A farm girl at heart: Getting to write about rural Ontario

Amanda Nelson, Echo Contributor

Recently, with my change in title to Director of Community Engagement for Grant Haven Media, I’ve had the opportunity to connect with more of our local papers than ever before, including our rural publications and farming papers. It’s something I don’t take for granted — in fact, I feel incredibly lucky to now be writing about rural Ontario and the agricultural communities that shaped me.

Although people often look at me and assume I’m a city girl, I actually grew up on a small beef farm in Chesley, Ont. The only thing Chesley is really known for is Chesley Lake — which, ironically, isn’t even in Chesley and is actually located about a half-hour northwest of the town.

We had about 30 head of Simmental cattle, and at one point I even had six of my own cows and calves. Raising them gave me a head start on saving for college, but it also opened the door to countless pets along the way, including a pot-bellied pig named Jamie, a donkey named Francis and even a peacock named Iago. My sisters and I loved living on the farm, but I think I was the most animal-loving out of all of us.

Growing up, I showed calves in 4-H and even went to The Royal a few times. I also generally came home from livestock sales with at least a few rabbits or chickens. At one point, my dad blocked off an entire pen just for my animals. Through one winter, I kept Jake, Iago, several ducks and chickens, and a few guinea hens together before letting them roam free around the farm — including up by the house — in the spring.

One of my favourite things about being the local animal-loving farm kid was that whenever someone had a newborn animal whose mother died, I was usually the first person they called. At one point, I had a pet sheep named Oscar that I raised from birth. He sucked on a soother, knew how to unlatch gates and sometimes slept outside with my dog. He even tried to sit in my lap when he was fully grown.

I loved living on the farm. I loved the scratches down my legs every summer from unloading hay, and I loved connecting with the land in a way few people ever get to experience. Beyond all the pets, farm life grounded me, and I feel blessed to have grown up that way.

Now, through journalism, I’ve been able to reconnect with those roots in a completely unexpected way. Writing for our rural community newspapers and farming publications has allowed me to re-establish that connection more every day. Recently, I attended the annual general meeting for the Ontario Agri-Food Discovery Centre concept — a future STEM-based learning centre designed to teach kids where their food comes from. I’ve written about soybeans and the challenges farmers across Ontario face, as well as issues affecting dry bean producers. I’ve spoken with local representatives and community leaders who care deeply about supporting rural communities and agriculture.

In a roundabout way, I’ve come back to farming — not by working the land, but by telling the stories of those who do. And I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to connect with farmers and those in the agri-food industry after leaving that life so many years ago.

Through my work, I’ve also been reminded of the emotional connection farmers have with their land and livestock. Recently, there was a fire on a local farm, and I felt deeply for the family. I know the pain of losing livestock. I think the first time I ever saw my dad cry was when we lost a cow during a difficult birth. While animals provide income, they also become part of the family, no matter the size of the operation. It’s something people who haven’t lived it don’t always understand.

The same goes for the land. Yes, crops represent livelihood, but farmers also care deeply about their growth. They prepare the soil, plant the seeds and watch them grow. They wake up at night hoping frost won’t damage early crops and pray rain holds off after hay is cut. Farmers know their land, their crops and their livestock better than anyone. Now, I’m privileged to write about them from a new perspective — someone who no longer lives on a farm, but still appreciates it deeply and wants to share their stories.

While farming isn’t the path I see for myself now, I still dream of owning a home with a bit of land — maybe a few chickens and perhaps another pot-bellied pig someday. My parents no longer have livestock and now focus on soybeans and grain, but they still own more than 200 acres. When I return, my shoulders drop and I finally relax. That’s the feeling of going home, I suppose.

And for me, home will always be the farm.