Homesteading on the Cheap, Part 1: Finding Land

Reader Contribution by Shawn And Beth Dougherty
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Whether our desire to raise our own food stems from a growing concern about food additives, a passion for social justice, an aspiration to promote the humane treatment of animals, or a yearning to protest the way commercial foods are grown and processed, the obstacles we face are daunting. The intricacies of organic gardening and animal husbandry are a mystery to the beginner, and the learning curve for the truly determined dairyman or woman is steep. A primary difficulty lies in finding suitable land for the little farm of our dreams; and the price of such land when we find it is often considerable. So are the costs of outbuildings, fencing and watering systems, animals, feeds, fuel and fertilizers. Any one of these issues might be enough to discourage the would-be homesteader. There is hope, however; these obstacles may not be as great as they appear. At the Sow’s Ear, nearly 30 years of home food production have seen us go from growing some tomatoes in the backyard garden to overseeing a large, four-season organic garden, pastured poultry, a small intensively grazed Jersey herd for meat and dairy, home butchering, food preservation and cheesemaking. Those years have altered our opinion of what is actually necessary to begin a small, sustainable organic farmstead. It is our goal to dispel some common myths.

We’ll begin with finding suitable land. What constitutes “suitable” land for a small farmstead depends, of course, on what you plan to do with it. You may envision a permaculture paradise, a battalion of chicken tractors or a herd of miniature Jerseys. The difficulty is in finding any land at all that promises hope to your projected endeavor, and once you find it, in finding a piece that is for sale. Good farm land is accessible, cleared of rocks and superfluous trees, and with soil that is deep and fertile … and is precious, mostly held by people who, far from wanting to part with it, are holding on like grim death and looking to buy more. Rich, fertile farm land with a modest house, fences, outbuildings and stock water systems are occasionally to be found on the market, but the vast majority of these have price tags that would make Bill Gates stop and think, let alone us plain farmer types. Determined though we were to exchange our city rental home for a place in the country, after five years looking for just such an acreage we were still in the city, with a couple dozen tomato plants in the backyard but no nearer to our little farmstead.

Year six found us desperate to get out of town. When 17 acres of clayey, rocky trees-up-the-side-of-a-hill and a derelict house for just 11,000 dollars came to our attention, although it looked nothing like the farm of our dreams, we took a deep breath and jumped. Despite the extremely rough appearance of the house, inspection showed that it was essentially sound. The land was labeled “not suitable for agriculture” on state plat maps, and it wasn’t; at least, not the kind of mechanized agriculture the state recognizes. There wasn’t a flat spot on the place, the topsoil was thin to nonexistent, and most of the land was approaching the vertical. But 17 years later, our little piece of hillside is the heart of a small farm where we raise most of our own food and most of what our animals eat, without expensive equipment, outbuildings or inputs of feed, fuel or fertilizer. This land, which seemed to have no potential as a homestead, is bursting with life and fertility, producing enormous amounts of nutrition and hosting tremendous genetic diversity.

As homestead hunters, our first mistake had been overlooking the great potential in almost any piece of land. We were searching for fertility as though it were a mineral deposit, like gold or oil, something that either was there or was not, failing to recognize that fertility, in land, is a condition, something that can be changed with time and effort. Our steep, rocky acres were sour, infertile and completely unsuitable for mechanized agriculture, yes, but it was perfectly possible for determined people with hand tools, a chainsaw and a garden fork to clear the underbrush, let in some sunlight, and start adding organic matter to the soil. We did this, and 17 years later our garden soil is rich, light and full of worms, enabling us to raise virtually all our vegetables (we confess to a taste for avocadoes and oranges, which we cannot grow in eastern Ohio) for 10 people, year-round.  Our home pasture consisted of 5 acres of steep hillside that had been logged, compacted and then stripped of topsoil, but after only three years of intensive rotational grazing, it allowed us to graze two lactating Jerseys for nine months of the year with a minimum of grain and no additional hay. Today the forage in this pasture is a dense turf of mixed legumes and bunch grasses, deep-rooted to hold moisture in even prolonged dry periods; and this change was effected not with expensive permanent fencing, elaborate watering systems, commercial pasture grass seed mixes or fancy outbuildings, but with grazing animals, portable electric fence reels, captured water, low-pressure water valves and a simple shed. Obviously this land “not suitable for agriculture” was entirely suitable for growing a family’s food.

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