Ya know how they say common knowledge isn’t actually that common?
Homesteading knowledge is a lot like that.
Even though your grandma’s grandma definitely knew how to sew, bake bread, and probably even pluck a chicken, this once-very-common-knowledge is going extinct.
I’m not going to pretend for a minute ya’ll that I am a some grand exception to this. I’m not.
But what I am, is a real-life human being that has made it her mission this past three years to learn the basics of living on a small family farm.
My, what a journey it’s been.
Let’s clear something up first.
Why should anyone give a damn about homesteading or farm knowledge in the first place? Does it even matter to know this stuff in the modern age?
Like a lot of life’s detours and even well-intended, well-planned out adventures, I have often found myself scratching my head over this question:
Why in the hell am I doing all this?
I feel like that is the most logical response a person in 2025 can have to someone who chooses the hardships of homesteading over modern conveniences.
I mean, you can have pasture-raised eggs delivered to your doorstep in less than two hours by Amazon Fresh.
So, why on earth sign yourself up for shoveling bird feces, caring for sick animals, researching at all hours of the night various problems and enigmas you will inevitably run into (if you’re a completely newbie to all of this)?
And that’s not including the money you will spend to in both feed, equipment, tools, and perhaps even property taxes or rent if you purposely chose to live somewhere with more land (that you otherwise would not have).
Why care? Why do this? Why does this knowledge matter?
While I can’t answer the question for Jane and Jill that live down the lane, I can give you my answer.
Because you’re called to it.
In my case, I’ve been called to it for a shorter season that most. I’m only three years into this journey, I’ve begun the process of hanging up my hat.
More on that later.
As far as why this knowledge should matter? My answer is because it impacts you whether you realize it or not.
Lesson #1: an animal gave its life so you can continue yours
Every time you eat your eating food (ostensibly).
And that food was either grown or raised.
Anyone that eats meat should be required (not by law because that would be insane, but out of human decency), to “meet their meal” at least once—after all, your meal used to have eyes, a heart, and lungs….
Think about how strange it is that in our modern times you can live your entire life without ever having to face the animal that gave its life for you and your family.
It’s one thing to think about it in theory and its another to personally raise an animal from infancy, care for it, and then have it become your food supply.
Every time I eat a burger, I am being honored by the animal that gave its life so I could have a nutritious meal. And no, it’s not an exaggeration to think about it in those terms.
I’m no homesteading expert, but after raising several different animals for our food supply, I can better understand how utterly offensive it is to waste food.
Lesson # 2: farm life is a gut-wrenchingly hard lifestyle to have.
The farm aesthetic is often portrayed as sweet and nostalgic. But don’t get it twisted, farm life isn’t easy.
It’s emotional at times. And expensive in all of these three areas: time, money and opportunities:
- There are trips you may not go on, because there’s no one to watch the animals.
- There are things you’ll go without to make sure you have enough set aside in your budget for your animals, home, and caretaking of your property.
- You’ll wish you had more free time and you’ll fail so many times at various tasks that “should-be” simple and wonder why your to-do list is never-ending
- And if you’re at all like us, you’ll have family and friends that ironically think you’re just frolicking in fields
Maybe I’m laying it on a bit thick here, but also maybe I’m not.
I think the moment you sign yourself up for tending to animals and land, you’ve taken on something serious.
Other living beings are counting on… you.
Lesson #3: homesteading is an expensive way to live poor
I really wish I would have heard this before launching our life savings and the next three years of our lives into the most back-breaking labor we’d ever know.
But I’m headstrong and probably wouldn’t have really listened anyways. Sometimes, the best teacher is life experience.
Between full-time jobs and becoming parents, we learned how to:
- Mow several acres at a time and repair the mower that constantly breaks down
- Cut down trees, move tree logs, till the earth, and pull endless weeds
- Raise ducks for eggs and meat, meat rabbits, and goats for dairy and meat
- Grow a garden and preserve food from that garden
- Buy in bulk to better subsidize this way of living and to afford more nutritious groceries
- Heat our home with wood
- Plumbing, electrical, framing, dry wall, floor sanding and refinishing, foundation repair, installing a metal roof, and basic home renovation (since we bought a 100-year old fixer upper farmhouse)
Lesson # 4: there’s no replacement for hard-work
It has to be said.
On a homestead, you can’t count on being able to hire someone at a moment’s notice to solve your problem. You also can’t call in sick.
Whether it’s a sick animal, a predator-problem, or a marshy ground with poor drainage that’s putting your animals health at stake, you will inevitably have to roll your sleeves up and figure out how to get shit done because there is no one there able, willing, or that has the knowledge to help you.
In a farm setting, this used-to-be common knowledge is a lot more in your face. There’s no ignoring the work that needs to get done. The waters that need to get filled. Etc.
Just a few generations ago, I think people were a lot more accustomed to taking accountability for getting something done or fixed.
Lesson #5: there’s always a cheap way and an expensive way
You can’t always “throw money at a problem” to fix it. I mean, you can try, but don’t be mad if you end up burning through your life’s savings.
There’s usually a cheap way and an expensive way to get something done. The cheap way is usually a lot longer, a more frustrating, and involves you getting creative and also probably doing the work.
You don’t need to buy ready-made chicken coop kits on Etsy and brand-new equipment from the farm store. If you’re willing to build something yourself, you can save $.
But you have to use your brain, because you can also end up spending way more than if you had just bought a kit, too.
Have the discipline and foresight to plan out your projects and track expenses. This is how to avoid money-hemorrhaging problem-solving methods.
However, there are have been times were I tried to do something too cheaply and ended up just wasting my time and even more money in the end.
Note to reader: do NOT try to make a chicken coop out of PVC pipes, just a spend a little more to build one of out of wood or metal.
Lesson #6: you actually can’t DIY everything
Early homesteaders knew this.
That’s why they traded and bartered.
Just because you CAN mill your own flour and forage for mushrooms, doesn’t mean you should.
Early homesteaders were often doing things themselves because they had to do so. But they also worked together in community settings, and traded, so they could focus on doing a few things really well.
But don’t be frivolous with your time or you won’t have any.
Spend your time doing things you feel that you need to or want to be doing.
That’s why I mentioned in the intro, that I think the only reason for homesteading that makes sense any more, given the cost of land, is because you want to be doing this kind of work. That’s it.
You’re called to this.
Is this controversial to say in the homesteading community? In a do-it-yourself or die-trying kind of community, I feel that maybe it is.
But sometimes, the best way to DIY something is to bandy together and help each other out.
When I need to leave the state for medical care, it was my neighbors (not my extended family) that saved the day and pulled us through.
We would have had to sell our goats for pennies on the dollar and who knows what kind of farm they would have gone to… we really needed our community at that time.
You can’t always do it yourself.
Lesson #7: none of us get to cheat death
As a modern-day culture, we don’t have to confront death as often as human beings historically did.
We can spend a lifetime avoiding it, but it doesn’t change this fact of life: that eventually, it ends. And so we honor ourselves and our animals by treating them the way we would want to be treated, too.
It’s kind of weird thing to think about but try imagining a scenario where the roles were reversed: imagine the cows in the field were the people, and they were raising us.
What would you want?
A clean barn? Clean water? Fresh air? Safety from predators?
I know I would. I’d also want to be able to nurse my own young and not have a lot of stress either.
As much as we can accommodate our animals’ well-being, we should.
Everything seems to work out better when we do.
