Grass-fed and finished quarter beef bundles are here! Get yours now.

How do we protect small farms from disappearing?

written by

Michelle Sroka

posted on

August 21, 2026

How do we protect small farms from disappearing? 

This is a big and complicated question. Last week, I wrote about why I think small farms matter for you, the one choosing which food to put on your table. But the disappearance of small farms isn’t a new trend - it’s been happening in some sense since the end of the Civil War. 

But it certainly does seem like it’s accelerating. Last year alone, we lost 15,000 small diversified family farms and ranches. 

And the loss of small farms isn’t always intentional or straightforward. 

Let’s look at a recent case in our own county. Enbridge, a large natural gas company, has proposed building a 28-mile natural gas pipeline through existing farms in Chatham County

As landowners testified during a public hearing this week, doing so will be catastrophic to them. Many will be unable to continue farming, or keep farms that have been in their family for generations. 

But the gas company and its employees don’t see it this way. This is progress. The housing developments are already happening. The data center is probably coming. This is just the price to be paid for the innovation of the future. 

And it’s at this point that I like to stop and ask - who is this future for? And what does it look like? 

If the future is pointing toward the loss of small farms, and growing reliance on a central, industrialized food system that sources food from a few humongous farms, then we already have clues this is a problem. 

This summer, there’s been an ongoing cyclospora outbreak that isn’t anywhere close to being solved. Vegetables and fruit are being recalled left and right without solving the problem, leaving us unsure what’s safe to eat at the store. 

And how about the meat industry? Livestock are dying in historic numbers this summer, due to the combination of extreme heat and inhumane living conditions in feedlots. Right now, the number is estimated at between 15,000 to 20,000 cattle dead this summer alone. 

Imagine the economic fallout that will be coming from this, when beef is already at record high prices.

Is that what we want? To lose small vegetable farms and only have food we’re anxious about, or food that will make us sick, as an option? Meat that comes from sick, stressed, and poorly treated animals? Meat that’s unhealthier for us in the long run? 

Is this truly progress? Is this a future that is better for us? 

And this points to what’s happening outside of farming systems, too. Cameras that not only surveil us, but give wrong information that implicates innocent people. Large language models that propose taking our thinking and creating away and doing it for us. 

Data centers that facilitate all of this technological “advancement” by draining and polluting our water, creating noise pollution 24/7 that harms animals and people, and using so much energy that companies can no longer service residents. 

The future is never set in stone. We can always question where we’re going, and whether we should continue down that path. 

Do we want a future that mows down forests and paves over thousands of acres to build cheaply built homes that all look the same and contribute to rising temperatures? 

Do we want a future that forces you to communicate through language models or digital means, rather than directly with a person? 

Do we want a future that wipes out small businesses and steals land, benefitting the few at the expense of the many? 

Do we want a future in which food can only be accessed through one singular, industrialized, chemical-laden and dangerous system? 

These are the questions I think about everyday, whether I’m on the farm or talking directly to employees of a gas company who are just doing their job. 

I grew up in a city that had little natural space, concrete everywhere, traffic everywhere, people everywhere, expenses that can’t be kept up with. I know what it’s like to live in a world where connection to the land and farming don’t matter. 

And I choose a different future. One where working the land is valuable, raising food is valuable, spending time with animals is valuable, human communication is valuable. 

I choose a future where I have to write multiple versions of this post before I can publish it - a time-consuming practice! -  because it’s important to share what I think directly with you, without the interference of a large language model. 

I choose a future that’s at odds with the “progress” and “innovation” our greater society is striving toward. 

Maybe people will come along and try to take this future away. But I’ll choose it, and fight for it, every day that I can. And I hope that you’re alongside us, fighting for a future where small farms can survive and make a difference, every day as well. 

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.

How do we know if small farms matter?

Farmers love to argue about whether small farms matter. But is that actually what we should be debating? Here's why we think the conversation should focus on the choice that small farms offer you, outside of the industrialized agriculture system.