Why We Do What We Do
Why We Do What We Do
by Claus Kropp of Germany
The following text is about small-scale farming and working with draft cattle. It is a story about the rediscovery of community and the appreciation of traditional craftsmanship in an increasingly uprooted world. It’s also a story about me and my family.
I think there are external and internal motivations that drive our actions, and this has been no different for me. I would like to say that I come from a family of small farmers, but this is not the case. I grew up in a medium-sized town along a main road. We didn’t have any pets until I was twelve and I had no real exposure to farming. That changed during my teenage years, when I first worked a garden with my parents, later added one of my own and finally started keeping my own animals (first rabbits, later chickens). I also spent some time on my grandfather’s dairy goat farm in southern Wisconsin. These experiences with growing my own food, acquiring craft skills and literally grasping our nature were certainly the seeds that later germinated everything.
First, however, my journey continued in a completely different direction. I studied history and archaeology, worked for a few years at the University in the Department of Medieval History, and was therefore part of the academic ivory tower. Although I financed my studies by helping out on a farm, among other things, I was fundamentally passionate about things that were so special that I always found myself wondering what I could actually achieve with it, what the real relevance of this research was. I had not yet found my place in the world. That changed abruptly when, over 12 years later, I was given the opportunity to take over the management of an open-air project that was still under construction at the time. Suddenly, one of the main focuses of my work was to show people how farming might have worked 1200 years ago. I had a lot to learn. We started researching old field forms, acquired draft cattle and gradually grew more and more traditional crops. We added sheep and pig farming, poultry and haymaking, logging and traditional crafts. At the same time, I was suddenly able to teach people the basics of how food and textiles are produced, about sustainability and, ultimately, about the value of handmade products. On the field with the draft cattle, with the hand scythe out in the hay meadow, I finally found an inner satisfaction and a sense of purpose that I had never experienced before – a flowstate that brought my inner balance. I found my place in the world.
You might think the story ends here, but it doesn’t. After all, a job is a job and not everything in life. Although my job was more than just a job for me, it was and still is a vocation, I still felt the need to do something for myself and my family. Together with my wife, I wanted to give our four children the chance to grow up differently, to become resilient and literally connected to the earth. This brings me to the external reasons why we do what we do.
In our modern world, we are surrounded by a globalized and industrialized economy. The German term “Landwirtschaft” (for agriculture) describes this mindset quite well. Literally, you could also call it “land-economy.” What is missing is the cultural factor that is actually so essential to the farming way of life: the community, cooperation and close ties to the “own clod,” as the saying goes. Today, farms are first and foremost businesses in an economic world driven by growth. Livestock have become operating resources. In a constant quest for efficiency and the drive for technology, fewer and fewer people are working the remaining farmland with ever larger machines. The pressure on farmers to perform is enormous and at the same time, the added value from agricultural products is comparatively low. A large proportion of farmers are dependent on additional national or international financing, meaning that they no longer earn their money from the revenue from their products alone. Statistics for the so-called industrialized countries reveal the terrible trend that the farming profession is one of the occupational groups with the highest suicide rate. There must be something wrong with this system.
All those things with which I was able to experience my first contacts through my work apparently no longer played a role on the big stage: the feeling of one’s own limits, the possibility of helping oneself, the enormous added value from the products made with a lot of manual labor, the knowledge that it takes a community to be really successful – all this seems strangely distorted today. If farmers in our region prefer to grow “rolling grass” for soccer pitches and front gardens rather than food, they are making themselves part of the problem. Every millimeter of topsoil that is peeled away when the grass is harvested contributes to the long-term decline in soil quality. Finally, when farmers become popular recipients of topsoil removed when a new residential area is designated and the resulting loss of arable land is used to replenish their own suffering soils, this reveals the absurdity of the system. And I don’t even blame the farmers. After all, they can make a higher profit by selling the grass than with wheat. It is also the enormous social pressure of the consumer society that drives farmers to make such decisions. Many still love the job of a farmer and at the same time confidence and satisfaction are dwindling at a dizzying rate. After all, they only do what they are advised to do by agricultural advisory bodies – be it in terms of artificial fertilizers, factory farming or crop protection – and yet society holds them primarily responsible for many of the ills of climate change.
