I'VE ALWAYS BEEN A FARMER. I grew up mere steps away from where I live now, near the village of Fillmore in southeastern Saskatchewan. My grandparents acquired a 640-acre property in 1956, and as a kid, I helped harvest crops and raise livestock in their fields. I didn't spend my days off from school sitting on my parents' couch and watching TV-there were always jobs to do. When I was young, my dad farmed 1,500 acres; my task was to help feed our 80 cows and ensure they all had bedding. As I got older, my dad charged me with harrowing and flattening the ground for low-growing crops, like peas and lentils.
Most days, I'd sit in the cab of my dad's tractor while he worked the fields. As a young boy, there was nothing more exciting than riding a large piece of machinery. I'd lie on a ledge behind the seat, holding my little lunch kit, just like my dad's. Occasionally, he'd let me take the wheel. Other times, I'd doze off on the cab floor.
In 2006, I left home to earn a degree in agriculture, specializing in agronomy and crop science at the University of Saskatchewan. I returned home to join the family farm in 2010. We faced exceptional challenges during my first two years back. The spring of 2011 was so rainy that we could only seed a quarter of our property, and it didn't grow well at all. When an infestation tore through our crops, I sprayed pesticide in the fields, wondering why I bothered when we wouldn't get much of a yield. But then our luck turned around, and I realized that the unpredictable ebbs and flows of farming are part of the package.
This story is from the September 2023 edition of Maclean's.
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This story is from the September 2023 edition of Maclean's.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
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