What do Regenerative Farmers Regenerate? Part 1

I have been on a journey to answer this question for myself since I began farming at Ozark Akerz Regenerative Farm in 2014. Initially, I looked to others to define Regenerative Farming for me. I quickly found that the ideas and ideologies behind regenerative farming did not always reflect my deeply held respect for and variations of nature. Much of what I witnessed was wrapped up in neatly tied package with a price for this or that product, membership, or certification.

"My choices evolve as my connection to land deepens and my awareness of the local expression of nature expands."

Nature is not a neat, nor is it a package. It is a living system with many interrelating species above and below ground. Nature is a process, it changes, adjusting to increases and decreases in populations of plants, animals, fungus, microbes, and populations of pollution, temperature, and rainfall. My choices evolve as my connection deepens and my awareness of the local expression of nature expands. I have gained this knowledge through years of observation, working the land and recent historical discoveries. My wife Sue and I speak of our approach as Graze Against The Machine Regenerative Farming, inspired by the lyrics of my favorite band, Rage Against The Machine.

At their core, my choices of what and how I regenerate are driven by connection to this land. Connection to the land I live and work on is driven by how nature expresses itself on this land. At time of writing this, I am aware that I am regenerating, reviving, or restoring:

• Native species of wild growing trees, shrubs, and flowers
• Endangered species of livestock and poultry
• Weeds. Naming the plant and its value. So-called “weeds” are often sources of food and medicine. Ask yourself: who has a vested interest in naming a class of plants “weeds”?
• The soil by not using any chemicals, and amending soil with raw milk, organic straw and hay
• The generational health of chickens, geese, guineas and turkey’s by allowing them to roam freely.
• The forests by introducing cattle to control invasive, introduced plants such as kudzu and privet.
• Perennial food and medicine sources such as wild plum and ground nuts
• Biodiversity, over 540 species of plants, insects, birds, mammals, mollusks identified.
• Carbon capture in pastures and forests

"The Traditional Ecological Knowledge my indigenous friends have chosen to share with me grounds my daily work"

Insights and learnings from indigenous friends have strongly impacted my regenerative farming ideology. The Traditional Ecological Knowledge my indigenous friends have chosen to share with me grounds my daily work and uncovers new elements that requires regeneration that I did not consider 9 years ago. This came into sharp focus in October last year when my friend Chris, who is Cherokee, discovered several sacred indigenous sites and graves dating to pre-colonial times on the Skaruhreh, Occaneechi and Lumbee land on which Ozark Akerz Regenerative Farm is located. Regenerating indigenous, historical connections is in its infancy in my conscious. I take guidance from Chris to learn how to respectfully honor the sacred sites and lives that once inhabited this land.

In this multi-part article, I will explore the choices I have made as a regenerative farmer. The first part explores my discoveries and learnings from nature when I was younger, discoveries that prepared my foundation for the work I do as a regenerative farmer. The second part will go into more detail about the regenerative choices outlined above and with Chris’ permission, the sacred sites, and their growing importance to my regenerative farming work.

Early Influences

Having lived in 6 countries on 4 continents, I have spent most of my life navigating new cultures and varying expressions of nature in the countries I have lived. My first memories are of Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). The nature I first witnessed included cultural fires, purposely lit to regenerate growth during the dry season. I was in awe of how green growth would appear within days following the fires, some seeds require fire to germinate. Each dry-season led to a wet season and with it I learned how seasons inspired the Lozi Mosi-oa-Tunya (The Smoke That Thunders) and the Tonga Shungu Namutitima (Boiling Water), seasonal, local names for the otherwise static colonial designation, Victoria Falls.

"The mountains grew in me a respect for nature that had me paying attention to how my actions effected life around me."

My second experience of nature’s expression was after moving to the foot of the Rocky Mountains in Canada at age 8. It was a vastly nature different than that of southern Africa, but equally awe-inspiring. In my teens, I spent countless weekends in the Kananaskis Mountains west of Calgary. For 3 summers I worked in Kananaskis, The Purcell and Selkirk Mountains. Some of the areas I worked were so remote, they were only accessible by helicopter. When the helicopter lifted off, the team I worked with was left living in tents with enough provisions for 2 weeks, no cell phones, no way to contact anyone should an emergency occur. We relied entirely on ourselves.