Finally, there have been two other external motivations in recent years that have prompted me to take action. One was the outbreak of the war in Ukraine. This war on my own continent suddenly made it clear how fragile the global economic system actually is. Skyrocketing fuel and fertilizer prices as well as frightening inflation, especially for food, were consequences that were felt not only by farmers, but by everyone. This was compounded by man-made climate change and the industrial farming system, which is only able to react very poorly to the first factor. For decades, everything was done to clear field margins, remove trees from the land, drain areas and all this with the aim of making work more efficient. Now, however, scientific studies reveal that it is precisely these hedge structures that can promote important beneficial insects, that act as natural pest control and that it is precisely these trees that can provide important shade in particularly dry periods, retain moisture and, finally, together with the hedges, also provide effective erosion protection.
In this situation, it was clear to me that I had to do something myself. I decided to set up a small-scale farm myself, to produce my own food and, above all, to work in cycles so that the soil can regenerate, so that biodiversity can return and, yes, also to feel that I and my family are no longer helpless and dependent on a global system. The global system is determined by external factors that I can only influence to a limited extent (or not at all) locally. I wanted to be able to face this system resiliently and at the same time be part of the movement that shows alternatives – and does not shy away from hard work and hardship, but even finds a whole new gratitude in it. This was the birth of Oxfield Farms.
What are the preconditions that are important when setting up smallscale farming? First of all, I had to realize what I was actually capable of achieving with the support of my family – and by the way, I still have to do this today. This self-critical questioning is essential. So first of all, it’s about the question scale. As someone who wants to continue practicing their job, the business can only be big enough to be affordable when planned around work. This is where it’s important to accept compromises: I can’t easily manage 10 acres of hay meadows with a team of oxen if I’m working 40 hours a week on something else. I have to be honest and accept that I might only manage 5 acres and have to buy in feed or get help from time to time. Being able to ask for help: that was one of the hardest things for me. For a long time, I found it difficult to ask for help. Why would friends and acquaintances want to set up a stack of hay with us in the shade at 95° or help harvest grain with a hand scythe for no pay? I had an important experience about five years ago when I finally jumped over my shadow and accepted help for the first time. We set up our first haystacks with two families we were friends with. What hit me completely out of the blue: our friends thanked me for being there. They thanked us for being part of this real community project. At that moment, I realized that traditional agriculture not only has an important precondition, but also an essential ace up its sleeve: it needs and thrives on community. This community is both enormously meaningful and brings happiness.
Another important requirement was and is the willingness to “walk the walk” – a phrase that I learned to appreciate from a good friend and historic farmer from Virginia. This means that the path to a functioning smallholder farm is long, hard and rocky, that you have to be prepared to accept constant setbacks and not be discouraged by them. Many of the skills that used to be part of every farmer’s daily repertoire are now almost forgotten or have already been lost. It is important to relearn skills yourself or through intensive exchange with other like-minded people. Sometimes help comes in unconventional ways: agricultural manuals from the 19th century, hard-won second-hand books, suddenly become everyday reading and a source of advice. In any case, quick success is not to be expected – and it takes time to succeed.
One last precondition that I would like to mention at this point is the knowledge of a circular economy. If I want to be dependent on as few external factors as possible – and by that I don’t mean the weather, but something like market prices – then my operation must be holistically organized. In the spirit of a subsistence economy, it is not about generating maximum yield, but about working in such a way that I can generate an average yield while minimizing risk at the same time. By using selfproduced fertilizer (animal husbandry is an important requirement for me in this respect) on my own fields and meadows, I make myself independent of fluctuating artificial fertilizer prices on the world market. By growing many different crops and adapting to the respective soil conditions, I can react more flexibly to certain plant diseases or weather extremes. For example, if I grow not just one variety of wheat, but a wheat population (the joint sowing of several varieties on one and the same area) each year, depending on the weather conditions or disease pressure, sometimes one and sometimes the other variety will be among the “winners” or “losers.” Even if this means that maximum yields are not possible, the wheat population can still ensure that a complete failure is prevented.
