This week on the farm...

written by

Amy Forsyth

posted on

April 5, 2025

We are excited to welcome our first batch of chicks to the farm, first batch of Forsyth Family Farm chicks that is! We are raising 2,400 birds for meat this season, double what we have done in the past. We are grateful to be able to expand production, and also a little nervous! So many animals to care for, but in the end a lot more bounty to feed our community with, so here's to a successful chicken growing season. Along with our first chicks, we got our first transplants in the ground, which feels incredible. We planted salanova salad mix, winterbor kale, and rainbow swiss chard. We will be direct seeding some radishes, turnips, and more baby greens very soon too, so needless to say things are well on their way! 

We are slowly but surely moving towards the bloom of Spring. Soon we will be buzzing with more animals, delicious crops, and just so much life! We are so grateful to have this land and the opportunity to provide more food than we ever have before. Enjoy the video below for a glimpse into what we have been up to! 

More from the blog

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.