I backpacked through valleys where grizzly bears and wolves lived. It scared the shit out of me when I lay listening to the noises of night. A tent did not protect from unpredictable grizzlies and wolves did not have the best reputation from the fairytales that were read to me as a kid. Both could kill me. But with each trip into the mountains, my fear subsided. I will never forget hearing a pack of wolves when I was camping at Chester Lake. They were nearby, but I felt no fear as I eavesdropped on a haunting conversation between members of pack. The next day I found the packs paw-prints in the mud along a stream leading from the lake, their sizes revealing the various ages of the pack.

Exploring the peaks, meadows, forests, glaciers, rivers, and lakes was magical. I learned to identify a lot of plants, both edible and medicinal in and I cultivated a strong connection with the land, plants and animals. The mountains grew in me a respect for nature that had me paying attention to how my actions effected life around me. I never walked the same path across an Alpine meadow twice to avoid harming sensitive plants. When harvesting wild rosehips and buffalo berries, I would never pick them all to ensure there were some for the animals to eat and spread seed. The mountains taught me that wild animals follow the path of least resistance and to follow these paths. It may not be the shortest path to take up a mountain, but it is the surest of foot with the least obstructions.

As a burgeoning wildlife photographer, I learned the best way to capture animals in there at their most natural behavior was to get to know them. Mountain Goats have great eyesight, they have a hard time distinguishing still-standing humans from the surroundings. Sneaking up on them to get a good photo required slow and deliberate movements, as soon as they looked in my direction I would stop in my tracks, if I wasn’t moving it was as if I was invisible to them. Bighorn sheep also have excellent eyesight, but they aren’t fooled by motionless humans. I’m still not sure how I managed to get close enough to take this picture, luck I guess. As soon as the shutter snapped, the herd ran into the trees

”Hearing the didjeridu around a campfire in the desert of the Top-End, for the first time, stirred my being like only thunder had before, echoing through my marrow."

My natural education continued when I finished trade school in my early twenties, discovering another primal connection to nature from unexpected source, music. It happened while backpacking, hitchhiking and busing my way on a 3,800 mile journey through Australia, starting in Darwin in the Northern Territory.

I spent all but 6 days living out of my tent during my 2-month journey, hearing new and unfamiliar sounds of the night and, on the advice of locals, checking my sleeping bag for snakes before I climbed into it every night. During my third week in the Northern Territory, my connection with the natural world was given new meaning through the haunting gift of didjeridu music. I wrote this that night in my tent:

”Hearing the didjeridu around a campfire in the desert of the Top-End, for the first time, stirred my being like only thunder had before, echoing through my marrow. The didj blew the soul of Australia through me. I closed my eyes and saw its beauty, felt its vastness, heard its many tongues, and tasted its danger. The country joined in the winding melody of the didjeridu, an instrument created by nature. The instrument led me into Australia’s natural rhythm, which until that point had been undetectable to me. I felt acutely aware of my surroundings. I felt alive and vibrant, but at the same time I had an overwhelming sense of tranquility. These feelings were not separate though, but were as one single, binding feeling. Opening my eyes, my sight was no longer a distinct, it had become one with all my other senses.“

I learned around that same campfire that termites had hollowed out the tree that now provided this music and my newest nature connection. Later that night I played my first flatulent notes on the didjeridu. This is one of my favorite clips of Gapanbulu Yunupingu, one of Yothu Yindi’s didj musicians. Although this is very different form the didj I first experienced in the Top-End, I love how he demonstrates the range of sounds that can be produced, plus the rapid notes are amazing! I have very modest experience playing the didjeridu. The circular breathing was difficult to learn. When I was playing regularly and practiced, I would enter a trance-like state when playing for long periods of time, it took me back to that campfire.

These are but a few memories of my early life influences of nature. They remain with me as a farmer. To avoid damage to early spring growth in the Food & Medicine Forest we are growing, I try not to walk the same path twice, just like I did in the Alpine meadows of The Rockies. When I harvest perennially growing food and medicine, I leave some for wild birds and animals to eat and propagate seed across the landscape. I haven’t played the didjeridu for a long time. Maybe it’s time for me to start playing again, to explore how it can strengthen my connection to the land I farm?

In the next article of this series, I will detail the regenerative principles that surround the choices I have made and share some of our practices.