwritten” notes on mass-produced boxes of granola bars, or “sustainability” claims on laundry detergent, or “local” stickers on Costco-produced honey. 

Food choice always matters. Connection to real people always matters. Even if they’re only giving you the illusion of choice, big companies that have monopolized the industry still want you to think there is a choice when it comes to those things. 

They're hoping that you can buy the box of mass-produced things and still pretend that "Annie" isn't really General Mills is disguise. Or that you can believe the cute little farming family on the back of your bag really inspected your oats. 

And that’s why small farms matter, right? Because operate outside of the system. And because of that, they actually give you a real choice. 

Since small farms don’t participate in a standardized, industrialized system, they can raise food differently. And that means you can pick and choose what you like, or don’t like. 

It means you can ask direct questions and get direct answers from the person who's actually doing the work to grow your food. It means that you can filter out ingredients you want to avoid, and support practices you believe in. 

It means you can pinpoint a specific place - street address, city, state, zip code - and say that's where my food comes from. And guess what? They're open this day. I'll go see it for myself! 

So if we want to argue about whether small farms will help us solve climate change, or reduce cancer rates from fertilizers leaking into drinking water, then, no, we probably don't need to focus on small farms. Those are problems that Big Ag created, and that Big Ag needs to solve. 

But it doesn't mean that small farms don't matter. Because if you're buying from a smaller farmer? You know that it matters very much. 

Small farms give you the power back that you deserve. And when you have that power of choice back, you can decide. Do I want the food that's better - better for my body, better for the land, better for the animals - in my home? 

Only you can decide that. But we're here to give you the chance to ask that question at all. 

More from the blog

Can we care about animals - and still raise them for food?

I probably spend the most time with the pigs on our farm. Part of this is practical: since pigs can’t sweat, we spray them down twice a day to help them wallow in the mud and stay cool.  But part of it is emotional, too. I enjoy being around the pigs. When there’s a lot on my mind, or I’ve spent too much time on the computer and need to get outside, wandering over to that week’s pig paddock is one of the ways I can clear my mind.  Pigs are highly emotive and responsive. When I spray them down with the hose, they like to sit back on their haunches, prick back their ears, and snap playfully at the water as it showers down on them. And then joyfully roll around in the mud afterward, of course.  But they’re responsive to humans in general, too. They are naturally curious and, in the case of our heritage breed Red Wattles, gentle. They’ll come up and sniff you, rub their mud-streaked bellies over you, and let you scratch their ears.  And maybe this is the part where you start to wonder: But aren’t you raising them for food?  Why would you want an emotional connection to an animal that you are raising for food?  I understand where this question is coming from. I was a vegetarian for nearly a decade because I didn’t like the thought of killing animals, especially within the framework of our industrial food system.  But actually, it isn’t a problem or moral quandary for me. Yes, we grow fond of and attached to our animals, including our pigs.  Yes, we still send them to the butcher or process them on our farm for food. And yes, this still makes sense to me.  I would gently suggest that the idea that we shouldn’t have any emotional connection to our food - that we can only eat meat that comes from animals we withhold our emotions or affection from - is a sign of our disconnection to the way food is grown.  That is, after all, one of the premises of industrial agriculture. Designate animals with one sole purpose - “becoming food” - and then shut them away in buildings, cramped quarters, or far away from humans who might interact with them beyond the farmer.  And the farmer, too, should be as disconnected as possible. After all, this is an efficient machine.  The problem, from a regenerative perspective, is that growing food is never just about growing food. Food is the gift you receive at the end of your work, but it’s the work itself - and the consequences of the work beyond the food - that is the point.  The work, on our farm, is caring for the land. That means working alongside animals to nurture native plants, clear forest areas to make existing trees healthier, and create habitats for birds, pollinators, and wildlife.  And that means becoming attentive and thoughtful - to animals and to the land. Watching, learning, and yes, developing bonds with the habitats you’re nurturing and the animals that are helping you do so.  Is it sad to load up animals and take them to the butcher at the end of the season? Yes, it often can be. But I don’t feel guilty about it. I know that we’ve given them the best life possible, and that we’ve partnered with them to leave our farm better than we found it each year.  And if that doesn’t make sense, that’s okay. I’m not saying that everyone has to agree with me. I’d simply like to advocate for a way of farming and consuming meat that includes this experience - one of affection and bonding between animals and humans.  After all, this is one of the many ways we try to do things differently on our farm. We don’t want to just provide you with food that meets your standards - non-GMO, no vaccines, no antibiotics, grass-fed and pasture-raised.  We also want to help you reconnect with that food. And part of that is knowing the animals, hearing stories about them, and yes, maybe even having an emotional connection with them, despite the end goal of providing meat to you.