Farm update

written by

Amy Forsyth

posted on

February 7, 2026

With winter has come a quieting energy, filled with sleeping in, all day fires, and just keeping our animals warm and content. The colder temps haven't made things easy, but with frustration always comes appreciation, for we know it's just a season. As easy as it is to curse winter, a lot of good comes from it. The slowdown allows our bodies to heal from the long hours of the summer grind; it also allows us to sit with our triumphs and challenges of the previous season, which guides us to planning the season to come. It feels lucky in a way, to have this time, for we are always better for it. Sooner than we think we'll be planting fields, running animals to pasture, welcoming chicks to the farm, baling hay... diving right back into the aliveness that we call work. 

As we welcome February, the flicker of that energy awakens with our lambing season upon us. We are hoping to welcome 20-30 lambs this season. It is truly one of our favorite seasons on the farm, there is nothing like the magic of baby lambs. We have a wonderful set up waiting for them, with cozy birthing pens and plenty of warmth and sunshine from the greenhouse the herd is housed in. I believe this will be our 6th or 7th lambing season together, so experience brings comfort, but we are always holding our breath in a way, hoping everything goes smooth. 

So, here's to a successful lambing season and an easy transition into the abundance of Spring. Lamb spam will be coming your way shortly, I am sure. :) Enjoy the video below of the farm lately. 

More from the blog

Saying goodbye.

Saying goodbye.

People ask if it gets easier. It doesn’t. You just get better at carrying it. The guilt dulls to a workable ache, like a joint that predicts rain. You learn to separate the animal from the meat in your freezer without lying to yourself. You remember their lives, their heart, and you’re grateful in a complicated way. Farming is a long conversation between care and necessity. Raising animals for food means promising them a good life and a swift, respectful death. Most days the promise feels honorable. Loading day it feels like betrayal. Both are true.I used to want to detach myself from the reality of it, but I realize that it's actually not detachment that eases it, it’s the opposite. It’s knowing them so well that their leaving is stitched into every day they’re here. The joy of a lamb kicking its heels for the first time, the friendly glance and nods from our cows, the soft snorgles and oinks from our pigs—these are the same thread that pulls tight on processing day. You don’t cut the thread. You let it run through your hands until it’s done. Processing day forces you to confront the realities of ethical eating. In a world where meat often arrives pre-packaged and disconnected from where they came from, we've chosen a different way. We know exactly how our animals were treated—kindly, respectfully, without the horrors of industrial farms. Yet, the act itself is bittersweet, a reminder that every meal carries a story, a sacrifice. It's why we pause before each meal, why we waste nothing, and why we commit to doing better each year: rotating pastures, improving infrastructure, ensuring compassionate ends. To anyone reading this who simply wants to understand the farm-to-table truth: it's not glamorous, but it's profound. It deepens your appreciation for the land, the animals, and the quiet strength required to honor both. This isn't just about survival; it's about living in harmony with nature's rhythms, even when they break your heart a little.

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Forsyth Family Farm

  • 300 Gunstock Hill Rd
    Gilford NH 03249
  • 6037503975