Circular economy is, of course, closely linked to the question of scale of the farm, as already explained. If I want to run a dairy farm, I also need to be able to produce the necessary feed myself. Ideally, I can reuse by-products of cheese production such as whey elsewhere on the farm and thus add value.
Finally, let’s come back to the initial question of this contribution: If the requirements and motivations for our activities have hopefully been sufficiently explained, I would now like to give an insight into what exactly we are doing. Oxfield Farms is not a farm in the classic sense, there is no farmstead, but instead several operating locations. This is mainly due to the fact that, as a small business, you usually have to fall back on leftover land that is often widely scattered and, in our case, also due to the fact that we do not live in a rural area, but in the middle of a metropolitan region. The nucleus of our farm is a leased barn with associated pastures, where we keep our working cattle and two dairy cows. We also keep our poultry there, as well as some of the sheep and goats – the latter mainly for the purpose of stopping the wasteland and succession of marginal areas. The working cattle, currently an adult ox, a young steer and a team of weaners in training, are also at this nearby location because we are most intensively working with them: Whether it’s training or actual work in the field, on the meadow, or in the forest – you don’t want to have to travel a long way by car or bike to get to the work animals. The majority of the machines and means of transportation we use (be it ploughs, harrows, wagons or cultivators) are also located at this site, as are the harnesses, a hayloft that has just been completed for storing loose hay and finally the feed store. Every Sunday we meet up with our companions, a like-minded family, at this place and practice with the cattle, carry out any work that needs to be done and make plans for the future. Recently, more and more people have been coming to visit – a development that I see as positive, as it strengthens the essential community.
The main focus of our agricultural work – we currently farm around two acres of arable land – is growing cereals (including wheat and oats) and potatoes. We are currently also growing maize – other crops are to follow in the next few years. At the main arable site, we are working on establishing several rows of fruit trees between the field strips. In the spirit of agroforestry, we not only want to produce additional fruit and firewood, but also promote beneficial insects, provide additional shade for the arable land, reduce erosion and break the wind. The main tillage work is carried out by our draft cattle. At present, we mainly use scythes for harvesting and we thresh with the help of an old threshing machine from the 1930s. Compromises are still necessary here, as animal-powered grain threshing is still a long way off.
Our own system of haymaking is, at the moment, still under construction. Although we sometimes have to mow larger areas mechanically due to our own limited resources, we try to do as much as possible with our draft cattle and by hand. This year, for the first time, we were able to manage several areas completely independently, i.e. mowing (mainly with the hand scythe – a functioning sickle bar mower for the cattle is currently being purchased), turning (our fork tedder was used for this on larger areas, the hay fork on smaller ones) as well as raking (either by hand or with the large dump rake) and transporting (with the wagon, sometimes also with the tractor trailer if it had to be done quickly). We also try to make regular green cuttings for our animals and feed them fresh. As our storage capacity at the barn is generally limited, we also store some of the hay in traditionally built hay stacks.
Dairy farming is done in the simplest way: I milk our dairy cows (currently only one, as the heifer still needs some time before the first mating and the other old dairy cow was slaughtered) by hand. I don’t tie the animals up, but either feed them green fodder or one or two sheaves of oats and then milk them into the bucket. The milk is then consumed fresh in the kitchen at home, processed into butter and cheese. When we slaughter – as in the case of our old dairy cow – we try to produce as many long-lasting products as possible, be it canned sausage or salami. This means that not all meat has to be refrigerated, frozen or shrink-wrapped in plastic.
A final important part of the farm is landscape management with sheep and goats. What began as “care” for the offspring from dairy goat husbandry developed into pure landscape management with the conversion to cow husbandry. We currently have a group of around 15 sheep and goats working on nature reserves to combat invasive species (e.g. Japanese knotweed) or general succession. We invest the profits from this work in the purchase of hay – an essential element as long as we cannot produce all the hay ourselves. Last year, I also successfully used the flock to re-graze our hay meadows – so I was not only able to fertilize the areas, but also counteract weed growth or succession. The wool from our sheep is spun by my wife – currently on a very small scale, but we want to expand this further.
It is time to come to an end. I hope that this story of ours has been of some interest to the reader. At any rate, reflecting on my own philosophy has been an extremely worthwhile endeavor for me and I look forward to continuing on this path.