From Life to Death on the Farm

The farmer is a steward of death as much as he is of life

My last essay considered the theme of life through death. I wanted to stay with this theme for another essay, this time considering how this dynamic plays out on the farm.

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Photo by Paz Arando on Unsplash

After life, follows death. Thus the invariable law of this world stands firm no matter how violently the transhumanist rages against it. From dust we came, and to dust we shall return. This we know, and to an extent trust, no matter how vigorously we try to erase this truth from our collective consciousness. Death is an ultimate reality we all will have to wrestle with, come to terms with, and make our peace with - and none of us must reckon with death so much, perhaps, as the farmer.

Many professions are well acquainted with death: the undertaker, the doctor, the hospice worker. For all of these, death is a prominent feature in their job description, something they are paid to deal with on a near-constant basis. Death for them comes as a tide that forever rolls into the shore, its breakers hitting with a sombre constancy, demanding that its aftermath be dealt with. Although death may be familiar to them - indeed their jobs are founded upon its inevitability - it always retains its sting. There is one vocation, however, where death is not just an ever-present acquaintance, but is an end in and of itself. It may not be one we first think of when asked to list professions where death is a fundamental part - but farming is a vocation that is perhaps most intimately acquainted with death above almost all others¹, for the farmer must steward death as much as he does life. Before the crop or cow becomes food for our plates, it first must die.

Thankfully though for the farmer, death is not the whole of his story. Before the time to kill, there is a time for planting, breeding, nurturing, and growing. The farmer must be an expert at bringing forth abundant life. He must be a student of the seasons, intimately acquainted with the biology and ecology of his plants and the behaviour of his livestock, keenly aware of their needs, and always ready to satisfy them. He must do what is best for his crops and livestock, nurturing them with skilful, loving, and wise care. The skills, wisdom, and knowledge necessary for this he has received from the Good Stewards of the land that came before him and who produced the food that fuelled his early years. He must in turn pour his life and soul into the soil and the creatures he has inherited and been entrusted to steward. Only then will he earn the title of a ‘Good Farmer’.

But he does all this keenly aware that as well as being a steward of life, his ultimate purpose and his reason for working the soil and pouring his lifeblood into it, is the production of abundant good food. For him to achieve his calling, he must accept that his role as a farmer means being a steward of death as much as of life. He is the one who decides when death must come to his livestock or his crop. Their time on earth is in his hands. And this timing is everything. If impatience prevails and death is enacted too soon, the fruit remains sour, the wheat fails to ripen, and the lamb remains underdeveloped. If he is too reticent to carry out his sombre duty, or too late to start the harvest, the fruit rots on the tree, the wheat stalk lodges, and the lamb becomes tough. Death must come at the allotted time and must come from the hand of the one who nurtured the life that is now extinguished. The farmer cannot avoid death.

Thus, although the Good Farmer must be emotionally and professionally close to his flock, he must not get too close. For if he did he might be tempted to reengage on his duty, the duty to feed his community and nation. It is a complex duty; to make his living and to provide food for our plates, the farmer must kill those creatures he has nurtured and loved. An economic necessity it may be, but painful nonetheless. However, on a Good Farm, there will always be a few animals that remain as pets. These are the animals that through their unique behaviour, particular beauty, or dependence from birth endear themselves to the farmer in an irresistible way. These he allows and even delights to spare from the abattoir, even if it hurts his pocket just a bit. But these acts of clemency must be the exception and not the norm. The Good Farmer must be good and faithful at bringing about death - at the right time, at the right intensity, and in a humane way.