Sustainable farming doesn’t come with shortcuts. It’s deliberate, thoughtful, and, yes, more expensive than conventional methods. But here’s the thing: that’s not a bad thing. The choices we make as small farmers—deep bedding, natural laying cycles, keeping older hens, and avoiding government subsidies—are not just about how we farm. They’re about why we farm. And while these decisions come with higher costs, they reflect values that go beyond the bottom line: respect for the animals, the planet, and the long-term health of our community.
Take deep bedding, for example. It’s a practical, low-maintenance system that keeps things cleaner and healthier for our flock. We start with a thick layer—12 to 18 inches of material—and turn it every couple of days, adding fresh bedding as needed. Over time, it breaks down naturally into rich compost that nourishes the soil, creating a sustainable cycle. Compare that to conventional bedding methods, where barns may be completely stripped and re-bedded every week or month, depending on the operation. Not only is deep bedding better for the environment, but it also offers a healthier, more comfortable environment for the animals.
And let’s talk about natural laying cycles. Commercial farms often push their hens to lay eggs year-round using artificial lighting and other methods to override their biological rhythms. It’s efficient, but it takes a toll on the birds. On our farm, we respect the natural ebb and flow of laying, even if it means fewer eggs during the colder months. This decision supports the health and longevity of our hens, but it also means there are times when production slows, and income takes a hit. It’s not the easy route, but it’s the ethical one.
Then there are the older hens. Commercial farms usually “retire” their layers at 18 months to two years old, replacing them with younger birds to maximize efficiency. For us, it’s not so simple. We’ve made the choice to keep some older hens as they continue to lay, albeit at a slower pace. Yes, it means feeding birds that produce less, which adds to our costs. But it also honors the care and investment we’ve put into those animals, recognizing their value beyond just the number of eggs they lay.
As for government subsidies? Sure, they’re a lifeline for some farms, especially larger operations. But relying on assistance isn’t always sustainable—or guaranteed. We’ve chosen to operate without them, which means absorbing the full brunt of rising feed costs, bedding, labor, and more. It’s a gamble, but it’s one we make to maintain independence and stay focused on what matters most: our farm, our animals, and our community.
All these choices come together to form the heart of sustainable farming. It’s not the cheapest way to operate, but it’s the most meaningful. Every decision reflects a commitment to doing what’s right, even when it’s harder, more expensive, and less understood by those comparing our eggs to the mass-produced cartons at the grocery store.
So, no, sustainable farming isn’t cheap. But it’s thoughtful. It’s ethical. It’s an investment in a better future—for the land, the animals, and the people who rely on them. And sometimes, investing in what’s right is worth far more than saving a few bucks.
Have you ever considered the cost of ethical decisions in your own life? Pull up a chair—I’d love to hear your perspective.
